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supa-lonely · 2 months

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Who knows?! hehe 🤷‍♀️🤭

Say Something Stupid…

(Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Miguel didn’t need this right now, an anomaly was on the loose, with his watch. Now he was here in a universe set in the past with a girl who won’t stop bugging him, no matter what dimension he travels to. God, he really didn’t need this, he didn’t need you.

A/N: don’t know how many chapters this will be, but hopefully you have a fun ride. Basically y/n is an oblivious ray of sunshine for Miguel’s brooding stormy weather. (Also my first fic, I’m very excited.)

Chapter 1: What Watch?

Considering how edgy your mind seemed, you never understood why life was so hectic. Always grab and go, never slowing down. The saying I'll sleep when I'm dead has become less of a little quip and more of a lifestyle for you. Of course, you weren't always like this. Growing up, you were a giddy little thing. Curious and outspoken. Never leaving one soul unventured in grade school. Then high school rolled around, and your curiosity was turned quiet. Friends were fading away, and strange looks were all you knew then. All you had at that point was assignments and work.

The isolating behavior made you anxious, questioning every movement that wasn't yours. At times, you even put yourself under the microscope of your own paranoia. Judging everything about yourself, from your face to your stomach and how disfigured you thought it looked. Sure, you had a bit of a belly, probably enough to be considered slightly chubby- nothing to be ashamed of, right? Hell- even the tiny mole on your inner thigh was under inspection, even though it looked more like someone had placed a black dot on your skin with a Sharpie marker than it did a mole. It still caused you to cringe at yourself. High school had not done you any favors in that regard. God, high school was a nightmare for you. That whole span of your life was a nightmare.

College was supposed to be less shitty, and while it was considerably so, it had its challenges.

Even though popular girls and cliques were no longer a threat to you now, somehow, classes had become your biggest antagonist. Every day, you sat in class. Listened intently to lecture after lecture, struggling to keep up and take notes. You'd miss essential points that your professor insisted were on the test but were too scared to ask anyone for help. So there you'd sit, waiting for everyone to leave, just to awkwardly ask the instructor if they could email you the PowerPoint. Feeling stupid and hoping no one was silently judging you.

Tests, Finals, Essays, Assignments... Everything was being piled onto you. That wasn't even the most hectic part of your life.

Your job was the vain of your existence.

You worked at a local coffee shop, and while people would always romanticize the occupation. The pay was good, but there were better places for a meet-cute.

The cafe was always busy, which you guessed was great for the owners. They were a lovely middle-aged couple whose two little gremlins were barely starting middle school. You weren't a bitch by any means; you were honestly happy for the success the couple's coffee shop was having. You'd been working there since they had just opened about a year ago, and surprise, surprise. Who knew your newfound peace would be obliterated by an on-slot of teens and young adults wanting to try a new trendy coffee spot they saw online.

Now that Dutch Bros. was old news, you had customers left and right, taking orders and making drinks. Half the time, you felt like you couldn't even think for yourself until closing; the contents of your mind were filled with orders you'd soon forget the moment your head hit the pillows of your bed at the end of the day. However, you'd been able to cope with the obnoxious trials of life with a little thing called routine. Yes, if you could just focus on completing the day's tasks every day. Maybe your existence on this only habitable planet will be bearable for the rest of your life.

So that's what you did, for almost two years, that's what you've been doing. Besides the occasional surprise spam caller, everything had been going smoothly. It felt like nothing could go wrong and that nothing might ever go wrong again. This could work. Sure, It was lonely, but it meant less drama for you, no conflicting parties, no attachments, and no loss.

•*¨*•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

It was a Tuesday night. You had a typical day: classes in the morning and a fifteen-minute nap before work in the afternoon. On Tuesdays, it was your turn to close up shop for the night. It was already late, and the clock on the wall showed 10PM in bright red typewriter font. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you sluggishly walk from behind the register and up to the double doors of the cafe, eyelids heavy with a desire to sleep. You reach to lock them before any last-minute night owls in need of coffee come and force you to clean the machines again. Suddenly, a hand from behind the glass doors reaches for the handle; you look up to see a skinny man with stubble, pale, and a bit rugged, a tired expression taking hold of his face. You pulled the door open with hidden reluctance; you knew it was game over once you made eye contact with the customer.

The disheveled man seemed to walk inside quickly, pulling his hood over his head, which surprised you, but you didn't mention it. Maybe he was just a fast walker. Plus, it was kinda cold in here. When you followed him toward the register, you noticed the bag he was holding in front of him, almost like he was trying to hide it; it was a regular backpack, nothing out of the ordinary, and it looked exactly like your own. A black bag with crimson tassels on the zippers. A muffled noise was coming from the bag, a beeping sound; it didn't sound like any ringer you'd heard before.

"Uh- can I take your order?" You ask, not paying any mind to the annoying beeping.

