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teapartyprincess4two · 1 month

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begging you to write matt with reader who's also a youtuber/influencer. I want them to be best friends and reader is naive and way too kind for her own good. my idea is that there's another influencer who has a bad reputation and everyone hates on him because supposedly he's a big red flag. but one day y/n met him at a party and he put on an act so y/n now believes that he's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be. they become friends and that's when matt questions her about it and keep warning her about the type of guy he is because matt's worried about her but she won't listen because she's still giving the guy the benefit of the doubt and then they argue about this stuff idk you can change it up I just want this fic to have lotssss of angst but with a happy ending. if you could maybe even squeeze in an angry confession like "WHY DO YOU CARE" iykwim🤭

Why Do You Care?- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Influencer!reader x BestFriend!Matt

classification: angst, fluff

warning: use of y/n, toxic relationship, argument, slight cursing, mentions of blood, physical fight, “slut,” mention of alcohol use, long

inspiration: request^^

summary: You’re naive and let yourself be led on by someone you believe has good intentions, but one day Matt puts him in his place and ends up confessing his feelings to you in the process.

—

Most celebrities quickly become out of touch with reality, allowing the fame to inflate their ego beyond recognition. They splurge on fancy cars, big houses, designer clothing, and then flaunt all of it in the face of their viewers. They become friends with whoever’s currently trending only to chew them up and spit them right out, draining them for as much clout as possible before moving on to the next.

When you first started YouTube you were scared to become one of these celebrities; the celebrities that trade in everything old and meaningful for whatever’s new and shiny. You worked hard to create quality content for your viewers while also trying to remain as humble as possible. If it weren’t for your friends, you probably would’ve fallen victim to the materialism as well.

You had a large friend group consisting of influencers you met after the fame, but a small inner circle made up of your true, irreplaceable friends. Matt and his brothers were a part of this inner circle, all of you riding the wave into fame together. So, when everyone else was gloating over their newfound fame, the four of you remained humble and down to Earth.

Erik, the guy you were seeing, was the complete opposite though. You met him at an influencer event, much like all of your current friends, and he held a certain charm that drew you in immediately. Everyone warned you, claiming he was bad news and would only break your heart, but you didn’t listen. You were naive, giving him the benefit of the doubt and letting his sweet words convince you that he wasn’t what everyone said he was.

You’re currently sitting with Nick and Chris in their living room talking anything and everything boys. Usually Chris would just sit and listen, but the conversation has meandered into the topic of Erik, and he struggles to contain his opinion. An old film plays lowly in the background, a bowl of popcorn situated between piles of blankets and pillows.

“He’s not that bad. I promise!” you exclaim towards Nick and Chris, but it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself. You’re scrolling through your phone, buttery fingers trying to find proof that Erik wasn’t all that bad. Nick rolls his eyes, peering over your shoulder as you shuffle through endless photos on your phone.

Chris scoots in closer, copying Nick in invading your personal space before saying, “I don’t know, Y/n. I’ve seen him at a couple parties and he’s always either arriving with a different girl or leaving with one, or both.” You pop a few pieces of popcorn in your mouth, finally finding the screenshot you were looking for.

“Shush Chris, just look at this,” you reply with a mouthful of popcorn, a greasy finger zooming into the screenshot of messages between you and Erik. Before Chris can grab ahold of the phone, Nick is snatching it from you and reading the messages out loud.

“Hey baby, you looked so cute in that black dress. Can’t wait to see it off,” Nick reads, visibly shuddering at the message. “THAT’S the message you wanted to show me?” Chris scoffs, stealing the phone from Nick to examine the messages for himself.

“Just keep reading,” you murmur, now peering over Chris’s shoulder and shoving more popcorn into your mouth. Chris rolls his eyes at you, proceeding to read the messages from Erik, “You’re better than any girl I’ve ever had.” Nick laughs loudly at that, a laugh that exemplifies how unimpressed he is.

“He basically told you he’s fucked other bitches but you’re the best,” Chris deadpans, tossing your phone onto your lap. He’s had enough with the messages, all of them making him cringe beyond belief. Nick once again grabs the phone, examining the messages one more time, “He’s fucking doing the bare minimum, Y/n. Actually, he’s setting the bar so low it’s on the floor.”

Chris laughs at the comment, getting comfortable on the living room floor and averting his gaze to the TV. “Whatever Nick, he’s nice and I really like him,” you retort, no hint of true bitterness in your voice.

The room goes silent for a while, Nick’s focus being on deciphering any hidden meanings within the messages. You lean back into the blankets and pillows that surround you, joining Chris in finally watching the movie. Finally, when Nick has read the messages 10 times over, he replies, “Yeah you really like fucking him apparently.”

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, your hands swiftly snatching the phone away from him, “I haven’t fucked him! What the fuck!” Nick laughs, knowing the comment trigged you, “Well from what I read, it sounds like you did.”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re grabbing one of the many pillows you’re laying on and lightly hit Nick with it. The pillow ricochets off his chest, the feeling being more annoying than painful. “Don’t start, bitch. I’ll fucking win every time,” he laughs, grabbing a pillow of his own and bouncing it off your head. Soon you’re both caught in a pillow fight, your giggles and laughter filling the living room and drowning the movie out.

Chris groans in annoyance when a stray pillow bonks him in the head, scooting away from you two and turning the volume up. Matt enters the living room fresh out of the shower tussling a white towel on his wet hair. He watches in amusement as you and Nick toss and turn on the living room floor, turning to Chris briefly and asking, “What’s going on with these two?”

Chris groans again, getting up and rounding the corner to head downstairs to his room, “I don’t know, something about Y/n fucking Erik.” Matt watches as Chris disappears into his room, the statement settling in his mind when the door clicks. You hear Chris’s comment, attempting to hit him by throwing a pillow his way, but missing because he descends the stairs before it can reach him.

“You’re fucking Erik?” Matt asks, attempting to sound nonchalant and casual. But there was nothing nonchalant or casual about his question, especially not when directed towards the girl he’s loved from the moment he met her. You and Nick halt your movements, both slightly out of breath and in shock by the straightforwardness of Matt’s question, he was never the type to be so blunt.

“No, that was a lie made up by Nick. See, Nick, that’s how rumors start,” you reply, directing the last part to Nick who holds his hands up in defense. Matt feels himself relax at your confession, the anxiety that was forming subsiding, “Oh okay, yeah. Good, cause I don’t like that guy.” He’s still trying to play the unbothered card, and he wonders if you can tell that it actually did bother him. You roll your eyes, watching as Matt slings the towel over his shoulder from behind the couch.

“Yeah, alright, because who I fuck is dependent on who you do and don’t like? Right?” you reply, a challenging tone in your voice. For some reason it hurt more coming from Matt than from Nick or Chris, maybe because you’ve been pining over Matt since childhood and he’s never realized it. You’ve seen him go through girlfriend after girlfriend without complaint, but the second you’re interested in anyone it’s a problem? “And that’s my queue to leave,” Nick mumbles, getting up and walking upstairs to his room in an attempt to leave the awkward moment.

Matt doesn’t get a chance to reply as you continue, “Whatever, I don’t know why I’m fighting with you.”

“We’re not fighting?”

“We literally are? You never like any of my boyfriends,” you reply, but even you know that you’re overreacting.

“Oh, so he’s been promoted to boyfriend?” Matt prods, a sassy hand resting on his hip. Truth be told, Matt has loved you for longer than you’ve loved him, but he’s always been too afraid to admit it to you. Both Nick and Chris know, but they’ve never exposed Matt’s true feelings for you because they know your relationship is complicated. They’ve watched you both try to fill the void with fling after fling, only to end up arguing about who’s dating who and ending up alone again. It was a never ending cycle between you and Matt, a cycle that would never break until one of you confessed.

“And so what if he has? What is to you, Matt? Not like you don’t have a new random girl in here every week,” you snap, surprised by the venom in your voice. Matt’s hurt by your comment, is that what you viewed him as? As a womanizer? But his hurt is quickly masked by anger, “Alright so now we ARE fighting, and it shouldn’t be any of your concern who I’m seeing.”

“Same goes for you, buddy! I don’t see why you care so much about my relationship with Erik,” you stand from your spot on the floor, feeling small compared to Matt’s towering figure. The condescending nickname is a slap to the face, quickly informing Matt that you aren’t here to play games or coddle his feelings. He wants to say so many things, all of them about his true feelings for you, but he bites his tongue. Plus, after being called ‘buddy’ he’s not sure you’ll even listen.

His jaw is clenched, one fist balled up and the other gripping onto the towel so tightly his knuckles turn white. Once the silence becomes too much, you continue, “Whatever, Matt. I’m going home, I’ll talk to you later. Tell Nick and Chris I said bye.”

“No, you don’t get to ‘whatever’ me. Let’s talk about this,” his tone is almost pleading, a gentle but firm hand keeping you in place. You won’t make eye contact, afraid that if you meet his gaze the tears will spill.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you sigh, suddenly feeling defeated and guilty for arguing with the one man you truly loved. Why was this so hard for you both?

Matt opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it like a fish in water when he realizes that what he wants to say will only further complicate the situation. He silently watches as you gather your things. You push past him, making your way to the front door without another word, but you’re internally wishing he’d pull you back in and fix this. He doesn’t though, so you swing the front door open and walk towards your car.

When the door slams closed, Matt realizes that if he doesn’t do something about it, he’ll lose you for good.

—

Loud music booms through the club, the vibrations of the bass shaking the walls with each beat. You never pass up on the opportunity to celebrate friends, so when Tara, an influencer friend of yours, invited you to her party you immediately said yes. The venue is filled with drunk people, all of them so inebriated that all they can do is dance, makeout, and continue drinking.

Matt, Nick, and Chris follow closely behind you as you push your way through the crowd of dancing people. They were completely out of their element, choosing to stick to you like gum to avoid any uncomfortable interactions. As you weave your way through the club, you spot Erik in the corner with a few of your other friends, and immediately without thinking you abandon all loyalty to your friends and start walking towards him.

“Hey, where are you going?” Matt asks, voice straining to be heard over the music. He’s holding onto your elbow, grip firm enough to keep you from moving. “I’m gonna get Erik, I want you guys to meet him,” you reply, managing to slip out of his grasp and continuing your journey through the dense population of drunk, sweaty people. Matt wants to grab you by the waist and pull you back, but you just forgave him after your last argument and he knows your relationship is too fragile for another argument right now.

“Where is she going?” Chris shouts, scanning the room anxiously. The club was loud and chaotic, filled with strobing lights and bumping bodies that were enough to overstimulate anyone. Matt’s eyes are trained on you, watching as you reach Erik and cling onto him like a necklace. Chris, upon not receiving a response from Matt, looks at his brother. Matt’s jaw is clenched, prominent veins visible on his arms as the anger begins coursing through his veins.

Chris follows Matt’s gaze, immediately clocking what has Matt so serious. Nick is standing close by, bopping his head to the music. “Fucking hate that guy,” Chris comments, slapping Matt’s back and pulling him into a quick side hug. He was attempting to console his brother, to show his solidarity, but Matt was too blinded to notice.

“Tell me about it,” Matt grits, watching as you excitedly lead Erik towards the trio. Your right hand is holding a drink high in the air as your left is behind you, fingers laced with Erik’s as you dance your way back to your friends.

“Guys! This is Erik!” you look so excited, like a little kid showing off their new toy. But Erik is unimpressed and honestly, he doesn’t give a fuck who your friends are. Matt, Nick, and Chris care even less about him, in fact they hate this guy from the rumors alone.

“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’m Chris,” Chris is the first to break the awkward tension. He extends a hand, dabbing Erik up briefly as to not seem rude. Nick follows, going in for a quick side hug, “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Nick. Y/n has told us so much about you.”

“All good things I hope,” Erik replies. There’s a fake tone laced in his voice that Matt catches instantly, causing him to roll his eyes. Matt waits for Erik to give him his full attention before introducing himself with a firm handshake, “I’m Matt.” He wasn’t going to put on a show, all he had to do was introduce himself, simple as that.

