oharaslove

[oharaslove]

[oharaslove]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣hirteen

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. with miguel’s disappearance and negligence, you’re left alone to deal with this gut-wrenching mess and your perception of him is gradually forever changed.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. angst, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of throwing up (emetophobia warning), emotional distress, swearing, mentions of abortions, ultrasounds, no miguel for now

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

he just left…

miguel just left and never came back.

he walked out that door with a word and you felt like your whole world collapsed. he just left you, the man that you love and you thought who loved you back, left you alone to deal with this mess.

your heart into a million pieces.

rose-colored glass shattered and left on the floor, impossible to glue them back together. the pain was so severe that you actually felt your heart broken. so painfully because you truly loved the man.

the small four walls of your home concealed all of your sobs that night. they witness the tears, wails, swearing, all sounds of pain and heartbreak. you broke your personal record of crying that night. the painful was unbearable that you couldn’t sleep.

you weren’t quiet, it’s clear that the entire floor heard you that night yet none cared. not that you wanted neighbors banging on your door, asking you if you’re okay or been murdered or telling you to shut up. eventually the crying died down but there were sniffles here and there, silent tears down your face.

you knew miguel heard and he didn’t bother to run back and comfort you like you hoped. his strong arms wrapped around your trembling figure and holding you protectively as you sob your heart out. one hand rubbing your back and whispering soft words of comfort in your ear.

no, instead you were all alone. the cold air of the apartment hitting your skin, causing goosebumps to form which left an uncomfortable feeling. your own arms hugging yourself sheepishly. no whispers of comfort, only the sobs and whines from your lips.

miguel wasn’t there for you.

instead he was next door, listening to your painful sobs while doing whatever the fuck he was doing. it pissed you off so much, you wanted to scream.

a pathetic part of you believed miguel would come back. he needed some time to think about this. an unexpected pregnancy isn’t easy to process. everyone reacts differently and miguel wasn’t in the wrong. he was shocked and needed a moment.

except it was more than just a moment.

his reaction was reasonable but you didn’t expect him to walk out like that and abandoned you. miguel never returned, didn’t call or text you afterwards. as if he disappeared without a trace.

ever since that night, you never saw him again.

no matter what you do, miguel never answers. the amount of text messages you sent are proof. now matter how many texts, no answer back. not even left on read, they were never checked.

bebé 🌷: miguel, please answer me

bebé 🌷: i need you

bebé 🌷: i know you’re upset and have every right to be mad but please come back or answer me, i can’t do this alone please

bebé 🌷: PLEASE COME BACK I NEED YOU I MISS YOU PLEASE MIGUEL

you even try calling him.

“the number you’re trying to reach is unavailable, please leave a message after the—”

you threw your phone across the bed in frustration as tears begin streaming down your face. burying your teary face in your palms as you cry once again because your boyfriend isn’t answering you.

why won’t he answer?

why won’t he pick up his damn phone?

why did he never come back?

is he truly mad at you to the point that he disappeared and never answered you back?

since you couldn’t try yourself, you had to ask someone else. the only other person you know who has contact with miguel is peter. unfortunately, he didn’t have any answers for you either.

“he isn’t answering at all?”

“no, peter!” you say frustratingly, almost on the verge of crying. “he never answered my texts or calls. my texts aren’t even left on read!”

“shit…” you hear him curse under his breath. “okay… you said he’s not home, right?” you tell him yes. “do you have any idea of where he might’ve gone? has he ever mentioned a place or spot he would go?”

you shake your head, even if he can’t see. “no, he never did.” miguel truly never did mentioned anything but he must’ve have a spot now.

peter sighs heavily through the phones. “that son of a bitch, i’m gonna kill him.”

tears prickle in your eyes, lips trembling. “i’m so scared, peter. i’m scared because i’m alone and i don’t know where miguel is.”

“i know, i know and i’m so sorry. i promise mj and i will come over as soon as we both get off work. i promise i’ll find miguel and kill him.”

a soft sob escapes your lips. “d-don’t, the traffic will be terrible, you know that.”

peter said your name in a pleading manner. “please, it’s okay. you’re our friend and family, we’re not leaving you alone. you know mj won’t like that.”

you let out a small chuckle, knowing he’s telling the truth because mj would never leave anyone behind. true friends always support each other.

unlike miguel, your supposed lover.

“thank you, peter…”

“of course, we’ll be there soon.”

eventually, peter and mj arrive at your place with remorseful looks. embracing your tightly, providing you the comfort that you lacked from your boyfriend. you and mj sit on the couch, her hand holding yours as comfort while peter makes tea. mj would hand you tissues from box and have a hand on your back rubbing as a method of comfort.

you tell them everything. you watch multiple emotions flash across their faces. remorse, sympathy, disbelief, anger. if looks could kill, someone would be six feet under. that someone would be miguel. oh they both had the look of murder on their faces. if they were hired assassins, they would definitely hunt down miguel.

“when’s your doctor’s appointment?” mj changed the subject, containing her anger.

“monday, next week.”

“do you want one of us to come with you, as support so you wouldn’t be by yourself?”

you shake your head. “no, i wanna do this myself. i appreciate it though, thank you.”

“are you sure? i can call out.” mj suggests.

“no really it’s okay, mj.” you offer her a small smile. “i promise to text you and the girls right after.”

the redhead nods. “alright but know that we’re here for you, all of us.” you know she referring to herself, peter, anne, eddie, lyla, and harry. besides her and peter, the rest don’t know yet you plan to eventually.

you have a support group.

but you just wish you had support from a specific person, the person you thought who would help you. just like when he said he would help or fix anything for you. but suppose that was a lie.

perhaps it was all a lie.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

the next thing you know it, it’s your OB-GYN appointment and you’ve never been so anxious. on usual visits they’re fine but this was a different case. a case concerning your well-being and possibly another. the thought caused you to shiver. on the drive there, your heart rate skyrocketed. you had to bite back the emotions of driving to the clinic by yourself without miguel, who still hasn’t answered. before you left the apartment, you sent him one last text and call telling him you’d be at the clinic. even though you knew he wouldn’t respond, it still hurt. still holding on the last bits of hope he would respond. might be a little pathetic at this point.

you arrive at the clinic 15 minutes early. your nerves skyrocket once again as you enter the building, the sliding glass doors open with a soft whoosh! and close behind you. not even the friendly smile the receptionist, an elderly lady, gives you eases your nerves but you flash her a fake one to conceal it. once you give your name, she hands over a clipboard with paperwork and kindly tells you to take a seat. thanking her with a small smile, you take a seat in the far corner of the room. your eyes scan over the paper and begin silently filling it out. the usual information such as any medical conditions, any prescribed medications, any past medical procedures, previous pregnancies. after filling out the papers, you hand the clipboard back to the receptionist and sit back down.

you glance around at the other visitors in the room. some silently filling out paperwork, some scrolling through their phones, some staring off into space. but what kills you are the couples are the room. some conversing with each other. one couple who the woman appears to be 8-9 months and her partner delicately rubbing her large baby bump. they seem to be very happy, smiling at each other.

the sight is a big stab to your already fragile heart. pathetically envisioning miguel here with you. an arm wrapped around your shoulders and a hand holding yours as he whispers gentle words of comfort to you. telling you that it’s gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, and he will always be by your side.

but he’s not here and you’re alone.

he is god knows where and you’re attending your OB-GYN appointment alone, dealing with this situation without his love and support.

never have you felt utterly alone, abandoned.

the very same man who declared his love to you abandoned you when you needed him the most. nowhere in sight and completely off the radar, left you alone to deal with this mess. the same man who makes you cry as your feel tears forming-

you snap out of those depressive thoughts when your name is called. your eyes land on a nurse standing by the door waiting patiently for you to follow. your anxiety increases as you rise up from your seat and proceed to follow the nurse, not even her friendly smile could help. after leading you to your supposedly OB’s office, the nurse kindly tells you she will be here with you very soon before flashing one last smile and closing the door.

glancing around the small room, your anxiety increases as reality kicks in. here you are, in the office of your OB-GYN about to discuss and examine your pregnancy. an unexpected pregnancy that was caused by your irresponsibility. due to the pregnancy and your irresponsibility, miguel left you to deal with this alone. no love and support, only loneliness.

the sound of the door opening startled you a little, causing you to snap out of those sad thoughts. turning around, you finally meet your OB-GYN. a relatively tall woman with blonde shirt hair. a pair of glasses settled over her crystal blue eyes. she appears to be maybe 10 years older than you.

“hello,” the woman says your name with a friendly smile and hand to shake. “i’m dr. chelsea, your OB.”

you smile in return, gently shaking her hand before dr. chelsea offers you to take a seat near her desk. you do so, placing your purse in your lap. she takes her own and reads over the paperwork about you.

“alright, i understand correctly this is your first appointment?” you nod, little anxious to answer which she ultimately understands. “do you have any idea how many weeks you could be?”

you shake your head, pondering. “maybe 4 weeks but i’m still not really sure.”

“that’s okay, we can use a pregnancy wheel to calculate an estimated due date.”

“w-wait!” you panic a little at the mention of a due date. “i’m not sure if i want to keep it or not.”

dr. chelsea gives you a reassuring look. “i understand but we still need to at least estimate how many weeks since the earliest for termination is 4 weeks. if you’re beyond that then you still have the option.”

you can only nod and exhale deeply, the nerves causing your voice to not work properly.

after much discussion, turns out you’re 5 weeks pregnant. the tears wanted to burst out but you hold them back, not wanting to break down in public.

“may i ask your symptoms?”

“the usual, i guess.” you shrug. “throwing up, achy boobs, feeling like shit in general.”

the woman nods before taking off her glasses with a heavy sigh, looking at you with seriousness. “now, i understand your uncertainty about whether to keep it or not. based on the given data, you still have the option for termination. i also understand this is a complicated decision and i don’t want to sugarcoat it. may i remind you that no matter which decision you make, you’re making it for yourself and what’s best for you. you are not pressured to give an answer now, like i said it’s complicated.”

her words bring somewhat a sense of comfort and reassurance. you’re well aware that an abortion is a complex process which requires lots of thinking and courage. an abortion means you can’t be sorry for yourself and live with that decision. it’s indeed a complicated process like dr. chelsea said.

the question you have to ask yourself is: can you put up with this kind of decision?

she takes your silence to continue. “like i mentioned before, this is about you and your well-being. my job isn’t only to ask many questions and conduct examinations, i’m here to help you.” you can hear the sincerity in her tone. “when you’re ready, i’m here.”

you avert from her gaze, processing her words. in full honesty, you deeply appreciate her reassuring words. it’s true you don’t have a definite answer right now and will certainly need time to think. you’re still deeply conflicted about this situation, aren’t sure if you’re ready for a baby, unsure if you have the means to have one, if you are able to provide for another life. abortion still lingers in a big portion in your mind, however, deep down a small percentage of curiosity is buried in the back of your fragile mind.

do you want to see it?

do you want to do an ultrasound?

your mind jumps back and forth on the subject, like playing ping pong. the ball bouncing back and forth on the table, landing on one side then the other in a never-ending manner. unsure when it will stop.

but the small percentage of curiosity was gradually growing and it can’t stop. with a very deep breath, you decide to make one decision. not the ultimate decision but just a very small one.

“i think… i would like to see it…”

dr. chelsea offers a small smile. “alright.”

rising from the chair, dr. chelsea kindly guides you to the examination chair. you prepare yourself on it as she takes a dear beside you and sets up the monitor. your anxiety increases once again as reality hits you like a baseball bat. here you are about to do an ultrasound on the entity slowly developing inside you. an entity you’re still unsure of.

“it’s okay to be scared.” dr. chelsea flashed a reassuring smile, motioning you to lift your shirt. “i do have to warn you this will be cold.”

lifting your shirt just displaying your stomach, a gasp pass through your lips as the cool gel touches your skin. damn, she wasn’t lying. the cool sensation causes goosebumps over your skin. closing your eyes, anxiety and anticipation flows through your veins. holy shit, this was actually happening.

you’re about to get the first glimpse of your baby.

a baby that will be a combination of you and miguel.

your heart aches immensely at the thought of him. a reminder of his absence. oh how you wish he was here to witness and experience this moment with you. wishing he was there sitting the chair next to you on the opposite side that’s meant for the fathers. his big, calloused hand holding your smaller one as you await the first glimpse of your child.

but miguel isn’t here, no body beside you and no hand holding yours. just pure emptiness.

you blink away the sad thoughts once again and look over at the monitor. your eyes widen and lips agape in surprise. on the screen, there’s a tiny blurry blob.

oh my god… there it is.

the entity developing inside you.

a baby, your baby.

that tiny blob is supposedly the very entity growing in your body. that very entity that will eventually be a replica of you and miguel combined. it’s so… weird to actually see it, there moving and growing. like it’s just so… oddly fascinating to observe. part of you feels weirded out that an actual thing is growing inside you and you actually see it now. the other part of you is undeniably fascinating to see it.

now this is even more conflicting.

dr. chelsea notices your internal conflict and hesitantly asks if you wish to have pictures. you ponder for a good minute, wondering if you really want to have an ultrasound picture of the baby you’re still unsure about having. but yet again, your curiosity got the best of you. you agree to just have one, fiddling with your hands as she prints it. after she offers you wipes to clean off the gel from your belly and pull down your shirt, she hands you the picture.

your breath hitches at the photo, a tiny blob. this is just keeping getting real and real each day. breathing deeply, you hug the photograph to your chest and close your eyes for a moment. the conflict grows stronger, even more with this photo.

hopping off the examination table and grabbing your purse, you shove the photograph inside. just as your preparing to leave, dr. chelsea asks one more thing.

“this last question will be personal and you have every right to reject.” your furrowed brows were a sign to continue. “is the father involved?“

you ponder for what feels like forever. no word from miguel since the last time you saw him, leaving your apartment that unfortunate night. all the missed calls and texts were telling you he was avoiding you. he abandoned you and you never felt the same since.

“he’s not in the picture.”

not a trace of adoration in your tone expect dullness. dr. chelsea gives you a sympathetic look with a nod. she tells you that your next appointment will be in two weeks as a check up. you bid each other farewell before exiting the room and the clinic.

you exit that building feeling different in contrast when you first arrived. hollowed, not because of the baby but because of miguel’s absence and negligence. you felt scared shitless entering the clinic, worrying for your well-being and heavily conflicted about this baby and how it affects your life. without his support, you feel hollowed. never had you felt so abandoned and lonely today.

while you were preparing to leave the office, you checked your messages and still never received an answer from miguel, not that you were expecting yet still thought on the possibility.

he doesn’t care at all.

the pipeline about him is bizarre. from loving him with all your heart to feeling abandoned and hollow. as if the love you had vanished. tossed away into the trash and left completely abandoned.

perhaps miguel wasn’t the caring man you perceived him to be. it was all just a show, a fantasy. you really believed he was different, this love was different.

but you were proven wrong again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

you promised mj and the girls to text them after your appointment. pregnancy cravings got the best of you and force you to stop by the grocery store. that damn pickles and peanut butter craving is kicking your ass. suppose the baby really digs it, oddly thinking about it. after finding your two weird cravings, you walk down the ice cream aisle. not only pickles and peanut butter but also ice cream slowly kicking in there.

as your eyes wander over each flavor, you feel someone bumping into you. a frown settles on your face, prepared to tell off the idiot who bumped into you, only to realize it’s a little boy. dressed in an oversized basketball jersey with a black hoodie underneath and basketball shorts.

“oops! sorry, ma’am.” the kid meekly said.

“miles!” a feminine voice calls out. looking forward, you see a woman with brown hair in a red shirt and jeans approaching with a concern look. “ay dios, i’m so sorry. he ran off and wasn’t looking where he was going.” she gives you an apologetic look.

you wave it off, kindly smiling. “it’s okay, now worries. he apologized so don’t worry.”

“still, i’m sorry. kids and ice cream, right?”

that makes you silent for a moment. the topic of kids is still uncomfortable considering your situation. but you play it off with a chuckle and nod.

“can’t blame them, it’s delicious.”

the woman’s eyes land on the items in your hands. her brows furrowed just the slightest as if she recognizes that specific combination of food.

“miles, go pick out your favorite ice cream but don’t run off. come straight back to me, ¿entiendes?” the woman crouches down to her son’s level.

the little boy nods, smiling. “yes, mamá.”

“okay go, mijo.” she stands back up straight as her son runs off down the aisle in search for his favorite ice cream. she looks back at you. “the last thing i want is to pry and forgive me for asking such a question. is that your favorite craving?”

you didn’t realize how obvious it is carrying pickles and peanut butter. you can’t blame her though, it’s a common pregnancy craving.

“yeah, the ironic thing is that i absolutely hate pickles.” you let out a soft chuckle.

the woman chuckled as well. “the things pregnancy does to you, crave things you hate.”

“was this one of your cravings?” you gesture at the pickles and peanut butter in your hands.

“oh yeah, it was the best thing ever. could never fight against, the craving always win.”

“ain’t that the truth.” you two share a laugh.

you briefly introduce yourselves. the woman is named rio, her son miles is 8 years old.

“if you don’t mind me asking, how far along are you?”

you go quiet for a moment, realizing this is the first time someone has asked about your pregnancy, aside your OB. damn, this is getting real too fast.

“i’m uh- 5 weeks.”

“you doing okay? besides the cravings. i know how hard the first trimester is.”

“oh uh- it’s definitely a pain, the morning sickness and all. but today isn’t that awful…” your voice trails off at the end, which rio notices.

her brows furrowed. “you sure you’re okay, honey?”

“yeah, yeah. just the hormones and stuff.”

call yourself crazy but you’re sure this woman can tell your lying by that slight disbelief look on her face. well, it seems more concerning than disbelief.

“i understand pregnancy or a baby in general isn’t easy. i also understand it’s weird to be discussing something personal with a stranger.” she chuckled softly. “but telling you from experience, you’re gonna be okay.” rio gives you a sympathetic look.

for some reason, her words bring you a sense of comfort. knowing she’s a mom herself and obviously experienced the process of pregnancy, her words affect you more than others.

“thank you.” you say softly, gently smiling.

she mirrors your smile. “of course.”

after your mini conversation and miles finally returning with his favorite ice cream, you bid the two goodbye. you can’t help but observe them as they walk away. holding hands, signifying the bond between a mother and her son. observing them makes you envision yourself with your child. holding hands as you shop around, bonding together.

the thought makes your heart swell. for the first time, you envision a moment with your potential future child. the very same one growing in your belly. the one you finally got a glimpse of early today.

you’re more conflicted about this baby.

but you couldn’t lie the thought was very… heartwarming, to say the least.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[oharaslove]

The Fates That Tie Miguel O'Hara x Fated Mate PT 3

Summary: Miguel believes that his mate doesn't want him. And you believe that your mate is dead. What happens when the truth comes to light in an awful situation forcing him to hold you captive at HQ?

Tags: Hero Miguel x Villian, Fated Mates, enemies to lovers, vulgar language, misunderstood villain(ehhh sometimes), both Miguel and reader being mean to each other, mentions of sexual assault, forced proximity, angst angst angst, surprised pregnancy, Tags for Smut: just a simple p in v, 5.9k words

A/N: This is the longest I've ever taken to upload another part to a series....So for those that have been waiting on this(or just forgot about it) I'M SORRYYYYY😭🙏🏽. I've just been so busy since school started so you'll have to bear with me and this story is way more intricate than "Secrets Of The Duke". But school is about to end so I'll have more time. Anyway enjoyyy loves<3333

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

•°~°•

You awake to unfamiliar surroundings. The room is practically bare. White walls and black curtains. Stretching your limbs you climb out of bed with hesitant steps. The tugging in your chest leads you down the hall. You're about to call out for Steven when Spiderman comes into view. Oh God, you aren't sure how you should deal with this, especially everything that has just happened between the two of you. You're still wearing his hoodie with your suit bottoms intact.

It's now or never. “Hey”

“Hey”

Silence fills the air as you try to figure out what to say.

“I just wanted to-”

“We have to be-”

You both pause when realizing you spoke at the same time.

He gestures for you to go first. “Oh, I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday you didn't have to come and save me but you did. Especially after everything I said to you prior” He gives you a nod before turning back around. 

“Well we have a public event to go to today”

You fold your arms across your chest. “What do you mean we? I told you I'm not going”

“Well you aren't doing this alone”

“Yeah because I'm not doing this at all”

“I'm not going to do this with you go and get ready we have to be there for 12” You glance at the clock it's 11:05. The tiny bit of respect you felt for him since he helped you yesterday has just evaporated. “You can't force me to do something just because you think you're my mate”

“I don't think I know. Now would you stop trying to pick an argument with me and get ready”

You cross the counter getting in his face. Just when you thought maybe—just maybe you could give this…whatever this situation between the two of you a chance he does this. “You know what thanks for nothing my mate wouldn't force me to do something I don't want to do” You turn on your heels when a hand lands on your forearm tugging you back into him. “Well, I'm sorry your mate doesn't want you rotting in a fucking jail cell for the rest of your life. I protect what's mine” He juts his head in the direction of the hall you just came from. “Don't make me repeat myself”

•°~°•

Out of all the modes of transportation, the one that he chooses is…his web. Yes, he expects you to hold onto him while he pretends to be a monkey for a day. As much as you hate it you have no other choice but to tag along how else are you going to get there? 