He clears his throat. "Yeah- yeah, um..."

His eyes wander towards the breakroom behind you. Your backpack was packed and ready to go by the room's door once you dealt with this last customer. The blond man looks back at you, not wanting to arouse suspicion. "Can I just get a muffin?"

You ring him up, 2.72, just like it always was. He hands you his credit card, his eyes flicking from your bag to you and the darkness of the night behind him. His voice sounded shaky, but you didn't pay any attention to it either; you just wanted to get home. To get to your routine. This whole situation was making you a little anxious. At least the beeping had stopped.

Once the man got his muffin, he sat at one of the open tables in the suppose-to-be-closed-5-minutes-ago cafe. He opened his phone, calling someone to come and pick him up; a nervous-sounding conversation that you didn't really pay any attention to as you grabbed a tablecloth and spray from the back and began to clean; you had your suspicions of course, which is why you decided to clean with only one earbud this time instead of two. It didn't really stop you from spraying, wiping, and jamming out to yourself as the man behind you ate his muffin and called his friend. Making sure every table was spotless, you overheard your manager discussing raises earlier today, even if the pay was good. Money was money, and a little extra couldn't hurt to have. It would be one less thing to worry about.

As you turned around to clean the rest of the tables, you saw that the man was gone, muffin untouched. The door's little bell rang, signaling that the strange man had just walked out. Your head turned towards the sound; you shrugged and walked up to the doors and locked them.

Not wanting any more weirdos coming in and making you anymore late to your nightly routine.

You picked up after the man, keeping the muffin. Aw, yes, free food—a simple pleasure no human could refuse to indulge in. Technically, you weren't stealing; someone paid for it. Plus, with how he acted, it didn't seem like he was coming back. Placing the muffin in a brown paper bag, you go right back to wiping down tables, the time reading midnight once you finish.

"Damn it." You say to yourself, slinging one of the straps of your backpack onto your shoulder. Reading the time almost made you want to burst into tears. Maybe it was just frustration or the sleep you lacked that was putting a lump in your throat. As much as you liked the tranquillity your little routine provided, you were sad and lonely and so, so tired. It was starting to become overwhelming.

You took a deep breath, ignored the clock on the wall, and turned off the cafe lights. The sooner you got home, the better. All you needed was sleep. That's all you need.

Beep-!

What?

Your head whips around, trying to find the source of the repetitive noise. It was the same sound that was admitted from the man moments ago. The bright light of your phone illuminated your features as you turned the device on, checking if it was your phone possibly making the noise.

No notifications, definitely not you.

What was going on? It was late, you had a long walk home. You didn't need more problems. As you groan in frustration, you set your phone in the pocket of your sweats and look up at the ceiling defeatedly. It was settled; you've become insane. You pat yourself down in a feeble attempt to find the noise, even looking around the cafe, but nothing was found. You assume the noise is coming from your bag. Hopefully, your laptop isn't taking its final breaths, and the beeping was a sign for help.

You walk towards the glass doors of the coffee shop, ready to just give up and leave; at least you had your muffin, the only saving grace of the night.

"Forget it, this is pointless- Just go home, get some sleep... go home- get some sleep, go home- get some-" The beeping suddenly stops, and as you go to sigh in relief, your breath catches in your throat as you look up from the now unlocked door, a figure standing a few feet away from the doors, red- bright red crescents looking at you. The figure is encased in the dark. You stumble a step back, and the man takes a step forward, then another. Struggling breaths forcefully leave your mouth as you try and lock the door. Your hands are shaking too violently to lock the door, so you abandon the idea for a better one. Run.

You sprint for the backdoor, sliding along the clean wooden floor as you turn to go past the register counter. Almost tripping over yourself, you could hear the door swing open harshly and big, broad steps coming up behind you. Getting faster and faster to keep up with you- no, to catch you. Tears prickled at your eyes as you pushed through the backdoor into the alleyway. The man's hand barely grazed your skin as you ran, trying to grab you. A deep groaning of irritation could be heard behind you, which didn't help your palpitations. Your slowing speed only worsened your panic until he finally reached for you again and, this time, succeeded in gripping you.

"Ah-!" You slammed the ground harshly, the man's muscular body atop you, holding you by your biceps. The grip stung, almost like he had claws; it caused you to wince, a small noise of pain escaping your lips. "I- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken anything!" You cry. "The guy didn't- seem like he wanted it!" At this point, you were trying anything to get him off you.

When he spoke, it sent shivers down your spine. A voice so deep and menacing that you thought it was the devil himself talking to you.

"Damn right, you shouldn't have; now, where's the watch!" He said, a rough snap in his tone.

You paused, sniffling. "W-watch?" you asked timidly, the answer practically squeezed out of you.

"Yes. The watch-! What else would I be talking about?" The masked man says, his irritation boiling with every word.

"A pastry?"

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction

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