elena

When you wake up from an accidental nap, it’s already dark outside, the silence of the snow blanketing Jackson, all of the settlement getting covered in heavy white crystals. You turn your head to see the clock showing a little past eleven, and since you have no chance of sleeping through the night if you turn over and close your eyes now, you decide to get up for a little while. The house is silent too — Joel must have left for the night after you retreated to your room. 

Your relationship to him is cordial, friendly, not exactly close but you work well together as housemates, all things considered. When your grandma kicked the bucket a few months back, you decided it was time to give up the large house that the two of you had lived in for a few years, knowing that a family would have much better use for it than two women, now one, who spend their time knitting and watching TV. You’d struck up a friendship with Tommy over the course of a few patrol shifts and, when he suggested you move into his brother’s spare room, you said he had a deal. 

You and Joel sometimes have dinner together after work, before he retreats to his woodworking studio and you get comfy on the couch, under a blanket, with your needles and yarn in your lap, and the TV on until you head to bed at ten. You live like a grandma, like your grandma, and although Joel insists that you’re several decades ahead of time with that lifestyle, it does allow for a peaceful living situation. You feel no real desire to go out much either, aside from seeing friends, considering that the men you’ve met throughout the years have largely been uninteresting or uninterested. A few times, you’ve realized that your dry spell has gone on longer than you thought, and you’ve found someone for the night, though none of them were all too generous, blending into the same vague group of men in your memory. 

Despite being a number of years older than you, and generally a stoic, somewhat reserved, never very talkative guy, Joel heads out to the Tipsy Bison with Tommy and a few friends most weekends, coming home a little after midnight, surprisingly sober, joining you on the couch, throwing his arm over the backrest and watching whatever you put on. You chitchat a little, and sit there until you fall asleep. Tonight seems to be one of those nights, so you figure that you might as well make some food for the two of you. 

You get out of bed and move over to the door, taking a step out into the hallway when you hear the front door opening and closing amongst murmurs between Joel and a woman’s voice. You stand completely still, biting your lips together, intrigued by what must be the end of a spontaneous date. You don’t blame her — Joel is a stunningly gorgeous man, a tall, broad, dark haired, dark eyed, beautiful man, one who even makes you feel a little hot around the edges when you see him straight out of the shower, with his t-shirt sitting a little too tight around his shoulders, sticking to the droplets of water on his chest and his wet curls combed back. Sometimes you tease him and say he should go out and find someone to date, but he rolls his eyes at the notion, waves you away with his hand and grumbles something about looking after Ellie being enough on top of his work. 

And yet, here he is, making his way through the hallway below you while a woman trails after him. You hear his rumbling laugh, his offer of a drink — one she accepts. Breathing as quietly as you can, you get down on the floor, knowing that the balcony of the staircase is visible from the living room, listening to their barely intelligible smalltalk and the clinking sound of a bottle, an ice cube landing in each of two glasses and liquid being poured over top, her gratitude, his suggestion that they go sit on the couch. 

Laying down on your stomach, you see them as they come into vision, sitting down close to each other on the cushions, his one arm slung over the backrest while his other hand holds his glass. You can barely hear what they’re talking about, and you assume he’s being mindful of their volume when he nods towards upstairs and mumbles something she waves dismissively at, whispering, of course, totally fine. 

It’s surprisingly fun, laying on the hardwood floor and spying on Joel’s date, unable to hear what they’re saying and relying on their body language to tell you what’s going on. Luckily, neither of them are being very discreet, with her legs coming up to the couch, knees resting on his thigh, and his hand placed on the side of her pants after he puts his empty glass on the coffee table. She comes closer, he smiles and looks into her eyes, strokes her thigh with his palm, and he lifts her hair away from her shoulder, wraps his other hand around the back of her neck, then kisses her. You squeal internally, eyes flaring open, watching him put her glass away as well so he can pull her onto his lap. 

It is, perhaps, a little bit embarrassing, just how entertaining you find this little spectacle unfolding in front of you. You’ve seen people kissing, even making out, around the settlement — established couples, teenagers at night when they’re out past their curfew. But you’ve never seen anyone have sex, save for the one time you saw yourself in the mirror, and never seen any sort of pornography aside from an old Playboy magazine or two. You’ve heard rumors that there are old pornographic VHS tapes stashed somewhere at a lookout point, but the TV there has been broken for a while and you only get sent there on patrol a few times a year. 

With the lack of exposure and desensitization to erotic visuals, you find yourself feeling a little warmer, your breaths going a little more shallow, when you see Joel’s hands sliding up and down the woman’s waist. You can’t remember seeing her around here before and you have no idea what her name is, but you can see from your lookout spot that she’s gorgeous. You can see the slope of her waist from behind and the way her ass stretches out her pants, how Joel grabs her with his large hands splayed out over each cheek. You’ve never spent much time thinking about your sexuality, defaulting to men out of sheer habit when you’ve been out on the prowl, but seeing a woman like this is making you wonder if you’ve been willfully ignorant, dismissing your potential attraction to them for no real reason. Maybe Joel can show you. 

She whimpers softly as they make out, and the sound goes straight to your core, a little jolt of electricity going into your spine when you watch her roll her hips over his crotch. The groan he lets out makes your eyes flare open again. He swats the side of her ass with a flat hand and she squeals a little, giggling while she tosses her hair to the side and leans back in to kiss him. His hands move up under her sweater then, thumbs carefully making the first move, and it’s almost mesmerizing to watch her fingers thread through his thick curls. They stay like that for several minutes, kissing and touching each other, under the bottom of her sweater and the top of his flannel, pulling back every once in a while to murmur something to each other, to laugh or giggle, or for him to smack her ass again, swiftly followed by a grab, sometimes a little moan.

It dawns on you that what you’re watching, what has never been modeled to you, is intimacy. It’s a gradual buildup, a comfort level developing between Joel and this woman, his patience and careful coaxing letting her relax into his hands. You thought you might be lucky enough to see a quick and dirty one night stand, something you can think about in secret with your hand stuffed into your panties at night, but what you’re seeing is something you never quite realized existed. 

One thing is for sure, and that is that your image and perception of Joel will never be the same. 

Every intimate encounter you’ve had with men has been rushed and somewhat one-sided in the pleasure department, frequently lacking and sometimes downright uncomfortable. The conclusion you’ve come to, that all men must be selfish and impatient in the bedroom, comes as no surprise, affirmed over and over until now, when Joel, of all people, is the one to show you how it’s done, how to make a woman feel good and not like any other piece of ass in a lineup of many. 

She pulls her sweater off and starts to work at the buttons of his flannel, keeping her lips attached to his while he wriggles it off his arms and throws it to the side. His legs have spread out a little as he’s slumped back into the couch and moved her back and forth over his presumed erection. You think you might even be more turned on than he is, just from watching and listening to them. Of course it feels inappropriate and maybe even disrespectful to spy on them like this, but you can’t possibly rip yourself away, seeing where it’s going and feeling the arousal start to pool deep down, clenching your thighs together when he pops her bra open and carefully slips it off. The way he touches her is firm but gentle, his eyes following hers to seek permission. 

Your jaw drops when she leans her head back and you can see him take her nipple into his mouth and roll the other between two fingers, when you see her tits — full and heavy, fitting perfectly in his hands. She moans at whatever he must be doing with his tongue. You wonder how it feels to be on either side of the equation as you stare at her chest, feeling your own nipples tightening at the sight. 

His hands move from her chest, down to the front of her pants, unbuttoning them before one slips under the waistband of her panties. He releases her nipple and moves to her neck, kissing up and down while she leans her head to the other side. A breathy moan escapes her when his hand stills, and you imagine he just sunk a finger or two into her. You can’t see the movement of his wrist, but you can see the flexing of his bicep, the way his shoulder shifts and how she grinds her hips along with the same rhythm. He murmurs some more, whispers and coos, while his shoulder moves and she ruts her hips towards his palm.

Selfishly, you want to see more, and you lean your head a little closer down to the floor when you see him place her on the couch and pull her pants down her legs, discarding them before ridding her of her panties as well. He lays down on top of her, undoes his belt and his zipper when he kisses her neck, with her fingers twisting in his hair, moving down over her chest, her stomach, and down to her mound, covered in dark curls. You never noticed quite how broad his shoulders were until he gets between her legs and pushes them open, holding the back of one knee in his hand as he begins to devour her.

The way her back arches and she closes her eyes, the way her fingers find his hair again, gently threading through his curls, her soft moans of his name and his hums of satisfaction, his own eyes fluttering closed at her taste — it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen, and you feel your arousal spill into your panties, wet and warm as it pools in the fabric. 