Matt’s hand holds onto Erik’s for a little too long, successfully managing to intimidate him before he pulls away. “Matt. Noted,” Erik says awkwardly, ready to ditch this situation and consume as much alcohol as possible to forget this ever happened. Erik rocks back and forth on his heels, surveying the room for an excuse to leave. He spots a girl he’s fucked before, eyes lighting up as he creates an excuse on the spot, “Hey baby, I’m going to go find some friends I want you to meet. I’ll be back in a bit.” Erik plants a kiss on your cheek before dismissing himself with a wave, “Nice meeting you guys, see you around.”

“Nice meeting you, see you around,” Matt mocks in a high pitched voice, rolling his eyes for what feels like the 100th time tonight. There were so many red flags about this guy, but he was being so nice, so fake, that Matt couldn’t even point them out. And hearing another man call you baby has Matt’s blood boiling, he just knows that Erik throws that nickname at anything with legs.

Chris and Nick return Erik’s wave, but Matt immediately pulls you in close and begins warning you about the type of guy Erik is. “He’s so weird, Y/n. Just be careful please,” he whispers into your ear, the loud music forcing him to be inches away from your face. As he says it, he catches Erik checking a girl out on the dance floor, the same girl that Erik dismissed himself to go talk to.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I care about you and don’t want to see you upset over a guy, especially not a douche like him,” Matt continues, subconsciously letting his hands rest on your waist. It’s a feeling you welcome, wishing that it was more than just friendly.

“I’m not going to get hurt. I’m a big girl,” you reply, a drunk smile on your face. How you’ve managed to get so drunk already, he doesn’t know, but he knows that he feels a sense of responsibility for you. He’s about to tell you to stay close, your drunken state inhibiting you from properly taking care of yourself. “I’m gonna go find Tara,” and with that you’re lost in the crowd again, forcing Matt to loosen his grip on your waist as he watches you dance away.

He leans against the wall behind him, a tight jaw forming as he switches his attention from you and Erik. You’re having so much fun dancing with friends, completely oblivious to the fact that Erik is chatting up yet another girl, and Matt couldn’t do anything about it.

—

After about two hours, Matt has officially decided that he’s bored. He and his brothers are the only sober people, the three of them watching as everyone else makes drunk decisions they were sure to regret later. “I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Matt excuses himself, earning a head nod from both his brothers. In reality he just needed an excuse to stretch his legs and a reason to walk around the club to look for you.

Matt hasn’t seen you since went to look for Tara. And as he laps the club, he ends up running into Tara, her small dancing figure thanking him for celebrating such a big milestone with her. He asked her if she’d seen you, but she said it had been a while since she last saw you. That worried Matt, especially considering how drunk you were. So, as he heads towards the restroom, he studies every face in the room in search of yours.

When he finally reaches the restroom, he still hasn’t found you, but as he pushes the door open he’s met with Erik’s annoying voice, “No I don’t actually like her. I mean, yeah she’s cute, but why would I tie myself down? I just need her to boost my views.” Matt sees red as soon as he hears it, he knows Erik is talking about you, who else could he be talking about?

“So you’re using her for clout?” another voice chimes in.

“Something like that. Have you seen her numbers, dude? Her and those little triplets she hangs out with are all anyone’s talking about right now. I don’t get the hype, but you know I have to get in on that… Plus, if I play this game long enough, she might let me hit,” Erik replies, the gross comment he made about you earning him a round of laughter from his equally as disgusting friends.

Matt’s about to push the door open, slam Erik onto the floor, and beat the living shit out of him, but Erik continues before he can, “And the look on that Matt guy’s face when I finally do it will be priceless. He’s clearly in love with her.”

Matt’s heard enough, and before he knows it he’s fuming and barging into the restroom, you can practically see the steam coming off of him. It doesn’t take long for him to single Erik out, the adrenaline pumping through his body providing him with a sudden, unmatched strength. Matt grabs him by the color, using momentum and force to push him against the cold tile wall.

Matt is glad that no one is here to hold him back, but even if there was he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing what he’s about to do. “Ay bro, what the fu—” Erik’s sentence is cut off by a swift punch to his jaw, a punch so hard that it has him dazed. Erik falls onto the floor harshly as all of his fake friends scurry out of the restroom, commenting something along the lines of “this guy’s crazy.”

Matt was in a blinded rage, watching as Erik spits blood onto the floor, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to wipe the warm liquid that dribbles down his chin.

“You think a punch will stop me from fucking your bitch?” Erik asks with a malicious, bloody smile forming on his face. Matt doesn’t respond, his fists doing all the talking for him as he kneels to Erik’s level and pummels his face. Punch after punch is thrown, each one leaving Erik bloodier and more bruised than the last.

Erik’s friends must’ve told people in the club what was happening in the restroom because you, Nick, and Chris are suddenly barging in. Nick and Chris are horrified at the sight, but with Erik’s track record they’re not surprised, he certainly had it coming. “Matt! Matt!” Chris shouts, wrapping strong arms around his brother and attempting to pull him off Erik, who’s laughing maniacally like he got what he wanted.

Matt’s stiff as a board, so it takes both Chris and Nick to pry him off the bloody boy. Finally, when they pull him off, Erik stumbles to get up. His face is so bloody he’s almost unrecognizable. “Matt, what did you do?” you whisper in shock, a trembling hand coming up to your face at the sight. Matt’s chest heaves as he tries steadying his breathing, his dark eyes softening a little when he realizes how scared you are.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Nick whispers, the severity of the situation settling into the atmosphere. Nick ushers everyone out of the restroom, and Erik gets one last jab in, “Yeah! Leave you fucking loser! And take your slut with you too!”

Matt was never quick to anger, in fact he was docile and patient most of the time, but Erik’s comment lets you know that his outburst was building and was most certainly justified. If Chris wasn’t holding onto Matt, he would’ve turned around and finished the job, but he’s glad he doesn’t because he catches the pleading look you give him.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Matt asks softly, pulling you into his side and planting a kiss on your head. You nod slowly, eyes trained on the bloody knuckles that wrap around your shoulders.

“Yeah.”

—

The ride home is quiet, slightly awkward, and extremely uncomfortable. The streetlights illuminate the streets, the blood on Matt’s busted knuckles glistening every time he grips the wheel and takes a turn. Chris played music in an attempt to break the tension, but even that doesn’t help.

Once you’re finally at their house, the initial shock wears off. Nick and Chris are quick to go to their rooms, the entire night having drained them both socially and emotionally. Matt makes his way to the restroom, allowing the warm water to run across his hands. He winces at the feeling, watching as a pool of red forms in the sink. You’re upset, even if you shouldn’t be, so you follow Matt in hopes of getting answers.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened tonight?” you prod, leaning against the door frame. He doesn’t look up from the sink, instead running gentle fingers across his hands to wash the blood off.

“Nothing to say,” he replies sternly with a nonchalant shrug. In reality he had everything to say.

“Oh so you didn’t beat Erik to a bloody pulp?”

“No, I definitely did,” a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Okay… Why?” Matt was avoiding the question like the plague, not only because what Erik said is something he never wanted to repeat, but because it came with uncharted territory.

“Just…” his voice trails off as he turns the sink off, grabbing a nearby towel and drying his hands. He winces again at the applied pressure.

“You don’t get to ‘just’ me, Matt. Why!?” you’re raising your voice at this point, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you in the process. If Nick and Chris were asleep, you didn’t want to wake them.

“He was being a douche, okay?” Matt’s response is lame and he knows it. “I didn’t like what he was saying about you,” he continues without getting into detail, he was just trying to protect you and if that was such a crime he’d happily go to jail for it.

“I’m a big girl Matt. I told you I can take care of myself,” you scoff. Matt slumps onto the toilet seat, wishing he could just pull you onto his lap and hug the conversation away. “You always do this shit. You protect me like I’m a helpless little girl. We’re not eight anymore, Matt.”

“Sorry?” he replies, a sardonic tone evident in his voice.

“I DON’T NEED YOU TO FIGHT MY BATTLES, MATT!”

Matt sighs, he’s not in the mood for this right now.“He’s just a fucking dickhead, Y/n. He doesn’t deserve you. Plus, that bitchass pussy had it coming,” Matt replies, his voice remaining stern and steady. He didn’t want to raise his voice at you, but he knows it’s bound to happen with the way the conversation is progressing.

“WHY DO YOU CARE, THOUGH? WHY DOES IT MATTER SO MUCH TO YOU??” your hands are thrown up in exasperation, desperately trying to squeeze the answers out of him.

“Because you’re my friend.”

“No, Matt. Why?”

“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU, OKAY? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR? THAT I’M MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU? THAT I HAVE BEEN SINCE WE WERE KIDS AND I JUST—” he takes a deep breath, adjusting his volume and continuing in a defeated tone, “just forget I said anything, Y/n.”

The room is silent, so unbearably silent that Matt’s ears are ringing. His cheeks are flushed, almost as red as his knuckles. Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Small, quick breaths falling from your lips as you process everything he just said.

“You love me?” your voice is hushed, almost inaudible. When Matt looks up at you, he sees the twinkle in your eye as the tears brim your waterline. “Yes, I love you,” he affirms, it’s simple but true.

“Oh Matt,” you cup his face, suddenly it all made sense. All the times he chased away your boyfriends, complained about a fling, commented on a new friend, it all made sense with this new revelation.

“I get it if you don’t feel the same. You don’t have to pity me—” You cut Matt off with a passionate kiss, it’s the only thing you can think to do. He’s shocked at first, but he melts into the kiss once it registers.

His hands travel to the back of your thighs, legs spreading as he pulls you in closer to him. He moans into the kiss, unable to contain his excitement.

Matt’s tongue finds its way into your mouth, his grip on your thighs becoming stronger with each passing second almost like he’s afraid that if he lets go you’ll disappear. You only pull away to catch your breath, whispering four long awaited words into his lips, “I love you, Matt.”

Strong hands tug you back in for another passionate kiss, the pain in his knuckles suddenly vanishing as he relishes in this newfound feeling.

He’s never letting you go again.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: it’s been a while guys 😋💃🏻

thank you sweet anons for the requests, I combined them because they were very similar & I hope I did them justice!

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

325 notes · View notes

bunnyreaper · 6 months

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𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸 𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝓅𝓉 2 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), cheating (not from reader or john), older male younger female, future daddy kink) notes - dropping chapter one just because i need to get it out of my head ! a lot of setup really, but i swear we will get somewhere soon!! also on ao3! ♥

The rain had been threatening to come for days now—thick grey clouds lurking in the sky like a promise, but so far no drops had seemed to fall.

It's easy to get lost looking out the window, as the gunmetal sky gains an amber hue. The dinner you'd cooked had long gone cold—your boyfriend staying late at work again instead of coming home. It's easier now that it's almost a habit, to take your mind off things by staring at the sky, the record player crooning in the background.

You suppose if you took him out of the picture, life wasn't all that bad. The house the two of you shared was nice and homey, your job was mundane and untaxing and exactly what you desired, and your friends were solid.

James was the only sticking point, with his eyes that were never quite blue and his heart that was never quite yours. You suppose you knew deep down, without ever really knowing.

The creak in the floorboards and the sound of a voice pulls you from your thoughts, bringing you back into the room.

"Knock knock." A sonorous voice rings out as a head pops around the door of the living room, before John Price—your boyfriend's father, makes his way inside.

You force yourself to be present, offering an unbridled, warm smile at your guest as you playfully greet him. "Captain."

"Darling girl." He replies, your smile mirrored on his face. He sets down a box of beers on the table and starts to take off his jacket. "Tried texting you to let you know I was headed over, saw the light on, and the door was unlocked." He explains, as if he hadn't made his own way inside before.

It never bothered you, your place feeling more like home to John than his own little house on the other side of town.

You rise to your feet, heading through to the kitchen on instinct—he brought beers, which means you'll grab the bottle opener for him before he even needs to ask. "Sorry, John, I kind of zoned out for a good while there."