“Just don't drop me” You place your hands reluctantly around his neck and your legs around his waist. It might be harder to transport you with your legs flying in the wind. Because of your suits, it makes it harder for the Bond to be satisfied but being this close to him helps.

He lands on a building putting you down…surprisingly gently. “I have to put you in handcuffs otherwise they'll get suspicious” You nod along and when he's done you both walk the rest of the way.

•°~°•

You weren't expecting people to welcome you with open arms but you weren't expecting people to gather around waiting for you with rocks and spoiled food. You keep your head down the whole time as he leads you to the police. You can barely hear what they're discussing over the shouts and screams from the citizens of Nueva York.

“She doesn't deserve to live”

“Kill her like she killed my family”

“My baby sister was in that building you monster”

This list goes on and on. Bile works up your throat and you force it back down. You never meant to hurt anyone. Out of all the times you've been Spark you've never once laid a finger on anyone only damaging things such as billboards and parks. But you've never once hurt someone intentionally. It really is beneath you.

“She has to work on this for the next 10 hours, with no breaks and no help”

“Okay I'll see that she'll get to it right away” 10 hours is a little extreme but what else are you going to do? Spiderman takes off the cuffs and they throw you a pair of gloves, a rake, and a garbage bag. It's taking you a lot of willpower to not lash out or even scream at one of them. After counting to 10 you reach down and begin to pick them up. When your hand touches the bag an egg hits you on the side of your face and you watch as it trails down your suit before hitting the floor.

And then another.

And another.

You steal a glance at Spider-Man to show him how much of an idiot he is. He's forcing you to be a laughingstock of Nueva York. Although there's nothing you can say or do that would help these people understand that you didn't want this to happen. What's done is done and no apology is going to bring back the lives that were lost. 

You ignore everything, all the shouting and the eggs, and begin to get to work. “Is this really necessary for the crowd? How is she supposed to work if all this is happening?”

“We owe it to the citizens they are angry hurt and grieving it wouldn't be fair to them if we didn't allow them to do this”

“But-”

The police officer places his hand on Spider-Mans shoulder. It may look like a friendly gesture but you know better. “But nothing Spider-Man don't tell me you're advocating for this cold-blooded killer” You don't want to listen to this you walk away from them before you can hear his answer starting on the far side of the park. 

You're 20 minutes into this when you feel Spider-Man trying to speak to you through the mind connection. Subtly you look around for him and notice him on the roof of a building 6 stories over. 

“What do you want?”

“I have to go”

“You brought me into this mess and now you have to go?”

“I know I'm sorry but there are problems in another dimension so-”

“It's fine there's no need to explain you have a job to do” You have to try to ignore that he will be in another dimension. It was already hard enough to be away from him in different parts of the same building so you can't even imagine what it would be like being in a whole nother dimension. The Fates are not on your side today so it seems. But then again when have they ever been?

•°~°•

The first four hours were manageable. You were just feeling feverish, but it's nothing you can't handle. The crowd, on the other hand, is the same as it was in the beginning: loud and rowdy. At least they've only been throwing eggs and food at you. It seems like they are holding off on the rocks until later on. 

6 hours in you're feeling sluggish and your movements are slowed. The sun is blazing on your back and it feels as though you haven't made a dent into the mess that you created. It's getting harder and harder trying to work while feeling this way. Subtly you try to check in with him through your mind link but you get nothing. He seems to be fine and you can very much tell that he's alive. 

The Fates would most definitely let you know if your mate is dead..right?

As much as you don't want to accept him as your mate with the way you're feeling right now there's no other explanation for it. There is nothing to prove that he's making this up everything points to the one thing you've grown to hate over the years: your mate.

When the seventh hour rolls around the effects of being in his house and his office officially wear off and with your luck, you feel it the second it does. You’re brought to your knees as the feeling in your stomach hits you with such intensity that your breath is knocked out of your lungs. The crowd begins to cheer. You need to get up you can’t give them that satisfaction that you are weak and can barely stand, especially when they are so angry. There is no telling what they would do if they realized just how helpless you are right now. As you try to stand up a rock hits you at the side of your right knee. Whoever threw it has good aim because you bite down so hard on your lip that it draws blood.

“Steven shield please”

“But boss you aren’t feeling too well right now your powers are depleted. You need your mate” You turn your head to the side so your curls are covering your face if they see you talking to yourself. “I know that but look around, do you see him anywhere?”

“He left you?” Steven question.

“Yes, yes he did….but he had a job to do long before—before this whole mate thing came about I can't get mad at him and you shouldn't either” It feels weird to hear yourself standing up for Spiderman but you really can't deal with an argument right now.

Slowly you bend down to pick up a broken branch when 2 rocks hit you one in your head and the other in your back. You're not quite sure if you're feeling overly sensitive or if it's Bond but every muscle, every bone in your body is screaming. You’re not even sure if you could keep this up much longer. 

After what feels like forever you begin to feel that familiar tug in your chest again. You almost let out a cry of relief as you feel him draw nearer.

He talks to the officers before looking in your direction. “We’re leaving. Let me know when's the next event” His grip on your arm is tight but not enough to hurt as he drags you away. 

•°~°•

When you arrive back at HQ you take a shower in his office. Why is there a shower in his office you might ask? 

You haven't got a clue.

It takes you some time to wash the gunk out of your curls but you manage. This probably has to be one of the most embarrassing days of your life. You feel pathetic, small, and insignificant. The fact that “your mate” made you go through with this makes your blood boil. You ended up scrubbing your skin till it turned red and had the water scolding hot.

When you exit the shower you find one of his sweaters there waiting for you and you happily put it on.

……..

What? It takes the pain away.

Since you're not in the mood to have your suit bottoms intact you walk back to his main office wearing nothing but his sweater and your underwear. The office where you couldn't even stay 2 minutes in because you were knocked out...yeah that one.

You find both him Steven and Lyla conversating in front of a row of orange screens. The conversation comes to a halt when they sense your presence. 

“How are you feeling boss?” Steven asks.

“I could be way better but at least I'm alive so…” Your words trail off as you lock eyes with Spiderman the look on his face is indescribable. You can't tell if he's angry or happy that you're okay.

“Do you need anything from me?” Thinking it's a rhetorical question you say nothing. But as the silence becomes uncomfortable you realize that he is in fact being serious.

You scoff, folding your hands against your chest. “You were in another dimension of course I need something from you….but I have your sweater so it can wait till afterwards. Wasn't I called down here for a reason?” He nods before turning to the orange screens. 

The little woman in the orange hue speaks up. “You might wanna sit down for this hun”

“Yeah, boss you need to brace yourself for this” You walk closer to them the sense of uneasiness washing over you. “Well just get it over with” Spiderman points to one of the orange screens and you begin to read. 

It's a chart about you. More like a government record, it shows the name of your foster parents, the Orphanages you resided in, the schools you went to, the day you were born, and...the day you died. It was the day that changed everything. The day you found out you had a mate.

“So I really did die that day huh?”

“Yes and acknowledging our bond brought you back to life”

“After you forced me”

“I saved you”

“Do you want a thank you?” He lets out a sigh of annoyance before redirecting you to continue reading. “There's more boss and please don't freak out”

You turn your attention back to the screen and scroll down. The more you read the more unnerved you become. You turn to face Spiderman. “Why does it say here that I died when I was five years old?”

“I thought you would know the answer to that”

“H-How would I know the answer to that I didn't even know that I was—dead till just now. What does it mean that I was born again? Is that how I got my powers?”

You can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thinks of what to say to you. “That can explain it, that can also explain why you didn't feel me, our bond till after you died again” You can feel a growing headache. How is this possible?

Steven filters in next to you. “And that makes sense, doesn’t it? That would explain your powers that would explain how come you remember nothing before you turned 5”

“So what does this mean? Am I just an experiment gone wrong? Someone that can die and come alive again?”

“Well I wouldn't want to test that theory but it would look like it. I'm going to find out everything that I can and then I'll report back to you but during the time you were born, it was rumored that scientists were trying to create stronger children that would grow into adults and become superheroes. Maybe that's what could've happened to you”

“It could be a possibility but why would they just dump me at an Orphanage why not keep me there forever” He shrugs his shoulders clearly he doesn't have the answer to that question. You let out a sigh, taking the time to walk away rubbing the circles on your temples.

Spiderman moves to stand next to you. “If you want I can do some more digging about your past to see exactly what went down. But the choice is yours” You stop walking and turn to face him. “Please do” He shares a look before nodding.

•°~°•

Before you can get back to his place he says he has more work he has to finish before then so you're forced to sit around and wait for him. 

It's probably been hours since you've been walking around in circles in his office. Surprisingly there's so much to do here so much to see. But at least you're moving Spiderman hasn't moved an inch from his spot in front of those screens. There's got to be something wrong with him. You wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't blinked either.

“It's about to be 12am why don't you drop me off at your place and come back I'm tired”

“No”

You fold your hands across your chest. “Why not? There's nothing for me to do here and it's not like I'm keeping you company just take me back to your place give me some physical touch and then leave me be”

“I cannot leave you alone knowing all of Nueva York wants you dead”

“I have a personal assistant of my own too you know and you can leave yours with me. Boom extra protection.”

He doesn't even look at you when he speaks. Forcing you to watch as his long fingers glide against the screen to do god knows what. “What's gotten into you? Why are you so talkative?”

“I'm cranky that's why. I was forced to do a public humiliation ritual for hours under the hot blazing sun while my body yearned for someone who was in a whole nother dimension. And I just found out that I've died twice! So yes I'm upset, tired, hungry, and annoyed at everyone and I'm annoyed at you for leaving me there after dragging me into this mess” Your last sentence is what gets his attention because he's finally turning around to face you.

“I told you why I had to leave I have-”

“A job to do yes I know. Just forget it.” You don't even know why you're telling him all this. Better yet you don't even know why you're speaking to him in the first place. “Are we leaving now or what?” You watch as he stares at you for a second before ultimately rolling his eyes.

“Fine since you want to throw a temper tantrum like a child then let's go” You decide to ignore the insult because hey at least you’re getting what you wanted. He looks at you expectantly before you finally get the gist that he wants you to walk over to him.

 He's such an asshole.

You stop right in front of him and expect him to grab you to swing away but he doesn't. “Up”

“You can't be serious”

“I am” He opens his arms to give you access to him. He wants you to climb on him. If your fate wasn't tied to his you would've killed him. The height difference between the two of you makes it even harder for you to reach him but you try anyway. Standing on your tippy toes you wrap a hand around his neck using it as a handle so you can pull yourself up. The bastard doesn't even flinch as he supports all of your body weight by his neck alone.

You take a deep breath before jumping and wrapping your legs around his waist. His mask is off so your noses almost touch when you're in position. You both stay there for a few seconds and he raises his eyebrows as if to challenge you.

You can't help it as you roll your eyes. “You're the one who suggested I get on you like this” He says nothing as he rests a hand on your back using his webs to swing away.

•°~°•

When you arrive home—erm to his house you take off to the bedroom as he begins to take out pots and pans. He's probably going to cook something again. After 30 minutes pass he calls you into the kitchen and because you're so hungry of course you go.

He's made you a whole entree there's rice, chicken, and vegetables on your plate paired with a glass of water. Hmmm, your own personal chef. Silence falls between the two of you because, of course, you don't feel like talking to him. Once you're done you mumble a thank you and go to wash the dishes since it's the least you can do given that he cooked.

“Go sit down”

“Can't you see that I'm doing something?”

His chair scrapes on the floor as he gets up practically pushing you from the sink. “You're not washing the dishes” You stare at him for a second before accepting it. Trust you don't have the energy to argue over something as basic as washing the dishes.

After heading to the bathroom to freshen up you head to the bed. The silence is deafening and you can't help but get lost in your own thoughts. You hate to say this but you are feeling the effects of not having skin-to-skin contact with your mate and you know what that means. You thought it would be okay since you're finally in his space but that's clearly not the case. 

Even though he's only across the hall in the bathroom you can feel the tugging in your chest. You can feel your bond growing restless that he's so close but yet so far away. You hate to admit it but you can't stay this way any longer being in constant pain the second you're too far away from him. Besides the longer acknowledged mates stay unbonded the intensity of the pain increases and since you're the only one dealing with this pain you have to make the decision. 

You have to bond with your mate. You have to bond with Spiderman.

And of course, the only way to bond is through sex. The Fates clearly couldn't think of a better way to seal the Bond. It has to be through that way. The thought of doing something so intimate with him makes your skin crawl you'd rather walk on hot coals than be with—with him. Granted because of that horrible night your views on sex changed. You no longer thought it was something beautiful, you no longer thought it was supposed to be romantic each time. Sex isn't about both partners sex is only catered to men and making sure they get off before their partners. Some men expect a woman to give them sex just because they brought you a plate of food, and some men will take it without even asking. Trust, you know what it's like to have men forcefully take something just because they can.

It's the light from the bathroom door that puts a pause on your thoughts. It's a good thing that it does because you would've continued going on and on without even realizing it. Putting you in that dark room all over again. You look at him the second he steps into the room and you regret it instantly. His hair is wet causing droplets of water to fall on his chest. And let's not mention the towel that's currently snug on his waist. You hate that his body looks like it's been chiseled to perfection. Damn him.

“Why didn't you get dressed in the bathroom?”

“I came out the second I felt your emotions. Don't tell me it's my lack of decorations that's making you feel so angry” Damnit how can you forget that he feels you through the bond?

You turn away not wanting to look at him you've been vulnerable in front of him once you're not sure if you want to do it again. You clear your throat before you respond. “I'm fine I was just thinking. Can you at least put on some clothes?”

“What's the point if I have to take it off? Didn't you say you needed something from me?”

“At least put on some under-” You shield your eyes the second he removes the towel from his waist. Unable to help it you take a peek only to find him with a pair of black underwear on. That asshole.

Forget needing skin-to-skin contact your bond will have to be satisfied with only having his body next to you. You don't want to deal with him right now. Ignoring the amused look on his face you go under the covers pulling the sheets well over your head. The bed dips the second he gets on it. His body heat radiating off of him has your bond practically pushing you into him.

You hear him let out a sigh and then suddenly his hands are around your waist and he's pulling you into his lap. “What are-”

“The faster we do this the better I have work to do” His eyes dart to his sweater that you still have on as if to ask for permission and you nod.

He pulls the sweater over your head leaving you both sitting there in nothing but your undergarments. Silently you both stare at each other as if unsure what the next move should be. This is supposed to be easy all you gotta do is hug each other to satisfy the bond so why are his eyes locked on your lips? You move on your own eager to get out of this awkward state wrapping your arms around his neck your legs going on either side of his own. You feel the second the bond begins to settle. A sigh escapes your lips before you have the chance to conceal it as your body begins to relax against him. You’ll have to stay like this for a while and although his hands remain at his sides you can’t help but feel like this is unfair for him….again.

“You can touch me” You whisper as you stare at the black headboard. His hands wrap around your torso eliminating the rest of the space between the two of you. After what feels like hours you open your mouth to speak. “I don’t know how long I could keep doing this”

“Do you want me to let go?”

You shake your head no. “No I mean I don’t know how long I have to keep depending on you. Today showed what happens if we get too far away and we can’t be attached at the hip 24/7. We have to complete the Bond” You can feel his emotions through the bond and for some reason he’s not happy about this. He takes your arms off of his neck so you can lock him in the eyes.

“That's not how I wanted us to complete the Bond. When mates complete the Bond it’s because they both want it, they both are happy and in-” 

“And what? In love..? I don’t think we will ever get there I can count on my hands the amount of days we knew each other outside of our suits. Love is not in the relationship that we have right now”

Not only can you feel his hurt but you can see it on his face. Why is he being so difficult about this? “We are destined to be together bonded by Fate itself. Do you not think you could grow to love me, to love us?”

“I—I don’t know and if I do end up loving you do you expect us to be some happy couple? We used to beat on each other until the other was drawing blood aren’t supposed to love each-”

He brings his hand to rest on your cheek. “But we can if you would just give me a chance” He thinks that this is so simple it’s like he doesn’t even know what exactly he’s asking you. You've never been in a relationship before let alone let a man get super close and now suddenly you're supposed to love a man you haven't even known for a week?

You fold your hands across your chest trying to make yourself smaller. The hand that rests on your cheek slides down to your neck before retreating altogether. “Are you going to complete the Bond so your mate doesn't have to keel over every time you get so far away or are you going to continue to bring me pain?”

“Only if you give this a try. I refuse to be in a loveless relationship with my mate” Running your hands over your face it takes you everything not to scream. If you have to lie in order to relieve yourself from pain then so be it. Removing your hands from your face you reluctantly look him in the eye and nod. “I need to hear you. Will you give this a try?”

You take a deep breath before answering. “Yeah, I'll give this a try” Immediately you feel the satisfaction and pride coming from him with a twinge of happiness but yet his face remains completely still not an emotion in sight.

“I want you to take the lead” You nod already knowing what he means. The last time you decided to have consensual sex with a man he lasted 2 minutes and yes you counted. 

As you begin to focus trying to rid your mind of these thoughts you then feel him harden beneath you. It has to be the anticipation because nothing has happened yet. But how can you forget that you're sitting right on top of him? Your core and his cock are perfectly aligned minus the fabric that's in the way.

You reach for the hem of his underwear feeling both excited and scared. You can't help but wonder if his size will match the rest of his body. “Condom?”

“I—No I don't bring people in here and haven't needed those in years. I'll go to the-” Huh the fact that he hasn't been with another woman makes the bond hum in satisfaction. Yeahhhhh, that's the Bond it's definitely not you.

“There's no need for that I'm clean and I can't get pregnant so we'll be fine” Not wanting to draw this out any longer you free him from the constraints of his underwear and pull your panties to the side. He's…thick and surprisingly a decent length with beads of precum already leaking from the tip. Rising up on your toes you go to align him to your entrance but you hear him unsheath his talons and he uses it to cut your underwear off.

Dammit, that was your favorite pair. “It'll be easier that way” He tossed it to the side and you stroke him a few times pressing him against your entrance. There's some resistance since there's no foreplay and you groan in pain as you feel the stretch. This will have to do if you want this to be as fast as possible. Your hand lands on the base of his neck to stabilize yourself as he continues to fill you up inch by inch.

Once buried to the hilt both of you let out a breath at the same time you wait so you can accommodate to his size and then you begin to move. Your movements are slow and unsure you don't remember the last time you've ever been on top and in control. You rest your other hand on his neck and apart from the sound that your bodies are making, it's silent in this room.

This has to be one of the most awkward sex experiences you've ever had. The more it goes on his breathing increases and you try so hard to look everywhere but him but—you just can't. 

His hands go to your hips helping you increase the pace. You thought he wasn't going to touch you. The minute your eyes meet he speaks. “Teach me. Teach me how to pleasure you”

“Spiderman-”

He cuts you off. “Don't you dare say anything but my name while you're fucking me”

So clearly he's dominant. “Miguel you don't have to do this”

“I wasn't asking” Your eyes dance between his you can't believe he wants more than you can give him but oh well it's just for this moment and who says you can't get an orgasm out of it?

“Just touch me anywhere” You're breathless panting now as he slips off your bra straps and pulls it down so it rests on your stomach.

Then his mouth is on you.

An arm wraps around your waist pulling you closer as his hand goes between your legs and his mouth is on one of your breasts. Your hips come to a halt and helplessly you begin to grind against him. Your pleasure has just gone from a 6 to a 10. Unable to conceal your moans anymore you take a hand and run it through his hair tugging at the ends just a little.

When he unlatches from your breast he rests his forehead on your shoulder and he groans very loudly. Not holding anything back and you hate to admit it but he sounds amazing it eggs you on even more. 

Fuck you hope he doesn't feel your satisfaction through the bond. What a way to boost his ego.

“You feel—god you feel amazing” Your face heats up and you know immediately that he does in fact feel your pride and satisfaction. But as your orgasm nears you couldn't care less to hide your feelings right now. Tomorrow you think to yourself tomorrow you'll go back to giving him the cold shoulder but tonight right now all you want to be is lost in this moment.

“Say it again Miguel, tell me how good I make you feel” He lifts his head and the grin that he has on his face is indescribable. His hair is still wet as if he just came out of the shower a few strands stick to his forehead and his tan skin has a red hue to it.

“My mate is making me feel so fucking good. So tight but yet I fit perfectly. It makes me wonder if she'll-”

“F-Fuck Miguel I'm close” You didn't mean to cut him off but he leaned back bucking his hips to meet yours. Your eyes draw close and your moans bounce off the walls.

“Cum with me mate” And as if on command you do. Your legs tremble and he gives you one last thrust before he pulls you flush against him again, your bare chests touching. You both stay there for a moment but then you feel it. The Bond has been completed. No more pain when he goes into another dimension no more needing his sweaters or the need to be in his space. You can live without him now.

Gosh, you really are a jerk if the only thing you can think of after you both had sex is leaving him.