Both of his hands snake around the back of her legs and come to hold her hips, rubbing her with his thumbs while he licks her clit, moving his head, subtly thrusting his hips into the couch cushion. You finally hear a clear sentence, I’m gonna come, I’m so close, breathily murmured, and he holds her tighter while she arches deeper, winds her hips and rides his tongue until you watch her legs start to shake. Watching her come is the hottest thing you’ve seen in the entirety of your life, no doubt about it, her legs spread and body open for him, surrendering completely to his touch. 

She murmurs something you can’t make out and he rises up on his elbows, seeming to ask her a question she nods in response to, then stands up and discards his pants and boxers. You’re too busy looking at her laying there, tracing her fingers up and down her chest, to even notice Joel naked, until he lays back on the couch and she kneels between his legs. 

When your attention is turned to him, you swallow while your eyes trace down his body, from the dark hair on his wide chest, to the softness of his tummy, to the coarse curls leading to his hard cock — the biggest you’ve seen, the thickest, overwhelming and mouthwatering. Not in your wildest fantasies could you have imagined that he was that big, that anyone could be that big, so long and thick that the ridiculous size of his hand doesn’t even affect your perception when he wraps his fingers around the base and holds it out for her. 

She dives down and starts to suck his dick, showing off her figure and the curves of her ass. You watch her head move up and down a few times, pushing his hand away and wrapping her own around him, moving it slowly, and he lets out a deep, rumbling groan while he tips his head back, eyes drawing closed. “Shit, baby, that feels good,” he tells her, and the husky tone of his voice, the raspy, lust-filled timbre of it makes you gasp, quickly realizing your slip-up when his lids open and he locks eyes with you. 

You freeze, unable to move your gaze or your body, stuck with your chin resting on your forearms right at the edge of the little balcony, looking through the railing. He moans then, and when she stops to look up at him, he smiles and shakes his head reassuringly, letting her go back to sucking him while he looks up at you and curses under his breath. Then he looks down at her again, mumbling something about his back and sitting up a little further, giving you a better view of how he slowly thrusts into her mouth with his hand at the base of her skull. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” he chuckles, pulling her off and hooking his hands under her arms, pulling her up to sit on his lap. He whispers something to her and she nods, shifting around a little so she can sink down on his cock. You swear you’re hyperventilating at this point, eyes wide like a cartoon, lips parted, your skin flushed and damp with sweat from the heat and your own embarrassment, so turned on your core is contracting and you’re trembling slightly, getting little shakes and jitters while your clit throbs and aches. 

Fuck the VHS tapes at the patrol site, you will never see anything like this again — Joel’s attention, affection, his touch, her moans, the way he reassures her as she takes him slowly, the way he coos and praises her, tells her just a little more, almost there, while she tries to make space for him inside. 

Their words are a little clearer now, and you can’t tell if it’s your hearing sharpening from your state of arousal or the two of them unable to keep it down, but you hear her whimpering and telling him how big he is before she leans in and digs her face into his neck. He puts one arm around her, holds her hip with his other hand, and glances up at you while he rocks her back and forth on his lap and she rolls her hips. He spreads his legs a bit, gains leverage, and fucks up into her slowly, holding her close to muffle the moans you can still hear. 

You can’t stop the way your pelvis pushes into the floor at what’s unraveling in front of you, watching her ride him, her movements slowing, telling you she’s getting closer again. You wish you could hear what he whispers in her ear, presumably a constant stream of praises and compliments and dirty sweet talk, while his hand travels down her back and reaches between her cheeks, starting to slowly rub her asshole. And that seems to be what pushes her over the edge, because he pulls her in tighter and smiles at you in a fake apology for her moans spilling out, no longer contained as she comes. 

She lifts her head and laughs, kisses him and then kisses his neck, and they shift around so she’s on her back again, with him on his knees, holding her thighs apart. You have to stop yourself from moaning when you watch him enter her again, when you watch his glistening cock slide in through her folds and she gasps as he bottoms out. He holds her hips up and fucks her slowly, looking into her eyes, letting you see his cock as it glides in and out, little veins popping out from this skin, tracing down his length. You hear his muttered curses and growls, before he leans over and cages her in with his elbows. 

That’s when your attention shifts to the movement of his hips, his firm ass and the muscle in his legs as he fucks her in missionary with her legs swung over the backrest and around his thigh. You see every flex of his glutes when he pushes in, the tension disappearing as he pulls out, how he covers her body with his size, and you hear the wet sounds of them making out. You had no idea that a man could fuck like that, that he could last more than a few minutes and make a woman come more than once. You’ve started seeing the signs now — he maintains a steady pace, then slows down as she gets closer, pushing deeper, grinding when their hips meet, and she claws at his back, drags her nails down until he has red streaks over his shoulder blades. 

You hear his voice again, the low rumble of it, while his hand slides under her back to angle her just right, and her moans of relief appear moments after, that sweet cross between a moan and a giggle and a sigh, his name somewhere in there too. He chuckles, and they stay still for a moment, whispering about something, rubbing their noses together, kissing, then whispering again. They seem to be having an entire conversation while he slowly thrusts and she clasps her hands together behind his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist and hooking her ankles over each other to push him in deeper. 

And after all of the softness, the tenderness and the slow building orgasms, he raises onto his knees while she turns around and presents her ass to him, looking back and diving her chest into the couch, stretching her arms out in front of her. He lands a smack on the side of her ass again while he shakes his head and takes a breath, then mumbles something with a chuckle that clearly makes her a little bit flustered, judging by how she digs her face into the cushion as he pushes his cock back into her. 

His hands find her hips, pulling her back and fucking her harder, faster, while she moans into the cushion and he shoots you a single glance before licks his thumb and pushes it into her asshole, pounding her from behind, grunting and panting while he looks down between them at how he stretches her open. Your eyes boggle at the sight of her flesh recoiling, the bounce of her ass against his hips, then his free hand as it reaches up and wraps around her hair, beginning to pull it and lift her head slightly, high enough off the couch to where you can see that she’s near a trance-like state, hypnotized and fucked out. 

Fuck, you whisper, mouth hanging open slightly, not even bothering to make eye contact with him as he looks up at you, your eyes glued to the two of them and how she bends her spine, how she arches her back and lets him fuck her as hard as he wants. He pulls out with a grunt, slots his cock between her asscheeks and lets his come spill out, covering her lower back in milky white streaks you wish you could lick up. 

He strokes the side of her hip and murmurs something to her before he gets a towel and cleans her up, then puts her on his lap again while he softens. They talk about something you can’t hear, but you can see that he rolls his eyes and chuckles, nodding to her and smiling, pushing her hair behind her ear before they both get up and get dressed. They move towards the hallway and you take it as your cue to leave, getting up on shaky legs as slowly as you can, with your panties sticking to your core and your arousal making you so sensitive you can feel your nipples rub against your bra when you move your arms. 

You make your way back into your bedroom and carefully shut the door, then rip off your clothes and get on your bed, immediately reaching down to rub your aching clit, relieving only a fraction of what built inside of you as you laid there on the floor. The front door closes but you barely acknowledge the sound. You ignore the creakiness of the stairs when Joel makes his way up, and only notice when your doorknob turns and he steps into your bedroom. 

His eyes are on you, watching how you touch yourself, how you try to stuff three fingers into yourself with your hand, frantically rubbing your clit and gasping at the sensation. He comes closer to the bed, taking slow steps, running his hand through his hair while you see him start to harden again beneath his jeans. You draw both hands back, one of them sticky with your slick, and stand up on your knees, then reach up when he’s close enough, grabbing hold of his flannel and pulling him down, letting him kiss you. 

You can taste her on his tongue, the sweet, musky salt of her sweat and arousal, and it turns you on even more. It makes your wetness seep out and cover your inner thighs, and he growls when you suck on his tongue and let out an aroused sort of hum from your chest, one that makes him plant one knee on the mattress and start to lay you down with your legs spread and him settling between them, grinding his erection into you. 

“Is it my turn now?”, you pant, overwhelmed by his heat and his scent, by the dewy perspiration still on his temples and his chest. 

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

You always seemed to be behind when you compared your life to your classmates' lives, almost like you were sitting in the backseat waiting for your life to begin. A part of you secretly wanted what they had: to get asked out, to experience teenage dating, but you never had the courage to seek out and go get it. Sure, your family made some smart remarks about how your cousins were already dating but you pushed those away since you didn't want to make a big deal. You honestly thought that it wouldn't come back to bite you until you got back home from your class one day.

You got back home from your chemistry class to see your roommate, Miguel O’Hara, hunched over at the kitchen table reading some envelopes. You set your bag down on the couch and walk over to the table, sitting down next to him. "Hey, anything good come in the mail?" You asked, visibly startling him as he looked up at you. "Just our utility bills. Oh, and you got something from back home," he responded, handing you an envelope with your sister's name on the sender address. You wanted to put off reading the letter, but you decided to bite the bullet instead.