His footsteps are heavy as he follows you through, with an easy swagger to his steps as he brings through the beers to put in the fridge. "You should lock it even when you're in." Authority laces his tone, as he directs his paternal instincts at you.

"Yeah, I know." You laugh, nodding along, as you're so used to the way John can't help but look out for you at every opportunity. You move on autopilot, taking the box from him and setting the beers in the fridge before taking one, uncapping it, and handing it back to him.

His gaze follows your every movement, observing you as his thoughts tick over with every passing second. "Everything okay?" He asks, seeing right through you, as he always seems capable of. The concern that's clear in his voice almost makes you flinch—you get so unused to being cared for when he's not around.

You force a tight-lipped smile onto your face as you force yourself to whisper some excuse, even if it isn't too far from the truth. "Tired, it's been a long week."

John's brows furrow momentarily, and the slightest frown plays at his lips, which you know from experience means he doesn't believe you, but he won't push it for now.

He wraps his hand around the neck of the beer, taking a deep gulp before wiping his beard with the back of his hand. "Where's James? The two of you should be cuddled up on the couch, unwinding."

"Still at work." You shrug, turning away from John to try and find something to busy yourself with—currently, wiping down the counters and loading the dishwasher.

"Guess I'll keep you company then." John chuckles, his voice soft. Despite only being here for mere moments, his quiet presence is already starting to lift your mood.

You turn to him, naturally falling into a more playful spirit as you lean over the kitchen island, pausing for a moment. "Hopefully my company won't be too much of a disappointment then."

"I don't think that's possible, love." He answers without missing a beat, his eyes serious even if the smirk on his face isn't.

John always knows how to make you feel better—you couldn't have asked for a better support system when it comes to your life with James. His mother is lovely, endlessly self-sacrificing, and sweet, but now more focused on her growing children than her adult son—especially since James never seems to appreciate her as much as he should.

She raised James without John by choice—rightly or wrongly deciding not to tell anyone who the father of her teen pregnancy was. John was leaving for the army and wanted a different life for himself than the one she and a baby could offer, so she kept the burden to herself and let him go. That's how she told it, that's how it seemed to be when James showed up at John's door over two decades later and confirmed his father had no idea he existed.

The two have been making awkward attempts to make up for lost time in the years since, with you and your unfolding relationship witness to the whole thing. James had gained another father, you had gained... a friend?

"You say that now." You wink, knowing full well that you've found ways to exhaust and annoy John Price before.

He takes another sip of his beer, longer and slower this time, as if savouring the taste. "Getting as much of you as I can before I ship out on Monday." He admits.

Your heart sinks just a little. Even though it's been years of John disappearing to god knows where, it never seems to stop causing you to worry. How would James deal with it if he never came back? How would you?

Like so many other things in your life with John, you've become practiced in the way you are around each other. Despite having a million questions, you know he can answer none of them, so each time he gets dragged off to someplace unknown, you find a silly way to get something out of him.

Last time, you asked if the nation's flag had a star in it, and it did. You could almost imagine him in a different country every day that he was away, until he came back to you both.

Today, you fell back on an old favorite. "Flip-flops or snowsuit?" You ask with a giggle.

"Ha, flip-flops." He answers quickly, confirming that wherever he's headed, it's hot weather, he drinks some more as if to silence the rest of the words on the tip of his tongue.

You know by now that John prefers the cold.

"Hopefully I'll be able to catch the kid before I go." He adds, referencing James—he always tries his best to say goodbye to you both before he goes, now he has a reason to come home.

You grit your teeth at the mention of your boyfriend, knowing you won't see much of him this weekend either. "Sunday is your best bet, he'll be hungover after the stag do he's going to tomorrow." The one he only told you about two days ago.

"Those were the days, eh." John smirks, tilting his head as if to recall a memory. As an army man, you can only imagine the shit he's gotten into with his squads, the places around the world he's gotten drunk out of his mind and done god knows what. He has so many years on James, so many stories you'd love to hear.

"Too busy playing lawn bowls with your comrades now?" You can't help but tease him as you always do, the two of you falling into your back and forth with a familiar ease.

He tuts, sending you a playful glare that forces you to ignore the way it makes you feel. "Less your lip, young lady."

You have to ignore the way that makes you feel too— fuck, you're lonely, and you need James to just fuck you already.

"Absolutely, old man." You snap back, never able to resist the urge to tease him for his age. He's only in his early 40s, hardly an old man at all, but you still love to wind him up about it.

"You're the one listening to Otis Redding." He huffs, raising a brow as if to suggest you don't have any room to mock him with your own habits.

You suppose you do listen to golden oldies, knit for fun, and prefer nights in rather than nights out.

"You're the one who bought it for me." You counter, as John had bought the vinyl for you, along with many others. If anything, he was transforming your music taste into his, one album at a time.

"That I did." He chuckles, before finishing his beer with one final swig. You're setting a fresh one down in front of him before he can even ask. "You won't drink with me?"

Perhaps he feels left out drinking alone.

You wrinkle your nose, catching a whiff of hops that makes your stomach churn. "Even you can't convince me to drink that swill, I'll grab something, though." You concede that at least, turning to reach the shelf up high to where you keep your liquor.

John is offering his bottle up as soon as the clear liquid is poured into your glass. "Cheers, love."

Your glasses clink as your eyes connect, a soft, sincere moment passing between the two of you that makes your heart beat a little faster. You were awfully fond of the older man. "To your safe return."

"I'll drink to that." He toasts, before downing half of the beer in one go. "You still owe me the dinner that you promised me last time, I'm coming back to collect."

"I actually have some I can reheat, it was for James, but since he's staying late..." You offer, your sentence trailing as you battle to keep your thoughts on the man in the room with you, rather than the one who isn't.

"Can't let your lovely cooking go to waste now, can we?" He grins, deeply pleased to be getting one of your meals.

You turn to the oven, pulling out the two plates that are still warm, food piled high on top of them. "Glad it's appreciated."

John pauses, his eyes trying to meet yours, yet you continue to avert your gaze, focusing on grabbing cutlery for you both. You said too much.

"You don't feel appreciated?" He asks, voice softer—concerned all over again.

As you sit down beside him, setting the two plates down, you struggle to meet his eye as your feelings swirl and conflict inside you. If anyone offered the perfect understanding ear, it would be John, and under any other circumstance, you'd happily tell him all about what ails you. "I don't... think it's appropriate to talk to you about my relationship troubles."

His posture stiffens, his voice hardens, and his food is temporarily forgotten as his protective instincts kick in. "But there are troubles?"

Now, you find the strength within you as you force a laugh from your throat and a spark into your eyes. "Oh no, I meant hypothetically." You joke, hoping he takes the bait.

Instead, a hand reaches out to settle on yours, warm and firm and reassuring—ebbing away at your propriety. "Love, you're a terrible liar." He whispers, yet unable to keep the smallest of smiles from tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Or you're just used to reading people for a living." You counter—after all, you tell James you're fine all the time, and he's never suspected any different.

"That too." John laughs, as he pats your hand and begins to rub circles over the back of your smaller hand with his calloused thumb. "You have to talk to someone."

There's that commanding, authoritative, caring voice again—the one that makes you relent every time he uses it on you.

"I will, just... not my boyfriend's dad." You whisper meekly, guilt stabbing through you as the words leave you.

He nods understandingly, patting one more before he pulls his hand away, and goes to twirl pasta around his fork. "Why? I might be his father but a blind man could see the way he takes you for granted."

Hearing the words out loud, verbalised by someone else—verbalised by John of all people, feels like a stab wound to the chest. You'd felt it for so long, assured yourself that you were just going crazy, ignoring the way James cares for you, assuring yourself that nothing was amiss. But John sees it too, sees it in his own son.

"Well, I don't think men who wouldn't take me for granted actually exist." You laugh bitterly, stabbing at your own plate of food before swallowing a bite—you're sure it would've tasted nicer when it was actually fresh.

John's jaw clenches, a hint of frustration passing through him as he watches you, hurting and hiding it all away. "Then you're dating the wrong men, darling. We exist."

You take a deep breath as you try to let go of the ugly feelings within you. Men like John do exist, good men, caring men.

"And yet you deprive women of your company, how cruel." Your eyes roll back sarcastically as the grin breaks out onto your face.

Any woman would be lucky to have John, but for as long as you've known him, he's kept himself to himself. Now he preaches his own virtues like you have something to look forward to, and yet men like him always seem to be out of reach.

"I'm a busy man." He shrugs, taking a bite of his food before rushing down another as gentlemanly as he can.

"And yet here you are."

He nudges you with his knee, flashing you a smile. "Spending time with my favourite girl."

It takes everything within you to remain calm and remind yourself that he doesn't see you like that. You're just his son's girlfriend, that he happens to get along with, very well.

You giggle anyway, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of his statement. "Ah, waiting for the main event."

John sets his fork down with a clatter, his attention now fully on you. "Love?"

"Yeah?" You swallow, wondering just how he's going to chastise you for your self-deprecation. If you had a pound for every time he's told you to be kinder to yourself, or gently corrected you when you make jokes at your own expense, you could probably afford to pay for the therapy you clearly desperately need.

"I didn't just come to see James." He admits, the words a quiet confession.

He's right—the two of you have become fast friends ever since your introduction, and find nothing uncomfortable in each other's company as you wait for James to come around.

You nudge his knee back, making your chair spin more than his. "You came for Otis and some lovely pasta."

"And good company, couldn't ask for a better way to spend my evening."

Your stomach flips at his words. You know he isn't flirting, but you'd be lying if you said his constant compliments didn't make you feel better than you had in ages.

Maybe you should tell him about things with you and James, maybe he would have some good insight. After all, he must have a wealth of relationship experience under his belt.

"John..." You start hesitantly.

"Bunny?" He asks, the intensity of his blue eyes firmly fixed on you—the nickname he reserved when he was feeling especially fond.

The front door all but crashes open, and a frustrated growl rings out from the hallway as keys are thrown down and shoes are kicked at the shoe rack. "Fuck, I need a drink."

James appears in the kitchen just a few seconds later, practically ripping his hair out the roots as he snarls to himself. His expression softens when he lays eyes on you and his father.

"Hi." You greet him, feeling rather apathetic at his late appearance.

"Hey babe. John." He nods, giving his father a manly slap to the back before he gets to work on tugging his tie.

"Alright son." John greets, lips quirking into a smile at his son's appearance.

James steps forward to press a kiss to the top of your head, which you receive with a forced smile and no affection of your own. Both of you are blind to the frown that flashes onto John's face.

As James pulls away, he rips his tie from his neck, bundling it up before throwing it at the hamper and turning away. "I'm heading straight for a shower, I'll be back down soon." He calls out, disappearing up the stairs two at a time.

"Yeah, see you soon." John offers, a hint of frustration to his voice—he's never been all that fond of his son's manners, as he's mentioned on numerous occasions.

The mood feels a little stifled now, as both you and John eat your meal with an uneasy silence hanging over you. You hear doors slam upstairs as James makes his way around the house, likely leaving a mess behind that you'll have to clean.

You knew why you felt worse at this moment, your opportunity to talk to someone snatched from you by his untimely appearance. He's always late home, couldn't he have been a little later?

What puzzled you was John's shift in demeanour—it didn't sit right with you. Perhaps he felt ignored by his only son, the one he'd been waiting for this entire time. It's funny, you supposed, the way you both find solace in each other over the similar treatment you get from the younger man.

"Everything okay? You've gone quiet." You ask John, it being your turn now to play the concerned friend.

You know him well enough too to know his smile right now is forced—you don't need to be a trained SAS operator to notice the way his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Fine, love, just thinking."

John was a man who could probably stand to think a little less, especially when he's at home. It's one responsibility you found yourself picking up all this time, as you tried to make his days away from war lighter.

You nudge him again, practically trying to force the playfulness into him with the push of your knee. "Well, we can't have that, can we? I hear it's dangerous."