Your thoughts come to a halt when his hands begin to rub your arms. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm fine” You forgot how awkward it is after sex ugh you hate this now you feel completely vulnerable and bare… quite literally and you don't like this at all.

“C'mon let's get you cleaned up” You nod and he picks you up bringing you to the bathroom. Finally, he pulls out as he rests you on the counter, his eyes locked on the cum that's leaking out of you. His hand twitches and when you look his eyes are now red he's practically salivating. So he clearly has a breeding kink.

 You're about to say something when the pads of your fingers begin to burn almost painfully. Then without a warning, Sparks start forming between your fingers at the same time as Miguel's talons begin to grow. 

“It's the Bond increasing our powers and making us stronger” He gets a rag and begins to clean you up. Once he's done and you've used the bathroom you grab his sweater because you refuse to sleep naked.

Shortly after, he climbs in. Didn’t he say he has work to do? You ignore everything and focus on trying to sleep. You want nothing more than to forget about what just happened between the two of you. Maybe you’re being naive but hopefully, this doesn’t change anything.

[oharaslove]

OH MY GOD

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣welve

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. with your world turned upside down, you seek help from a friend. after building up the courage, you finally tell miguel about the pregnancy but it doesn’t go well as you think.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortions, mentions of expired birth control, negligence, major emotional distress, swearing, heartbreak

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

you don’t know how much tears you cried, probably broke a personal record. you don’t know how long you’ve been awake. you don’t even know what time it is or if it’s the same day. you’ve been too busy crying.

ever since you found out you’re pregnant, you turn into a fucking mess. cheeks flushed from all the crying. trash cans over-flooded with tissues, stacked up like a mountain. bed still undone, sheets all messed up. food left untouched in the kitchen.

first, you remained sitting on the cool tile floor of your bathroom sobbing and weeping for who knows how long. then finally you move on to your bed, crying into your pillow. thankfully, you weren’t wearing makeup so you pillows didn’t get stained. only small wet patches of your tears on the sheet.

you’re pregnant.

you are actually pregnant. there is a developing baby in your body, an embryo just sitting inside there. an embryo soon to be a baby, a being that will be a combination of you and miguel.

the thought makes you cry harder.

this can’t be happening. the world is collapsing and it’s all because of your irresponsibility.

you don’t want this. you don’t want a baby. you don’t want to become a mother. go through nine months of fucking hell. experience one of the most painful experiences ever just to pop out a small human. endure numerous body changes. crying echoing throughout the apartment because the baby demands milk. sleepless nights and thousands of diapers to change. buy expensive ass items such as strollers, car seats, diapers, baby food and clothes.

all of that is overwhelming, making your anxiety to skyrocket. this isn’t what you want. this isn’t what you dreamed of. this isn’t in the books for you. becoming a mother wasn’t on your bucket list.

however, it’s still possible that you don’t have to. thankfully, you live in a place where abortion and reproductive healthcare is available (fuck that orange mf). you have the opportunity to take that route.

but it’s not an easy decision.

having an abortion is a difficult process. if you wish to have one, you need to build shit load of courage. you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to live with that decision because it will remain with you for the rest of your life. you can’t feel sorry for yourself. if you got the courage, then fucking do it.

but you still have to process this first.

you have to miguel first.

oh miguel… how are you going to tell him?

never have you been so scared. not saying you’re afraid of him, no never because miguel is sweetest man to exist. he’s such a sweetheart, makes you feel happy and safe. you’re just scared of his reaction.

will he be upset?

will he be mad?

will he be happy?

not knowing is the scariest part. no matter how much of a sweetheart he is, you can’t tell what would his reaction be to such a fucked up situation like this.

while you were sobbing and weeping for hours on end, he texted you which you’ve yet to respond.

osito 🐻: hey, didn’t see you come from work. is everything okay? did you jameson let you off early?

osito 🐻: bebé, did something happened? please answer me asap.

oh your heart breaks.

how can you break the news to this sweet man?

luckily those messages were sent an hour ago which gives you time to respond so he wouldn’t worry and head over to your place. that also means it’s still the same day, it’s just been hours.

bebé 🌷: hi, sorry for answering late! yeah, jameson let us out early so i got home a little earlier and took a nap.

a hinge of guilt stand for your heart for lying but you know miguel would want to know why you didn’t show up to meet him as usual and text him back. the man is in the military for god’s sake, he knows when someone is lying. now you feel even more guilty.

you carelessly toss your phone to the side landing on the bed sheets and bury your face in your hands as tears begin prickling in your eyes once again.

not even 5 seconds, your phone dings!

osito 🐻: that’s good, you needed rest for working so hard. are you feeling better? you need me to come over?

shit, he can’t come over at least now. fuck you’re gonna have to lie to him again, no matter how much it breaks your already fragile heart.

bebé 🌷: no, it’s okay! my sister is actually visiting me soon so i can’t have other visitors lol. but i am feeling a little bit better :)

two more total fucking lies. you feel like absolute shit and your sister is not coming over.

osito 🐻: alright but let me know if you need anything, vale? te quiero mucho.

fuck, your heart.

you quickly respond to him saying you love him back with bunch of heart emojis before tossing your phone on the bed once again. more tears trail down your face, quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips.

an irresponsible liar.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

not only you’re a liar but a terrible girlfriend.

ever since you found out about the pregnancy, you’ve been avoiding miguel. not answering his texts, missing his calls to answer later and give him a bullshit excuse. since you live in the same complex and are fucking next door neighbors, it’s hard to avoid him since he’s right there.

you know it’s hurting him and it kills you. one minute you two are kissing and cuddling, then suddenly avoiding him as much as possible. you feel so fucking guilty because miguel doesn’t deserve this. recently you finally told you love each other and now there is sudden distance between you two because of your fears. the guilt has been you eating alive.

the pregnancy hormones don’t help, making you more of an emotional mess. the stock of toilet paper has been decreasing due to the excessive amounts you’ve been using for blowing your nose and cleaning up your tears. you’re just a huge mess.

in addition to being a liar and a horrible girlfriend, you call your best friend instead of your boyfriend to talk about the pregnancy.

“oh my god… does miguel know?” mj asks over the phone, you can hear the shock in her voice.

you close your eyes in guilt. “no…”

“fuck… okay, um- have you told anyone else, your parents, siblings, other relatives?”

“no, you’re the first one to know.”

“okay…” you can hear her sigh heavily. “well, i promise to keep this secret because i figured you don’t want anyone else to know yet.”

you thank her, feeling a bit relieved. mj has always been a trusting friend and you’re grateful for that.

“when did the pill expired?” she inquires.

“three weeks ago.”

you hear her cursing under her breath. “have you made an appointment yet?”

“not yet but i’m planning to.”

“okay, that’s good. that’s a good start.” she said supportingly, trying to help you feel a little better.

tears begin prickling in your eyes. “mj, i’m so scared, i fucked up… it’s all my fault…”

“hey, sweetie no, no, no—”

“yes it is!” you cut her off, finally letting out those tears. “it’s my fault because i didn’t check the stupid expiration date! it was my responsibility and i fucked up! now miguel is gonna hate me—”

“he’s not going to hate you. that man loves you more than anything else in the entire universe.” she said. “i know you’re scared to tell him but i’m 100% sure he’ll never hate you. sure, he’ll be shocked but he’s a kindhearted man, i’m sure he’ll understand.”

mj is right, you know she is. miguel is a kindhearted man and you love that about him. his kindness always capture your heart. how sweet and generous he is, it’s plausible he would understand in a way.

but you’re just so scared to tell him, afraid of his reaction regardless how sweet he is. this is because of your irresponsibility. it’s your fault for not checking on your pill and now face the consequences of it. but miguel is in this mess with you. because of your irresponsibility, you dragged him into this mess.

“honey, i know you’re scared and that’s 100% okay.” she said after you didn’t respond back. “but… you’re gonna have to tell him soon because eventually he will find out and that will be even more messier.”

she’s right and you can’t afford that.

this is already bad as it is.

you can’t hide the truth from him forever. miguel has the right to know, no matter how terrified you are to tell him. you have to tell him, tonight possibly.

“tonight…” you take a deep breath to numb down your anxiety. “tonight i’ll tell him.”

“okay…” mj answers softly. “you’re gonna be fine, it’s gonna be fine, i promise.”

you really hope she’s right.

“thanks, mj. i appreciate this so much, thank you.”

“of course, honey. best friends always support each other. if you need anything, do not ever hesitate to ask. me and the girls will always be there for you.”

god, you really have amazing friends. forever grateful to have them in your life.

after saying your goodbyes and mj telling you to call her after you tell miguel, you hang up. sinking back into your bed, you stare up at the ceiling. thinking of infinite possibilities and scenarios of what will happen to tonight when you tell miguel.

fear still consumes you, eating you up. despite how sweet miguel may be, his reaction is still unpredictable. an unplanned pregnancy isn’t something to be calm about.

but you have to face your fears.

bebé 🌷: hey, can you come over tonight please? there’s something i need to talk about.

your thumb hovers over the ‘send’ button, hesitating for a moment. anxiety strikes your heart viciously. no matter how scared you are, you have to face this. with a shaky breath, you send the message.

your anxiety increases when he doesn’t respond right away. he’s probably busy right now, maybe at the boxing gym. you distract yourself by doing laundry and fixing your bed after days of leaving it undone. half an hour later, your phone dings! with a text.

osito 🐻: claro, preciosa. i’ll be there in 30 mins, on my way right now.

now you have to wait, dreadfully.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

“you good, o’hara?” flash asks.

miguel blinks after spacing out for a bit, too lost in his thoughts. “yeah, i’m fine.”

flash raises a skeptical brow, doubting. “for a man who’s an expert liar on the field, you’re really shitty when you aren’t. what’s up?”

miguel has been asking that himself for the past few days. something has happened that he isn’t aware of. you’ve been avoiding him. he hasn’t seen you in almost a week. when he waits for you to return from work, you don’t show up. when he knocks on your door, you don’t answer. all he gets are text messages with various excuses. miguel doesn’t buy it one bit.

did he do something?

that’s the question that has been repeating in his mind for these past few days. has he done something wrong? did he hurt you in any way? that’s the last thing miguel wants, he never ever wishes to hurt you. you’re his beautiful girl, the owner of his heart. hurting you would be the end of him.

he’s desperate to know what’s wrong but miguel also doesn’t wish to push you. despite the negative thoughts plunging his mind, he’s still respectful.

but goddamnit he wants to know.

he wants to know so badly it hurts.

all miguel wants is to rush over to your apartment, plead to you on his knees to know what he’s done. he isn’t sure if his heart can’t handle it more.

miguel knows you love him. never doubted for a second, not ever once. the intense love you harbor for each other is unmatched, unbreakable.

“is this about your girl?” flash’s voice makes him snap out of his thoughts once again.

“she’s been… distant.” miguel said solemnly, as if it was painful to admit that.

flash only sighs and fold his arms across his chest, allowing miguel to speak his mind.

“i don’t know what happened… i haven’t seen her in almost week. every time i call her, she doesn’t answer. i knock on her door and she doesn’t answer. no matter what i do or when i try to reach her, she avoids me and i don’t know why.”

miguel truly doesn’t know and it frustrates him. it frustrates him that you aren’t able to talk to him and tell him the truth. all miguel wants is you to be comfortable to tell him anything. he wants to be that safe haven you can come to.

you mean so much to him, you have no clue.

you’re his angel.

“i just feel like… did i do something wrong?” miguel frowns solemnly. “i just don’t know what possible reason… everything was alright.”

a deep sigh escapes him as flash takes a step forward. “i’m not sure either since you two have been so lovely dovely, but i’m sure you didn’t do anything, man. maybe she’s been stressed at work but there’s for sure something going on.” he leaves a light hand on miguel’s shoulder. “don’t stress out, man. when the time is right, she’ll come to you.”

miguel takes in his words, giving him a little bit of relief yet the concern lingers. he gives him a nod, appreciating his supportive words.

as him and the rest of gang continue sipping their beers while watching the football game tonight, miguel receives a notification from his phone.

bebé 🌷: hey, can you come over tonight please? there’s something i need to talk about.

his heart skips a beat in rejoice. the first time you texted him first. perhaps flash was right.

osito 🐻: claro, preciosa. i’ll be there in 30 mins, on my way right now.

he never left the pub so quickly. eager yet a bit nervous to finally see you after what feels like forever. all miguel wants is to see his pretty angel.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

heart pounding in your chest. blood pumping with anxiety flowing through your entire body, consuming you whole. you can feel the pulse caught in your throat as you wait for miguel’s arrival.

it’s time, it’s finally time to tell him the truth.

god, you’ve never been so scared in your life.

hands fiddling with each other, palms sweaty and clammy. pacing around the living room. negative thoughts invading your mind like a plague.

it’s gonna be okay, you keep telling yourself as a way to calm down your anxiety. but it isn’t working obviously. those negative thoughts just won’t stop.

miguel is gonna be infuriated. yell at how irresponsible you are and demand for the relationship to end because of you’re lack of responsibility. these thoughts just won’t stop, never-ending.

the knock on the door startles you, making you jump.

fuck, miguel is here.

taking a very deep breath to calm your nerves, you slowly approach the front door. slowly unlocking it, your heart rate skyrockets when you see miguel standing in front of you. his wide eyes meet yours.

“¿bebé, que paso? what’s wrong?” he blurts our questions, his anxiety to blame.

“come in, please…”

you walk away as miguel enters your home and closes the door before taking off his shoes and follows you to the couch. no hug or kiss, miguel takes mental note of that and it worries him more.

miguel hesitates to sit since you refuse to yourself but your pleading eyes convinces him to. he drinks in your anxious state. one hand rubbing your neck, the other over your torso. the pacing back and forth. seeing you this nervous makes him nervous. his elbows rest on his bouncing knees of anxiety, leaned forward as miguel waits for you. he wants to stand up and pull you into his arms than sit on your couch, anxious to hear what you have to tell him.

“please tell me what’s wrong, bebé?”

fuck, by his tone you can tell how worried he is.

you look at him, opening your mouth to say something but immediately closing it. you can’t do this, the anxiety is winning against you. goddamnit you can sense the tears slowly developing. quickly blinking them away, you inhale a deep breath.

“i-i know i’ve been distant and i—” you hiccup. “i’m sorry for hurting you, i never wanted to hurt you. i love you and it killed me to hurt you like this.”

miguel stares at you with big concern eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “bebé, what is this about—”

“please let me finish, miguel.” you plead with sorrowful eyes and he only stares worryingly. “now please believe me when i didn’t mean for any of this and i am forever sorry for putting you in this.”

he feels his heartbeat increase rapidly. never has miguel felt so fucking nervous in his life. what do you mean ‘putting him in this’?

“i’m pregnant.”

the whole fucking world, or the universe, stops. everything just stops, frozen in time. large silence sits unfortunately between you two. you feel your chest tightening, unable to breath, and panic as you notice the all the emotions from miguel’s drops immediately. brown eyes blown wide, color from his face gone, chest begins to heave. he appears as if he’s about to have a heart attack.

“¿qué?…” so quiet yet in disbelief.

you grimace at his reaction, anxiety now skyrocketed. god you want to burst into tears. “i’m so sorry… i’m so sorry, miguel.” those exact tears were coming in. “it’s my fault, i-i wasn’t lying about taking the pill but i—” you choke a sob. “my dumbass didn’t check the expiration date and now—”

while on the verge of tears, you couldn’t read miguel’s expression. he just sat there emotionless other than shocked eyes, it scares you.

“it’s my fault for being so irresponsible and i’m so so so sorry!” you couldn’t back those tears anymore as they slowly trail down your face. “you have every right to be mad. please believe me, i never wanted this and put you through this.” another sob. “i-i’m not even sure if i’ll keep it anyways.”

miguel still doesn’t answer but he isn’t looking at you anymore, instead at his hands in his lap.

“i’m so sorry, miguel!” you sob, hugging yourself thinking he doesn’t want your comfort right now. how could he after what has been revealed?

through your teary eyes, you look at him. still sitting in silence with no emotions. it’s understandable for him to react like this, you throw a bomb on him and flip his entire world upside down. but you secretly wish miguel would say something, a word or noise, just anything because the silence is killing you.

“m-miguel?…” you whisper, sniffling.

the man doesn’t respond.

you repeat his name and still no response. your voice falls deaf upon his ears. instead of answering, miguel silently stands up without eye contact and walks away towards the front door. you observe him putting in his shoes with slightly wide eyes, your anxiety gradually increasing again.

“miguel?…”

with no answer, he opens the door and…

he walks out.

he just walks out.

without saying anything at all.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @scaryplanetdestroyer @totallygyomeiswife

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[oharaslove]

I'm trying to see something

[oharaslove]

Oh this is so good!!! I mean, the morning sex 🤭, chef kiss honestly. Just imagine what it would be like to wake up next to that God of a man, and then he fucking you, OH MY GOD. I need a sedative.

And then, that cliffhanger OH MY GOD. We are in for a ride of suffering, Angst and everything right?

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓔leven

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. everything was fine until one day you wake up feeling incredibly nauseous. you believed it was a stomach virus but it turns out to be much worse, something inevitable.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. brief smut, soft morning sex, creampie, angst, pregnancy symptoms, vomit (emetophobia warning), expired birth control, emotional distress, swearing ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

another day, another morning waking up to your man laying beside you in bed. another day of the very same man making you a trembling mess as he lazily thrusts into you from behind. broad chest against your back, laying behind you. the hem of your nightgown raised over your ass, brunches up in his fingers, and panties shoved to the side. his hands keeping you steady as miguel fucks you nice and slow, whispering sweet praises into your ear. the bulbous tip kissing your cervix repeatedly.

“estas hermosa~” miguel coos in your ear as he sweetly makes love to you.

your soft moans and whimpers are muffled into the pillow. one of his hands trail up to your own and interlocks it with his, holding you against his broad figure. his hot breath fanning against the sheep of your ear, soft groans and moans. your sweet tight pussy sucking him so perfectly.

just a few more pumps and he’s shooting his thick load inside you, filling you up to the brim. his hips eventually come to a stop, gently pulls out and moves your panties back in place. feeling his warm cum flooding inside you, making you softly hum. you just lay there for a few minutes, panting echoing in the room as you recover from your high.

“any ideas for breakfast?” his hands slide up and down your sides. his touch soft and gentle.

you lightly scoff, rolling your eyes. “you literally just fucked me and you’re asking me to think?” your brain is a literal puddle, too fucked out.

he chuckled at your grumpy tone and nuzzles his face into the crook of your beck. “¿quieres tamales?”

you ponder for a moment. “actually, yeah that does sound good. i think i still have some left.”

miguel hums in agreement, his body relaxing into yours. arms around your middle, slightly sweaty chest against your back. the softness of your body lures him back into sleep, provides him a sense of comfort. you are his comfort.

“are you falling back asleep?” you notice it got a little too quiet after a few minutes.

“no.” he murmured into your neck.

you can sense his stupid smile. “you literally said you were hungry and now you’re falling back asleep?”

“never i said i was hungry, just wanted to know what to make for breakfast.”

“says the man who’s an eating machine.”

“your cooking is amazing.”

“oh so you’re blaming me?”

the elicits another chuckle from him. “maybe but seriously amor, your cooking is incredible.” miguel plants a gentle kiss on your cheek, making you smile.

“well, kudos to my mom.” you slowly turn to face him, eyes locked together. “your cooking is amazing too, guapo.” raising a hand, you caress his cheek.

“not as amazing as yours.” he watch you roll your eyes and stops you from protesting by capturing your lips with his in a soft kiss.

the kiss grows more passionate before migue leaves kisses over your face then down to your neck. his arms tugging you closer towards him.

“miguel~” you softly giggle, gently tugging on his soft brown locks to gain his attention.

the brunette lifts up his head to look down at you. “what? i can’t appreciate the woman i love?” he raises a brow teasingly.

your heart flutters at his words. well, specifically one word. a word you haven’t heard in a long time.

he loves you. oh my god, miguel truly loves you?

“you love me?”

miguel can hear the surprise in your tone, the sparkle in your eyes. of course he loves you. it may have taken him a while to say it after what he’s been through but miguel has certainly been in love with you since the beginning, specifically that night he fixed your sink and you gave him a water. your act of kindness captured his broken, cold heart that he’s been trying to shield for a long time. protecting it with ice cold walls that you’ve melted down.

raising a hand, miguel cups your cheek delicately with glints of pure adoration and sincerity in those brown eyes of his. “claro, preciosa. since the day i fixed your sink and you offer me that water.”

your heart skips another beat, overflowed with great rejoice. it feels unbelievable yet you’re so happy to hear his confession, his feelings that he harbors for you as you do him. yes, you’ve been together for a bit but haven’t truly said the big ‘L word’ to each other. but perhaps you finally found the perfect chance.

“for me, since you fixed my car engine. i still don’t know how you fixed it under 5 seconds.”

miguel chuckles, shrugging. “magic.”

you share a smile before colliding your lips together in a sweet kiss filled with complete adoration and passion for one another.

without warning, miguel scoops you up in his arms and gets off the bed. carrying you in bridal style. your laughter echoes throughout your apartment.

“wait, miguel! i have to piss.”

“too bad.” he flashes a smirk.