"Ah fuck," you mumbled, holding up the wedding invitation as you let out a small sigh. "C'mon think of all the leftovers you could bring," Miguel suggested, raising his hands up in defense when you looked over at him. "I'll probably just say I'm sick or something," you spoke, more so to yourself as Miguel’s brows furrowed. "It's just, if all my aunts and whatnot see me at the wedding without someone, they're gonna start commenting on it. How I'm the only one alone," you explained, hoping that it would ease the confusion on Miguel’s face.

"So I'll be your fake boyfriend for the night," he suggested, like he was asking what type of cereal he should get. Your brows furrowed as you sat down at the table, folding your arms. "What about your girlfriend? Dana? or Xina? Whichever one you're dating now," you countered, looking up at him. "Well.. That's actually where you come in. Dana broke up with me so I was kinda hoping that if she saw me and you together, she'd come back," he replied, sitting down across from you.

"And what about if this blows up in our face and I end up homeless, Mig?"

"First of all, this isn't gonna blow up in our face. And second of all, I think we can separate our façade away from our home life."

"You're forgetting I've never dated anyone. I have zero idea how this all works."

"I'll teach you about what to do. Plus, you'll be able to have some experience when you actually do date someone."

You wanted to continue arguing with Miguel, tell him how farfetched this idea sounded but it seemed like for every argument you had, he had a counterattack. Your mind couldn't help but race with everything that could possibly go wrong with this arrangement, but you decided to trust Miguel’s confidence in it. "Since it'll be beneficial for the both of us, okay," you said after a moment of deliberation, extending your hand out. "Are we in the mafia or something?" he muttered, rolling his eyes as you glared at him and shook your hand. You were expecting him to pull away after a while, seeing how resistant he was to it but he didn't. He simply stroked your hand with his thumb, intertwining his fingers with yours. "Our first lesson's handholding," Miguel elaborated and you were about to explain how you didn't need his help but he interrupted you. "Look, I know you know how to do it. But you would've started to overthink if I told you beforehand," he stated, keeping your hand with his.

The next few weeks before the wedding had been pretty uneventful, you had been telling Miguel about your family members and which ones to look out for and he had been teaching you all the basic parts of being in a relationship. The two of you were currently sitting at a Starbucks, helping each other study for a chemistry exam when you heard Miguel’s name being called from behind you. "Migs! I haven't seen you in such a long time, how are you?" Dana asked once she appeared in sight, completely ignoring you as she went to go stake her claim. "I've been good. Been busy with my girlfriend and all," he replied, his gaze locked on you as he smiled. You could've sworn that Dana's eyes turned into little daggers as she faced you. "Oh, I'm so happy for you!" Dana decided to say, starting to talk about some frat party she wanted to take Miguel to.

You couldn't help but notice that the entire time that Dana was talking to Miguel and batting her lashes at him, he kept his gaze solely on you. You decided to push it off, assuring yourself that he was doing that to make her jealous. "I thought the whole point was to get her back, why didn't you agree to the frat party?" You asked when Dana left, taking a sip from your coffee as his brows furrowed. "Oh, the frat party, yeah. I mean, she says she wants to spend time with me but who gets back together at a party, y'know?" He responded, shrugging before going back to his school work. You decided not to push the subject any further and continued to study with Miguel.

You and Miguel had spent the following weeks going on study dates or just little dates between the two of you that didn't feel like research anymore. Eventually, the wedding approached the two of you and you were pacing in your living room. Miguel stood at the corner of the room, watching as you talked to yourself and freaked out. "What if this goes all wrong? I’m gonna be such an idiot," you muttered to yourself, continuing to walk around the living room. You didn't notice when Miguel walked over, placing his hands on your shoulders as he held you still. "Hey, calm down, you're gonna make a hole in the floor. On a serious note though, you're not gonna look like an idiot. We rehearsed this through and through and you're a natural when it comes to being affectionate," he remarked, massaging your shoulders gently.

You took a few seconds to calm down and stop your pacing, wrapping your hands tightly around Miguel’s body. "Thank you. For getting me out of my head and for even agreeing to this shenanigan," you spoke up after Miguel wrapped his arms around you, enveloping your body in his. "Don't worry about it. Go get dressed and we'll get going. We don't wanna miss the food," he replied, pulling back from the hug as he smiled reassuringly at you. "And what's wrong with what i'm wearing?" You asked, a brow raised as you referred to the Spider-Man pajamas you were wearing. "Nothing, but I just think those pajamas should be reserved for my eyes only, mm?" He responded, winking at you as you rolled your eyes.

You put on the dress that you picked out with Miguel a couple days ago, the material fitting around you snugly. You sat in front of the mirror, following the makeup tutorial your sister had sent you. You were in the middle of doing your eyeliner when suddenly you poked your eye. "Motherfucker!" You grumbled, putting your hand against your eye as you felt it watering. Miguel walked in after hearing your yell, stopping in his tracks when he took a glimpse at you. "I know it looks bad but I'll be ready in about thirty minutes," you assured him, wiping off the smudged mascara as you suppressed the urge to groan. "Bad isn't necessarily the word I would have used," he mumbled, leaning against the door frame.

"Maybe you're taking too much at one time. Makeup's a journey and shit, so just do what you know how to do while you get better at the other stuff," he suggested, rubbing small circles on your back. You looked at him through the mirror, nodding as you took off your makeup to start fresh. "I don't know how you always do that. Say all the right things to make me feel better, i mean," you admitted, deciding to turn off the makeup tutorial and go by what with Miguel said. Miguel lingered by the door frame, crossing his arms together as he watched you do your makeup before eventually going off to get dressed himself.

You and Miguel arrive at the reception hall at a pretty decent hour, since it wasn't too early but the caterers were barely starting to pass out the food. You jump a little when you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning around to face your mom. She leaned in, kissing you on the cheek as she embraced you. "Hola mami, ¿cómo estás?" you greet her, watching as her eyes immediately drift over to the man next to you. (hi mommy, how are you?) "Bien ¿y tú? ¿Y quién es este?" she asked, cutting the formalities short to find out what she needed to know. (good and you? and who’s this?)

"Este es mi novio, Miguel." (this is my boyfriend, Miguel)

"Ay mija, pero que guapo esta. Y que alto, casi llega al techo. ¿Porque no me lo habías presentado?" (oh daughter, he’s so handsome. and he’s so tall, he almost reaches the roof. why haven’t you presented him to me?)

You were about to speak up when Miguel suddenly cut you off, extending his hand towards your mom. "Un placer, señora. Y bueno, usted sabe como es su hija y lo tanto que le gusta ser privada," he responded, your mom’s eyes widening a bit. (a pleasure ma’am. and well, you know your daughter and how much she likes being private) "Un placer también. Usted es mas aceptable que el poster que ella le daba besos," your mom remarked, laughing as Miguel joined her. (a pleasure too. you are more acceptable than the poster she used to kiss) You grabbed his hand, pulling him away to avoid any other embarrassments. "You kissed a poster?" Miguel asked in between laughter, wiping at some imaginary tears from his eyes. "We're never speaking of this again," you grumbled, watching as his eyes sparkled with your reaction, laughing even harder. "I'm never dropping this."

Your mom pulled you and Miguel over to the table where all your aunts were so you'd say hello and make pleasantries with them. You could tell they wanted to say something about Miguel, surprised to see you here in public with a man by your side but they chose to bite their tongue back. Well, all but one. "¿Y tu eres su novio?" One of your least liked aunts asked Miguel, pointing a fork at his direction. (and you’re her boyfriend?) "Si señora. Apenas empezamos con la relacion pero la quiero mucho," he responded, looking at your aunt as she laughed. (yes ma’am. we just started with the relationship but i like her a lot) "Pero que bueno. Pensábamos que se iba morir virgen la pobre," she remarked, her eyes glinting with amusement as your other aunts laughed. (oh, how good. we thought the poor girl was going to die a virgin.)

You were used to these kinds of remarks and you knew that it was best to keep your mouth shut and let them glide through. "Disculpe señora, con todo respeto, pero a usted ¿que le importa? ¿Es que no tiene vida para andarse preocupando de lo que ella hace? Lo que usted deberia estarse preocupando es sobre su marido," Miguel replied, keeping his tone even as he grabbed your hand. (excuse me ma’am, with all respect, but what do you care? do you not have anything else going on in your life to be worrying about what she’s doing? what you should be worrying about is your husband.)

You and Miguel sat in the car at the venue parking lot as he stroked your hand softly. "I'm sorry if I stepped a line in there. It's just.. What does she even care about who you're dating or what you're doing?" He spoke up after a couple seconds, looking directly at your eyes. "I really appreciate you doing that, Miguel. Every time I tell my mom about it, she takes their side and tells me to keep quiet about it. I mean, yeah, they're probably never gonna wanna talk to me but that's cool," you said with a small laugh, meeting Miguel’s gaze. he tilted your chin towards him, his lips meeting against yours tentatively.