He barks a laugh, pulled out of his glum mood, and back into the room with you. "You never fail to make me laugh, darling."

"Might be my proudest accomplishment." You giggle, feeling oh so pleased with yourself. "What would your soldiers think if they knew the fearsome Captain Price had such an atrociously bad sense of humour?"

He rolls his eyes, but that bright smile that splits his handsome face doesn't waver. "Eh, not sure if it's atrocious, most of the lads' jokes make me groan."

You roll your eyes at that comment. "Most things make you groan."

"You don't."

"Not for lack of trying."

There's a solid second of silence before you realise the heavy yet accidental innuendo in your comment. You feel your face burst into flames, mortification taking over you as you meet John's shocked expression. "I mean—"

"I know what you meant, love." His laugh warms you as he seems to take the whole thing in stride. "That blush is quite something, though."

You throw yourself into your curled-up arms, hiding away as you're unable to look John in the eye any longer. He's your boyfriend's dad, almost twice your age, and you're making jokes about him groaning. It's a tough battle to force the thoughts out of your head lest you blush any harder. "I'm gonna go stick my head in the oven."

"And ruin your pretty face?"

"You're making it worse." You whine, pushing yourself further into the safe cocoon of your arms.

"I'll stop." John laughs, hand coming to settle on your back as he soothes you. "But it's nice to have cheered you up."

"I suppose..." You sigh, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Your blush abates as the two of you continue to eat until your plates are clean.

"All done?" You ask, gesturing to where John is setting down his cutlery atop the plate.

"It was perfect. Thanks, love." He says sincerely, a hand resting on his stomach as if to add to the sincerity of the gesture.

"Anytime." You smile, taking the plates and heading over to the dishwasher. "If I'd have known you were coming, I'd have gotten dessert."

John knows you wish you would've had more notice—even if he's had to tell you many times that you don't need to clean the house and cook a three-course meal every time he happens to pop over. "Only got the marching orders this afternoon." He shrugs as if to absolve himself of any responsibility.

"Do you know how long you'll be gone?" You ask, voice quieter as you return to his side.

"A month, probably not too much longer."

A month was fairly typical. "Well, make sure you come home to us."

Come home to me, you think selfishly.

"Always, darlin'." His eyes burn with a promise, and a sense of joy at hearing those words. "Someone's gotta keep that old soul of yours company." He winks.

"So, I'll get initiated into the bowls team soon?" You wink back.

John finishes off his beer before laughing once more, the sound filling you with warmth. "Maybe you can be my pool partner."

"I can't play pool for shit, John." You whine, remembering the last time you tried to play pool and ended up injuring yourself, as well as sending balls flying all over the pub.

"Guess you're due a lesson then."

Once more, you're interrupted at the most inopportune time.

"Keeping the old man company for me?" James asks, meeting your gaze over his father's shoulder as he rubs a towel at his dripping hair.

"Somebody has to." John teases, more poking fun at himself than at anyone else, and the two of you share a laugh.

You begin to mourn the light moments you've had, as the atmosphere shifts once more at James' arrival, and you feel yourself growing tense and unsettled. You watch in silence as James looks around for the bottle opener, and you make no effort to help or tend to him.

It's John who breaks the awkward silence. "I won't stay too much longer, leave you two to enjoy your night."

You stand, the stool scraping back loudly against the floor as you do, making your hair stand on end. "Uh, actually, I think I'm gonna sleep. You should enjoy some father-son time." The smile on your face is polite and perfunctory.

"Goodnight love." John smiles, soft and genuine, as he watches you walk away.

James speaks up too, but the words barely register. "Night babe."

As you reach the threshold of the kitchen, you turn back once more—John's eyes are still on you.

"Stay safe, John."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, holding your gaze until you disappear up the stairs.

You try not to think of the look in his eyes when you fall asleep that night.

————

Time seems to go differently when John is deployed. Despite not being anything more than your boyfriend's father, you're still always filled with worry waiting to hear from him. Outside his military family, you and James were the ones waiting for him to come home with bated breath, and with John's disastrous love life, you found yourself the only woman waiting to welcome him back to civilian life.

As you stare at your inbox, waiting for anything to come through, you find your thoughts drifting easily to other things in life—to John.

You're his friend, if you can even call yourself that—but you miss him when he's gone. Back on English soil, he's visiting you and James pretty frequently, coming over for dinner or helping around the house—since James is useless with a drill.

Things are different when he's gone, though sometimes you feel like you're the only one who thinks that.

Your boyfriend doesn't worry like you do, despite being closer to the man, though James has never been the most emotional of guys to begin with.

Despite work keeping you busy, and friends inviting you out for drinks, you often find yourself waiting for a text, or anything from John—just to know he is safe.

Your phone chimes one Monday afternoon, interrupting your monotonous work day with something different. The timing makes your heart soar, as it must be from John letting you know he's back in Hereford—the notification you see instead is the end of everything as you know it.

A message request from an anonymous account: "I'm sorry for you to find out like this, but I couldn't keep the secret any longer."

Attached to the message is a series of pictures, and a video from a bar, of James entangled with another woman in a way that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. You recognised the tie, the one he'd worn for the first time only a month ago—the one he'd thrown in the laundry before rushing off to shower.

The nausea overwhelms you in an instant, sending you rushing for the bin beside your desk as the content of your stomach leaves you in harsh retches.

Everything that happens after is a blur, as your co-workers rush to your aid—your closest work friend seeing the messages on your phone as she pulls you to the bathroom, cleans you up, and makes sure you get home safe and sound.

She doesn't want to leave you alone, but you know that company right now will only make the whole thing worse. You wander around the house in a haze, tending to your chores like nothing has changed, and your world hasn't been turned upside down.

That deep, unsettled feeling you've been getting as of late? It all makes sense now—why you never truly felt at ease around the man who was supposed to love you. And yet, a part of you felt relieved. Relieved that you weren't crazy, relieved that you weren't to blame for the way things had changed lately, relieved that you finally had the chance to walk away.

You haven't stopped thinking about the text all day—wondering how the fuck you're going to confront James and not rip his head clean off of his body, how you're going to end your years-long relationship and upend because your boyfriend couldn't keep his dick to himself.

The clock on the wall ticks away, counting down the moments until he comes home from work, late as always. At least now you know why.

Your phone chimed again a while ago, probably whatever excuse he had cooked up—you hadn't even bothered picking the damn thing up to check the notification.

A knock at the door pulls you out of it all, as you move on autopilot to go answer.

Did he forget his keys? Or has he gotten himself drunk to the point he can't put them in the door anymore?

On the other side of the door isn't James, isn't your cheating, good-for-nothing boyfriend but John.

His beard untrimmed and eyes dull—the scent of cigars rolling off of him in waves. "Hello, darling girl." He says his usual, as a smile tugs at his cheeks.

"Hi." You offer in return, your voice almost completely motionless. Time seems to slow as you stare at the man before you—usually, you'd greet him with a quick hug and a bright grin, so pleased to see him safe and on your doorstep. Yet, the day's events have stolen that joy from you.

John picks up on your mood almost immediately, head tilting in concern as his eyes roam over you. "Bad time?"

"No." You shake your head as you step aside. "Come in."

John scrapes his boots against the doormat before he takes them off, along with his jacket.

"Tea." You whisper, snapping into action as you turn and head to the kitchen. You almost always make tea when he comes over—you don't even have to ask anymore.

"Thanks, love." His voice rings out after you.

Focusing on making the tea helps calm you somewhat, and you pull out two mugs to make a cup for yourself too.

How were you going to tell John? The news would ruin him. How are you going to tell John that you'll be leaving his son's life, and therefore his?

Your heart falls deeper into a pit of misery at that thought alone—the loss overwhelming you.

"James home?"

"Still at work." You whisper, not trusting yourself to speak properly without the bitterness unfurling and the truth spilling out.

John scoffs from behind you, but you know he isn't really all that bothered. "Oh, right. No heroes welcome from my lovely son then." His sarcastic words are graveled.

"Saves you from all his silly questions, I suppose." You shrug, still not turning to look John in the eye. "Though you put up with mine, so."

"Yours don't ask me to break the law." He huffs, short and sharp, before he perks up again. "Didn't actually get to bust out the flip-flops this time, though." He offers, a hint at your last conversation. The weather was milder than he expected then, you suppose he was rather pleased about that.

You let the silence settle over the two of you as you continue to make your drinks, focusing on the way the unfurls from the bag and changes the hue of the boiling water. Next is the milk, semi-skimmed because James doesn't like full fat—at least that's something that'll change for the better once you leave.

The thought makes you freeze.

"Love, what's the matter?" John's smokey voice is soft and sweet and coming closer—laced with concern.

Your chest tightens, impending doom feeling like it's right over your shoulder—everything is going to fall apart in 3. 2. 1.

The milk bottle falls free from your hands, crashing to the floor with a wet splash—the cold milk is easily ignored as a hand comes to rest at your back, pulling you away from the edge of the abyss of your pain.

"Talk to me, what's going on?" His voice is more insistent this time, but still just as concerned. He ignores the pool at both of your feet in favour of consoling you. His features are knitted together in a terrifying amount of worry that makes you crack completely.

"John." You whisper shakily, finally meeting his eyes.

His baby blues are filled to the brim with care for you, with concern and confusion and a million unanswered questions. "Yes, darling?"

"He's cheating on me."

There's a beat before John explodes. It's not the bombastic, showy anger where things get screamed—he's quiet and seething and eerie, his words spat through gritted teeth. "He's fucking what?"

Your whole body begins to shake as the truth tumbles free, solidifying itself as reality now it's spoken aloud. "He's cheating on me with one of his coworkers, Lucy."

Not that it mattered whether it was Lucy or Georgia or some girl from the club or whatever.

John stiffens—his shoulders squaring up, his jaw clenching and his body tightening like he's going to war. You've never seen John Price the soldier, but you imagine it's something like this "When's he due home?"

"I don't know." You answer honestly. You don't know, and you don't particularly care. At least you'll never have to wait for him to come home ever again.

"I'm gonna ring him—" John snarls, shoving his hand into the worn pocket of his jeans as he grabs his phone.

"Don't." Your hand shoots out to still his wrist, though you know the effort would be futile if he truly chose to ignore him. "Please."

"If only I'd have fucking raised him." John seethes before launching into action, he moves around you to grab the kitchen towel, ripping off piece after piece as it soaks up the spill. He throws the half-empty bottle into the sink, as milky white sprays up the backsplash.

"It's okay." You whisper, genuinely feeling that in a sense, it is. You've been betrayed, but at least now you'll be free.

"It's not okay." John moves to stand before you again, his arms braced on your shoulders as he looks down upon you, craning a little to get closer to your height. "Love, you're perfect, you're too lovely for him, how could he hurt you?"

"How could anyone hurt something so precious?"

"Not precious enough, clearly." You scoff, wondering where it all went wrong. Right now you felt the furthest thing from precious, from loveable and perfect and everything else John said. Fuck, you feel like you're turning him against James. "Sorry, I feel like I shouldn't be talking to you about this—"

"I'm on your side, yeah?" He interrupts you with good reason before your thoughts can spiral any further. His grip tightens a fraction as his thumbs move, slowly and reassuringly, across the bare skin of your shoulders. "He's my son, but he's a fucking bastard for this. You deserve better, love."

The sweetness in his voice makes you snap. Why wouldn't you have a man like John? So caring and kind and knowledgeable—older and experienced and so out of your reach.

"I don't—" The tears start to flow freely, as you desperately search John's eyes for answers.

"Shh, come here, I've got you." He pulls you in close, his arms wrapping around you in a warm, secure embrace. His smell surrounds you, the soothingly familiar smoke coating your skin. Lips press against your forehead delicately, as he holds you like he's holding every piece of you together, bit by bit. His body is like his presence—solid, unwavering, ever-present.

"I've got you, everything's going to be okay." He whispers, over and over and over again, chanting it like a prayer.