“you better put me down or your stubborn ass ain’t getting tamales for breakfast.”

that elicits a snort from him. “but you’re perfectly comfortable in my arms.” he gives you a gentle squeeze for emphasis as if you’re a stuffed plushie.

it’s true but you really have to piss that badly. you gently wack the back of his head, making him chuckle more. “put. me. down.”

miguel can hear the sternness in your tone but knows you love his teasing. he obeys by walking to the bathroom and carefully sets you down. leaving a kiss on the top of your head, miguel leaves to go prepare breakfast. but also not missing the opportunity to leave a gentle slap on your ass. he rushes out with a grin before you could scowl at him. you just roll your eyes and smile.

after closing the door and do your business, you stare at your reflection and recap this morning. you and miguel finally confess your love for each other. you’ve always had since the beginning but you finally told each other. these past few weeks, or pretty much a month, has been blissfully amazing. the relationship blossomed beautifully. never has your heart been filled with such love and happiness. it was all because of miguel. you truly love him. you find yourself smiling at your reflection thinking about this.

after fixing your hair and slip into your fuzzy slippers, you head over to join miguel in the kitchen. he stands in front of the stove. that gorgeous broad back to you. stepping closer, your eyes widen noticing the amount of scratch marks. red lines over his shoulder blades and lower back. the sight makes you grimace. damn, you went a little overboard.

“holy shit…”

miguel turns his head, looking at you with a slightly worried look. “what’s wrong?”

“your back oh my…” you cover your mouth with a hand. “it looks like a tiger attacked you.”

the man snorts and shrugs. “maybe, you got the nails for that.” he gestures at your acrylics, making you glance at them guiltily.

“it looks… painful.” you take a step forward and hesitantly reach out with hand. “i’m sorry… i went overboard.” guilt eats you up as you stare remorsefully at the prominent red marks.

miguel turns around completely to face you, gently placing his hands on your upper arms. “hermosa, don’t apologize. it’s okay, they don’t hurt. please don’t feel guilty.” it stings his heart to see you guilty. those remorseful eyes and pouty lips. it makes him lean down and kiss your worries away.

his calloused hands cup your face. “they may sting a little at times but—” you’re about to protest but he continues. “that tells me how much a great job i did.” he grins at your surprised expression. “seeing those scratch marks remind me of you and your love for me. it shows that i was pleasing you right, bebé.” such sincerity in his tone. “all i want is to please and treat you right. seems like i’ve been doing good at it.”

his words leave your speechless yet heartfelt. this man us too good for you. god can he be any more perfect? you truly love him endlessly.

“you’re such a sweet idiot.” you softly scowl at him, unable to hold back a smile.

“your sweet idiot.” he corrects you gently.

there he goes again making your heart flutter.

shutting him up for making you a bashful mess, you go on your toes and kiss him. miguel accepts happily and reciprocates. a sweet, passionate kiss before continuing making breakfast.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

TWO WEEKS LATER.

it was supposed to be a regular morning. alarm goes off, send a cute good morning text to miguel, get out of bed and start getting ready for work.

but instead you wake up an intense feeling of nausea. it’s so sudden and random that you jump out of bed and bolted to the bathroom. you unleash all that nasty shit into the toilet, leaving you a sweaty and panting mess. after flushing it, you lean back and rest against the wall to catch your breath.

what the fuck was that?

did you eat something bad? was it food poisoning? was it last night’s dinner? no, the food was alright and you had it before with no issues.

numerous scenarios ran through your mind as you slowly rise up and begin cleaning yourself up. after brushing your teeth, despite not eating breakfast yet but you wanted to rid of that nasty taste in your mouth, you stare at your reflection. thinking of what could possibly cause you to throw up.

oh no… no, no, no.

panic invades your body as you feverishly dig through the bathroom drawers for your birth control. you find it and quickly read the expiration date. rushing out of the bathroom to grab your phone from your dresser, you look at the date on the lockscreen.

it’s past the expiration date.

FUCK.

no, no, no, no.

this can’t be fucking happening. how can you be so fucking stupid? why didn’t you check the expiration date? you had one responsibility and you fucked up. you’re usually responsible but this? oh this is just terrible. and with expired birth control and recent unprotected sex, that means-

OH FUCK.

you quickly got dressed in whatever clothes you could grab and rush out the door. heading over to the nearest CVS, you hurried down the aisle where the pregnancy tests are and snatch three boxes.

once you return home, you rush to the bathroom, luna following you. you take all three tests one by one, annoyingly so but you have to.

anxiety plagues your body like a virus, consuming every inch while waiting for the results. thousands of thoughts ran through your poor anxious mind.

you can’t be pregnant.

you never wanted to be at all. at least not now, you haven’t even considered having kids or not. if that was even in the books for you later on. there is no space for a baby. your apartment is only one bedroom. the only life you can be responsible for is luna, not a child. you’re only in your mid-twenties, there is still much time left. it can’t be soon already.

you can’t be a mother.

not right now, or ever.

sitting on the floor against the wall, you hug luna for comfort and try to ease your anxiety while waiting for the test results. stroking her soft, white fuzzy fur as a coping mechanism. giving her kisses over her head.

“please don’t be true… please, please, please.” a sad plead, muttered into luna’s fur as you held her close.

after what feels like an eternity of internal turmoil and anxiety, you finally build up the courage and believe it’s time to see the test results. slowly standing up and carrying luna in your arms, you walk over to the counter. the three pregnancy tests are faced down. inhaling a shaky breath, you turn them all over.

pregnant.

a sob escapes your lips as you collapse onto the floor. never have you experienced your heart drop until now. loud sobs echo in the small space of your bathroom as stream of tears trail down your face.

your worse nightmare comes true.

all because of your irresponsibility, your life is forever changed and never be the same.

it makes you sob even harder, you’re pretty sure the whole floor can hear you. fortunately, miguel is at the boxing gym so he wouldn’t hear you and rush over.

oh fuck, miguel.

you’re pregnant with miguel’s baby.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

how the hell are you going to tell him?

does miguel even want kids? does he have future plans about them or considers a possibility? is becoming a father even in the books for him? he never mentioned so you aren’t sure.

he’s going to hate you because of your irresponsible ass for not checking your birth control. he has every right to be yet the thought makes your heart ache terribly. this is making even more worse.

you fucked up and are scared shitless.

so much tears trail down your cheeks like waterfalls. chest heaving and face hot from all the crying. heart breaking at this revelation.

everything feels like tumbling down like a paper airplane. the world collapsing around you. a tsunami coursing through you, suffocating you under butral amounts of water, sinking down to the bottom and unable to swim back up. just forever drowning. you can’t breathe, as if it’s caught in your throat.

what are you going to do?

how are you planning to tell miguel?

all these thoughts yet no answers and it frustrates you more than you already are. it prompts more tears to fall down from your eyes. some droplets land on the cold, tile floor of the bathroom. the four walls contain of your weeping tears and sobs.

your life is changed forever.

how are you going to handle this?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[oharaslove]

“Miguel, I’m so hungry.”

This was unprompted, making him raise an eyebrow. He’d been reading something on his monitor in your shared living room, the holographic screen floating before his face. He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? For what, mamita.”

As a boyfriend who always made sure you got what you wanted or needed, it was a genuine question. It’s the least he could’ve done for all you’ve done for him. You were his rock.

“You know…”

Miguel doesn’t know if it’s his insane drive or if he was too tired to process anything right now, but he could’ve sworn there was slight suggestiveness in your tone; insinuating at something that involved less so food and more so the bedroom.

Miguel begins to get excited, his eyes lifting just slightly, as does the curl of his lips. Everything about him perks at the slight mention of what he thinks you’re asking for.

“Oh yeah? … Right now?” You smile at his reaction, thinking how cute… he’s like a dog who’s just heard their owner say ‘park’. You assume he’s thinking of the same thing when you ask again.

“I need it so badly… craving it, even.” You’re no longer talking to him from the hallway, but now standing in front of him, fingers intertwining with his. “Please?”

Usually when y’all get down to business, you weren’t so forward like this, but for him, he’s loving this interaction. The way you were talking and looking at him alone made him hard. Suddenly, he was wide awake. He’s stunned to say the least, but with one swift motion, he’s up and ready to head toward the bedroom.

“Fuck, Alright then, let’s go.” His words urgent and short.

You seem to follow him at first, but make a sharp turn to the front door, beginning to put your shoes on. Miguel hears the shuffling, and turns to you, confused.

“Beba, what’re you doing? Bed’s this way, vamos.”

You look at him with the same puzzlement. Why did he sound so breathless for?

“Umm… what are you doing?” You huff out your nose, “I was talking about pho.”

You felt so bad, because you can see every part of Miguel faintly drop in defeat.

Oh no… he thought you wanted that.

“Oh, baby… I’m SO sorry,” you giggle, guilty laughing at the misunderstanding, “I can kinda see where you thought I was going with that, totally my bad…” you go to wrap your arms around his neck, your chuckling continuing.

There’s disappointment and embarrassment in his expression, but he smiles as well.

“Okay, well… can we still… after pho?”

“Do what?” Your chest rumbles against his, playing with him still.

“You know…” he mirrors your ominous response from earlier, but this time, supplying you with something you can’t possibly mistake for anything else. He tries to remember that one term you used a while back.

“… pound town.” He lowered his voice and himself down to you, like as if it’s an illegal drug or a secret, and you just laugh.

Miguel was the smartest man you’d ever known, but he still has his moments. God, you love your boyfriend.

[oharaslove]

YES inspired by jayce’s new look 🫦

[oharaslove]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ♡ 𝓒hapter 𝓣en

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. after dating for several weeks, miguel wants you to meet his military buddies. although you’re thrilled to meet them, you want to push miguel’s buttons a little at the bar.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, teasing, swearing, pet names, smut, shower sex, fingering, breast play, praise kink ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

it’s been a blissful few weeks.

thriving at your job writing top stories for articles, reading that new murder mystery book which recently came out, hanging out with friends, spending time with miguel and having amazing sex.

damn, it’s never been this good in a long time. like a really long time. you feel very grateful.

right now, you’re laying in bed with the man you adore. his muscular arms wrapped around you as he peppers kisses all over your face.

“miguel!” you giggle, trying to block his kisses with your hands, squirming in his arms.

“let me kiss my pretty girl.”

your cheeks warm up at his compliment. “no! i look like a mess.” you cover your face with your hands, hiding from him but mainly to hide your bashful face. “i got morning breath and my hair is all screwed up.”

that makes miguel stop immediately and looks down at you in disbelief. a frown settles on his face. “you’re not a mess, preciosa.” he actually is in disbelief that you think of yourself like that.

he adores you in any way, no matter what. morning breath, messy hair, miguel loves it all.

leaning closer, miguel gently tries pry your hands away from your face but he gets a whine instead. “preciosa… lemme see you, por favor.”

you can feel his breath against your hands. that soft tone makes you weak. god, he’s just so-

“lemme see my pretty girl, please…”

is it possible for your cheeks to burn? because this man is making you a bashful mess. you feel like a teenage girl gushing over the boy you’re crushing on. how can you deny that sweet plead?

very slowly, you move your hands away from your face. just revealing your eyes.

“need to see more, chula.” miguel teases.

you roll your eyes as you continue lowering your hands until they’re completely off your face.

“there she is.” a genuine smile on his face, pleased to see your pretty face completely. “mi niña preciosa.” without warning, he smothers your face with kisses.

“miguel!” you squeal, squirming underneath him.

laughter and squeals fill the room as his kissing attacks continue. miguel gives you one final kiss on the lips but deeper and longer this time. you reciprocate and cup his face with a hand.

“you look pretty wrapped in my sheets.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “of course, and i thought i looked pretty in the sunlight.” much sarcasm.

miguel grins. “you do, you always look pretty.”

another eye roll as you feel heat rise up in your cheeks again. “you look pretty too.” a smirk grows on your face as you watch his eyebrows rise in surprise.

now his cheeks are warm. it’s not often he gets called pretty, mainly handsome or sexy, which isn’t the best compliment. but being called pretty is just different, especially coming from you. his heart flutters.

“you… estas loca.” miguel finally speaks before leaning in and kissing you once again.

you two stay like that for a bit, kissing and embracing each other which feels like eternity. wishing you could remain like this indefinitely.

all of that kissing requires a break for air. parting your lips from each other, you shift positions on the bed where now you and miguel lay on your sides facing one another. one of his arms wrapped around you.

your eyes wander over his features. those plump lips, sharp cheekbones, the curve of his nose, those gorgeous brown eyes, and thick brows. but you notice those brows seem to be furrowed a little. his eyes don’t meet yours, instead off to the side.

he’s thinking.

“what’s up?” you bring on a hand to cup his cheek, bringing his back attention to you.

“nada, i…” he trials off for a moment, thinking. you remain patient, allowing him to take time to think. “well… i’m planning on meeting up with my buddies from the field tomorrow at a bar.” those brown eyes meet your own. “¿quieres venir conmigo?”

he watches your eyes sparkle. a wave of excitement courses through you. miguel has briefly mentioned his military buddies previously. three other men named ben, flash, and kaine. you always wonder about if you’d ever get the opportunity to meet them. perhaps you could with this proposal.

a smile creeps up on your face. “i’d love to.”

your answer makes his heart skip a beat and cause miguel to smile as well. “that’s great because they have been dying to meet you.”

your eyes perk up. “really?”

he chuckles at your cute reaction. “claro, they won’t stop asking me when they’ll get to meet you.”

“ohhh so you’ve been talking about me, huh?” you wiggle your eyebrows teasingly.

“cállete.” miguel chuckles, rolling his eyes.

“well, i’m dying to meet them too.”

miguel is filled with glee, thrilled for you to meet his buddies and for them to meet you to see how incredible you are. they’re gonna love you for sure.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

the day has come for you to meet miguel’s military buddies. you decide to wear a simple mini black dress with matching platform boots. you wanted be a little devious, wear something that would make it hard for miguel to keep his hands to himself and eyes from wandering a little too far. you wanted to push his buttons a little tonight. the mini dress was truly mini since it barely reached over your ass. showing off your thighs and most of your legs. your outfit seems to work it’s magic as miguel’s eyes dilate immensely the minute you step out the door.

his mouth waters at the gorgeous view before him. breath caught up in his throat as he drinks in your appearance. captivated by how the dress hugs and outlines your curves graciously. the man is utterly speechless, mesmerized by your beauty. you always manage to take his breath away effortlessly.

“you look… you look amazing.” his eyes can’t stop from raking over your form.

“gracias, guapo. you too.” you flash him a smirk, wrapping your arm around his after locking the door.

miguel wears a simple navy blue shirt with a bike jacket over it and dark denim jeans. maybe jeans wasn’t a smart choice since he feels them a little tight since he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“puta madre…” he curses at the sight of exactly how short your dress is as you walk in front of him heading towards the bar once you arrived.

barely covers your ass, almost peaks out. the swaying of your hips don’t help either but you definitely do that on purpose, teasing him more.

the tightness in his jeans grows much worse but he seriously can’t afford a boner right now. especially not in front of his friends or in public. but miguel believes this is only gonna get worse. you got something planned for him and he’s scared. miguel takes a deep breath before catching up to you.

entering the bar, there is a group of three men and two women. the men waving a hand in the air, one of them calling out to miguel. you and miguel share a smile before making your way over there.

“well, well, well.” the dirty blonde man with a buzz cut who was waving at you approached with a grin on his face. “el guerrero in sight.”

“nice to see you too, huevón.” the two men chuckle before sharing a quick embrace.

“¿el guerrero?” you smirk.

“my nickname.” miguel confirms.

you recall that nicknames and code names are used in the military. miguel’s nickname seems fitting, he definitely is the warrior type.

the other two got up from their seats and follow suit, greeting miguel with dabbing up and quick hugs. miguel turns to you, a hand on the small of your back, and introduced you to his friends.

the dirty blonde is flash. the blonde, broody one is ben. the brunette with a stubble is kaine, a cousin of peter (for plot sake, calm down comic nerds).

“so this is the girl who you’ve been tripping balls over.” flash teases which earns him a shove to the arm from miguel. “nice to finally to meet you.” he smiles, you say likewise. “this is my wife stacy.” the blonde woman strolls beside him.

“hi! it’s so nice to meet you!” she greets you sweetly, offering her hand to shake which you take.

“you too!”

“this is lena, kaine’s fiancé.” a brunette woman approached with a kind smile, introducing herself.

“it’s nice to have another woman in the group.” she jokes, shaking your hand.

“well, i’m glad. i was worried i was gonna be alone with wild animals tonight.” you joke.

“oh no, honey, we got you. someone has to keep an eye on them.” stacy laughs.

“by the way, you look gorgeous. that dress is amazing.” lena compliments you.

you smile with glee. “oh thank you! got it from cider.”

“no way! i shop there too!” she smiles.

the three of you engage in your girl talk, to invested to notice miguel admiring you from afar. a soft smile on his face as you gossip with your new friends. pleased to see you smiling, happy.

you all finally sit down and continue your conversations. miguel beside you, a hand on your thigh, gently rubbing and groping the soft skin as you engage in your conversation. although, it’s a little difficult to concentrate when miguel would slowly glide his fingers up your inner thigh before moving them away, leaving you a little disappointed. from your peripheral, he has a smirk on his face.

oh he wants to be like that?

well, you have something planned for him tonight.

here in the bar, not at home. why else would you be wearing this short ass dress? to tease him, duh.

after much chitchat, stories about the boys’ adventures and life-and-death situations, funny memories, you decide to play some pool. it starts off as men vs women, which resulted in the women winning. then it was couples vs couples, even though ben was a single pringle, he was still included and teamed up with flash and stacy.

after several rounds and beer, everyone needed to use the restroom. you and miguel stay and continue playing while waiting for them.

perfect, it was you two alone.

now your plan is in effect.

sassy mode is switched on. you feel miguel’s intense gaze as you slowly walk around the pool table, as if not paying attention to him. a smile creeps up to your face once you stand in front of miguel, your back to him, before bending over the table at a slow pace. arching your back more than usual and making sure your ass sticks out. the hem of your dress rises, revealing your black lace panties to his eyes.

“fuck…” he curses quietly at the sight of your exposed panties, your round ass. that boner returns, straining in his jeans that become a bit too tight.

that’s your plan.

it’s worse this time. cock suddenly throbbing in his jeans, desperate to be free of its confinements and slip pass through your probably now slick cunt.

miguel sucks in a sharp breath between his teeth then slowly walks up behind you, brown eyes never leaving your ass. a quiet groan escapes his lips as his clothed erection is pressed against your ass. cock twitching at the sensation. the denim fabric against your skin. his hands instinctively latch onto your hips. you pay no attention to him as you prepare to take your shot. although, you can’t deny the rapid beating of your heart and throbbing pussy.

“ay, hermosa… you’re driving me insane tonight.” miguel whispers, leaning over your smaller figure. “you trying to kill me?”

you shrug, acting oblivious. “i don’t know, i’m just here playing some pool.” oblivious and innocent contrasting the sinfulness of your actions.

“no me jodas, preciosa.” he bites back a groan as your hips wiggle a little, playfully grinding his throbbing erection. the grip on your hips tighten.

“i’m not, hermoso.” you say innocently, continuing wiggling your hips to tease him more. “but you can help me with taking my shot.”

miguel indulges in your game and helps you. leaning over until his firm chest is pressed against your back. his larger hands on top of your smaller ones, holding the stick together. his hot heavy breath beside your ear. hard cock against your throbbing pussy.

part of you wants to flip around, smash your lips on his and let miguel fuck you on the pool table. but the last thing you want is to get kicked out of the bar for eternity and ruined the night.

just gotta maintain patience.

your bodies are synchronized as you take your shot. moving together in harmony like in the bedroom. miguel’s broad muscular figure pressed against your smaller form, swallowing you whole. oh you just love feeling him against you, craving him endlessly.

“thanks for the help.”

“no problem.” his baritone voice against your ear, making your pussy quiver.

god you want him to take you right here, right now. usually you’re a patient person but now it’s biting you in the ass, pun intended. with miguel and sexy moments like this, it’s impossible to be patient. the man drives you crazy as you do him. finally, you turn to the side and lock eyes with him.

oh fuck, you’re done.

the tension intensifies the moment you locked eyes with one another. oh now you really wanna kiss and fuck already. neither of you felt this needy, but that proves the adoration you harbor for each other.

“is it weird to fantasize about being fucked on a pool table?” you whisper jokingly, lashes fluttering.