His touch was featherlight as he leaned into kiss you, almost like he was scared you weren't going to reciprocate. You felt your heart beat hammering as you tried to recall the kissing techniques you'd seen in YouTube videos, shutting your eyes as you leaned in. "Ow," you mumbled, opening your eyes to find out that you accidentally bumped into Miguel’s nose. "It's okay, chiquita. I know it's your first time," he assured you, holding your cheek as he tilted his face to the side. (little one) "Just keep your eyes open until our lips connect and then just follow what I'm doing, don't overthink it," he told you, leaning in once more to kiss you.

The moment you felt your lips connect against his felt like fireworks, even if it was a little awkward. Your lips were stiff as he kissed you, unsure of what to do before you remembered his advice and decided to follow his lead. You felt comfortable shutting your eyes so you did, your hands reaching up to his hair like you wanted to pull him closer. You'd heard from your friends about their first kiss stories, how it was an awkward clash of lips but it felt more like a synchronized dance with Miguel. He deepened the intensity of the kiss when he felt that you were comfortable, his hand moving to your cheek in doing so.

You two pulled away a couple seconds later to catch your breath, the realization that you'd not only kissed your fake boyfriend but your roommate hitting you hard. You could've sworn that Miguel read your mind because he said, "I saw someone coming out the door and I figured we might as well sell it since they were looking this way." A fiber of your being hoped that your first kiss wouldn't have ended up as just something to prove, but you knew that it would lead you to uncharted territory with Miguel so you nodded along.

The ride home was mostly quiet, the music on the radio filling up the atmosphere. You thanked Miguel once more for helping you with the wedding dilemma before locking yourself up in your room. You didn't have the energy to figure out what was happening between the two of you and quite frankly, you thought you were probably being delusional, thinking too hard about things that would be normal in a fake relationship. You pushed those thoughts away as you changed out of the dress, hoping that you'd be able to get some peace of mind.

After a couple minutes of tossing and turning on your bed, you decided to go talk to Miguel since you had a feeling you wouldn't get some clarity until you did. You knocked on his door, hesitantly, as you swayed from foot to foot while you waited for his answer. Your jaw almost touched the floor when he opened the door, wearing no shirt and a low-clinging pair of grey sweatpants. You had to force yourself to look up at him when he let out a small cough, noticing the glasses he had on. "Is there something you needed?" He asked, a brow arched as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. In your defense, you tried really hard not to look, but it was impossible to resist the way he biceps flexed when he did that. "You."

Your eyes widened as you realized what had come out of your mouth, Miguel’s face one of amusement as he started to laugh. "What I meant to say was, I wanted an explanation from you. What did that kiss mean tonight?" you asked, a brow raised as you folded your arms. "I told you chiquita, to sell it to the person walking out of the party," he spoke, but you noticed that his eyes wouldn't meet yours. You pressed your lips together but decided not to push it any further, walking away. You turned around when Miguel grabbed your arm, he looked like he wanted to say something more. "I want more than just kisses with you." Your mind began going haywire at what he was saying but what you managed to blurt out was, "Because we're fake dating?"

Miguel let out a small sigh, running a hand through his hair. "No, not because we're fake dating," he spoke up after a while, tilting your chin up. "I want more than just kisses with you too," you told him, watching as his eyes darkened a bit. "I'm not gonna sleep with you until you're certain that my feelings for you are real. None of this fake dating shit," he whispered, leaning in as he kissed your cheek. You felt a bit disappointed as he spoke, but you realized where he was coming from though that didn’t stop the desire igniting in you. "I need you, Miguel."

Miguel let out a small sigh, almost like he was conflicted on what to do. "Lay down on the bed, chiquita," he finally relented and you laid down on the bed, awaiting for his next move. He set down his glasses on his bedside table before he laid down next to you, his hand moving to your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you. He continued doing that until you two were a panting, breathless mess and he played with the hem of your sleep pants. "Are you okay if we go further?" He asked, not wanting to intimidate you by doing too much too soon. "Y-Yeah," you whispered, wishing your voice sounded more affirmative than breathy, but you felt overwhelmed by everything Miguel was doing.

He slowly took off your pajama pants so he'd be able to stop himself if you got uncomfortable at any point before he settled in between your legs. Before you got a chance to ask what he was doing, he began kissing his way from your calf to your inner thigh. He gently nipped at the skin, his teeth grazing it slightly as he continued with his movements. He hooked his arms underneath your legs, putting them on his shoulders before leaning in to your clothed pussy. You felt embarrassed by how much wetness had accumulated since he'd barely even kissed you but that was quickly pushed aside when Miguel started to lick you through your underwear.

He slid off your panties after a while of you wiggling to get more from him, his lips curled in amused smirk as he took them off. He started off slow, collecting the slick that was clinging to your folds before delving in. He ate you out like a man starved and you couldn't help but moan out at the strange sensations. He let you close your thighs around his head, letting out soft grunts into your pussy as you tightened around him. The vibrations from his mouth shot straight to your spine, making your back arch from the bed. He held you still as he started to suck on your folds.

His mouth enclosed around your clit, looking up at you as he flicked his mouth. "Keep your eyes on me," he whispered when he saw you looking away, slowing down his movements. He continued once more once your eyes met his, having you watch as he kept his mouth connected with your clit. He took one of his fingers, gently probing them inside before sticking it in. he curled his finger, making way to stroke your g-spot with every movement. "So tight," he spoke against your clit, putting another finger in as he started moving them in a scissoring motion. Your mouth parted into a 'o' shape as he continued, overwhelmed by the sensation. His two fingers curled, finding your g-spot as they brushed up against it every time he thrust his fingers in.

You pulled on his hair, pushing your pelvis closer to his mouth, almost drowning him with your pussy. And you could tell that he wouldn't have minded it that much with the way he groaned in your pussy, slurping the juices that were leaking out. You felt a strange sensation building in your lower stomach, like a knot just waiting to unravel. "Mig! Stop, I'm gonna pee," you blurted out, feeling a bit embarrassed by the admission. You had expected Miguel to slow down but he continued with the same vigor, if not, only more motivated. The knot unraveled in you quickly and you released against miguel's face, feeling embarrassed at the thought you might've peed on him. He took his fingers out, sucking your juices off them as he looked straight into you. "You didn't pee on me, don't worry," he assured you, grabbing a wet wipe to clean you up.

You and Miguel had been threading a delicate line throughout the course of a week, only talking to each other when it came to basic chores and what to get for dinner. You were in the middle of doing classwork on the dining table when Miguel came over, sitting on the chair across from you. "Hey, I know things have been weird between us, but do you still want to head to that Halloween party with me?" He asked, reminding you of the Halloween party that he'd asked about two weeks ago. "Well I already have the costume, so it'd be a shame not to," you responded, not willing yourself to look up at him. Partly from the fact that you weren't sure where your late night rendezvous left you and from the fact that you'd looked up porn after that night, using Miguel as the object of your fantasies when you got yourself off.

You came back from your classes about five hours later and you noticed that Miguel was in his room blasting music, probably getting ready for the Halloween party so you decided to do the same. You managed to find a simple makeup tutorial for the bruises you were doing, given that you and Miguel were going as Tyler and the Narrator from Fight Club. You put on the suit and grabbed some of the bars of soap that Miguel had gotten for the two of you before stepping out of your room. "Hey, do you think you can help me with the bruises? I just can't get them to look realistic, y'know?" Miguel asked when he came out of his room, the bruises on his face looking like blotches of purple.

You had Miguel sit down while you blended the colors in his face, trying not to pay mind to just how much it affected you having him this close to you. You finished up a little while later and grabbed some fake blood, dabbing it in with your finger around his mouth and the cut you'd made on his cheek. "Has anyone told you how good you look covered in blood?" You asked absentmindedly as Miguel burst out into laughter. "Must be why everyone was so eager to help me out after a fight in high school," he replied, standing up once you finished. He thanked you for the work you'd done and you two quickly headed out to the dorms.

The party was in full swing when you two arrived and you couldn't help but notice that a lot of people were coming to say hi to Miguel. You'd always pictured him as the quiet genetics student, but seeing him out in public with his friends was a decent experience. You'd half expected him to leave you to go entertain them, but he grabbed your hand and led you to the back where there was more space to talk. "If at any point you want to leave, just let me know and we'll go, okay?" He told you, waiting for you to nod in affirmation before he took you to hang out with his friends.

He introduced you as his girlfriend, which struck you as odd since you would've thought he'd tell them about your arrangement, but you liked the way it sounded coming out of his mouth. His friends were nice enough, they included you in the conversation and they were pretty nice to talk to overall. "So how long have you two been dating?" One of his friends asked, looking over at you. You looked up at Miguel for help and luckily, he answered that plea. "We've been dating for about two months now, I'd say. But I've been liking her for a bit longer than that," he replied with a small laugh, and you couldn't help but feel your heart beating faster at his comment. Even if it was something he added to make the story sound more believable, you wanted to believe so badly that he actually liked you.