In his embrace, firm and reassuring, you might actually believe him.

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#captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #lmaooo here we go #such a boring first chapter tbh but you know we need the setup

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adamsrcnan · 14 days

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OKAY OKAY here we goooo an annoyingly long-ish post about all my thoughts on The Sunshine Court

Spoilers Spoilers Spoilersss you've been warned

First things first it is so interesting to see Nora writing from not one but TWO new people's perspective. Jean's perspective is just devastating being inside his head is heartbreaking the constant fear and panic and how much of his energy is used on just pushing down every memory of what was done to him. His coping mechanisms are terrifying and i truly do hope by the end of book 2 he has a healthier way of dealing with it bc baby boy stop hurting yourself :( Every sentence was so painful to read. But also his resilience the entire time to get through it no matter what, god i fucking love him!!! He is a fighter.

Jeremy's perspective is sooooo refreshing. He is such a little sweetheart i could cry. The fact that he sends hand written letters and he's so caring and genuine but he can also be so stern. When he dropped that "i asked you a question" to Lucas fkehdjdfjdh OK SIR. I'M SAT. His relationship with the family butler is so endearing as well i need more background on that for sure! My only one criticism is that he didn't have enough pov chapters and i'm hoping we'll learn more in the second book of course because there's still so much about him and his (dysfunctional? toxic?) family dynamic that we don't know yet but also i'm greedy and i wanna know EVEYTHING about him !!!

Kevin and Jean are so just tragic it actually breaks my fucking heart like "you didn't have to slit my throat on the way out" JEAN??? and "promise me you won't try again. I can't lose you." KEVIN??? And the fact that Jean to this day is still keeping that promise. Also Jean's obvious but secret long term crush on Kevin the way it's subtly dropped every time Jean has to stamp down on his desire's and "temptations" GOD PLEASE I CAN'T STAND IT

SPEAKING OF!!! BISEXUAL JEAN ??? BI JEAN??? BI JEANNNN !!!!

Neil and Jean oh my God like where do i even start?? The guilt Jean feels at what happened to Neil in the Nest and him finally calling him by his name after Riko's death and telling him his game was good. And Neil seriously needs to give himself more credit for how much of a caring person he is because the way he indirectly told Jean that he thinks he is worth saving and didn't even hesitate before asking Stuart to send someone after That Guy after what Jean told him. Neil Josten the man that you are!!!

Jean's little sister Elodie what a beautiful name. Them being so close and him reading to her. The way he found out about her death jolted me differently. It was so awful and i'm so sorry Jean didn't get to see her grow up and meet her again.

Renee and Jean oh my god. Jean thinking she's beautiful (bitch me toooo) And the whole right person wrong time ugh i can't stand it. Him wearing her necklace all the time, enough that Jeremy always notices it. And unabashedly stealing her picture from the foxes lounge. Like he did not give a fuck. He said this one is mine. One good reason to stay alive being rainbows i'm gonna FKSJSKDHDH. Theirs would be such a soft love.

Speaking of soft loves Laila and Cat are EVERYTHINGGGG. God they are so cute with their little domestic life and their rich gay boy son who crashes on their couch with his cardboard cut out dog. That whole friendship dynamic is beautiful. Their fierce protectiveness and care over Jean as well and the patience they have with him even after the little kitchen incident. When Cat took Jean out for a drive on her motorcycle god that was such a heart warming moment and Jean helping them cook as well and becoming the girls' little sous chef it's so cute so endearing !!!

FINALLY FINALLY THE JEREJEAN DYNAMIC

PLEASE I'M GONNA SCREAM

Jeremy being the one who told Jean that Riko was dead i don't even know what to begin with THAT like hhhhhhh. The way they're both stupidly attracted to each other but won't/can't do anything about it. THE WHOLE "say yes Jeremy" SCENE WTF WAS THATTT I WAS GOING INSANEEEE. Both of them having to stop mid sentence when they catch the other looking FINE as hell. Jean being so obvious that even Lucas picks up on the way he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy being there to ground Jean in a Moment and helping him come down from it. Grabbing his face and telling him he's okay. Moving into the room with him to make him feel more comfortable !! The way Jean grabs Jeremy's chin (boiiiii). Jeremy constantly reminding Jean that he is NOT A RAVEN ANYMORE no matter how many times he has to say it. Jeremy saying he'll wait as long as it takes until Jean speaks to him. JEREMY GIVING HIM A HUG AND JEAN CLUTCHING DESPERATELY TO HIS SHIRT FUUCUFHDHSJHSSUHDH and then the "will you help me?" And the "Anything you need" AND THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE A CERAMICS CLASS TOGETHER?!?!?!!!! i can't i can't i can't i caaan'ttt

There's so much more to say but i'm gonna leave it at this for now because i need to go re-read it again and take my time with it this time round but i really could not have asked for anything better Nora truly outdid herself here !!! I'm forever grateful she blessed us with this after so long.

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justlemmeadoreyou · 1 month

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Unrequited

(the second part to unfulfilled)

(i still don't think y'all will like this, but 🥺🥺)

Summary: Harry invites you to a party, and something goes wrong. He blames himself for it, but then something unexpected happens.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, intoxicants, kissing, fluff.

“Hey, you wanna come to the party tonight?” Harry asked you, smiling.

You looked around, not believing that he was asking you, of all people. He saw you looking around, and said, “What?”

“You’re asking me?” you answered.

“Yeah.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You. You wanna come or not?”

You stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to burst out into laughter, and tell you that he was joking, it was all a silly prank. But, he didn’t.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, y/n. seriously. I'm asking you to come to a party with me tonight.”

“But-but no one ever asks me that. Like, ever.”

“Why?”

“I tell them not to…” you pout, and he presses his lips together.

"Come on, why not give it a shot?" Harry urged. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. On one hand, the idea of attending a party with Harry, someone who was way more confident and popular, and…extroverted, was exhilarating. But on the other hand, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being out of place, like a puzzle piece that just didn't fit in.

"I...I don't know," you stammered, clutching onto the strap of your bag tightly. "I don't belong there?"

Harry's expression softened, and he stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You'll fit right in, I promise. And besides, I'll be there with you the whole time."

His words were comforting, and you found yourself slowly nodding in agreement. Maybe this was an opportunity to step out of your comfort zone, to experience something new.

"Okay," you finally replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll go."

Harry grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Great! You won't regret it, I promise."

As the evening approached, you found yourself growing increasingly nervous. You fussed over your outfit, second-guessing every choice you made. But despite your apprehension, you couldn't deny the flutter of anticipation building in your stomach. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

When Harry arrived to pick you up, you were greeted with a warm smile that instantly eased your nerves. As you made your way to the party together, he chatted animatedly, sharing stories and jokes that made you laugh until your sides hurt. He was fun to be with, and you both got along really well.

Upon reaching the bustling venue, the sound of music and laughter filled the air. Harry guided you through the crowd, introducing you to his friends with an easy charm that made you feel surprisingly at ease.

But as the night progressed, you found yourself retreating into the background, feeling increasingly self-conscious amidst the sea of confident faces. Everyone danced and drank with confidence, feeling lively and free. But you felt like you were trapped, and you envied every person who enjoyed themselves without a care in the world, and didn’t feel guilty afterwards. You clutched onto a plastic cup of beer, taking small sips and trying to stay there. You had no idea how you wound up in this corner, or where Harry went. He was supposed to be by your side the whole night, so where was he?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when Harry began to search for you, his concern growing with each passing minute. He navigated through the throngs of people, his eyes scanning the room until he stumbled upon a dimly lit alcove hidden from view.

There, sitting hunched over with a vacant expression, was you.

Harry's heart clenched at the sight, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Without a moment's hesitation, he made his way towards you, his footsteps audible as he got closer.

"Y/N?" he called softly, his voice laced with worry. "Are you okay?"

You looked up, your eyes glazed and unfocused, a wave of relief washing over Harry at the sight of your familiar face. As he got closer, he saw the worry in your expression, and it made him even more concerned.

"What happened?" he asked gently, crouching down beside you and placing a hand on your shoulder. "Did someone do something to you?"

"I need to get out of here," you muttered, your voice barely audible over the thumping music.

Harry glanced at you, concern etched across his features. "Are you okay, Y/N?"

You shook your head, your movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. "No, something's wrong. I need to leave."

Harry's brow furrowed with worry as he took in your disoriented state. "Okay, let's go," he said firmly, his hand reaching out to steady you.

But as you made your way towards the exit, Harry's suspicions were piqued. He noticed the way your steps faltered, the glassy look in your eyes, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. You weren’t yourself, and even if you didn’t drink often, it wouldn’t have been because of just a couple of beers.

"Wait," he said, his voice urgent. "Did you drink anything tonight?"

You frowned, trying to recall the events of the evening through the haze of confusion. "I...I don't remember," you admitted, your heart pounding with fear. Everything felt so big and loud, and you just wanted to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there.

Harry's expression darkened, anger flaring within him as he surveyed the chaotic scene around you. "Damn it," he muttered, his grip tightening on your arm.

"I bet someone spiked your drink."

Fear gripped your chest, and you held onto Harry's arm, grateful for him being there for you.

"What do we do?" you whispered, your voice trembling, and you sighed loudly..

"We get you out of here, now," Harry replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Hold onto me, Y/N. I've got you."

With Harry's arm wrapped protectively around your waist, you stumbled towards the exit, your heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. Each step felt like an eternity as you fought to keep your wits about you, your mind racing with a million thoughts and fears.

As you got out of the ridiculously overcrowded place, you felt better. Air rushed into your lungs, fresh air–that hadn’t come out of somebody else’s mouth. He guided you to his car, and assured you he was sober.

“Promise?” you asked, looking up at him with doe, glassy eyes. He nodded, gripping your chin and mumbling, “promise”

Once inside, he wasted no time in starting the engine, his hands gripping the steering wheel "Hang on, Y/N," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I'll get you home safe, I promise."

Harry drove through the quiet streets, the weight of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. He stole glances at you through the mirror,, his heart sinking at the sight of your slumped form in the passenger seat, your eyes glazed with intoxication.

As the car rolled to a stop outside your dormitory, Harry turned to you, concerned. "We're here, Y/N," he said gently.

You nodded weakly, your movements slow and unsteady as you struggled to gather your bearings. With Harry's help, you stumbled out of the car and towards the entrance of the building, your steps faltering with each passing moment.

As Harry guided you down the hallway towards your room, your steps wobbled with each movement, and you couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at the slightest provocation.

"Hey, watch your step," Harry chuckled, trying to steady you as you stumbled over your own feet.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you slurred, your words muffled by a fit of laughter. "I look like a drunk moron."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at your quip, shaking his head in amusement as he guided you towards your door. "Sure."

As Harry helped you into your room, you collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic flourish, your limbs splayed out in every direction as you let out a contented sigh.

"Ah, home sweet home," you declared, your voice tinged with merriment. "I think I might just live here forever."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle again, shaking his head in amusement as he watched you flop onto the mattress. "I think you've had enough excitement for one night, Y/N."

You pouted playfully, your bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated display of disappointment. "But the night is still young, Harry! We could have so much fun together."

Your demeanor had suddenly changed, from afraid and scared to carefree. The intoxicant that was added to your drink might be doing its work.

"I think we've had more than enough excitement for one night, let’s tuck you in" he replied, his tone teasing yet gentle.

As Harry tucked the blankets around you, you let out a contented sigh, your eyes drifting shut and becoming droopy.. "You're a good friend, Harry," you murmured, your words slurred with exhaustion. "The best."

Harry's heart swelled with affection at your words, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you drift off to sleep.

"Sleep tight, Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft with warmth.

As Harry finished tucking you into bed, he turned to leave, but before he could take a step, you reached out and grabbed his hand, your sudden touch sending a shiver through him.

"Harry," you whispered, your voice soft.

Harry turned back to face you, his heart skipping a beat at the vulnerability in your gaze. "What is it, Y/N?"