“no but i don’t think it’s best in public.” miguel whispered back, hot breath fanning your face. his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your hips as his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips.

before you could indulge in that fantasy, your hear footsteps approaching which makes you and miguel immediately pull away from each other. him taking a few steps back, discreetly adjusting his boner in his jeans so no one could notice. you fix the hem of your dress with a hand, covering yourself. your friends return and continue playing. you and miguel pretending as if you weren’t thinking about fucking on the pool table. although the spiciness was ruined, you send a wink at miguel across the room, signaling that the fun will continue later.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

it was a great night. finally got to meet miguel’s friends from the military and their partners. made new friends with the said partners and created a group chat titled ‘the special ops girlies’ which you came up with the name. played some pool and learned a few tricks. successfully managed to give miguel multiple boners. almost gave into your intrusive thoughts about fucking on a pool table.

now you couldn’t wait for the fun at home. but instead of eating each other’s faces off and rushing to the bedroom, you causally enter your apartment without intense eagerness. miguel helping you take off your shoes and taking your hand in his as you enter the bedroom, recapping about tonight’s event.

it was suggested to take a shower together. after stripping off each other’s clothes, miguel helps you step into the shower with a hand then follows you, sliding the glass door shut after him then wrapping his arms around your waist. your body immediately relaxes as the warm water hits your body, leaning against miguel’s solid chest. eyes closed and humming softly as you two relish this peaceful moment in this tiny space.

you begin washing each other. miguel’s thick fingers gently digging and stretching your scalp as he washes your hair with shampoo. you do the same to him, miguel slightly bent down to help you reach his hair. the sight makes you laugh. taking turns scrubbing each other’s bodies. miguel first then you. he crouched down scrubbing the load over your legs, hiking it up to his face and press gentle kisses on your inner thigh. a soft smile emits on your face as you look down admiring your handsome lover.

things briefly spice up as his kisses slowly trail up towards your heated core. your breathing gradually increases the further his lips travel upward. a feeling of disappointment hits you abruptly when his lips move away. opening your eyes, you notice the smug ass smirk on miguel’s face.

“¿que paso, bebita?” he chuckles at your cute glare.

you raise a brow, unamused. “hilarious, man.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “just showing affection.” his calloused hands find your hips and gently tug you closer towards him.

“riiiight.” much sarcasm in your tone, giving him a skeptical look which he grins in return.

“also payback for early.”

“ah, but you enjoyed it though.” you say teasingly, placing your hands on his chest.

those bulky shoulders shrug. “sí pero…” he leans closer, making you crane your neck up ever more. “doesn’t justify the several boners you gave me.”

you knew he was gonna mention that. addressing the elephant in the room, or bathroom more accurately.

it was your turn to shrug. “don’t blame me for your body problems.” turning around, you face the shower nozzle and bask in the warm water, ignoring the slightly tight grip on your hips.

you can’t hold back the smile forming on your face as you feel pulled back more firmly against miguel’s chest. not to mention his boner against your back.

“but you are to blame, preciosa…” his tone lowered an octave, deep and seductive, making your core quiver. “bending over that table and flashing those pretty panties where anyone can see…”

you suddenly feel a hand slowly reaching towards your inner thigh, making you shiver. you pretend to not be phased by his touch but it’s impossible when he inches closer towards your now heated core. throbbing terribly with want and desperation.

“but that’s what you wanted, huh preciosa? wanted my buddies to walk in and see your panties?” he smirks when your body jerks slightly as his fingers tease your slick folds mixed with the water.

you bite back a soft whimper and close your eyes as miguel continues teasing your folds torturously.

“show them what’s mine?” his smirk widens as his middle finger rubs your little clit in sinful circles, making you moan out. watching your back arch against his chest. admiring how responsive you are to his touch makes his cock twitch terribly.

you figured this would happen yet you still become a whimpering mess for him. the slow, sinful circles on your sensitive pearl drives you fucking crazy. his fingers sliding up and down, side to side. a moan falls from your lips as miguel slides in two fingers through your silk folds and cups a breast with his other hand.

miguel fondles with your tit while plunging his two digits in and out of your tight pussy at a slow pace. “so you are to blame, bebtia.” he chuckles when your walls flutter around his fingers.

the slow pace of his fingers pumping into you was lowkey annoying you but you know it’s payback for earlier. his other hand continues fondling with your tit. squeezing the squishy fat, fingers gently tugging and twisting your nipple. your whole body feels like on fire. your body jerks at the sudden sensation of miguel’s fingers curling up and hitting that sweet spot inside. making you latch onto his forearm.

“miguel~” you moan softly.

“¿que quieres, bebé? dime.” his tone deep, laced with seductiveness as he continues pumping his digits in your tight pussy, keeping that slow pace.

“tú…”

“¿qué?…”

“i’m gonna kill you.” you softly groan.

he chuckles at your cute grumpiness and silences you with a flick to your clit with his thumb, making you gasp. “dime, bebé.”

“you, miguel…”

disappointments hits you when his fingers slip out of you but immediately vanishes as miguel turns you around and hoists you up in his arms by grabbing the back of your thighs, gently pressing you against the shower walls. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and arms around his bulky shoulders. his large bulky shielding you from the water, hitting his back instead. your lips collide in a heated kiss, tongues intertwined exploring each other’s mouths. your fingers digging through his wet hair as you makeout.

your makeout sessions progresses as miguel aligns himself with your entrance, the tip of his cock gazing your wet folds. a shared moan mingles in the steamy air as he slowly slides through your tight cunt. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always stings a little but feels so good. your grip on his shoulders tightens as he bottoms out.

“shit… you’re so tight, amor.” miguel groans in between words as he begins thrusting himself in your tight warm walls, welcoming him home.

moans and groans mix with the hot steamy air of the bathroom. hands intertwined pressed against the tile wall and the others gripping onto each other as miguel continues pumping into your tight pussy. thick meaty cock stuffed inside you, hitting all those sensitive spots perfectly. lips smashed together, sallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure.

the harsh, deep thrusts makes you dig your nails into his muscular back, adding indents and scratch marks like a canvas. you moan out his name beautifully like a mantra, full of bliss and desire. miguel marks your delicate neck with kisses as he continues making love to you under the hot stream of water.

“ah~ miguel!” your grip on his back tightens, making the tall brunette groan in slight pain and pleasure.

“you’re so— fuck— so beautiful, amor.”

“ah~ ah~ oh!—”

his hips wind against yours rapidly, cock pounding into your sweet tight cunt. your body bouncing against the wall with each thrust. the glass shower doors fog up. steam over-floods the shower, leaking into the rest of bathroom. the mirror fogs up as well.

miguel is literally drunk off of you. that warm, tight pussy of yours squeezing the life out of his cock. your sweet sounds of ecstasy. your whimpers, whines, strangled cries, moans of his name. it was all music to his ears. fueling his motivation to plunge deeper, overflow you with tons and tons of ecstasy.

“you’re so perfect.” he admires your blissful expressions through hooded eyes filled. drinking in those furrowed brows, rolled back eyes and mouth agape, all simply because of him.

his praise went straight to your pussy, making you clench around him which elicits a groan from him. those sweet words makes your mind putty.

“ah!~ asi, asi!” you chant as his cock repeatedly hits that sensitive spot on inside. that warm, joyful feeling in your belly beginning to boil up.

miguel obliges and pumps into you like there’s no tomorrow. his groans turning into breathy moans. both hands gripping tightly onto your body. chasing for your high so you can cum beautifully on his cock.

that joyful feeling boils up faster as miguel’s cock pumps into you at a brutal pace. it approaches so fast that you’re overwhelmed with pleasure. before you even know it, the fireworks exploded. a loud moan of his name erupts throughout the bathroom as you gush all over his cock, coating it in your sweetness. miguel soon follows with sloppy thrusts before coming deep inside, filling you completely.

damn, that was the most intense shower sex you’ve ever had. it was so fucking amazing that you feel so breathless, exhausted but luckily miguel’s strong ass is still holding you in his arms.

you share one final kiss before miguel pulls out of your now sensitive pussy, causing you to whimper softly. very slowly and carefully, he plants you down on your feet but keeps his hold on you so you don’t tremble. he’s aware he did a number on you.

“you okay?” a hint of concern in his tone.

you nod weakly, too exhausted. “yeah, just… had mind blowing shower sex.”

“i did went a bit intense.” he admits with a chuckle.

“a bit? my legs say otherwise.”

laughter echos in the room, a major contrast to the obscure noises from a few seconds ago. after rinsing off and wrapping yourselves in towels, you finally step out of the shower with miguel carrying you in his arms. his excuse is you’re too sore to walk and honestly you don’t mind. miguel sets you on the counter and dries you off with your towel. he helps rubbing lotion on you, calloused hands among your soft skin. a few kisses here and there.

after helping you put on fresh panties and a nightgown, you give him the same treatment, applying lotion and leave soft kisses on his body. though it was hard to concentrate while he stands in front of you like a fucking god. the silver dog tags around his thick neck. wet hair, a few strands sticking to his forehead. towel around his waist that hangs a little too low, happy trail on display perfectly. damn he looks so fucking handsome, you just wanna—

no! you have to give your body, specifically your legs, a break no matter how much you want to pounce on him for looking so fucking delicious.

once he’s finally dressed and do your nightly routine, which miguel let you lather him in your skincare products, you head over to the kitchen for a late snack. you settle on leftover pizza from the other night when you had a movie night.

bodies snuggled up together in fuzzy blankets. microwaved pizza and drinks on the coffee table. terminator playing on the tv. the low lighting of your table lamp coating the living room in a warm hue. luna laying in between you and miguel, sleeping peacefully. your head resting on miguel’s chest, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. his fingers caressing the exposed skin of your shoulder.

mostly sit in silence, a few moments of commentary while watching the movie. simply enjoying each other’s presence peacefully in your own little world. nothing else matters, only each other.

while your eyes focus on the movie, miguel’s eyes focus on you, admiring you in silence. how perfect you look in his arms as if you’re meant to be. the sight emits a soft smile on his face, causing him to plant a kiss on the top of your head. he can tell you smiled by the way you snuggle closer.

a perfect way to end the night.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @zayai @espressopatronum454

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[oharaslove]

Your mind>>>

Now you have to add it Alondra!! Pretty pleaaaaasssseee 🥺🥺.

Or at least like a side chapter or a bonus or somethinggg. I'm begging you

Had a naughty thought for NC, so I logged on tumblr to share (not sure I'll include this in the fic but-)

You know how Dulzura and Miguel spend a lot of time in the kitchen? How Miguel especially LOVES cooking for us and when he wants to do it himself, he politely declines the help, so we just sit by, watch, and talk with him while he cooks?

And, remember how Dulzura has regular periods? Ok... you know that one phase of the menstrual cycle that has you feeling

✨️🎀things🎀✨️?

And, then, this song...

Do you see the 'vision'?

😀...😌...🤭...😩...🤰

[oharaslove]

Ohh to wake up next to Miguel 🥺.

And daaamnn, that ending 😩. You are feeding us good!!

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓒hapter 𝓝ine

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. your bond with your military neighbor miguel has blossomed into something more special, beautifully. it was surely unexpected but you’ve never felt so happy.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, angst, themes of depression, but mainly fluff, ass smacking (miguel receiving), pet names, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, blowjob, lowkey sub!miguel, riding ( mdni )

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

warmth awakes you from probably the best nap of your life. never slept so good in your life. slowly opening your eyes, you feel your body enveloped in warmth. a smile forms on your lips as you notice the beefy, hairy forearm wrapped around your torso.

miguel’s light snores against your ear. he definitely wasn’t lying about knocking out after an incredible night of sex. you want to turn around to face him but you also don’t want to wake him up.

glancing around the room, you find luna sleeping in her fluffy baby pink dog bed. a sight that makes you smile as well. your two favorite beings fast asleep.

the delicious warmth miguel was providing lures you back to slumber. just as you close your eyes, a deep husky voice behind you prevents you from doing so.

“falling back asleep, preciosa?”

god, could this man be any more sexy? his sleepy voice does something to you.

“well, i have a human heater behind me so.” that elicits a low chuckle from him.

“buenas dias, hermosa.” miguel nuzzles his face deeper into your neck, pecking it with soft kisses, making you giggle softly.

rolling over to face him, oh lord and behold the view before you. brown disheveled hair, droopy eyes, a sleepy smile on that handsome face.

god, he’s so majestic.

it’s like a blessing to see him like this.

miguel, on the other hand, is enthralled by how the angelic sight before him. your disheveled hair and the soft golden light of the morning shinny through the curtains and illuminating on your figure. as if you are an ethereal being, glowing beautifully.

a sight he likes to see more often.

for the first time in years, miguel actually slept well. no nightmares or discomfort, just a good night sleep. a nap he definitely needed after who knows the last time he actually slept and felt was well-rested.

it was all because of you.

you provided him a sense of comfort. your softness and warmth lured him to sleep quickly, as if you were the embodiment of a lullaby. while you tossed in your sleep, his grip on you never faltered. bulky arms wrapped around you protectively throughout the night, your back against his firm chest.

and for the first time, miguel didn’t wake up alone. there was warmth next to him, smoothing his poor fragile mind filled with dangerous emotions.

for the first time, there was no voices in his head as he woke up. no screams of terror and pain. miguel can finally hear silence, peace. that peace was your breathing. a sound that brings him comfort.

he felt okay because of you.

“did you sleep okay?” he brings up a hand and gently ticks a string of a hair behind your hair then lowers it to caress your cheek with gentle strokes.

“mhm.” you lean into his touch, sighing contently. “did you?” you slowly run up a hand over his chest, feeling his chest hair against your skin.

miguel nods, slowly dragging his hand down to your exposed shoulder, rubbing it slowly with the same gentleness. “the best sleep i’ve ever had in years.”

your hand slowly comes up to his cheek and cups it, your thumb tenderly rubbing back and forth. “i’m glad.” a soft smile on your face.

the sight makes his heart flutter, smiling back at you before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss which you gladly accept and reciprocate. your hand still cupping his face while his own sneaks down to your waist and gently tugs you closer towards him. your bare bodies snuggled up together, both your body warmth combing. miguel is warmer, though.

your kiss is interrupted by something crawling near your feet then up the bed. looking down, you find luna in between you with her tail wagging and sniffing you and miguel. you welcome her with open arms, hugging her and planting kisses on her forehead. miguel smiles at the adorable sight.

“someone wants to cuddle too.” you joke, letting luna go as she goes to sniff at miguel.

“i guess so.” he softly chuckles, giving the cute fluffy dog several gentle pets.

this was the perfect morning. waking up and laying in bed with your two favorite beings. definitely something you wish to experience more often.

after a few minutes of cuddling and playing with luna, you finally get out of bed and start the day. you shower first then miguel after. both of you secretly wanted to shower together but you were eager to cook breakfast while he showered to surprise him, despite miguel’s pleads for him to cook instead but you heavily insisted. he couldn’t win nevertheless.

exiting the shower with the same sweats but remains shirtless, miguel waltz into the kitchen to find you standing in front of the stove. walking up behind you, he wraps his arms around your middle. looking down at the stove, he sees one pan filled with eggs mixed with sausage and tortillas in the other pan.

“¿huevos con weenie? qué rico.”

a smile creeps onto your face. “it’s my favorite, especially wrapped in a burrito.”

“even better.” his arms give you a gentle squeeze.

“oh shit, i forgot the frijoles. do you want some?”

you forgot this man is a beast and most likely has a big appetite. eggs and tortillas aren’t gonna fill him up. at least something else to fill up his belly.

miguel shakes his head. “no, it’s okay. i’ll just eat three burritos. they look good, maybe four.”

you giggle. “okay mr. eating monster.”

“sí pero there’s one thing that’s better than this food i’d rather eat…” he whispers seductively.

your cheeks warm up and you gently wack him with the spatula, making the man laugh as miguel tries to block your playful attacks before stopping you and leans to down to kiss you once again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

your relationship with miguel blossomed into something special. it was similar like before but now you know the feelings you have for each other and there is much more intimacy.

when you come home from work, you either find miguel standing outside in the parking lot or in the main lobby waiting for you. always greets you with a big hug and a kiss. it always made your heart flutter.

casual conversations about each other’s days while munching on delicious food, either cooked or take out. cuddling on the couch while watching a show or show. a few kisses here and there, gentle touches turn into more handsy which leads to clothes being discarded on the floor and moans echoing in the room. miguel leaving you a panting, crying mess underneath him. then showers you in affectionate kisses and gentle massages over your sore body.

you’ve never felt so happy.

it’s been so long since you’ve experienced such happiness, especially in a relationship. your last one was a good one until it was ruined horrendously by the very man who supposedly loved you and left you with a broken heart and unforgettable pain.

but now with miguel, you feel so happy. he makes you happy. the kindness of his heart is so precious, he is so precious. everything that man does or says makes your heart swoon, even the littlest things. you feel senses of comfort and happiness when he’s by your side. he makes you feel safe and vulnerable.

you truly believed you wouldn’t find love again, real love after the heartbreak joel left you. coming to new york was a fresh start, to erase the past. finding a new relationship wasn’t in the books for you at first. but you don’t regret it, you don’t regret miguel.

miguel can say the same about you.

you were the first to offer him true kindness. to offer him true compassion. everything about you is just so precious, cozy and soft. those feelings were so strange to him, he felt so alienated.

after a long time trapped in the dark, he believed he would never find light at the end of the tunnel. instead forever drowning in an ocean of pitch black, unable to escape from purgatory. the guilt and self-loathing on his shoulder weighed him down to the point where miguel couldn’t get back up. he was so lost and endlessly blaming himself for everything. there were times he thought there was no point of continuing on, especially without his brother.

what was the point of living if he caused his brother’s demise? how could he live like that?

after many internal conflicts and a deep conversation with george, miguel decided to continue on. for the sake of his mother, despite the tension between them. she lost one son, she can’t lose another. the other half of her heart will break too and miguel couldn’t allow that to happen. in the end, he still loved his mother no matter how much she hates him.

so he continued on, living in his own purgatory.

he felt numb, no soul.

relived the same day over and over. waking up gasping for air after a nightmare. sitting in his bed, thinking of all his regrets before getting up for the day. sometimes goes for a morning run when he feels motivated enough. head over to the boxing gym to unleash his frustration and anger with each punch to the punching bag. come straight home, take a shower, make dinner or do take out if he wasn’t feeling it. take his meds before bed.

it was a cycle, a dreadful cycle.

returning home a heavy mission, which almost resulted in a partner’s death, miguel expected to return to his ordinary life of isolation and misery. returning home to no one, just an empty home with no warmth or traces of life inside.

but he did find that warmth he’s been seeking for, in the most unexpected way. meeting you was probably the best thing to happen to miguel.

sure, it started off a like awkward but look where you two are now. he found that light at the end.

all those times spent with you, miguel never felt so happy. being around you makes his heart go fucking crazy, rapidly beating in his chest like a drum. your kind, sweet words making his cheeks warm. just a touch of your hand makes him crave for more. miguel never felt so comfortable with someone.

all those times being alone, isolated from the world, he finally wasn’t alone anymore.

he has someone who cares for him.

all those dark thoughts, believing there was no purpose of continuing life, he found one.

you gave him a purpose.

now, miguel is going to fulfill that purpose. he’s going to show his gratitude for having you in his life. making you the happiest ever.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

miguel mentioned he needed to clean his bike. you two planned a motorcycle date, a simple cruise ride around the city. you decide to tag along and help him since the date was already planned.

you have no knowledge of cleaning a motorcycle, properly at least, but you now have a military biker boyfriend to explain it to you.

“you can just clean the bike with a rag. i’m cleaning the tires.” miguel suggests, handing you a rag.

you do recall when your dad would clean the tires of the car and how long of a process that was. your brows furrowed a little, you want to be more of help.

“just wipe it? i can also help with the tires.”

he shakes his head. “it’s okay, preciosa. i appreciate it but i got it, you’re helping me big time so don’t feel like you’re not doing enough.”

he kisses your worries away with a kiss on the top of your head and a gentle squeeze on your hand before walking away to grab the other material.

well, if he says so.

miguel’s playlist blasts through the bose speaker that he owns. well, not blasting but loud enough to hear. it’s a combination of the cure, iron maiden, and rush. all three are your dad’s favorite bands, ironically. you know majority of the songs since your dad used to play them all the time when you were a kid, he still does when you visit your parents.

miguel is filled with glee, listening to you singing along to the songs. impressed that you knew them but understood that it was your dad’s influence. he has great taste. it boosts miguel’s enthusiasm to meet your dad, your parents in general when the time is right and the relationship is solid enough to meet each other’s families. well, meet your family because his family is just a chaotic mess. miguel doesn’t want to involve you in that.

dismissing the sad thoughts with a head shake, he continues cleaning the tries while you clean the rest of the bike with rag he gave you. sneaking glances at you and admiring you. smiling at how cute you are singing along to the whatever song is playing.

miguel stands up for a moment to take a breath, grabbing his water bottle and phone. gulping down big sips while scrolling through his phone checking for any missed messages or emails.

looking ahead, you observe him. more so shamelessly eyeing him up and down. his black compression shirt looks so tight on him, outlining every muscle. the thin cotton hugging his bulging biceps so tight and perfect. that damn slutty waist of his. the silver dog tags adorned around that thick neck. but what’s got you biting your lip is the tiny sneak peek of his happy trail. the hem of his shirt raised a little, revealing the mouthwatering sight.

goddamnit, he’s so damn fine.

that familiar burning sensation in your core slowly develops as you continue admiring miguel. just by looking at him makes you feral and weak.

not to mention that dump truck he’s got. never had you seen a great ass on anyone, let alone a man. some women, and men, would be jealous as hell. shit, even you are a little jealous.

an ass that is smackable. especially in those sweats.

the temptation consumes you entirely, not able to resist. very slowly and quietly, you walk up behind miguel. coiling the rag in your hands, you quickly give his plump rear a nice smack! which he jumps at.

miguel’s eyes widen dramatically as he slowly turns around like a robot and sees the mischievous smile on your pretty face. your heart suddenly beats faster as you noticed his shocked expression. an intense staring contest between you two.