The rest of the party was spent in a blur of talking with his friends, dancing, and getting shots. Even when you stopped by to get shots, Miguel’s gaze never left yours. You could've sworn that you saw his fists clench up when a guy in a Spider-Man costume tried to talk to you, but as soon as you blinked, it was gone so you decided to push it away. You excused yourself to the bathroom a little after, and Miguel insisted on helping you find your way through the large house. His friends had a weird look on their face but you didn't question it too much out of the need to pee.

You came out of the restroom and you were a little surprised when you noticed that Miguel hadn't stayed behind to wait for you. You walked down the large hallway, stopping when you saw Miguel walking into one of the rooms with a girl in a devil costume. You decided to look through the creak in the door, seeing what Miguel was up to and quickly came to the realization that it wasn't just a girl in a devil costume. It was Dana and she had her arms all around miguel. "Please miguel, I've missed you so bad and I can tell that you do too. Come on, you can't seriously be happy with that inexperienced virgin?"

You decided to leave the party after witnessing Dana talk to Miguel, feeling a burning sensation in your chest. You knew that this was the whole objective of the arrangement that you and Miguel had going on, but you didn't expect it to hurt this much when it ended. You'd grown used to being miguel's 'girlfriend' and spending time with him, that you hadn't anticipated it would come to an end so soon. You locked yourself up in your room, feeling completely angry at yourself for being so foolish about the circumstances as you scrubbed away the makeup of the night. You were thinking about what to do about healing the burning you felt in your chest, listening to Frank Ocean and having a good cry seemed like the best one, when you heard a knock on your door.

You opened your bedroom door, seeing Miguel standing there with a solemn look on his face. "Hey, I heard what Dana told you earlier. I bet you're happy that she came back to you so i think we should end this. I'll find someone else and.. use the experience you taught me," you told him, attempting to muster a smile as his gaze darkened. "You're not gonna do that, okay?" He responded, his brows furrowing as he spoke. "And why not?" you asked, feeling your own smile falter as he spoke.

The buttery rays of morning autumn sunlight slipped through the curtains and danced onto your form, gently waking you up. You cracked an eye open and turned over to grab your phone from the nightstand.

It’s…only six a.m?!

You put down your phone and let out a groan, fighting the urge to go back to bed and pull the covers over your head.

It was one of those rare days where your body would wake up too early on its own, and it was probably because you subconsciously remembered that you were staying in someone else’s home.

You made your way to the window, parting the curtains and lifting up the window.

The chilly Monday air greeted your skin, but you didn’t mind it. The faint beeps from taxis and chatter from people throughout Nueva York below filled your ears. Even though you should be used to the entire city being awake 24/7 by now, the hustle and bustle of Nueva York never ceased to amaze you.

What do I do now?

You couldn’t just go downstairs and make yourself breakfast; it felt wrong to use Miguel’s kitchen as a guest. You weren’t even sure if Miguel wanted you to eat breakfast with him and Gabriella.

He seemed pretty skeptical of you last night, which was understandable, so it was probably best to try to stay out of his hair as much as possible. Especially since you were now staying in his home for free.

Breakfast can wait; I can buy something in that cafe across the street later. You had $200 in your bank account—not enough to rent an apartment, but enough to buy yourself meals for the next week or two.

And with that, you nodded to yourself and went to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

In the bathroom, you couldn’t help but jump a bit when you saw your reflection in the mirror. You almost forgot you were wearing Miguel’s comfy t-shirt and sweatpants. I need to change out of these.

After brushing your teeth and taking a shower (and re-wearing Miguel’s shirt and sweatpants since you had no clean clothes to change into), you made your way to the folded pile of clothes Miguel gave you last night that you put on the study desk by the window.

T-shirts, dress shirts, sweatpants…None of these, as nice as the materials of Miguel’s clothes were, were suitable for you to wear as day outfits.

Your fingers then paused on a sky blue cotton dress shirt. You took it out of the pile and held it up to your body, the end of the shirt reaching way past your knees.

A lightbulb went off in your head. I can make a dress out of this!

You set the dress shirt down on the desk and went over to your suitcase, taking out your bag of sewing supplies and beloved sewing machine.

“Chip,” you practically sobbed, hugging your ivory sewing machine with the sewing supply bag on top as you lugged both to the desk. “At least I have you with me.”

“Chip,” which you affectionately called your sewing machine, came from the sewing machine’s brand “Chip Sewing Brand Inc,” though you liked to think “Chip” stood for:

Costume Making

Hemming

and Everything In Between

for Princess Cosplayers

After setting Chip down on the desk, you sat down on a sleek black swivel chair in front of the desk. You smoothed the cotton fabric of the shirt across the desk before taking out pink fabric scissors from your bag.

An upbeat, incoherent tune escaped from your lips in a hum as you spent the next few hours cutting, pinning, seam ripping, folding, sewing, and hemming.

With how big Miguel’s dress shirt was on you, you were able to cut some extra scraps from the shirt. There was one part of the shirt that you especially wanted to save for later: the left breast pocket that had a crimson spider logo embroidered on it. The pocket gave you the idea to incorporate it as one of two lower side pockets on your dress.

As you turned to the left to set aside the shirt scraps, the corner of your eye caught a movement by the window. A pigeon fluttered its gray and periwinkle wings, landing on your windowsill.

“Hello, there,” you smiled at the pigeon, who cooed at you in response. “You’re welcome to stay and watch me sew if you’d like.”

You could call yourself crazy for talking to a pigeon who couldn’t understand you, but your smile only grew when the pigeon stayed on the windowsill and looked at you as if to wait for you to continue sewing.

Your hums, the pigeon’s coos, and soft whirs from your sewing machine soon filled up the room. You spent about the next half hour sewing on shoulder straps and using the other scraps from the shirt to make and sew two pockets on either side of the dress just below your stomach area.

“And…done!” You turned off your sewing machine and took the dress off the table. Before you could get up to go change out of Miguel’s pajamas and into your new dress, you noticed a flock of fluttering movements on the windowsill.

There were not one, but five pigeons on the windowsill now, all cooing in unison.

“I see you’ve brought your friends,” You cocked your head to the side at the first pigeon, or at least you thought it was the first pigeon that came to your windowsill. You weren’t really sure; they all looked the same. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go try on my new dress.”

You rushed into the bathroom and slipped out of Miguel’s pajamas, folding them neatly and setting them aside on the marbled vanity before slipping into the dress.

A smile bursted on your face once you saw your reflection. The dress-shirt-turned-dress boasted a sweetheart neckline and shoulder straps that you tied into bows on your shoulders. The pockets (with one pocket having the former shirt’s crimson spider logo embroidery) also added a cute touch to the dress.

For a dress that was made in two-ish hours, it hugged all the right places while still being comfortable and easy for you to move in.

“All in a morning’s work,” you grinned at yourself in the mirror, turning around to see the dress at different angles.

Oh! Speaking of mornings… You adjusted a bow strap on your shoulder before darting out of the bathroom to pick up your phone on the desk.

…I need to text Nancy.

Nancy, the owner of the princess party cosplay business you worked for, was the type of boss who was kind and understanding but also no-nonsense when it came to business.

After you typed and sent a message to Nancy about losing your apartment and asking for extra princess party cosplay job opportunities, you placed your phone into one of your pockets.

You then turned around, noticing the five pigeons that continued to rest on the windowsill.

“You’re all still here? I suppose you all liked that song I hummed earlier, huh?”

The pigeons answered you with a collective coo that sounded like a “yes” from them, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“All right, I’ll sing it again.”

You began to sing the song from earlier, trying your best to keep your voice soft in an effort to not wake Gabriella and Miguel in case the walls were thin.

The song you sang was a princess song with lyrics about being happy while doing whatever task you were doing, and it was always your go-to song every time you worked on a new sewing project.

The pigeons joined in on your singing with their cooing, and you began twirling around in your new dress while the pigeons bobbed their heads.

You became so immersed in singing with the pigeons that you didn’t hear the doorknob of your room turn. The door opened just enough for a certain five-year-old to peek her head into the room.

“Good morning, Princess Y/N!” Gabriella flung the door wide open, running over to you and encasing your legs in a big hug.

You halted your singing and bent down to greet Gabriella. “Good morning, little one!” you returned her hug, noting how adorable she looked in her light blue unicorn-print nightgown and pink bunny slippers. “Did you just wake up?”

“Mhm, I wanted to see if you were actually here! And I’m glad that you are!”