Without warning, you pulled him towards you, your movements clumsy but filled with determination. Before Harry could react, you pressed your lips against his, the kiss sloppy and uncoordinated but filled with a raw intensity that took his breath away.

For a moment, Harry froze, his mind reeling with a whirlwind of emotions. He knew he should pull away, should put an end to this before things went too far. But as he felt the warmth of your lips against his, he couldn't deny the spark of desire that ignited within him, the longing that pulsed between them like a current of electricity. He had wanted this, maybe for far too long. But it was tucked away in a corner of his heart, and right now, it was exploding out like firecrackers.

But then, with a sudden surge of clarity, Harry pulled back, his hands gently but firmly pushing you away. "Y/N, we can't," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

You looked up at him, confusion in your eyes as you searched his for answers. "But why not?" you whispered, your voice filled with hurt.

Harry's heart ached at the pain in your gaze, but he knew he had to be honest with you, even if it hurt. "Because...because I can't do this to you, Y/N. You're not yourself right now, and I can't take advantage of that."

You stared at him for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in as realization dawned upon you. "I...I'm sorry," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to...I’m just–just stupid and–"

Harry reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender yet filled with sadness. "It's okay, Y/N. I know you didn't mean to. You’re really high and you should sleep"

You nodded once again, closing your eyes shut and pulling the blanket over you, suddenly feeling cold. He murmured good night, but you were already passed out.

He stood there for a while or two, watching as your mouth dropped open. Your face looked peaceful, and it gave reassurance to him. His heart was pounding in his chest since he found you at the party, and he kept blaming himself for all that happened.

But his heart was at ease now. You were safe, and sleeping beside him.

He couldn’t be happier

. . .

The next morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest, your mind clouded with confusion and regret. As you stumbled out of bed and got ready for class, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that you didn’t remember what happened last night.

Your steps were slow and hesitant as you made your way to the lecture hall, your heart pounding with anxiety. You were trying to replay all the moments of yesterday back and forth, but the last thing you remembered was drinking a beer and then going for another one, when you had seen 5 already filled cups kept in a tray. Without thinking, you went for that one, and you were now cursing yourself for it.

When you finally reached the classroom, you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone as you took your seat at the back of the room. You felt like a stranger in your own skin, the weight of guilt and shame bearing down on you.

As the minutes ticked by, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on the lecture, your mind wandering back to the events of the party, precisely to those you didn’t remember. Harry was nowhere to be found, and you wondered if you had misbehaved towards him.

He must regret inviting you in the first place.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when Harry entered the classroom, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, your face drawn and weary, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy you had exuded the night before.

"Hey, Y/N," Harry said softly, making his way towards you with a hopeful smile. "How are you feeling today?"

You looked up, startled by his sudden appearance, and forced a weak smile. "Hey, Harry. I'm...I'm okay, I guess."

Harry's smile faltered slightly at the hint of sadness in your voice, but he pushed aside his concerns, determined to lift your spirits. "That's good to hear. Listen, about last night..."

But before he could finish his sentence, the professor began the lecture, cutting off their conversation and leaving Harry feeling frustrated and disappointed. You let out a sigh of relief, because you didn’t have to hear about the horrible things you did last night, for an hour at least.

During class, Harry felt uneasy and unsure about where they stood. He kept looking at you, feeling worried when he saw you looking down.

As the lecture came to an end, Harry gathered his things and made his way towards you,

"Y/N," he said softly again, "Can we talk for a minute?"

You looked up, nodding "Sure, Harry. What's up?"

Harry took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for the right words. "I just wanted to say...about last night. You were perfect, Y/N. Nothing bad happened, okay?"

You frowned, confusion in your eyes as you tried to make sense of his words. "What do you mean, Harry? I don't remember much from last night."

Harry's heart sank at your admission, a pang of disappointment piercing through him like a knife. "It's...it's nothing, Y/N. Don't worry about it."

But despite his attempt to brush off the conversation, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling of sadness that lingered within him. He knew that he should be grateful that nothing bad had happened between you both, but deep down, he couldn't help but wish that you remembered the kiss you had shared, and the way you made his heart beat faster. He wished you remembered him driving you home, and then being silly around him.

“That’s a huge relief! Oof”

You said after a while, trusting him on that. He wouldn’t lie to you, you were sure of that.

“Yeah” he replied, forcing a smile, because he was sad.

“Guess I’ll see you later?” you asked, and he nodded.

You collected your materials and stuffed them back into your bag. Checking your schedule, you made your way to your next class, leaving Harry and his thoughts alone.

"But I love you more than words can say,

I can't count the reasons I should stay,

One by one they all just fade away,

But I love you more than words can say."

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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greensagephase · 8 months

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part Six

Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader

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

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

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

Music inspo while writing:

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

Part Six

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No need to change.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he whispers back, softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just want to comfort Miguel.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to see him happy because he deserves it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perdóname, mija.”

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

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

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

Miguel nods at last. “Gabriella…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good night,” you finally say.

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

“I’m here for you, too...”

_________________

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

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

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

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

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

I love Miguel,

Alondra

Tag list:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @rootin-tootin-morgan @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @mandodinstuff @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes

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chanelles-world · 5 months

Text

STORMY NIGHT (chris smut) ! i need him

this has a slow start… but trust i promise it gets better !

…

"fuck... you know what i'm gonna do? i'm gonna fuck this pussy so fucking hard, and ill make sure you won't be able to walk the next morning.." chris growls in my ear. my heart racing fast at the thought of that.

EARLIER THAT NIGHT:

it was a stormy saturday night and i was laying down in my bedroom on my phone while the tv was on playing in the background. my lights were off and the only glow was from my tv and the little lamp that was on my night stand near my bed.

i could hear the wind whistling and thunder clapping as rain fell from the sky. i always loved the sound of storms so it was nice and calming.

i was scrolling through instagram when i heard a quiet knock from the outside of my window. i quickly jump and look over at the door to my balcony. there was a shadow of what looked like a person. "what the hell" i whisper not wanting to get out from my spot on the bed.

knock knock. you hear that same knock again, my eyes were fixated on the door that i didn't realize texts were coming thru to my phone. "ding!" there went another text. i got so scared i almost thru my phone but realized it was texts from chris. "what the fuck does he want at this ungodly hour??" i think to myself.

i open the texts quickly and see he was texting me to open up the door. i raised my eyebrow confused. "what do you mean open up the door" i text back. "i'm standing outside, open up your balcony door, dumbass" i roll my eyes as i read the text that flooded my screen.

i get up quickly and quietly from my bed and walk to my balcony door sliding it open which led to reveal chris. there chris was outside my room soaking wet from standing in the storm.

"what the fuck chris?!" i yell whisper while motioning to his soaking body. he shrugs as he lets himself in. "you're gonna get yourself sick... what were you thinking coming over here in this weather and at this time??" i say concerned but also confused because what did he want that couldn't wait until the morning.

"i don't know i was bored and knew you were awake so i decided to head over here.. matt and nick were already asleep."

i sigh closing the glass door before walking to the bathroom to get chris a towel. i walk over to where he was still standing and hand it to him. "well what do you think i'm gonna want to do at this time?" i asked raising my eyebrow. chris shrugs his shoulders clearly not thinking before he made his way over to my house. "chris do you even know what time it is?"

he nods his head "yeah like 10pm.." he says unsure as i look at him with an amused face. "wrong, it's literally 12am" i say shaking my head before walking back to my bed.

"well i'm here now so what do we want to do?" he asks as he starts drying himself off, starting with his hair.

i took in the sight that was in front of me. there chris was with a white fit shirt and his gray sweatpants. his clothes hung to his body perfectly as they had gotten wet from the rain. you could see his biceps and chest thru his shirt as it went see thru.

my eyes move south down his body and see his man hood poking thru from his sweat pants. god damn. he was big. wait what i thought trying to shake the thought out of my head. i know

i'm not supposed to be thinking these thoughts but i couldn't help it. my mind begins thinking of all the dirty things that i could imagine. my eyes travel back up north and before i could look back up at chris before he saw me staring, i was too late.

"you like what you see?" he asks as a smirk plays on his lips. i could feel my heart racing and cheeks burning as i quickly look away. i couldn't manage to look at his face. i felt so embarrassed.

"no need to be embarrassed.." chris says quitely as he takes a step towards me. i could feel my heart racing. oh shit. i could see chris slowly making his way towards me. i was sitting on the bed so there wasn't really anywhere to go.

before chris could get any closer, i quickly get up and fast walk to the opposite side of the room near the bathroom. i don't know what made

me think to do that, but i did it anyways.

chris doesn't turn around instead he slowly grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up and over his head. my brain fogs up as i take in his back muscles. he was so fine. i start to internally freak out because i barely thought of him like that. why now the change? chris turns around in my direction, my breathing hitched as i thought he was walking over to me but instead he makes his way to the bathroom, where he hung up his shirt.

"why are you standing there?" he asks amused

you blink at him a few times. "erm.. i i don't know.." you say speechless. "well cmon let's watch something." chris says excitedly before grabbing the remote to change the channel.

it's like the whole mood completely changed in just a few seconds.

i nod my head and walk quietly over to my bed sitting down on my mattress.

"um before i sit down, are you okay with me taking off my sweats? they're all wet and i don't want your bed getting wet either..." chris asks hesitantly. i gulp, taking his question by surprise.

i think about it for a few seconds. "um yeah sure.." i say nodding my head. i turn my head towards the tv looking straight forward.

out of the corner of my eye i could see chris watching my every move.

i swear i heard a sigh as he slid out of his sweat pants really quickly. i try my hardest not to look over at him as he standing there in only his ethika's. i chew on my lips as i wait for him to sit down on my bed.

chris places his sweats beside my bed and sits before laying down on my bed. he places his arms behind his head which was laying against the head rest.

"okay what do you want to watch?" chris asks calmly before grabbing the remote and scrolling through the channels like nothing had just happened. i know it wasn't like a huge deal but still.

"it doesn't matter.." i say quietly.

chris nods his head in acknowledgement and clicks on a random show. we both have been sitting there for quite some time fixated on the show before i start shivering. mind you it was still storming outside and so it was pretty cold.

"c'mere" chris says motioning me to come lay next to him as he notices me shivering. i hesitate before moving towards him on the bed. i situate myself against his chest as he wraps his arms around me pulling me closer. i tense up just thinking about being this close to him when i remember he isn't wearing anything but his ethika's.

"why are you so tense?" he whispers into my ear. i shiver at just hearing his voice. why does he sound so hot? "loosen up i'm not gonna bite" he says again. i loosen up just a little bit. a few seconds later chris pokes my side which makes me squirm. "stop it" i say quietly as i let out a giggle. chris does it again, but this time i let out a laugh which ended up with me in a laughing fit.

i squirm every where trying to set free but in the mix of it all he had grabbed my hands with putting them above my head. which made it hard for me to break free. i was laughing so hard i couldn't breathe to the point where i started kicking my feet. i didn't mean to but the next thing i knew i had kneed chris in his no zone area. "FUCK" chris moaned out in pain as he let go of my hands to grab his dick while sitting up. "oh my gosh i'm so sorry." i say quickly sitting up also. "mm" chris audibly groans out.

i cover my mouth with my hand feeling really bad. "shit i'm so sorry, that was a complete accident." i apologize again.

"it's not your fault technically, it was mine" chris says finally able to talk. "but damn girl you are strong." he says looking over at me. i blush and look at something else that wasn't his face.

"why do you keep looking away?" chris asks confused as he felt better. "i don't know." i say still not looking at his face.

"really?" chris questions not convinced. i nod my head because i couldn't find the words to speak.

"look at me." chris demands. i don't look at him.

"look at me" chris says again before reaching over and gently moving my face to look at him. we both make eye contact and stare at each other for what felt like an eternity. his eyes were so blue, they were so pretty. he was staring all over my face, first my eyes, nose, and lips then back to my face. i wanted to break the eye contact so bad but his hand was still holding my face in place.