“did you just…”

that mischievous smile on your face grows wider as you make a run for it with a squeal. it doesn’t take long for miguel to catch you, wrapping his muscular arms around you and holding you in place so you don’t escape. not that you can since the man weights like a tank compared to you or anyone. squeals and laughter echos through the area as you squirm in his strong strip. miguel is careful not to hurt you, trying to be gentle yet indulging in your playfulness.

“miguel, ¡suéltame!” you squeal, gigging.

your cute giggles makes his heart flutter. “i don’t think so, preciosa.” miguel teases as he begins tickling you, making you laugh and squirm more.

it was a cute, playful moment.

“okay! ya! ya!” you laugh, feeling breathless.

miguel obeys and turns you around to face him then leans down to claim your lips with his. your hands rest against his abs while his wrap around your waist. sneaking one hand up your spine, to your shoulder then your cheek, cupping it gently.

“¿porque hiciste eso?” he arches a brow, grinning,

“not my fault you have a dumpster back there.”

miguel scoffs, shaking his head yet still grinning. feeling heat rising in his cheeks. “ay mujer… you’re so… you drive me crazy.”

“i know but you love it.” you smirk.

he chuckles before leaning down to kiss that mischievous smirk off your face.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

that little incident sparked things off drastically. eating each other’s faces off as you stumble into his apartment, almost tripping. moans echoing in the hot air. hands roaming over each other’s bodies. ripping off your shirts before miguel scoops you up in his arms and rushes to the bedroom. bouncing off the mattress as he quickly lays you down.

your hands touch everything they can. his chest, biceps, shoulders, back. even gave his ass a squeeze which earns you a heavenly groan from him.

“chinga… you’re really that obsessed with my ass.” miguel pants, hot breath against your lips.

“like i said, a dumpster.” a teasing smirk on your lips.

the makeout session grows more intense. one calloused hand cupping a breast and squeezing it, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

you want to take a different route. too many times have you been underneath. not that you don’t like it. but an intense desire to be the one on top flows through your veins. using all your might, you flip positions so now miguel is the one underneath. his eyes go wide as he’s suddenly laying on his back but loves your enthusiasm and wants you to take control.

it’s a big turn on for him.

as a man who is so used to taking charge, it feels so fucking good to be dominated by a woman.

your lips leave a trail of kisses from his cheek down to his neck. miguel sighs contently at the unusual sensation, biting back a groan.

“preciosa…” he couldn’t hold back a small groan.

you hum contently as you continue leaving marks on his neck before moving down. leaving a trace of kisses over his body, following the trail of body hair. his breath hitched and stomach clenches as you lick his abs so sinfully. the sensation of your tongue makes his cock twitch in excitement.

“fuck…” miguel groans as he feels you mouthing over his erection through his sweatpants.

you realize you haven’t had the chance to suck this man off. it’s always been him pleasuring you, not that you don’t appreciate it. you just want to return the favor and provide him pleasure.

plus, you’ve been waiting to suck him off since you first laid your eyes on that thing the first night.

“you never gave me a chance…” you purr, glancing up at him with a seductive glint in your eyes, making miguel groan at the sight. “let me take care of you, bebito.” you give his clothed cock a squeeze, which twitches under your addictive touch.

“fuck, bebé…” his mind fucking haywire.

gripping the hem of his sweats, you slowly pull them down along with his boxers. his erected cock springs out of its confinement, breaking free from prison. beautifully erected, tip leaking with precum. a sudden burst of hunger bubbles inside you, biting your lip as you admire the gorgeous sight in front of you. grabbing his erected length, you begin stroking him, earning groans from above.

while giving him slow teasing strokes which makes miguel a groaning mess, you realized how your hand can’t fully wrap around his cock. so damn thick there is space between your thumb and the rest of your fingers. the sight makes you smile mischievously.

“preciosa, por favor…”

to hear this hunk of a man whining makes your pussy throb terribly, wanting to sink down his cock and ride him to fucking oblivion. but you have to be patient, you want to make this man into a babbling mess. hear those whines and grunts as you slurp him up.

“shhh, bebito…” you shush him sweetly, hot breath against his aching cock as you keep stroking him.

without warning, you give kitten licks on his bulbous tip which causes his hips to buckle.

“fuck— bebé.” miguel inhales a sharp breath.

your tongue teases his sensitive tip, flicking the small slit where precum is oozing out of, gathering it all. leaving kitten licks all over his shaft. that elicits more soft groans from miguel. he’s about to plead once again but instead lets out a loud groan as he feels your mouth slowly envelop his cock.

“fuck—” he throws his head back against the pillow, reaching down to grip the back of your head with a hand. fingers digging into your hair.

you hum around him, savoring the taste of him. moaning sinfully as you bob your head, devouring miguel whole. one hand stroking him and the other gripping on his thigh for support.

“ay chingado…” he buckles his hips in your sweet, warm mouth which causes you to gag a little. miguel heard and panics a little. “lo siento—”

“shhh… it’s okay.” you reassure sweetly before sucking him back into your mouth. hollowing your cheeks as you suck his fat tip, making him moan out. the sound goes straight to your throbbing clit.

you need to hear more.

you eagerly suck his tip, drawing out more of his heavenly moans. the grip on your hair tightens. your eyes dart upwards to admire the man who is a moaning, blabbering mess. his stomach clenching with each sound he makes, his abs flexing in the process. mouth agape as sounds of pleasure escapes those plump lips. oh what a beautiful view.

with a few more bobs of your head and sucks on his tip, miguel can’t help but come down your pretty little throat. he wanted to come first in your pussy but you had other plans and there was no way he would escape from this, not that he didn’t mind.

“fuck~” he curses as you continue sucking him for all his worth, feeling the warmth down your throat.

finally releasing his now sensitive cock from your devious mouth, you gather the leftover from the corner of your lips with your finger and sinfully lick it while maintaining eye contact with him.

“jesús bendito…” miguel whimpered at your sinful actions, feeling so breathless.

“we ain’t done, bebito~” you purr.

oh he knows but it still sends a shiver down his spine.

after discarding the rest of your clothes, you’re back in the same positions. you on top and miguel underneath after sweetly pleading to him that you desperately wish to ride him.

how the fuck could he deny you?

grabbing his cock and aligning yourself with it, you slowly sink down his thick length. a shared moan echoes in the steamy air. you can feel him in your tummy, so utterly full of him. your hands placed on his abs and his own gripping your hips. after giving yourself a moment to adjust, you start moving up and down his cock at a slow pace. his bulbous tip repeatedly kissing that sweet spot inside.

“miguel~” a soft moan falls from your lips.

“i know, bebé, i know.” he groans as you clench around him, rolling his eyes back in his head.

“so deep~” you arch your back.

your hips soon pick up pace, riding his cock to oblivion just like you desired. loud moans and groans fill the room, the obscure sounds of skin slapping bouncing off the four walls. miguel’s eyes stare in awe of your bouncing tits as you ride him, causing his hands on your hips to travel up and grope them. playing and squeezing them, relishing the soft squishy fat in his calloused palms. gently tugging your perky nipples, causing you to whimper.

with each clench and bounce, miguel loses all his sensibilities. mind fucking crazy at the addictive sensation. throwing his head back against the pillow, relishing the sensation of your sweet pussy squeezing the life out of his cock. his hands still playing with your soft, bouncing tits.

“ay fuck, mi amor~” a moan falls from his lips as you circle your hips in a sinful manner.

you admire his sweaty, panting form. the silver shining of his dog tags in the dark atmosphere of the bedroom. you reach up with a hand and grip them, tugging miguel to sit up and smash your lips onto his. he kisses right back and instinctively wrap his arms around you as you continue making love.

“ah miguel~” you throw your head back as he hits that sweat spot with a deep thrust.

he answers with a hum before leaning in to brush kisses on your exposed neck as he continues thrusting inside your tight, slick cunt. a gasp leaves your lips as his lips takes one of your nipples and suckles on it. chest arching into his mouth. one of his hands reaches down in between your bodies, finds your little clit and gives it several flicks.

“ah!~” you squeal at the sensation.

the attention on your clit and miguel’s cock fucking you so deeply into another dimension was causing your climax to approach quickly. miguel is right behind you, sensing his climax approaching soon.

“i’m gonna—”

“me too, bebé. i’m right with you, cum with me.”

with a few more thrusts and flicks to your sensitive pearl, you come with a loud moan of his name. miguel follows right after, coming deep inside you. filling your womb with his heavy load. your name falls from his lips as he buries his face into in your neck.

you hold onto each other, as if embracing one another. sweaty bodies connected. your synchronized panting echoing in the air.

after a few minutes, miguel slowly lays back down on the bed taking you with him in his arms, never letting go. your head on his heaving chest, the rapid beating of his heart against your ear. one of his hands rubbing your back in a slow, gentle manner. enjoying each other’s presence in peace as you recover.

“you okay?” he asks softly.

“mhm.” you hum weakly, eyes closed. feeling a bit sleepy due to his smoothing body warmth.

miguel presses a kiss on the top of your head and continues holding you in his arms, wanting to enjoy this moment longer.

nothing could get better than this.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[oharaslove]

Secrets Of The Duke Vampire Miguel O'Hara PT 4

Summary: During a chance encounter with the Duke of Nueva York, you discover he’s a Vampire when his compulsion doesn’t work on you. What happens when he holds you captive in hopes of keeping his century-old secret.....a secret?

Tags: Beauty and the Beast retelling, Vampire Miguel, arranged marriage, set in the 1800s(hence why he's a Duke), another ff where's he's mean in the beginning, fluff+sweet moments(finally), the plot thickens, 5.8k words

A/N: Super duper sorry for the long wait but I've had the flu+work+school. BUT for those still waiting on "The Fates That Tie" I promise it'll be out soon!Mwah xoxoxo<333

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

•°~°•

Sleeping in this frozen room is horrible you're not sure if you can keep doing this. While your mind might be playing tricks on you, you swear you can see your breath.  Not to mention that when you awoke your stomach was in knots and sadly you know what that means: your time of the month is near.

As you make your way down to breakfast you bump into Lyla and Jess. They bow to you before leading you to the lowly lit dining hall.  “There's something I need to get off my chest. I'm sorry for yesterday I shouldn't have spoken like that. He's your Duke and-”

“Please my lady no we shouldn't have lied to you. Curse or no curse that wasn't right. We're sorry” You nod to them grabbing both of their hands to give it a gentle squeeze. 

“While you're both here is there any chance that I can get thicker dresses? I don't think I can last throughout the winter if I don't have any.  And then for my room is there any way I can get a fire going seems like no cover is thick enough to prevent the cold air from reaching me”                              

“Of course my lady we'll see to it we're not so sure about the fire however we haven't had the need for firewood in forever the fire in the Duke's rooms is magic”  You're about to say something in response when the rest of the servants bring in breakfast and the Duke strolls in.

When the Duke sits your eyes meet and immediately you're unsure of what to do. He gives you a nod and you find yourself doing the same. Silence coats the air as you eat and surprisingly he's the one that breaks it first. 

“Did you sleep well?”

“I did…and you”

“I wouldn't know I don't sleep”

Oh.

Ermmmm how are you supposed to respond to that?              

 “Well that's unfortunate” Silence fills the air again but soon breakfast is over and you're returning to your room. 

Yeah, that wasn’t awkward at all….

•°~°•

Although snow coats the gardens you can't help it that you still want to try to work on it. You have faith. Faith that life would be restored to the lands once more.  Your thicker dresses haven’t arrived yet so you're forced to bundle up using multiple layers before heading outside. 

When you make it outside every piece of land that you worked on including the part that you didn’t get to is covered in snow. Your progress is ruined. Immediately you sink to your knees combing away the snow, having to pause occasionally as your hands grow uncomfortable due to the low temperature.  Just like yesterday, you feel someone watching you so you turn your head to see if they are hiding at the same window. Turning your head quickly hoping to catch a glimpse of them but all you catch is the curtain's movement, a sign that they did not want to be caught.       

“My lady, would you like some help? You can’t be out in the cold very long for your dresses haven’t arrived yet” You turn expecting only Lyla however it’s more than 6 servants that are there. “Lyla, what’s all this?”

“The lord requested that we help you” Confusion dances across your features. Was he the one watching you then? Maybe not. He's supposed to be resting during the day.  Jess or Lyla probably told him what you were up to. You give her a nod, and you need all the help you can get. Being so engrossed in your work you hadn’t realized your face grew wet causing your hair to stick to it and your nose started running. Gwen was the first to mention it.

She places a hand on your shoulder. “Why must you cry, my lady?”             

You tap at your face hoping to wipe the tears away. “I-I’m not sure I just really want this to work I suppose. Back home my neighbors and friends sometimes pay me to look after their gardens. It brings me joy to watch it flourish after weeks of hard work.”

“But our land is cursed”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t get care and attention, it deserves to grow”

•°~°•

Miguel is sitting in his study when there’s a knock on the door. Enters Lyla with parts of her dress soaked from being in the snow. “Does she require more help?”

“No my lord we’re enough….it's just that the lady cries and I’m unsure of what to do”

Miguel can feel his anger rise. Someone has made you cry and for that, they must pay. “I want a name”                           

Lyla shakes her head. “No she cries for the gardens, the snow has ruined her hard work but with another storm approaching our work today will be for nothing” He could almost laugh. Of course, you would be the type to cry over gardens. You are a peculiar one indeed.  He thinks it over as he turns the pages of the book that has been no help to him. He's never had the need to worry about the gardens when he has servants for that.

Miguel sighs as he closes the book. It's daytime he's supposed to be resting and yet here he is reading books that are supposed to help him understand why his magic didn’t work on you.  “Build something large enough to cover the gardens. Only the men will build and make sure they start during the night when she’s sleeping. It should be done by the time she wakes in the morning” Lyla takes a bow as she leaves.                 

•°~°•

By the time lunch rolls around your spirits are depleted. If you could skip dinner you would but you're in no mood to deal with the Duke and his commentary.      

It's when you're halfway through your meal he decides to speak. You know something changed between the two of you since that night but for him to begin a conversation with you again makes you uneasy….it feels like he's planning something. Because why else would he want to speak with you?

“You've grown attached to the gardens”

You nod. “I suppose so…I gardened a lot when I was home”

“You're wasting your time” 

You scoff. The audacity of this man who keeps you here giving you nothing to do but sit around and play his Duchess and he's mad that to pass time you tend to his garden…..“Well, what else do you think I should do with my time here? You don't even have books for me to read the most you have are dictionaries and even those are outdated and-”

“You like to read?”

“W-What?” You pause stunned by his question. “You said there's no books for you to read I'm assuming you like to read”

You pick up a napkin bringing it to your lips to hide your face. Suddenly feeling…shy. What's wrong with you?  “Oh yes I do I always have—but that's beside the point why are you getting mad at me for gardening?”

“I—dammit no that came out wrong I'm not mad it's just your wasting your time trying to bring life to something that's already dead”

“I have faith and you should too or are you lacking in that department as well?” He says nothing as he stares at you. Maybe you shouldn’t have added that last part. 

“My faith died the moment I was turned so yes I am lacking in that department—” He gets up from the table throwing a napkin on his plate. “If you'll excuse me” You watch as he leaves the dining hall he's probably retiring to his room. You’ve only seen him once after your shared meals are over so you’re sure won't see him till dinner time.

As you finish up your meal you can't help but head straight to your room. You didn't do anything wrong but why do you feel like you did?  He’s been nothing but awful to you since you’ve been here and so what if you hurt his feelings he’ll live.  

When dinner time rolls around, you feel even more awful when he isn’t sitting opposite of you. All it took was one comment, and now he’s ignoring you. It’s been a month since you had to endure his behavior, and yet you're fine….men are always so sensitive. 

You pull yourself out of your thoughts as you rake your fingers through your wet curls. Although the bath was great now that you no longer have the warmth of the hot water you’re back to the freezing cold. It seems like Lyla hasn't been able to get any wood for you.

Checking the clock you realize that it's half past one. Surely the Duke would be in his room right now and not in his study? The only two places that have a working fire all throughout the estate are his room and his study so you have to pick your poison.

Grabbing your duvet hesitantly you walk through the halls leading to his study you try to peek below the door to see if there's any light shining but you can't.

 Opening the door you poke your head through your eyes scanning the area to see if he's in there. When you don't find him you take a step inside and you almost let out a sigh of relief but as you turn your head to the side you see him standing in the corner leaning on one of the bookshelves. His white shirt is loosened revealing his chest and his hair is not kept out of his face like usual.

Oh my, he must've been getting ready for bed. You've probably been staring for far too long because his eyebrows raise as if to question you.

“I'm sorry I wasn't aware that you were in here. I'll take my leave”

He points to the fire. “Is it not warmth that you seek?”

“Yes, but this room is already occupied by you so…” Your words trail off as he points to the couch. “I will not stop you from sleeping” He then walks himself to the desk burying himself in his rows of books without sparing you another glance. You open your mouth to speak but you're unsure of what you should say next. You're not even sure if you can sleep if he'll be just a few feet away from you. Closing the door you make sure to make little noise so you won't upset him. 

You hold your duvet tightly around your chest you've suddenly become aware of the very little clothing that you wear underneath this. You're in just your nightgown, nothing else. Sitting down on the couch you look around the room. There has to be at least a hundred books here. You wonder if you asked him nicely if he'll allow you to read one. As your eyes continue to wander you can't help it as you watch him. From this perspective, he looks like a regular young man you wouldn't be able to tell that he's a blood-sucking monster or a hundred years old.

The hopes of you sleeping are now non-existent. How does he expect you to sleep when he's in the room? Granted you don't think he would try anything but….you just can't.  

“You're staring” You quickly look away because he is right you are staring. “I wish not to offend you I just can't sleep”

His eyes remain cast in the books, and he doesn't even spare a glance your way as he speaks to you. “Does my presence bother you?”

“No I just can't sleep anymore…my lord” You try to ignore that he's still trying to make conversation with you isn't this like the 3rd time for today? Silence fills the air between the two of you and you're about to say something when the sound of banging from outside reaches your ears. 

You begin to look around the room. “What is-” The Duke cuts you off as he clears his throat. “Do you wish to help me?”

“I'm sorry?”

He sighs. “I really don't like repeating myself” You narrow your eyes at him before slowly rising to your feet. “What is it that you need help with?”

“I need to look over all of these books about witches, curses, and vampires” 

“And you need my help for that?”

“If you choose not to sleep then it certainly would be easier if you can help” You nod as you begin to look around for a chair to drag to his desk. Dragging a chair to his desk you sit down waiting expectantly for him to give you a book.

“Which ones have you finished and which do we still need to look over?” He points to the large pile of books on the left side of him all without looking up from his book. Jeez if he didn't want to look at you he could've just said so. Or better yet why does he insist that you stay?

•°~°•

This is the second time you've been in his space. His personal sanctuary if you will. The first time this happened he was on the verge of bleeding out. Dire circumstances brought the two of you here but now you're here—just because.  He's not sure if he should even speak to you. But what would he say?

Miguel knows that time is running out. The snow falling on his estate is a clear indicator of that but how must he go about it? How must he go about having you fall in love with him and him falling in love with you?

It's different if he performed acts of kindness in the shadows but to do it in the light where you can see it is a whole nother territory. He sneaks a glance at you taking a break from staring at words on a paper. 

The flames dance across your skin wonderfully. But you're tired. The lines under your eyes give you away. Maybe he shouldn't have asked you to help him….but if he didn't he would risk you finding that he had his servants building something for you.

He notices that your hair is wet. The end of your curls leaves droplets to land on your duvet. He also noticed how fast your heartbeat has picked up since you first stepped in here. It's as if you can feel his stare on you. Surely you can't, right?

•°~°•

He's staring.

He's staring really hard.

And you don't know what to do about it. It's like you can feel the heat of his stare on you and no you don't mean the heat from the flames. The heat from his stare is a different kind of heat altogether.

You want to question him but what would you even say? As time went on you watched as the words began to jumble and your eyelids grew heavy. Falling asleep in his presence was definitely the last thing you wanted to do but something about being in this room felt so comforting.

•°~°•

You don't remember when exactly you fell asleep but you do remember hearing the sound of something sharp unsheathing from well—something.

With wide eyes, you wake to find another pair of wide eyes staring back at you. 

It's the Duke.

You also see his long nails that are dangerously close to your face. Is he trying to hurt you?

“A stray hair has fallen. I only wish to remove it with my nails so my touch wouldn't wake you. I was not trying to hurt you” Slowly you nod not sure of what else should you say and watch with hooded eyes as he drags your curl away from your face all while holding eye contact with you. This feels oddly too intimate.

“Do you still wish to reside here or should I take you to the couch?” He knows your answer before you do because he picks you up bridal style and brings you to his couch making sure your duvet is still tightly wrapped around you.

“Sleep, I will not hurt you” Is the last thing you hear before you fall under.