It was impossible for you to not smile more at Gabi’s words. Despite all the uncertainties and events since yesterday, you found yourself truthfully replying, “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

You straightened up with Gabriella, and she tugged on one of your hands. “Princess Y/N, can you help me brush my teeth? Papá isn’t awake.”

You took out your phone from your pocket and checked the screen, which read 8:10 a.m. You didn’t know when Miguel usually woke up, but from what Gabi just told you, it sounded like he usually woke up earlier.

“Are you going to school today, little one?” You let Gabi lead you out of your room and into the hall to the main bathroom.

“Yeah!” Gabi hopped onto a little stool in front of the sink area, and you flipped the light switch of the bathroom on. “I’m gonna tell my friends that I’m friends with a really pretty princess!”

“Aw, I’m flattered,” you gushed, putting a hand to your heart. “Now, can you show me where your toothbrush and toothpaste are?”

Gabi nodded, pointing to a gold toothbrush holder by the sink. You noticed two toothbrushes: one sparkly rainbow toothbrush for kids, and a larger blue-and-red toothbrush with a Spider-Man logo.

“That’s mine,” Gabi pointed to the sparkly rainbow toothbrush. “And the Spider-Man toothbrush is Papá’s.”

You couldn’t help but quirk an amused grin at learning that Miguel had a Spider-Man toothbrush, of all things. He pegged you as the type to have those boring gray toothbrushes.

“Ok, I’m going to show you how to put toothpaste on your toothbrush,” you took Gabi’s toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste from the toothbrush holder. You opened the cap of the toothpaste tube and then held Gabi’s toothbrush and the toothpaste tube in front of you. “Watch carefully.”

Gabi nodded vigorously. You squeezed a centimeter of toothpaste onto Gabi’s toothbrush, leaving some empty space on the toothbrush for Gabi.

“Ooh, I wanna do it now!” Gabi held her hands out to you as if you showed her how to make a unicorn out of clouds or something.

You handed her the toothbrush and the toothpaste tube, and made your way behind her to support her small arms with your hands. “You don’t want to squeeze the toothpaste out too hard, or a ton will come out and we don’t want that.”

Gabi nodded, adorably poking her tongue out as she concentrated on squeezing the toothpaste onto her toothbrush. The toothpaste made a little toot! sound as it came out from the tube, making the both of you giggle. “Look, I did it!” Gabi held up the toothbrush to you.

“Great job, little one,” you returned her smile. “Now I’ll help you brush your teeth.”

You made your way to stand next to Gabi, and you looked into the oval mirror in front of the two of you. “You want to brush your teeth like this,” you mimicked small circle motions with your hand in front of your mouth.

Gabi copied you, brushing her teeth. “That’s it,” you nodded, and Gabi beamed up at you with a mouth now full of minty toothpaste.

After helping Gabi to finish brushing her teeth, you tidied up the sink and Gabi hopped off of the stool. Just as the two of you were about to exit the bathroom, footsteps approached the door and the door opened to reveal Miguel.

The Miguel before you was a Miguel who looked completely different from the put-together man you met last night.

This Miguel wore a plush navy robe over a white t-shirt and red plaid pajama pants. His chestnut waves clung to his forehead and stuck out in all directions, and his feet were adorned with giant pink bunny slippers that matched Gabriella’s.

“¡Buenos días, Papá!” Gabi ran over to Miguel, hugging his legs. “Princess Y/N helped me brush my teeth!”

Miguel blinked as if he was just waking up, before addressing you with barely a glance. “Thanks, but I got it from here.”

“Of course,” you awkwardly shuffled out of the bathroom, feeling like you overstepped a boundary by helping Gabi brush her teeth. Miguel didn’t even cast another glance your way as you made your way to your room.

He’s probably just being protective of Gabi. You nodded to yourself as you went into your room and perched at the edge of your bed. We’re all still strangers to each other, after all.

You gave a half-smile to the five pigeons who still lounged on your windowsill before taking your phone out from your pocket to scroll through job sites for any extra jobs you could apply to.

You kind of lost track of time as you searched and bookmarked job opportunities, because about fifteen minutes later, Gabi stumbled into your room once more.

The child was now dressed in a white uniform polo t-shirt, a knee-length khaki skirt, and rainbow unicorn socks. Miguel followed behind her, still in his robe and with his messy hair. In his hands were a hairbrush and a sparkly hot pink hair tie.

Instead of going to you, Gabi ran over to your windowsill. You were surprised that the pigeons weren’t alarmed and simply stayed on the windowsill as Gabi marveled at them.

“Gabi insisted that she wanted me to do her hair here,” Miguel explained. His hickory orbs landed on you for the first time this morning, but instead of his eyes landing on your face, they landed on your outfit. “Wait, is that my shirt?”

“Yeah, I woke up early and didn’t have any clean clothes so I decided to make a dress out of one of the shirts you gave me. I hope that’s ok.” You shyly stuck your hands in your dress pockets, feeling self-conscious.

“Uh…yeah. That’s ok. Remind me to teach you how to use our laundry room later,” Miguel averted his eyes from yours rather quickly. His eyes then landed on the five pigeons still resting on the windowsill. “Pigeons?”

Miguel strode over to the windowsill, waving his hand to shoo away the pigeons (who flew off into Nueva York with annoyed coos) before shutting your window.

“Aw, Papá,” Gabriella whined, turning around to look up at Miguel. “The pigeons wanted to stay! You should’ve seen them sing with Princess Y/N.”

“Sing?” Miguel’s thick eyebrows lifted, before furrowing in doubt as he turned to look at you.

You simply stared back, confused on why he seemed confused. Surely singing pigeons weren't the most odd things Miguel had encountered in Nueva York.

Instead of saying something about how singing pigeons didn’t exist, Miguel cleared his throat and turned back to a disappointed Gabi. “Uh, well, maybe they’ll come back later.”

A smile formed on your lips at Miguel’s attempt to make his daughter feel better. Miguel then surprised you once more by repositioning himself to sit criss-cross on the floor.

“Princess Y/N, sit with us!” Gabi hopped into Miguel’s lap and patted the empty floor space next to Miguel.

“Alright,” you chuckled, though you hesitantly made your way off the bed and to Miguel and Gabi. You crouched down, sitting and leaving a pretty good chunk of space between you and Miguel. However, Gabi took your hand and pulled you closer to her and Miguel.

He didn’t say a word, his hands full with the hairbrush and Gabi’s hair. The sparkly pink hair tie rested loosely between his lips. As if it came second nature to him, Miguel gently and expertly brushed Gabi’s thick brunette hair and gathered it into a neat ponytail.

“There you go,” Miguel planted a kiss on top of Gabi’s head after securing her ponytail with the hair tie.

“¡Gracias, Papá!” Gabi tilted her head up to kiss Miguel’s jaw, and you wanted to melt then and there at how cute the father and daughter duo were. Gabi hopped off of Miguel’s lap and made her way over to you. “Princess Y/N, how do I look?”

“Like the prettiest princess in all the lands, little one,” you gave Gabi a wink as you stood up, not caring if your princess compliment would elicit an annoyed huff from Miguel or something.

What you didn’t expect, however, was to see Miguel stand up with a soft smile on his face as Gabi beamed even more at receiving your compliment.

“Did you hear that, Papá? Princess Y/N called me the ‘prettiest princess in all the lands’!” Gabi threw her hands back in the air as if you just made her day.

“Porque eres, mi solecita,” Miguel stated as if it was an undeniable truth. “Wait here with Princess Y/N, I’ll go get ready and then I’ll make us all breakfast.”

You let out a surprised “pfft” at Miguel calling you “Princess Y/N” as he made his way out of your room and into the bathroom in the hall. Before you could turn to Gabi, a voice made you almost jump.

“Miggy, Gabi, I’m here!” A woman’s voice, which sounded nothing but fun and playful, rang from downstairs.

“She’s here!” Gabi crowed, taking your hand and leading you out of your room once more.

“Who’s here?” You didn’t even have time to blink as you let Gabi lead you to the top of the staircase. The child let go of your hand, running down the staircase and into the arms of the mysterious woman who stood in front of the elevator that led into the penthouse.

As you descended the staircase, you got a better view of the woman. She looked around Miguel’s age yet had a fun sense of style. Her chestnut bob, transparent pink heart sunglasses, tan boots, and cream mink coat worn over a white blouse and khaki slacks all complemented each other. In her hands was a paper bag with small grease stains at the bottom.

From the way Gabi enveloped the woman in a big hug, and the way the woman called Miguel “Miggy,” you couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was Gabi’s mom, and/or Miguel’s partner, or…

“Auntie Lyla!” Gabi calling the woman “Auntie Lyla” broke you out of your thoughts.

“How’s my favorite O’Hara doing?” The woman, Lyla, gave Gabriella a huge squeeze.

“Great! Papá and I took a princess home with us!” Gabriella beamed up at Lyla.

