ATSV/ ITSV One shots (x reader)

Miguel O' Hara

My Little Love

(Pls listen to the song My Little Love by Adele)

Restless

When was the last time you hadn't felt like that. Like you were constantly on edge about something.

As the days passed by when you slept in the cold queen sized bed, you wondered for how much longer the bed would remain so alone. So empty. So cold. It consumed the size of your body, its waves of dark sheets that took over the soft colors of the items in the room. A color you were never truly fond of, but he liked the color. You thought that it might maybe bring some warmth of the bed. It never did.

"Mmm!"

You snap, open your eyes at the touch of a hand on your face, and are greeted with familiar rare red brown eyes. Like a strawberry dipped in a thin layer of chocolate, or chocolate eyes dipped in.....blood. The light sparks of life and wonder stare at you through the colors of memories, which makes your heart swell.

"Miguel?" Your voice is coming out as a chocked sob, but you hold it back.

"Who's that?" C/n walks back and looks at you confused, and you pull a hand over your face for being so caught up in a living nightmare to make the bitter truth spill from your mouth. You wipe the sleep from your eyes and the small tears and give C/n a warm smile which he takes in and mussels under your arm on the bed, bringing his smaller body towards yours, in an attempt to get as close as possible but you chuckle a bit at his adorable behavior.

He was just like his father. Finding the warm in you when he definitely was warm enough.

"You gotta be in your bed, bud."

You raise, watching your son's small smile fall from the lack of your body's presence next to him. It jolts him awake with a small laughable pout on his tiny mouth. You laugh, picking him up, lifting him into the air, which makes him giggle and laugh at the high heights you throw him up into, moving towards his room once again.

You'd feared letting him sleep with you would only cause a habit out of it, and soon he'd be too skeptical, too scared to sleep in his own bed. The one his father built him.

His bed was like no other I've seen. Technology littered all over it as underneath it glowed a blue and red light, which glowed soft hues of the colors over the room. The bed had built-in heating and cooling as Miguel claimed he too hated when it was too hot of too cold and wouldn't want this child to suffer the same.

Placing him down in his bed, pulling the covers over him and kissing his forhead, ready to leave, but he tugs at your hand.

"Mommy?"

"Yes (c/n)"

"Who's Miguel?"

Your POV

It seriously pained me that despite everything that had happened to my family, he still didn't remember about the day he lost his father. The therapy helped him to get over the incident but made him forget what was lost. I always wondered if it was time for me to finally tell him whenever he came home asking where his father was when he'd hear other kids get fetched by theirs.

".....someone you would have loved you just as much as I do," he says nothing, but his eyes definitely cry out for a story of him.

I sigh and sit in the chair near his bed. The chair sets itself into my favorite comfortable position, and a rack of story books pops out from underneath. Miguel really did think of everything.