•°~°•

When you woke you were alone but the fire still raged. Quickly you retired to your own room to get ready for the day. No words despite “good morning” and “good afternoon” were the only things exchanged between you and the Duke during breakfast and lunch. It was weird yesterday it felt like you guys had shared a moment but then today it felt like you both didn't know how to move forward from it. This seems to be a regular occurrence between the two of you.

As the day went on you felt pain in your stomach. It was small but very noticeable. It happened at random hours during the day but you knew what that meant. It's just another reminder that your time of the month is even closer than you thought. Oh, how you dreaded when that moment came. Is there even a proper name for this time? When will we figure out why women bleed each month? 

Your stomach pains have kept you away all day from the gardens because it was well past dinner when you finally got the courage to go.

As Lyla escorts you to the gardens you can't help but notice how there's an extra pep in her step. Uh oh, that can't be good.

“Lyla, what did you do?”

She answers with a smile. “Well I haven't done anything but I'm still excited nonetheless”

“Lyla what-” You pause the moment the garden comes into view. Wooden planks surround the garden and it looks like glass is used at the top and along the sides of it so the plants can still get sunlight when needed. Oh my, they probably built it for you after you complained yesterday about the snow. You can feel your eyes sting with tears. This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for you.

You throw your arms around Lyla without even thinking and when you see Jess out of the corner of your eyes you pull her for a hug as well.

“Thank you guys so much for this. How did you even build this? I was here just yesterday”

“Oh no, now I would love to take the credit but this wasn't us. We didn't even think of it this was all the Dukes doing. He made sure his instructions were to start once the lights went out in your room” Now that you think about it, that's probably the banging noise that you heard last night.

“But I don't understand why would he do such a thing”

You can tell by the way Lyla points her gaze to the floor and how Jess looks at Lyla expectantly you already know what happened. “We may—” Jess cuts her off. 

“You may-”

“Right, I may or may not have told him you were crying about it yesterday” Now you want to get annoyed but you know you can't so instead you pull her in for another hug before getting to work.

•°~°•

The moon is high in the sky when you finally decide to go back inside for the day. You're tired so all you do is wash up and grab your duvet. Should you check on the Duke? Give him thanks for the little house he made for your garden. 

 You’re in awe your own little garden house. Your face heats up at the thought of it. After cleaning up you head over to his study and knock.

“Enter” You take a deep breath as you do. 

“Good evening my lord” You walk all the way up to him. The chair that you left last night is in the same place so you take a seat. His eyes follow you till you are seated. 

“Hi,” He tilts his head at you as if he's confused. You tuck a curl behind your ear. Dammit, you can feel yourself getting shy. You didn't expect him to do something so—so nice for you.

“I want to say thank you Lyla told me that you had your servants build me a house for my—I mean your garden. That was very nice of you. You didn't have to do that” 

“She said that you were crying because of the storm damaging your progress and since you are my Duchess it's only right that I do something to make you happy”

My Duchess….Huh? You hadn't expected him to say that it sounded…weird, too intimate, and too domestic.  “I forget that we're married we don't do martial things”

“Are you suggesting we share a room? Sleep in the same bed?...Duchess”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “N-No I was just expecting…truthfully I don't know what I was thinking but it wasn't this. I've been married before and it was fun and we spent almost every waking minute together, but us—me and you….It doesn't feel like that at all. It almost makes me sad given that I am stuck here forever. Marriage is supposed to be beautiful” Oh Gods what are you saying? You're his captive he's your captor of course it's going to feel different. Oh girl, get a grip.

You can't even look him in the eye. You turn your face to the raging fire on your left. You hear as the Duke takes a deep breath. “You want me to spend more time with you-” Immediately you cut him off you blame the changes in your body for your foolishness. “No no no please just ignore me I don't know what came over me things are fine the way they are let's just continue looking for these answers yeah?”

You open up the same book you had yesterday. As you read on and on about the witches you scan their names and your eyes linger on the name circled in red ink. The more you look at it the more you realize you've seen that name before. Hell, the name even sounds familiar. Closing the book you rest your hand on your temples trying to figure it out.

The Duke seems to notice this because he closes his and rests his hand on your shoulder. “Is everything alright? Do you need any-”

“Oh…no I've heard of this name before” You're not sure why it's taken you so long to figure it out but you're sure of it that's her…she's one of your ancestors. They always talked about her your family has lots of powerful women it is even rumored that she was tempering with dark magic.

The Duke's voice shakes you out of your thoughts. “Tell me where have you heard of this name” 

“I believe this is one of my ancestors. I'm even sure we have her picture up somewhere in my estate. She was rumored to be a very powerful woman and before you say anything I swear on it I had no idea a-and I didn't plan this all to happen we don’t even share the same last name so-” He cuts you off giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I trust you. But that means she gave me one of her ancestors to break the curse. She made me wait 100 years just to taunt me? Just because she knows how short my patience is? Could it be possible that she had your mind protected in some way?”

You think it over before you speak this is a lot and you're not sure what to make of this information yet. “Maybe she was able to see into the future but I don't know that seems a little far fetched” You pause as you think things over how can this be possible? It seems so unlikely that she would want you to break the spell. Why would she want her own family to do it? 

“I would say that on the night when I ran away…I swear I saw a saddle magically appear on the horse but I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me. Then not to mention after you fought the wolves I contemplated leaving you but I'm sure I heard someone say ‘Don’t leave him my child’ It's like someone or something was guiding me” You wrap your arms around yourself unsure of what to make out of all this. How can your ancestor do something like this? Curse all these innocent people all because of one man?

The Duke rests back in his chair, his eyes are closed and his fingers are running circles on his temples. You can practically see the wheels turning in his head. But he looks angry for the most part. If you were him and you just found out that the woman who is supposed to break your curse somehow is the same woman related to the person who cursed you, you would definitely need a moment.

 So you begin to gather up the books, closing each one before closing your own. “I should go it's pretty late already”

“Oh—right” He clears his throat before speaking again. “Do you wish to retire here for the night?” He points at the couch. “No I'll take my leave I'll give you some time to yourself” Gathering your things you begin to head out.

“Wait, no don't go” You stop dead in your tracks but you don't turn around. “How can you ask me to stay after what you just heard?” You pause as you think it over. You'll answer the question for him. “I'm actually not really feeling up to it tonight we can resume tomorrow Goodnight my lord”

•°~°•

Miguel doesn't sleep but tonight out of all nights he's found himself dozing off. That is until the smell of blood hits his nose. This blood is unlike anything he's ever smelled before it smells sweet but tangy. The more the smell assaults his senses the more he realizes that it's familiar.

It's your blood.

He springs into action without even giving it a second thought. He doesn’t have any time to waste you could be hurt bleeding out or worse: you could be dying. The minute he reaches your door he turns the knob only to find it locked. 

He pounds on the door with his fist the impact of it rattling the hinges. “Open the door! Are you hurt? Tell me what’s going on”

“I-I just a moment, please or actually come back later I’m kind of busy right now” He takes note of the tone in your voice. You sound alarmed and panicked even. Miguel bangs again. “No, I’m giving you five seconds before I break down the door”

“O’Hara—please just give me a moment.” He pauses for a second, your words playing like an echo in the back of his mind. You just said his name, you've never said his name before something is really wrong. That’s it he's coming in.  Using his shoulder the door opens with one push causing Miguel to stumble in. His eyes quickly find your eyes that are so wide they might be very close to popping out of the socket. He then notices the dark red stain in the front of your nightgown close to your pelvis and on the white sheets. The scene unfolds right before his eyes, where you are trying to take the sheets off the bed.

Oh.

Oh.

Well, this is rather… awkward.

He needs to break the ice before your hate for him grows. He straightens up rising to his full height. “My lady I swear I-”

“Get out”

“Please my lady it was by accident I smelled blood and I thought something was wrong-”

“Y-You can smell me?” He takes note of the way your voice shakes, dammit he shouldn’t have said anything. “Well, only your blood if you’re worried about how you smell then I can assure you that you smell wonderful just when I smelt your blood I thought you were hurt—dying” He pauses once he realizes he's rambling. 

He never rambles. 

“J-Just get out”

He takes a step closer. “I can he-”

“O’Hara leave”

He gives up right as he turns around Lyla and Jess come running in with extra sheets, a bowl of hot water, and rags. He manages to stop Jess before she enters the room.

“She's okay, right? This is just um…her woman's time of the month” Miguel makes rather awkward circles around his pelvic area. This seems to annoy Jess because she rolls her eyes. “Yes, this is the time of month when a woman bleeds from her lady parts. I know you were trying to help but leave her be. This is no place for a man” Before he can respond the door closes on his face.

He turns and walks away. He just wanted to help.

•°~°•

“Lyla, I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him” To say that you're embarrassed is an understatement. Why would he just barge in like that? You sink into the bathtub that is filled with hot water to ease your pain.

“He was only trying to help my lady don't think too much of it”

“Lyla I locked the door and he barged in like a madman and the fact that he can smell me makes it even worse”

“Oh hush he thought you were dying, cut him some slack” You hear Jess shout out as she helps Lyla with the sheets. Hastily you begin to scrub yourself eager to wash your embarrassment away ignoring both Jess and Lyla.

By the time you're finished, there are fresh sheets on the bed and your belt is in place. You grumble under your breath as you sit back on your bed. You turn to face Jess. “I can't even head down to breakfast I'm too embarrassed” 

“Should I bring it to you upstairs?”

“Yes, that would be great Jess thank you” When they get up there's a knock at the door. “My lady if all is well I have your breakfast…..I figured you might not want to come down and eat so I have it here. Should I leave it at the door or bring it inside?” You’re about to respond when both Lyla and Jess place a hand over your mouth answering for you instead. Your eyes grow wide once you realize what they’ve done. You do not want to eat with the Duke nor do you want him in your room. They quietly apologize to you before fussing with your hair and adding shine to your lips.

Once satisfied they head to the door, sneakily giving you a thumbs up right as he walks through with your breakfast in hand. You can feel your cheeks warm the second your eyes meet. You truly can’t wait to give Lyla and Jess an earful for leaving you with this man after being so embarrassed curse be damned.

“I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for my actions this morning,” He says while placing the tray of food on your lap, and setting the tea down on the bedside counter. You turn away from him as you begin to fiddle with your porridge. You hope he leaves soon; you're not sure how much you can take of this. 

He sits before speaking again. “Would you like to join me in the gardens when you’re finished?” This immediately catches your attention. He always speaks ill of the gardens but now he’s requesting you join him. 

“You never go down to the gardens”

“I know”

“You also never expressed care for the gardens either”

“Yes I also know that as well”

You look at him questionly with a raised brow.  “This is an extra attempt for me to accept your apology isn’t it”

“Well is it working?” You told your hands across your chest careful to not spill the porridge. “Meet me downstairs in the lobby once I’m done”

•°~°•

Unfortunately, your thicker dresses haven’t arrived yet so you’re forced to use your shawl once again. As you descend down the stairs, the Duke is waiting there for you. You feel rather nervous as his eyes are trained on you. You hate how intensely he stares at you. It feels as though he can see your inner thoughts, and your feelings without having to do anything.  When you reach he offers you his elbow and you look at it hesitantly before accepting.

As soon as you reach the gardens you're both down on your hands and knees tending to the garden. For a man who has been giving out orders for the past hundred years, he sure does listen well. You told him how to properly plant the seeds and how much space is needed in between each set. A brisk wind messes up your curls and causes a shiver to course through your body. 

At the corner of your eyes, you watch as he rises to his feet. He then grabs you by the arm forcing you to rise. You let out a huff. “What did I tell you about manhandling me?” He takes off his jacket all while making eye contact. His stare is once again so intense you have to look away. 

Damn him.

He holds it up in front of him and you turn around so he can help you put it on. You mentally curse yourself for being so submissive. He turns you around so you can button it up and this time you can’t help but stare at him. The winds cause his own hair to be blown around and you hate that he looks so….normal so handsome. Granted you knew he was attractive since the very first night. You wouldn’t have let him between your thighs then if he wasn't. 

In another world, this would seem like a courting gesture between a man and a woman. But you know better this is probably just him trying not to have his captive freeze to death. Getting tired of watching his hair be so misplaced your hand moves on its own tucking a loose strand behind his ear. Catching yourself all too late you take a step back and gasp in horror at what you just did. But he reaches out tugging you by his jacket closing the distance between you and does the same thing to you. However, he holds your curl twirling it in his fingers before tucking it behind your ear. 

His voice is low and raspy. He almost sounds breathless although his chest remains completely still. “Just returning the favor Duchess”

For a second everything outside disappears but then he pulls away and everything comes rushing back. He rolls up his sleeves and goes back to planting more seeds.

You’ve made up your mind bringing him back from the woods was not a good decision.

[oharaslove]

charity meowguel 🐭

[oharaslove]

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have to find new ways to communicate when a cold leaves you voiceless. miguel is less than happy —featuring grumpy miguel and his cheerful spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 2.3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel's hackles hike as you appear. You have an obsession with toying with him and he's in the middle of something more important than your whims and wants.

"Don't start," he warns, barely looking at you. 

You point at yourself as if to say, Who, me? Grinning, you pull your arms behind your torso tightly, your shoulders harsh slopes where they'd usually be lax with calm. Your spider suit strains against the movement, shining with a subtle shimmer as you twirl your way into his side. You blink up at him, mock-innocent. 

"What did I just say?" he asks. 

He's expecting a charming rebuttal he doesn't get. You're awfully charismatic; Miguel often thinks you've manufactured a devilish siren call that yanks him in like a fish on a line no matter how hard he tries to split his lip and flee.

You're pretty, sure, but it isn't your looks that endear you to him. You have this way of speaking that's effortlessly carefree, despite the frankly ridiculous depth of the well that is your fondness for the world. It shouldn't make sense, and it does: you're happy because you love the world. When you speak to him, annoy him, praise him and degrade him in the same breath, Miguel thinks you might love him, too. 

You're silent. Miguel takes it as a blessing and finishes analysing the footage playing in front of him. He finishes as quickly as he can, and he's not a dick, he says, "Thank you." Then, with an unimpressed eyebrow raise, "Where have you been?" 

You come to see him so often he kind of forgot you didn't have to. He's taken you for granted, he knows, and after three days of not seeing you he should be happier. He should've asked you about it as soon as you appeared. 

You shrug and point at his screen. He can practically see the question mark in your eyes. 

"That's nothing. What, you're not speaking to me now?" he asks. 

Paper creaks in your hand as you pull a sketchbook from your pocket. Small, lilac, you flip to the first page and show him the scrawled message there with a rueful smile. 

Miguel's expecting a cartoon version of himself, but instead you've written three words. 

I have laryngitis. 

Miguel's gaze flickers between you and your book, assessing the claim with scepticism. "Why would you have that? You're practically impervious to disease." 

You flip to the next page. 

Superbug from Earth-87222 defeated my enhanced healing.

One of your Peter Parker friends lives there. He isn't jealous (because he knows that particular Peter doesn't like girls). "And you can't talk?" he asks. 

The next page. I can't talk.

You tuck the book to your chest. Lips parted, you attempt to speak, but all that comes out is hot air and a cruel croaking scratch that makes his chest ache. 

"Don't hurt yourself," he says, softer than he'd been speaking beforehand. He can't decide whether to glare at you or pull you in for a hug. If he hugs you, you might attach yourself to him like that thing from Alien. He glares. "You could've told me." 

You gesture to your throat. I can't speak. 

"That you were sick, you know how to type. You bother me every day for weeks and then one day you stop showing up, and you don't answer your watch, what am I supposed to think?" 

You stare up at him dreamily. He swears you get off on being scolded half the time. 

Miguel takes your wrist into his hand and turns your wristband forward to showcase the screen. "You see this? You see when my prompt comes up? You could take ten seconds and hit me back." 

Again, you open your small sketchbook, turning to a fourth page. You've predicted him well.

I didn't want to worry you. Don't be mad, handsome, you'll get more wrinkles. 

"Tu sabes todo," he fumes. You know everything. "If you're so smart, you can help me recalibrate the pocket dimension storage." 

You flip a page. It's finally a drawing rather than a knowing line, your familiar artistry obvious in your weighted linework and rushed shading. It's Miguel, his expression one he isn't sure you would've actually seen to reference as well as you have, lovingly concerned with a speech bubble coming from beside his softly rendered hair. Get well soon, cariño. 

He scoffs. "You seem fine to me." 

In truth, you don't seem fine. Now he knows, he can see evidence of your days away. Your lips are chapped under the balm you've applied, your hair dishevelled (though it's often unruly, in line with your personality). You wince when you breathe too hard. Miguel lowers the platform and sets you up next to him on a workbench in the back of the laboratory beside him for purely professional purposes. He has to make sure you're doing the calibration correctly, that's all. 

He can't quite explain away the tea he gets for you from the cafeteria, nor the research he does on the way back to you, Lyla at his shoulder saying, "You're such a softie." 

You find you don't need the sketchbook to communicate. Miguel places your tea down and your smile alone is thanks enough. It's pure reverential delight. He doesn't really deserve it, so he pretends he doesn't see. 

When you need help with a recalibration, you take his wrist gently. You don't even need to point at the screen, the subtle uptilt of your brows enough clue.

"Here, you're almost there," he murmurs under his breath, distracted by the complicated code you've been editing in the corner of the screen. "Oh, is this what you do when I'm not looking?" 

You tug his elbow. 

"No? You're not messing around?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "You think I'm stupid." 

Your fingers tighten. Miguel clicks a couple of things to finish the calibration. He looks at you from over his shoulder. Your face is near. It radiates heat. He bites the tip of his gloved finger and yanks it off clean to press the back of his naked hand to your forehead. 

"You're warm," he says, patting carefully downward. Your skin is as hot as he'd worried. 

Miguel drops his hand without rush, the side of his pinky tracing down your cheek. "Maybe you shouldn't be here." 

You shake your head vehemently. There's something in it he doesn't understand, an uncharacteristic shyness. He supposes he'd feel the same if he were sick like this, but you have no reason to be ashamed of a bad cold.

"Enough calibration, then. Take it easy." 

You do not take it easy. Your first port of call is to request to share his screen. He grants you permission and rescinds it soon after, irked when the majority of his monitor becomes wallpapered by digital post it note drawings of him looking cranky and of you in a crown, a ship's captain's hat, standing on the moon. He sets them each back to the perimeter of his window and tries to work. Trust you to find ways to bother him without teasing aloud. 

He thinks that… but then, his hands falter over the keyboard. You aren't a bother. You irritate him but he kind of likes it, most of the time. He turns his head just enough to see your face, blue and white light kissing your skin. You glow. 

Miguel thinks about how he used to do this alone. Lyla on his shoulder when she felt like it but usually tinkering in the quiet, trying to stop the end of the world, the pressure akin to how Atlas himself must have felt, knees locked and arms braced above his head to stop the Earth falling into the black abyss. Miguel doesn't always know what he's being punished for (or, he didn't). He doesn't know why this ended up on his plate, but the panic of doing it alone ebbs every day. With you by his side, unshakeable if not unfailing, it feels less like a death sentence and more like a problem that needs solving. He can't save everyone, but he can try. He can't stomach the agony of his life if he thinks about the past; you make it easy to stay present. 

Who would he rather have here than you? Out of everyone living that he knows, you're the only person he could stand to sit with for this long. 

It's not the same without your voice. Your murmurings, your kind doting, your put upon and less-so confusion. He misses it more than he can say in that moment, worse when you feel his eyes and turn to face him with a soft smile. 

Everything okay? you ask without asking. 

You don't need to speak. He can see it on your face. 

Miguel gets up from his bench to tower over you. Without giving it too much thought, he bends down, wrapping his right arm behind your shoulders, the left loose over your front, and kisses your forehead with the barest of pressures. It's hardly a kiss at all, and it makes no noise. More like he's resting his lips there, his nose at your hairline, breathing in. His hand rubs an up and down of its own accord into your upper arm, the soft fat of it melding under his touch. 

Your head dips back invitingly. You're like butter in the sun at his touch, a slow melting. 

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll deny it," he says quietly. 

You snort. You give his arm a pat and reach over it to grab your sketchbook. Miguel straightens but doesn't remove his arms, watching as you flick to the right page. 

I can't talk, the page says. You beam at him.

"I see," Miguel says. "You think it's funny because you couldn't tell if you wanted to." 

Your answering hum comes with the feeling of your fingers latching onto his elbow. Exactly. 

Well, fuck it. If you can't tell anyone, Miguel might as well send it. He leans down to grab you up into his hold, a squeezing hug that says everything he wanted to tell you while you were gone, his worry for you and his annoyance at your lack of communication. You don't need audible words to tell him things, and Miguel doesn't need words either. Hopefully his arms around you and his nose digging too rough into your temple says how he feels plainly. 

"I figured you got sick of taking orders," he confesses. You got sick of me. "When you didn't come back." 

You refuse to act small —Miguel doesn't want you to—, standing despite the weight he'd been resting on you, turning in the circle of his arms to look up into his eyes. It's too much, Miguel doesn't want your face this close to his, not with the rawness of his feelings aching a trail up between each of his rib bones, one by one. He clenches his jaw. 