“Oh?” Lyla winked at Gabi as if Gabi just told her that Gabi got a new princess toy or something. Lyla then caught sight of you a few feet away at the foot of the staircase. Her eyebrows flew up in genuine shock. “Oh!”

“Hi,” you tentatively made your way towards the two, extending a hand to Lyla. “I’m Y/N, a princess party cosplayer, and I’m staying with Miguel and Gabriella for the time being.”

You were nothing but surprised when Lyla gave you a strong handshake but had the kindest smile on her face. “Nice to meet you! I’m Lyla, a long-time friend of Miggy’s, but I like to call myself the cooler younger sister he never had.”

Lyla seemed fun and sassy and you liked her already. Lyla seemed to like you already, too, from the way her smile turned into a wide and mischievous grin. “So Miggy finally found somebody, huh?”

Your eyes practically widened out of your sockets. “Oh! No, no, no, it’s not like that,” you waved your hands, shaking your head profusely. “I just met Miguel and Gabriella last night, and Miguel was kind enough to let me stay here.”

“Ohhhh,” Lyla blinked, cocking her head to the side in confusion. “How did you all meet?”

“So kind of a long story, but I got kicked out of my apartment for being behind on rent after coming back from working at a children’s party in princess cosplay,” you let out in a rush, barely believing that all that happened to you in less than twenty-four hours. “I was sitting on a bench and suddenly this little one came up to me.”

“Yeah! I found Princess Y/N!” Gabriella rested her hands on her hips proudly.

“I’m sorry about you getting kicked out, that sucks,” Lyla expressed her sympathy to you before her curiosity took over once more. “Wait, how did Gabi find you?”

“Well from what I learned yesterday, she ran off from Miguel when they were getting ice cream,” you answered, absentmindedly pulling one of the slipping bow straps back onto your shoulder.

“You did?!” Lyla’s eyes widened in shock, turning to Gabi before holding out her palm for a high-five. “Nice!”

You laughed as Gabriella—who didn’t really understand—high-fived Lyla anyways. Before you could talk with Lyla more, the sound of footsteps making their way down the staircase filled the living room.

The three of you looked up to see Miguel, who looked more put-together now than he did a few minutes ago. His chestnut waves were gelled back, making his thick eyebrows and sharp jawline look more prominent. He was dressed in a form-fitting white dress shirt tucked into gray slacks.

“Don’t encourage my daughter, Lyla,” Miguel frowned, though his attention was on the navy tie he was fastening around his neck as he reached the foot of the staircase. “And what are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you, too, Miggy,” Lyla propped one hand on her hip. “Did you forget I was taking Gabi to school today?”

“Huh? Since when?” Miguel mumbled, his frown deepening in confusion as his eyes snapped up from his tie to look at his friend.

“Since you told me last week that you would need to go to work a bit earlier today for an important meeting,” Lyla replied in a “duh” tone. “So you asked me to take Gabi to school today.”

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up and his jaw went slack. His eyes then flew down to his watch. “8:45 a.m., mierda,” a curse word slipped from Miguel’s lips, and Lyla instantly used her hands to cover up Gabi’s ears.

“Breakfast,” Miguel mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need to make breakfast.”

“I got you covered on that,” Lyla held up the paper bag in her hands. “I bought breakfast bagel sandwiches! They were selling four for $4 so I got four. Thought four would be too much but now it seems perfect.”

Lyla winked at you, and you shot her a grateful smile. Lyla seemed like she’d be a good friend, and you hoped that you would get to know her more.

“Perfect, thank you,” Miguel walked into a little study room near the kitchen to get his things.

“Auntie Lyla, can you please help me tie my shoes?” Gabi took her lavender light-up sneakers from the shoe rack and sat down on the floor.

“Of course,” Lyla sat down on the floor across from Gabriella to tie her shoes.

You sat down next to them, watching as Lyla tied the shoelaces on Gabi’s shoes. “Can I ask you something, Lyla?” you rested your face in your palm.

“Yeah, shoot,” Lyla finished tying up Gabi’s shoes and stood up, making you and Gabi stand up as well.

“How long have you known Miguel and Gabriella?” Your question was one of genuine curiosity.

“I used to work as Miggy’s assistant for years until I started my own fashion magazine company, though I’ve been helping him out here and there with Gabi ever since she was born,” Lyla gave Gabi a loving side hug. “Wait, you’re into fashion, right?”

Before you could answer “yes,” Miguel came back to the three of you with a brown leather satchel crossed over his torso and Gabi’s pink princess school backpack dangling on one of his arms.

Lyla took that as a cue to hand two breakfast bagel sandwiches to you, one for you and one for Miguel.

“We’ll eat these on our way to your school, ok?” Lyla winked down at Gabi, who nodded up at her aunt.

“Walking while eating can be dangerous,” Miguel grumbled at Lyla as he bent down in front of Gabriella, helping her put on her backpack.

“She’ll be fine, Miggy,” Lyla waved her hand dismissively.

“Remember to—,” Miguel began.

“—cross the streets safely, look both ways, I know, I know,” Lyla rolled her hazel eyes at Miguel. “You know I’d never let anything bad happen to Gabi.”

You knew Miguel was overprotective of Gabi, but now you were seeing more instances of how much overprotective he could be of his only child. It made sense a bit to you, since it seemed like Gabi was Miguel’s only constant family member.

Miguel let out a huff before planting a soft kiss on Gabi’s forehead. “Have a good day at school, ok? After I pick you up and we eat dinner, I’ll take you out for ice cream like I promised.”

“Yay, ice cream!” Gabi’s warm brown orbs glittered at the mention of ice cream. She lunged forward, hugging Miguel’s neck. “Bye, Papá!”

After a few seconds of hugging her father, Gabi let him go and ran over to you.

“Bye, Princess Y/N!” Gabi threw her arms around you as you bent down at eye level for her. “I wanna get ice cream with you and Papá after dinner!”

“Have a fun day at school, little one,” you gently booped Gabi’s nose with your free hand while your other hand held the two sandwiches. Your action made Gabi giggle as if she was sprinkled with fairy dust.

You were too occupied with saying “bye” to Gabi to hear Miguel and Lyla chat with each other, until you glanced up and saw Miguel shooing Lyla into the elevator with a mildly-annoyed expression on his face while she had a mischievous smirk on hers.

“C’mon Gabi, let’s go,” Lyla called to Gabi as she stepped into the elevator, ignoring Miguel. “Your dad’s being grumpy since he hasn’t eaten breakfast yet.”

“Bye Papá, bye Princess Y/N!” Gabriella waved to you and Miguel and ran into the elevator to join Lyla. “Make sure to eat breakfast, Papá! It’s the most important meal of the day!”

You made your way to stand next to Miguel, the both of you waving to Gabi and Lyla before the elevator doors closed.

“I usually tell her that,” Miguel hummed, his eyes soft. “And somehow it’s now the other way around.”

“She’s a good kid,” your own gaze was soft as you and Miguel continued to look at the closed elevator doors.

“She is,” Miguel replied with all the love and pride for his daughter.

You then turned your head to Miguel. “So, uh, do you want me to stay here until you and Gabi get home? Or if you want me to get out of here while you’re at work, I can just walk around the city and look for another job or something.”

“You won’t be able to get into this building again if you go out, come back, and I’m not there,” Miguel made his way over to the shoe rack and bent down on one knee to put on his black dress shoes and tie the shoestrings.

“Ah, right,” you stayed put. “So should I just stay here then?”

You weren’t sure what you could do in Miguel’s home by yourself other than eat the bagel sandwich Lyla gave you, wait for Nancy to text you back, and look up more jobs on your phone.

Plus, you couldn’t even wash your clothes until Miguel taught you how to use his laundry room.

“You can come with me to work,” Miguel looked over his shoulder to you while securing his shoestrings before straightening up. “I’ll get my assistant Ben to help you find a job somewhere.”

“Huh? Are you sure?” Despite your shock and confusion, you went over to the shoe rack to slip on your sneakers. You also felt curious about finding out about Miguel’s job from the way he mentioned he had an assistant.

Miguel nodded, pressing the button next to the elevator. The elevator doors opened, and he stepped in.

You scurried into the elevator, the two breakfast bagel sandwiches in your hands. “Here,” you handed one to Miguel. To your surprise, he took it but placed the wrapped-up sandwich in his satchel.

“I’ll eat it after my meeting,” Miguel brought his left wrist up to look at his watch again.

You peeked at his silver watch, which you noticed was a state-of-the-art smart watch with a gold-and-orange screen. On the screen read the time: 8:51 a.m.

“You sure?” You blurted, concerned for Miguel but also not wanting the lengthy ninety-nine-floors-down elevator flight to ensue in painfully-awkward silence.

Miguel’s eyes flitted to you, and before he could open his mouth, a rather angry rumble erupted from his stomach.