"let me ask again, why do you keep turning away?" chris asks after a few minutes. it's like chris read my mind "and don't say you don't know." he says narrowing his eyes at me. "honest, i- i don't know.." i say whispering looking down at his chest.

"i know damn well you know.." chris says whispering as he moved closer to me. he moves his head back to look at my face, then glances at my lips then back at me once again. the way my stomach did summersaults. i know now that i wanted it just as bad as he did but i don't know what was stopping me.

"i'm gonna kiss you okay?" chris says in a audible whisper as his lips were inches away from mine as he moved his hand to my chin. my brain fogged up and i couldn't think anymore. i slightly nod my head and before i could think about what i said yes to, i felt his lips on mine. i wasn't gonna lie, this kiss felt so good and his lips were so soft. don't even get me started.

chris was about to pull away but before he could i don't know what got over me but i quickly deepen the kiss. my hands make their way to either side of his face as my body moves closer to him not breaking the kiss. i was basically on his lap before one hand moved to his hair.

when it was time to get some air both of us pulled apart breathing heavily. i stare at him and his eyes were filled with lust and love. i could say the same with mine. i don't hesitate to kiss him again. my lips found his as i started playing with his hair. i could feel his tongue caresses my lips asking for an entrance. i oblige and our tongues start battling for dominance. i couldn't take it any longer, a deep moan escaped from my mouth as we continued to make out.

when it was time to catch our breath for the second time, chris motions me to stand up. he stands up after me. he turns me around with my back facing the bed and gently pushes me back making me land on the bed. chris crawls on the bed and hovers on top of me. he pushes my hair out of my face and behind my ear before latching his lip onto my neck. chris started kissing all over neck until he found my sweet spot.

"oh gosh.." i moan quietly. chris gently bites at my neck leaving a hickey in that spot. it didn't matter at that moment if i was left with a thousand hickeys, this felt too good. chris moves back to my lips and gently places kiss before staring at me.

his eyes were glazing over mine. i could tell that he wanted more, and if you couldn't tell by his face you could tell by his member that was poking my leg. it felt so hard making my insides tingle. i couldn't deny the fact that i wanted more. no scratch that. i needed more.

we stare at each other for a moment longer. "what.." i say in a low whisper. "you're just so beautiful.." chris says in a raspy tone. oh shit that was hot as fuck. my insides were burning even more.

"oh shut up.." i say with a blush forming on my cheeks . "no joke.. you're so fucking beautiful it's not even funny." chris says with a serious tone.

"well um thanks.." i say breaking the eye contact. chris grabs my chin moving my head, making me look at him.

"gosh you're killing me. like you have no idea what you do to me." he stares deep into my eyes. i swallow hard. his intense stare was making me crazy.

"that's not true.. i can name a few things.." i whisper boldly. "oh really?" chris whispers. i nod my head. "tell me then.." chris says in my ear. without thinking my hand makes its way down south and palms his dick. "oh fuck!" chris says as his hips flinch to my touch. i smirk knowing that i was able to make him this hard while still clothed and make him feel this good with just one touch.

chris ducks his head in between my neck as i continue palming his crotch. without any warning i quickly place my hand inside his ethika's and grab ahold of his dick. it was so warm against my palm.

"urgh" chris groans in pleasure. with my other hand i slide down his boxers, revealing his cock in my hand. i look down as my eyes bulge as i realized how big he was. damn. i start stroking his dick slowly as i could feel his hot breath against my neck. "oh fuck!" chris moans loudly.

i take that as a sign and apply pressure. "oh god yeah.." chris groans to my movements. i start feeling kisses being planted against my neck again as i continue pleasuring him.

"oh shit, f-faster" chris pleads. i obey his command and stroke his dick faster. "oh yeah, oh fuck!" i stroke his member as fast as possible. chris drops his head in my neck, breathing fast. i could tell he was about to release.

"oh shit, im about to cuum! oh fuck" he groans as his hips buckles towards my cooch. i still have a hand on his dick as he releases spitting cum around my hand and stomach as my tank had slid up during this ideal.

chris's head was still dropped on my shoulder as i remove my hand from his dick.

"oh god, that was too good.." chris moans in bliss as he goes to stand up. he first finishes removing his boxers from his feet before walking over to the bathroom to return with a cloth. I watch every step he takes. before he could hand it to me, i took him by surprise and slowly start licking up the cum that was on my hand while staring straight at him.

chris opened his mouth to speak but was in shock. i continue to lick up the semen until it was all gone. "holy shit, that was fucking hot" chris says finding his words.

i smirk at him. "you know what else would be hot?" I ask purring. at this time i stood up and stand right in front of him with my hands on his chest while biting my lip.

"w-what?" chris asks whispering. my hands slowly massage around his chest and make their way to his neck, leaving them there.

"hm your fingers... all up... in my pussy, maybe finger fucking me raw with your tongue on my clit until i squirt and you hearing me scream your name...." i whisper quietly in his ear.

"what the hell has happened to the shy girl i once knew.." chris asks shocked. "she's still there, she just wants what she wants and. that. is. you..." i whisper before placing my lips against his.

before he could react and kiss me back, i quickly break the kiss and let go of him. "watch and don't touch till I tell you to.. understood?" I say with lust. my hands slowly travel to the hem of my tank top as i slowly start pulling it off. once it was off I throw it across my room. I unclasp my bra soon after exposing my tits. my nipples harden at the cool air.

"oh god... you're so beautiful" chris breaths . I smirk and continue stripping off my clothes, next with my spandex's. my fingers lace around my spandex slowly pulling them down with my thong while making eye contact with him. I let my underwear drop, making my pussy exposed. I step out of them and kick it out of the way. all the time I was staring at his deep blue eyes, making me almost fold, but I needed to stay strong.

I move closer to him with my naked body against his. I place my lips against his kissing him hungrily. chris snakes his arms around my body cupping my ass, pulling me closer. I let out a soft moan as he then grabs my waist throwing me on the bed aggressively.

he quickly gets on top of me and fondles my tits in one hand as his other hand slowly makes it's way down south towards my soaking pussy. chris starts kissing my neck finding, my sweet spot once more.

I squirm as I fiend for his touch. his fingers moves like magic as he pinches my clit— rubbing it in the process m. I let out a deep moan as he bites down on my neck and glides his pointer finger through my wet folds.

"oh my gosh.." I say whimpering. I needed more. "you like that baby? chris purrs. I moan in response. "yes, oh shit.." i say needing his fingers in me.

"tell me what you want.." chris whispers in my ear. i groan in frustration. "you already know.."

i feel chris's smirk as my eyes clench shut from the need of his fingers penetrating my pussy.

"fuck chris, please.." i whimper. he continues teasing my folds. my hips buckle upwards feeling his finger slid into my heat. i moan but before i could get far he removes his finger.

"fuck you" i say annoyed. i move my hand through his hair holding onto it tight.

chris chuckles before finally obliging to my needs. his long finger slides through my pussy making me shiver. it felt so good.

"mmm oh yeah.." i moan in pleasure. chris moves his finger in and out while playing with my clit. "that feels so good oh.. faster" i breath out.

chris adds another finger and moves faster as he stares at me. i stare back at him with pleasure filling my eyes. my pussy tingling and clenching together as i could imagine my high. i was so close.

"oh shit! fuck! faster oh" i groan. chris scrapes his fingers on the inside of my pussy walls making my eyes roll to the back of my head. i feel my body start to shudder at the reaction that i was gonna cum any second.

"chris, im so close" i moan but before i could ride my high, chris pulls his fingers out. i shoot open my eyes which were filled with annoyance but also lust.

"what the fuck chris! i was so close" i groan out my frustrations. "i don't want you cumming just yet... i'm not finished with you yet." he whispers before guiding his dick down to my entrance— letting his dick rub my folds.

in the process of getting finger fucked, chris's dick got hard again just thinking about the fact that he was about to fuck her raw.

"mm" i say in response to feeling his hard cock rubbing up and down my pussy. my pussy was so fucking wet his dick could slip in at any moment.

"oh god you're so wet.. huh?" chris moans loudly before slowly settling his dick in the depression of my pussy. i nod in agreement and as i urge for him to continue.

chris slowly pushes into my vagina, i gave an intake of breath as his cock parted my pussy gently. he slid inside of me, inch by inch.

god that feels so good but also big at the same time. chris pushes in a little bit more — a moan escaping his mouth. a few more inches in and i felt a slight resistance. i winced when chris tried to push further. he was so big.

chris noticed this and dropped a hand down to play with my clit. i moaned. chris captured my lips, mid moan chris took that as an opportunity to give a hard thrust into my pussy. his cock drowned in my pussy. past the resistance i groaned a little at the feel of it all. chris quickly pulled back.

"shit, are you okay?" he asks concerned. i nod my head in confirmation for him to continue. chris lands me a kiss and moves one hand to fondle my tits making me moan. i began to move underneath him, creating friction onto his dick — which made him move inside me.

chris began moving his hips, finding a good pace which started matching my movements. slowly he increased the speed of his thrusts. my breathing got choppier by the moment.

"oh shit y/n, you are so fucking tight..." chris moans as he pushes in and out of me. my pussy hugging at his dick as it felt really good.

"fuck, this feels so good!" i moan in pleasure, encouraging chris to go even faster.

at this point chris was pounding into my pussy. our bodies were mended together as i could feel my pussy walls tighten. this was literally the best feeling in the world.

chris places kisses all over my face as he continues pounding this pussy of mine. his hips thrusting at mine.

"chris oh fuck, harder!" i cry out. but instead of going harder chris pulls out quickly to lift my legs backwards towards my head. he puts his hand on either side of my thighs and motions me to hold them there as he wraps his hand around his dick — making sure to rub my pussy folds before pushing back in but this time a lot harder and faster.

chris replaces my hands with his that were on either side of my legs as he pounds his dick into me. "oh fuck! you feel so good baby" chris groans. his eyes travel and find mine making contact as he fucks me.

i start moaning uncontrollably as my pussy once again clenched around his cock. i was so close.

"fuck! shit! chris! oh god!" i sputter out different words. in my entire time of living i've never felt this good. my eyes shut close as my body shudders underneath of him.

"no! keep your eye's open.. i want you to continue watching me pound into your pussy.." chris breaths as he pounds even harder.. i open my eyes and do as he says. chris moves his hand down to my clit to pinch and rub back and forth.

"mm oh fuck yeah! baby your pussy feels so good" chris grunts leaning his head back clenching his eyes shut.

i whimper at the closeness of my release.

"shittt i'm so close.." chris moans. "me too, oh fuck.." i say moaning.

with that, any semblance that chris had left was gone. he quickly slowed down but before i could catch a breath, he rolled us to the side with his dick still in me. my back was against his chest and one leg was lifted, as he pulled his cock out but only for a second before he placed it near my entrance once again.

before i could say a word, chris started pounding into me. i gasped feeling the pressure implode against the inside of my walls.

"oh my god, yeah" i whisper in pleasure. chris let out a guttural moan as he pulled my hair, fucking me even harder and faster. i couldn't stop moaning as his cock slammed into me again and again. he grabbed my hand, motioning for me to hold my leg up as that hand went to my neck. placing me in a chokehold. oh fuck.

the feeling of chris's nine inches pounding into my pussy cavern, while pulling my hair and grabbing my neck was something i never thought i'd experience. but gosh did it feel amazing.

my moans did not stop whatsoever. his balls were slapping my ass, as chris continued pounding into me. i felt like i was going to explode. my eyes rolled to the back of my head as the feeling was getting too strong. chris bit my neck, squeezing his eyes shut. the pressure was building up.

"oh fuck, i'm gonna cum!" chris moans loudly. my body begins shaking as i couldn't contain my high. i was gonna cum at any second. "oh fuck!, cum inside me!.." i screamed in pleasure as i clench my pussy hard around his dick. "fill me up chris!.."

chris pounded into me one more time, so hard that i saw stars. "FUCK!" chris screamed pulling my hair and squeezing my tit at the same time.

"OH SHIT!" i moan so hard as i felt cum thrust into my pussy thrust after thrust creating a sensation that erupted my body into a deep state. i cummed so hard onto his dick.

i could feel the streams of semen inside my body. it felt so good that it almost hurt. chris didn't stop his movements. he thrusted into me hard, cum shooting in my pussy with each thrust. chris's moans turn into desperate pleasures.

our high's slowly came to an end, as our breathing began evening out. chris's hand wraps slowly around my stomach pulling me into his back. his dick inside my vagina.

"holy... fuck.." chris whispers. a small smile plays out on my lips. i nod knowingly at what he was trying to say.

"are.. are you.. okay.." chris asks nervously.. i sigh. "i'm definitely more than okay.." i whisper.

chris kisses my cheek before slowly wrapping both his arms around my waist rolling me softly onto my back as he was on top of me.

chris pulls himself off of my body still from on top of me and lifts my chin to look at him. he bends his head down to give me a kiss. he lingers there for a few seconds before lifting his head again. this time he slowly glides his softening dick out of my pussy. i moan quietly as that felt good.

as he removes his dick from my pussy.. there pouring out of my vagina was cum. lots of cum.

chris looks down to see a puddle of it. "oh damn.." he blushes. "what?" i say moving my hand down to touch the area that was now wet for a different reason.. i felt the puddle of what my guess was cum. "damn chris!" i say surprised. "is it always this much?" i ask curiously as i look at the cum that i scooped up.

chris shakes his head.. "not really.." he says blushing even more before getting off the bed to grab the cloth he brought over earlier.

i lick some of the cum off my fingers as my curiosity takes over. out of the corner of my eye i notice chris staring at me. i lick the remaining cum off my hand and swallow it.

"fuck this shit, don't do that!" chris moans shaking his head. i smirk knowing exactly why.

chris gets back on the bed and using the washcloth to quickly clean both of us up before throwing it across the room and wrapping his arms around me pulling him to his chest with the blanket over us.

chris plants a kiss on my forehead before we both fall into a deep sleep.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo edit

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lizzychanstuffss · 8 months

Text

May I... may I touch you?

Astartion x durge!reader

thank you @ferenofnopewood (also for being my beta reader!) for the inspo for this. We both went feral talking about this.

Synopsis: a simple rewrite of the Act 2 romance scene with durge and Astarion. Basically, this is just extra soft and I imagine it would be cute if he remembered you hugging him in the confession scene. Also this is totally my headcanon for my own durge but don't mind that

Of course as always spoilers for act 2!

Your head spun with bile and wrath, unable to sleep it off as you normally would try to do. But no matter what you did nothing seemed to calm the thundering headache forming at the edges of your mind. So without much other choice, you stood up. Your companions were blissfully sleeping while you wrestled with unseen demons. Once you got up you could see Astarion from across the still burning fire; his beauty was always apparent even when he was at rest.

But your silent admiration was rudely interrupted by a foul-sounding goblin butler.

"He is so afraid. So, so afraid of everyone besides you who he ought to fear the most." His words were clearly said with the intention of shaking your resolve. "You could do so much better." The goblins' tone disgusted you, how he could say such things and yet you know they rang true in Astarion’s own mind, he was so worried you could do better than some runaway vampire spawn. But these thoughts were clouding your judgment even more than the urge was and with that you shook your head as the thoughts faded to the background.

"Get away from him." The bile and raw, murderous intent that had been clawing at your insides broke out in a growl. But seemingly unimpeded by your defense he playfully hopped over Astarion, the thought of using your urge to protect him might not be all that bad of an idea.

Was he taunting you? It was a thought that crossed your mind and passed as he spoke again.

"I won't lay so much as a talon on him! I wouldn't rob you of that delight. Your clever mind is penning up a tragedy as we speak. Your repressed urge yearns to kill." He appraises a moment before continuing "And kill you will. Tonight, the moment you close your eyes, your favorite person will be brutalized." The words were a shock to your system. You couldn't let that happen not to him, not ever. The thought alone made you want to vomit that your own body would even consider it.

"I-I love him, No, I can't be" You couldn’t imagine losing no not him. He’s been the only person who didn’t judge, didn’t blame you, no matter how bad it got. You couldn’t bear to—

"We all kill what we love most, in time"

You choked back a sob.

"You like him for more than his looks, but he will never believe that. Why not make him a pretty corpse?" Your hands started to twitch as you let yourself briefly indulge in the fantasy of wrapping them around the wretched creature’s neck. If he really meant to taunt you into committing a murder he was certainly getting close to achieving that goal.

"He must live....I haven't yet told him how I truly feel about him." The felt less like a defense against the butlers goading and more like a reminder to yourself. What you were truly trying to achieve here. You have promised to protect Astarion. From Cazador, from yourself, it didn’t matter. And it was a promise you would never break…at least you hoped.

"Why not whisper it while you twist a knife? Or have a love confession be the final words between you? It is my duty to ensure you are making the right decisions, Master." He lets out a sigh mimicking a father in its nature. "There was much..disappointment at your reluctance to kill the little Moonmaiden. You could kill this one deliberately. I'm sure it will be considered a great show of good will. The tithe could still be yours." There it was again, the offer, the temptation…what you assumed was to be considered one. You still had no idea what this so-called tithe even could be; but you were certain you wanted nothing to do with it if it required such a foul murder.

"I will save him, whatever it takes."

"I do not doubt you will act with the decorum befitting one of your rank. Good night." And with that the butler was finally gone leaving you with a choice you had already made prior. Taking the initiative and kneeling besides Astarion you attempted to wake him. But as you went to reach for his shoulder your hand paused of it’s own violation, it itched to wrap itself around his throat and ruin him. You would not allow it, a battle against your own mind was something you had gotten accustomed to on this journey thus far and so once you were able to regain composure you went to wake him but he made quicker work of it then you could, questioning whether or not he was actually in a trance at all tonight.

"Well, hello. Looking for a cuddle?" he said, flirtatious as ever even in such a trying time for yourself. Although you were sure the look on your face gave way to his next set of words. "Although you don't look entirely...yourself. What's going on in that head of yours?"

That question was one you had to think about how to answer, and quickly. "Listen, now isn't the time...I need to protect you." You tried your best to convey the urgency of your situation as the headache overtook you again.

"All right, talk quickly, then." He seemed concerned, but there was something unsure about his expression as well.

"I'm going to kill the person I most care about: you."

You took a breath, it was ragged and barely enough to push the headache down for the moment, as you used the brief moment of clarity to gauge what Astarion’s reaction.

"Unless you can stop me." A faint glimmer of hope mingled with your voice as you practically pleaded with him. Astarion was a capable enough fighter, surely stopping you would be an easy enough feat.

"How flattering, And disturbing" he smiled "You could have talked to me before things got murderously bad, you know. We are technically in this together." He was using sass to cover nerves that you couldn’t help but notice. It was so like him even in the face of danger "It certainly puts the death of dear, sweet Alfira into some perspective." Those were the last words you heard before your vision blurred and your head grew into a dizzy blur and you fainted.

But when you awoke you were not in control, it was like watching from a window all you could do was try and tap on the glass. You tried your best to resist hurting him…although you realized quite quickly you were bound by your hands and feet. It gave you some relief to know that you could do little to rebel in this state.

"This thing won't have you. It won't win." You hoped those words were true. You tried your best to resist again expressing understanding. Instead your body reacts with a will of its own, it tried to bite at him. Which would have almost been funny any other time but now…now all you wanted to do was scream out in frustration.

"Ah ah ah! We ask before we bite.” He took this better than you expected, with a sigh he spoke again "You're cute, you know. In another life we might have been friends." Those words felt flippant in the moment, but you could tell there was an underlying sadness to them. If you’d been of your right mind you would have tried to comfort him. But comforting anyone was beyond you at the moment. All you could do was fight against your binding and your urge as it drove you to struggle against the bindings the kept you from hurting anyone, including yourself.

"Easy now, darling, You've got this. And I've got you." Those words gave you a strange comfort and a boost of determination. Feeling another wave of the urge you tried your best to resist and this time managed to express a sliver of thankfulness for his words.

"You'd do the same to me. Now just relax - dawn isn't far off." He wasn't wrong about that, as much as it was hard to admit he knew you better than you'd like to admit at times. The night passed on and without any bloodshed, a mercy from the gods. You once again returned to your mind, scared and exhausted.

Then, almost on cue, Astarion came to free you from your bindings. He sat in front of you, and a look of embarrassment crept onto your face as he spoke.

"I felt bad for the bard, seeing you like that. Poor Alfira never stood a chance, did she?" It wasn't really a question even if he posed it as one because the answer was clear as day. "Now that you're back with us," he paused, "We need to have a talk."

You had dreaded this moment but he was right. You needed to talk about this whether you wanted to or not. You sighed before trying to speak, but the words ended up getting caught in your throat. Suddenly you realized there were tears falling down your cheeks. You were unable to hold it back any longer. Any sort of strong front you had put on up unto this point faded in an instant and you were sat in front of him sobbing.

Concern formed on the man's face and he adjusted himself to get a little closer before asking "May I....may I touch you?" His words were gentle and meant to be calming - although almost anything said in his voice was calming. You gave him a nod. You weren't sure what he was going to do exactly but when he gently wrapped his around your shaking body in a similar fashion to how you had hugged him a few nights prior. Those tears started to flow even more. Nestling your head in the crook of his neck, tears wetted his rather flowy camp shirt.

"Sh, sh, you can let it all out." Those words caused the tears to flow even harder. Had you really been holding in all of this for so long? You didn't know. All you did know was that you really needed this: A gentle comfort from someone you loved so deeply as him. After a moment, he tentatively stroked your hair. Although you couldn’t help but wonder if his hesitation was because he wasn’t sure how to actually comfort someone or if he just didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It didn’t really matter all that much, you didn’t care, you appreciated that he even tried in the first place.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him just stroking your hair and holding you while you let out all the tears you needed to get out. By the time you could finally talk again your eyes were red and puffy, but he would never say a thing about it. As you removed yourself from his body, but only enough so you could get a look at his face he instinctively raised a hand up to caress your cheek before stopping but your answered his silent question by leaning into it. He wiped away some of your tears before gently running his thumb over your cheek. It was a soft gesture and much needed, his touch was welcome in that moment.

"So then, are you ready to talk now, or do you need to stain my shirt more first?" he joked. A small chuckle made its way across your lips, and a smile found its way to his lips as well.

"I suppose I am...I know I owe you an explanation" you sighed.

"You don't owe me anything” he corrected “But I would like an explanation."

You gave him a nod. He was right, of course. But considering you did almost kill him, explaining seemed like the least you could do.

You told him everything about “the dark urge” as you had taken to calling it. Well, everything you could remember. He sat there and listened patiently. But his face gave way to no emotion, no emotion, no fear just…..understanding.

Once you finished explaining, he replied, "You are not alone in this - none of us are. We can even compare notes if you like." His comforting words made you feel like a monster, it was refreshing.

You looked his face over, before you leaned into his hand again, closing your eyes as sadness began to overtake you. "You know you're allowed to hate me for this...I know I would" Your self-loathing rearing its ugly head, you couldn't help it; as much as his comfort was nice to hear the fact of the matter was you felt like a monster. Just some attack dog meant only to destroy everything and anything in your path.

"I don't hate you..because this," he made sure you kept eye contact during these words, his gaze was intense fully focused on you in this moment "This is not you" The words rang through you, and you wanted more than anything for that to be true…but it was hard to believe when killing just felt so natural to indulge in and it was just so easy to let the urge do the work. But in this moment you had to take him at his word; because if you didn't you were sure you were going to start sobbing again.

He pressed his forehead to yours before speaking again "Whatever this is though, you will get through it. And I will be here to make sure you do." A promise you hoped would be true.

#astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #dark urge #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x durge #astarion x mc #astarion x dark urge #astarionfics #my writing

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