The two of you averted your eyes from each other, Miguel doing so to pretend his stomach didn’t make such a noise and you doing so to save him any embarrassment.

However, you found yourself speaking up once more.

“Miguel, I don’t want to overstep, but like Gabi said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” you gave him a tiny smile. “Plus, we have some time. There’s still like…eighty floors left.”

He looked at his watch again, and you peeked over to see that it was now 8:55 a.m. Miguel let out a sigh of frustration, but he dug his hand into his satchel and took out the breakfast bagel sandwich.

“I should’ve chosen a shorter building to live in,” he grumbled, before unwrapping the sandwich and biting into it.

“Maybe,” you chuckled, before unwrapping your own sandwich. Miguel let out a huff, but his lips quirked into the beginnings of a smile.

50…30…The elevator ride down to the lobby was still long, and while you and Miguel both ate your respective breakfast bagel sandwiches in silence, it was a comfortable silence.

MIguel finished his sandwich by the time the elevator descended to the 20th floor, and you were just about done with your sandwich as well. You then turned to Miguel in an effort to start some more conversation. “Um, hi.”

“Hi,” Miguel raised a brow at you.

“Did you…sleep well last night, Miguel?” You noticed that the eye bags he had under his eyes last night were completely gone, and his entire face seemed a bit more relaxed now.

“Huh? Oh,” Miguel blinked as if he didn’t expect you to ask him that. “…Yeah, I did. Did you?”

Your eyes widened a bit in surprise; you weren’t expecting Miguel to ask you that, or ask you anything, really. “I did, too. I ended up waking a bit early but it wasn’t because of the bed or the room or anything. Everything in the room is just wonderful.”

In an effort to voice your appreciation to Miguel for him letting you stay in his home, you didn’t realize you sounded optimistic and dreamy like a princess.

“Wonderful,” Miguel murmured. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you cocked your head to the side, not even aware that your action made you look more princess-like.

“Do you always sound like a princess or is it just to keep an act for Gabi?” Miguel rested his palms on his hips.

“Do you always sound like a pessimistic man who wears pink bunny slippers and owns a Spider-Man toothbrush?” You shot back without thinking, crossing your arms across your chest.

“Look, I’m just saying that I appreciate it when you do it for Gabi, but you don’t have to keep up that act around me when Gabi’s not here,” Miguel crossed his arms in front of his chest, mirroring your stance. “And for the record, Spider-Man toothbrushes are cool.”

“It’s not an act, it’s called optimism.” Instead of mirroring his furrowed eyebrows and mouth set in a straight line, you raised your eyebrows a bit and shot Miguel a smirk. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Miguel opened his mouth as if to make a comeback, but the elevator interrupted him with a Ding!

You waited, expecting for Miguel to step through the elevator first so that he could rush to work while you followed him. Instead, he stepped forward to the side.

“After you,” Miguel reached an arm out between the opening of the elevator to keep it open for you. His gentlemanly gesture shocked you, especially since he basically accused you of being fake five seconds ago.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you decided to give him a quick and comical curtsy in an attempt to get back at him before you stepped through the elevator.

You made your way to the glass exit doors. Miguel strode up to you as you tossed your sandwich wrapper in a trash can near the door and he followed suit. He then placed a hand on the handle of the exit doors, but before he could push through them, he looked at you.

“Are you ok with speed-walking?” Miguel asked you.

You arched an eyebrow. “Sure, I’m wearing my sneakers. Are we going to speed-walk to the subway?”

“No, we’re going to walk to my workplace since the building I work at is just a couple of streets down,” Miguel replied before opening the door for you. “We don’t have time for curtsies.”

“I wasn’t going to curtsy this time,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest once more as you made your way outside.

Before you could look back at Miguel and blink, he strode past you. Thankfully, before you could register what happened, your feet followed after him.

So much for being a gentleman!

You speed-walked into the street that led out of Miguel’s apartment complex and the others surrounding his. Miguel was a few feet further ahead, and you were thankful he was as tall as he was so that you could see him and follow him.

As you sped past pedestrians and street vendors, you barely heard them shout at you to get out of the way or to check out their merchandise.

“A sunflower for the beautiful lady!” An elderly male florist selling bouquets in the open street held out a single sunflower to you.

“Oh! Thank you, but I can’t accept that for free,” you stopped in your tracks.

“Nonsense, these are going to wilt soon,” the elderly florist gave you a kind smile. “I’d rather give them away than have to throw them away.”

The sunflower, warm as sunshine with its golden petals, as well as the florist’s kindness, made you feel hopeful to find a way to continue living in Nueva York. As you took the flower from the florist and opened your mouth to say “thank you,” your eyes caught sight of Miguel walking back to you.

“What are you doing?” Miguel narrowed his eyes down at the flower in your hands as if it was laced with poison.

“The kind florist gave it to me,” you held the flower close to you indignantly.

The florist held out another sunflower to Miguel. “And one for the beautiful lady’s beau.”

Your and Miguel’s heads snapped to each other and then to the florist at the same time.

“Miguel’s not my—,” you began.

“They’re not my—,” Miguel blurted at the same time, before shaking his head. “Let’s just go.”

“Thank you for the flowers!” You gratefully took the sunflower that the florist offered Miguel before walking up to Miguel’s side.

Miguel glanced at the two sunflowers in your hands before fixing his gaze straight ahead. “You know you can’t accept things for free, right? Especially in Nueva York.”

“I know that,” you let out a sigh of exasperation at Miguel. “It’s just that the florist told me they’d rather give these flowers away than throw them away because they’re wilting soon. I think it would be a shame to see such pretty flowers go to waste, too.”

Miguel looked at the sunflowers again. “Gabi’s favorite flowers are sunflowers,” Miguel’s voice, which previously had an edge of stress, grew soft once he mentioned his daughter.

“I can give her one when she gets home,” you hummed, smiling even more at the thought of giving Gabi a sunflower. You put the two sunflowers gently into one of your dress pockets for safekeeping.

Miguel’s face softened a bit, and he pointed down the street. “We’re almost there.”

You weren’t great at memorizing the many streets, districts, and boroughs of Nueva York, so you wondered how it was possible Miguel’s workplace was only a few streets down from his apartment complex.

All you knew was that the area surrounding Miguel’s apartment complex had one side that led down several streets to an area with restaurants and shops, near where Miguel and Gabi met you last night.

And the other side, where you and him were headed, you weren’t too sure. But as you were greeted with corporate skyscrapers, you were beginning to have an idea.

It wasn’t long before the two of you reached the front of a silver skyscraper with sky blue glass panels. The building, with its state-of-the-art pointed architecture, was so tall and imposing that it reminded you of Miguel in a way.

The building was also so famous even you knew what it was. You whipped your head to Miguel as the two of you walked up to the front doors. “You work at Spider-Society HQ?”

Spider-Society HQ, based in Nueva York, had risen to fame in recent years as an innovative company focused in the scientific fields of genetics and physics.

You didn’t know anything about the company other than that, and now seeing the discreet crimson spider logo on the doors, you realized it was the same one on your dress pocket from Miguel’s shirt.

How did I miss it? You looked down to your dress pocket that had the building’s logo on it. To be fair, science companies and their logos were never at the forefront of your mind.

Miguel scanned the screen of his watch on the key panel. The green light on the key panel indicated its recognition of Miguel, and soon the building’s front doors slid apart with a gentle hiss!

He straightened his tie before stepping into the building with you. You quickly noticed that Miguel exuded an air of professionalism and even regality—like a king ready to take on the weight of his kingdom.

“Technically, I’m the Chief Executive Officer of Spider-Society HQ.”

🍓 Strawbetty’s notes: If you read all the way to here, I give you a 🎃 cuz it’s Halloween season lol. Also thank you to @animusicnerd for proofreading this chapter throughout the two months I’ve been writing it 🫶

🍓 Tag list: @allysunny, @charms-cat, @tymns, @tayleighuh, @moyo5653, @sizeablysized, @deputy-videogamer, @marvelofcourse, @flordelalunas, @thethirdyo, @sleepingghoule444, @eyes-stuff, @pearlssdiary, @lasagnaisbest, @scaleniusrm, @cowboylikeevie, @qiaipia, @prettysbliss, @rosesforblues, @lionhearted-soldier, @usermins, @happishark, @pedroslvt, @saintcosette, @tarjapearce, @rositabluemoon, @miaasmf, @sarapaprikas-blog, @honeyslibrary, @eatalyy, @arithestrawberry, @x-ratedhimbo (I love ur Itto pfp!!), @spideystar, @pollito-chicken, @mimiemie, @mireading. If you would like to be added to the tag list for upcoming chapters, please comment or reblog below :)

Important:

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

🍓 Reblogs are appreciated :). Want more Miguel content? Check out my masterlist.