Your hand climbs to his ear. He stays very still. As the initiator he should be forgiving, but your fingers touch his ear and he contemplates sinking his teeth into your hand. You stroke hair away from his face with a dramatised expression that says it's in the way, pesky stuff, though the final fond tuck of it behind the shell of his ear is impossible to deny.

Your thumb rubs his earlobe. 

"Are you having fun?" he asks dryly.

Your nod is sincere. Enthusiastic, you start to ease your fingertips into the thick tresses of his hair. 

Miguel grabs your wrist in an iron grip. 

"Enough." 

He guesses more than knows what your pout means —that isn't fair. 

"Life isn't fair," he says, pressing your forearm to your chest, an action fraught with apology. It's ridiculous how much can be said without words. He'd like for you to get your voice back solely to end this confusing misery. Well, not solely… Miguel misses the sound of it, distinct as your lopsided smiles and unconventional hand movements. "You can file a complaint just as soon as you get your voice back, how's that?" 

You roll your eyes and sit back down on your bench. Miguel takes a lap around the laboratory to calm down, returning to a new program blinking on computer his taskbar to be opened. 

He doesn't give you the satisfaction of looking your way as he opens it. 

"Miguel!" The program chirps, in a voice jarringly close to yours but not nearly as sophisticated as the majority of language intelligence he uses in his own coding. "I was waiting for you, handsome! Where have you been? Now you're back, I have a very special song to sing for you. Sing along if you know this one! Alright… Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine bottles of beer! You take one down, pass it around, ninety nine bottles of beer…"

Miguel realises he can't mute or close the program shortly thereafter. Vocaloid you counts down to sixty one bottles of beer by the time he resigns to turning off his computer altogether, a headache twinging angrily behind his eyes. 

Maybe he could use a break from your voice after all. 

You giggle breathlessly at him as he drops his face into his hands. 

"Drink your tea," he orders, words muffled by his palms.

He doesn't look up. There's the sound of a big sip. Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He's kidding himself —the sooner you get your voice back, the better. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[oharaslove]

AHHHHHHHHHHHH I'm gonna pass out!!

This is so good girllll!!!!!

Thank you for the meal! Wow, that was so damn hot

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓒hapter 𝓔ight

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. miguel returns from the boxing gym tensed and all bruised up. you grow concern and offer to fix him up. while cleaning him up, the tension between you two grows more intense to the point where things become inevitable.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, angst, little hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, tension, smut, making out, dry humping, unprotected sex, fem oral, creampie, praising, aftercare 【 mdni 】

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

the cool breeze flowing by. the autumn leaves beautifully vibrant, decorated over the trees. the atmosphere covered in gray, puffy clouds with no trace of the sun. a perfect day for a walk.

wrapped in a cozy baby pink sweater, the fuzzy interior like a blanket. comfy light gray leggings and a pair of uggs. a comfy yet cute outfit for the day.

your eyes wander around the little park as the cool breeze flows by. one hand holding the leash attached to luna as she wanders around the grass sniffing away and the other hand stuffed comfortably in the pocket of your sweater for warmth.

standing in the chilly air for a while makes you crave for some coffee. after luna had her fair share of wandering around, you start heading back to the complex building. the cool breeze hitting your face.

as you’re walking, you notice a familiar tall figure approaching from the opposite side. recognizable brown fluff of hair and bulging biceps. immediately, your lips curl up into a soft smile.

“hey.” you approach miguel with that same smile.

there is a scowl on his face until he notices you, expression immediately softens. “oh hey.”

those brown eyes briefly scan your outfit. how cozy you look, how cute you look.

“how was boxing?”

“it was alright…”

his tone doesn’t match his answer. sounds rather distant… closed off. not to mention the way his eyes drifted from yours for a moment.

your eyes focus on his expression before wandering around his figure. they widen in shock at the bruised knuckles decorated in dried up blood.

“oh shit, your knuckles!”

miguel discards them with a head shake, as if he doesn’t care. “it’s fine, they’ll heal soon.”

“but they’re covered in blood.” your brows furrowed, looking up at him with concern.

“it’s okay, preciosa. i promise, they don’t hurt.”

you stare up at him in disbelief.

“did you boxed without gloves?”

that was the only reason why his knuckles would be bruised up and bloody. now that makes you wonder why he wouldn’t wear them in the first place.

“preciosa.” miguel softly drags out. “estoy bien.”

he doesn’t want you to worry about him. his knuckles will heal eventually. sure, he did a number on them. but miguel doesn’t want to tell you why they’re bruised up or why he didn’t use his gloves.

“no, you’re not okay. miguel, you’re bleeding.” you gesture at his bloody knuckles. “i’m patching you up, let’s go.” you go to grab his wrist but he moves away.

“hermosa, please don’t.”

miguel doesn’t want to burden you with his troubles. you seem to be having a peaceful day and he doesn’t want to ruin that. but it seems he already has now that you’re worried about his fucked up knuckles. maybe he should’ve walked away sooner.

“miguel, please. i’m not letting you walk in that building with fucked up knuckles and knowing you’re in pain, and don’t say you’re not because you are.”

shit.

you’re being serious, he can definitely tell. seeing that worried look in your eyes makes his heart. you shouldn’t worry about his stupidity. he rather see that pretty smile and eyes filled with happiness.

but it also makes his heart warm to see you care for his well-being. miguel can’t remember the last time someone did, genuinely. his military buddies do but because of partnership. he doesn’t hang out with them often or are close with them like he is with you.

after what happened to… gabriel, his relationship with his mother declined drastically. it was ugly yet heartbreaking. constant yelling and tears. that slap she left on him scarred him, telling miguel that everything changed from that moment. she stopped giving an ounce of care for him and miguel accepted that. he never step foot back into that house again.

george, however, does care for miguel. they would talk once in a while, through phone or text but that’s it. may be small but there is some care.

his biological father, not worth mentioning.

you’re the first to show him genuine care, sympathy. miguel truly believes his knuckles are fine and will heal eventually like usual. but seeing your eyes filled with concern and that small pout on those pretty lips, miguel couldn’t resist you.

he didn’t want to worry you yet you were.

with a sigh, he gives in. “alright…”

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

“this is gonna sting.”

after luring him back to your apartment, you and miguel find yourselves on your couch. a first aid kit beside you and two now empty coffee mugs on the coffee table. miguel sits beside you, entire weight sinking into the cushions. you find it amusing how big he looks on your couch due to his bulky figure.

you clean up his right hand first then his left, being gentle as possible to not hurt him. miguel stares in awe at your medical skills. how attentive and caring you are. but mainly fascinated by the size difference of your hands. how tiny and soft yours look compared his larger, calloused ones. staring in awe of your acrylics, how pretty they appear. but his eyes mainly remain on your face, deeply captivated.

he also doesn’t ignore that rapid beating of his heart due to the close proximity. your body so close to his, gently glazing one another, feeling the heat radiating from your body. it makes his mind hazy.

because of the close proximity, miguel has a good close up of you. he can finally drink in your features. the lavender scent of your shampoo invading his senses. the serval beauty marks decorated over your skin. the curve of your nose. those pretty lashes of yours. brows furrowed in concentration.

everything about you is just so… mesmerizing.

he always though you were beautiful. just seeing you up so close, miguel is enthralled.

you, on the other hand, are nervous as hell. you can feel his eyes the entire time, observing your every move. not in an uncomfortable way, it’s just that your very handsome neighbor is watching you as you clean up his wounds. feelings his breath on your skin. making your heart beat faster than ever.

“i don’t wanna… pry much but… why did you not use gloves?” you ask softly, a little hesitant.

miguel averts his gaze from you, concealing his embarrassment. “just… didn’t feel like it…” his big, broad shoulders shrug. “needed to use my real hands, at least once in a while.”

your brows furrow a bit more, internally debating if you should push the question further. but ultimately you don’t wish to bother him, it seems to be personal. instead, you answer with a soft hum and continue tending to his wounds.

“all done.” you announce softly, packing away the materials back into the first aid kit.

“gracias, preciosa.” miguel analyzes his bandaged knuckles, mesmerized by your skills. a tiny, soft smile on his lips as he continues staring in fascination.

your heart skips a beat. another pet name.

looking back at him, your eyes caught a tiny scar peeking out from his black wife beater, on his right shoulder. your brows furrowed at the sight.

“what happened here?” you point out the scar.

miguel’s brows furrowed then glances to where you pointed, now realizing what you’re referring to.

“oh it’s just an old scar, from a mission.” he shrugs.

your brows remain furrowed. he acts like it’s nothing but that scar looks huge, even if it’s healed. following the scar, your eyes fetch another one next to it.

how many scars does he have?

“take off your shirt.”

your command catches him off guard, making miguel turn to look at you with a confused look. those thick brows furrowed a little.

“it’s nothing to worry about, hermosa.”

“miguel, how many scars do you have?”

“a lot but they’re healed.”

your heart aches a little at his confession. “please…”

fuck, when you sound like that, so sweet and caring, how can miguel resist that?

he doesn’t want you to worry yet that sweet tone of yours and those pretty eyes, he can’t say no.

with a sigh, miguel slowly takes off his wife beater with one hand. your eyes widen drastically. his muscular back covered in numerous scars and even a little stretch marks near his hips.

the sight makes your heart crack.

scars lathered over his sun-kissed skin. ranges in various length and size. some overlapping each other. most healed but some still look fresh.

this poor, poor man.

each of these scars have their own story. it’s likely that majority of them are from missions. you can’t imagine the types of missions he goes through, life-threatening ones even. the thought creates an unsettling sensation in your chest.

this man has gone through so much.

subconsciously, you raise a hand up. the sudden temptation to reach out, lightly rake your fingers over his scars. to give him some comfort, care.

your fingers hover over them, merely a few centimeters away from his skin, not touching him. the temptation grows stronger but you’re afraid of overstepping his boundaries.

miguel can somewhat feel your fingers, or at least sense them. it makes his heart beat faster than before and breathing grow a bit heavy. the tension is too much, almost unbreathable. as if it’s wrapped around his neck. his hands begin to fidget, as sign of anxiousness. his body temperature skyrocketing.

ever so lightly, you place your fingers on his back and his body immediately tenses. it startled you, causing you to retrieve your hand away from his body.

“sorry, i—” you panic a little.

“don’t.” he says softly, reassuringly. “don’t be.”

your touch sent a jolt through his body. not unpleasantly but rather excitingly. just a light of your skin against his makes his heart jump.

looking at his scared back, you can’t help but feel remorse and guilt. using your fingertips, you trace above the scars without touching him. yet, all miguel wants is your touch. carves it, in fact.

it’s not surprising he’s touch starved. after gabriel’s death and the aftermath of his family dilemma, miguel has been on his own since. closed off anyone who was close to him. went straight into duty whenever he got called back.

there was no time for relationships. miguel believed there was no point. no matter how many women threw themselves at him or one of his military buddies trying to hook him up, he never gave in.

no woman captured his attention like you.

his beautiful, caring neighbor.

the woman who infiltrates his every thought.

ever since he first met you, you captured his attention. when he got to know you more and your bond blossomed into something more, miguel couldn’t stop thinking about you. no matter what he was doing or where he was, his thoughts were constantly about you. never has he felt this way about a woman before. not even that one girl he used to hang out with during his late teen years made his heart beat fast like you do.

you’re special, so alluring.

as your trace your fingers along his scars, right above them, that remorse feeling grows stronger. “i’m so sorry…” your tender voice rings in miguel’s ears like a sweet melody. a sound that makes his heart swoon.

he can hear the remorse in your sweet voice and his heart aches a little. he appreciates your kindness, it’s sweet like candy. miguel might end up with a cavity because he can’t take your sweetness any longer.

“it’s okay…” he whispers, matching your gentle tone.

slowly turning his head, miguel glances down at you, still looking at his back before your eyes meet his. suddenly, the tension is stronger than ever. you hold each other’s gaze that feels like forever. those mesmerizing brown irises boring into your gorgeous ones, as if staring into your soul. myths have told that the eyes are the windows to the soul.

sudden heat develops in both your bodies, heart rate skyrockets due to the close proximity. you catch his eyes glance down at your lips, making your heart skip a beat. miguel couldn’t stop himself, those lips have been taunting him since the beginning. as if they’re begging for his. flashbacks of the night after the coney island trip, how he had the biggest temptation to claim those glossy lips but couldn’t out of fear of rejection. but this time, he can’t resist. not when you’re looking at him with those gorgeous eyes. it’s getting more difficult to resist you.

you’re so pretty close up. you were always pretty but fucking hell - you look so damn angelic and desirable. the warm lighting of your lamp does wonders on your features. you look so soft, you must feel so soft. of course he’s touched you before. the times he drove you home on his back, your arms hugging him as he drove. your fingers brushing against one another when passing things to each other. but miguel never truly felt you before. damn does he have the biggest urge to caress your cheeks, arms. to feel your softness against his roughness.

not once did his eyes look away from your lips. the longer he stares, miguel finds himself slowly moving closer as if there is some magnetic force. your heartbeat increases rapidly as he continues leaning closer. you don’t move, too lost in trance and nervous to move away. yet - you don’t wanna move away. the more he leans, the more your lashes flutter.

your lashes flutter rapidly as his face is right in front of yours. noses gently brushing against one another. hot, anxious breaths fanning each other’s as if it’s the only air you’re breathing. him being right there makes your core starting to throb, heavily with want.

since you’re not rejecting his approach, miguel takes that as a green light and finally does what he’s been waiting for. ever so gently and slowly, he captures your lips with his. fireworks explode in both your bodies. soft, just like he dreamed. you, on the other hand, were dying to feel those plump lips and it’s everything you dreamed of.

miguel doesn’t push further, not wanting to overwhelm you or unsure if you wish to continue. but since you don’t move away and he desire to taste more of you consumes his entire soul, miguel kisses you again but a bit deeper this time. his heart flutters when you kiss him back with the same passion.

the moment you two have been waiting for.

the kiss slowly grows more passionate. your lips dance together, savoring the taste of each other. instinctively, your hands rise up and gently cup his face. his bulky arms slowly wrap around you. gently holding you closer to his body, pressed against his solid, warm chest. shivers go down your spine as his hands roam slowly over your body. groping your curves gently yet a little possessively.

miguel quietly groans as you let out a soft moan when his hands continue grouping you. the sweet sound making his core throb and twitch. hearing him groan triggers something in you, wanting to hear it again. you start applying more pressure into the kiss, catching miguel by surprise. he lets out another heavenly groan as your dig your fingers into his soft, brown locks. gently tugging on them. fuck, the sensation makes his mind hazy.

things grow more heated. a full blown makeout session on your couch. soft moans and groans lingering in the air. hands roam over each other’s bodies. a soft gasp leaves your lips as you feel miguel’s calloused hands slipping under your sweater and touching more of your celestial skin. he’s going fucking crazy at the feeling of your soft skin in his hands, wanting to feel more and more. as of his life depends on you. as if you’re his life source.

while eating each other’s faces off, miguel leans forward causing you to lay back on the couch. he manages to settle in between your legs, his muscular structure hovering your smaller form. much to your dismay, his lips leaves yours but eases your concerns as they find themselves on your neck. a soft moan escapes your lips at the sensation, mind becoming hazy. one hand rested in his hair and the other gripping onto his shoulder. the bulging muscles under your fingertips. his hands continue roaming your body as miguel leaves sweet kisses on your neck, intending on marking you.

“m-miguel…”

that soft moan of his name drives him insane. he wants to hear more, in that exact tone. it causes him to roll his hips into yours, slowly dry humping you. it elicits more of those sweet noises from you. both your cores throbbing with intense want and need.

“i’ve—” one kiss. “been waiting—” another kiss. “for this—” a third. “for you—” a kiss then a suck.

you moan at his words and the sensation, back arched a little. “m-miguel, please…”

fuck, your pleading drives him crazy. making his cock twitch terribly in his gray sweats.

he doesn’t want to take you on the couch. you deserve to be worshiped properly, in bed surrounded by comfort. miguel swiftly picks you up, earning a gasp from you, and carries you in his arms as he hurriedly walks over to your bedroom. you quickly warp your arms around his shoulders, smiling at his eagerness. body overflowing with excitement.

once he makes it to your room, miguel carefully sets you down the bed. the plush mattress against your back. your lips never detach. more moans escape your lips as his returns to your neck, leaving more butterfly kisses. his hands roam over your body until he reaches the hem of your sweater and stops. lifting his head up, he glances down at you.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, giving a light tug at the hem of your sweater as emphasis.

you eagerly nod and miguel doesn’t hesitate. he slowly pulls up your sweater, revealing peeks of your celestial skin to his hungry eyes. as he carefully pulls it over your head and off your body, miguel inhales a sharp breath at the sight of expose torso. eyes dilating at the sight of your covered breasts, adorn in white lace of your cute bra. the cups of it hugging your breasts graciously, making him salivate.

tossing the discarded sweater somewhere in the room, miguel slowly reaches up with a hand and gingerly cups one breast, eliciting a soft gasp from you. your back immediately arches into his touch, sending jolts through your body. he observes your every move, how your body reacts to his touch. his hand is so fucking big, it covers your entire chest. he gives it a few squeezes, earning more of your sweet nosies, before leaning down into your cleavage and begins making out with your covered breasts. cupping them with both hands and kneading them.

your hands instinctively land in his hair, digging in those soft brown curls as soft moans spill from your lips at the incredible sensation miguel is giving you. panties growing damped, flooding inside.

“oh miguel~” you softly moan as his tongue slides over the roundness of your exposed breast.

he lets out a hum as he continues his attack on your delicate breasts. his kisses move down your body. licking and kissing your belly. a pitchier moan falls from your lips as miguel’s tongue slowly slides up your belly from your lower abdomen up to your diaphragm. your reaction makes him smile.

he reaches the hem of your light gray leggings and immediately glances up at you. “puedo?” he was a bit hesitant, hoping to not push your boundaries but your nod eased his worries.

gripping the sides of your leggings, miguel slowly drags them off your body. biting his lip as your matching panties are revealed to his lustful eyes. quietly groaning at the sight of the wet stain on your panties. a sign of your desire for him.

you feel a little embarrassed because you’ve never been this wet before. but the lustful glint in his eyes makes you feel a little better.

“is this okay—”

“miguel, please~” you whine, eagerly wiggling your hips as a desperate sign.

you’re getting inpatient and miguel can’t help but softly chuckle. how cute you are, so inpatient for him. desperate for him to ravish you, and he certainly will.

“relájate, bebé. i promise to take care of you.” he grips the edge of your panties and slowly slides them down your legs. “joder…” he curses at the sight of the fucking fountain between your thighs.

the sight of your glistening cunt is forever imbedded in his fucking mind. all of that because of him. his cock twitches harder, obviously poking through his sweats that are more tighter and uncomfortable.

getting on his knees, miguel grabs your thighs and pulls you closer towards him, making you squeal. his eyes remain on your glistening pussy, licking his lips in anticipation for the greatest meal that awaits him.

“gonna make you feel good, bebita.”

you shudder at that.

after putting your legs over his shoulders, miguel immediately dives into your pussy and attacks your clit. you yelp in surprise and throw your head back on the sheets. instinctively placing a hand in his hair. miguel continuously sucks and licks your precious pearl to earn more of your sweet reactions, overfill you with intense pleasure. he switches from sucking your clit to fucking your pussy with his tongue.

“miguel!” you moan, arching your back.

“dios, you—” one lick. “taste—” one big suck. “fucking—” another suck. “amazing.”

he couldn’t get enough of your sweet pussy. addicted to your sweet nectar. devouring you like a starve man as if you’re his final meal. if you let him, miguel would eat you out for eternity.

he is definitely pussydrunk.

the pleasure was getting too intense. the alternation of his lips sucking on your precious little clit then his thick tongue penetrating you. that familiar warm sensation in your tummy starts bubbling up.

“miguel—”

“lo sé, bebtia. lo sé.” he said in between slurps and licks. “dámelo.” a soft command.

his movement were getting faster, determined to make you come. it seems to be working due to your moans getting louder and pitchier. your back breaking into waves. fingers griping onto his hair, almost too painful but miguel doesn’t care. he’s too busy on making you see stars, or the whole universe.

in a matter of seconds, fireworks exploded. you come with a loud whine of his name. gushing all over his face with your sweetness. miguel drinks up all your sweetness as if he found an oasis, not letting one drop go to waste. he needs every ounce of you.

once he has his full, miguel finally gives your poor pussy a break and lifts up his head. half of his face glistening with your sweet nectar. a few strings of saliva attached to your pussy from his mouth.

“you taste amazing, bebita.” that earns him a soft whine which makes him smile.

standing up at the edge of the bed, miguel licks off the remains of your come around his mouth while his hands begin undoing his sweatpants. you remain laying on the bed, heavily fucked out by the amazing orgasm this man gave you. you feel the mattress dip and open your eyes to see this hunk of a man above you. his muscular frame hovering over you, making you feel so small in comparison to him. thick, muscular arms caging you in. yours eyes wonder around his body. the scrumptious body chair that makes you wanna run your fingers in. those toned abs decorated with that delicious happy trail that leads down to the thing you’ve been anticipating for.

holy fuck, he’s fucking huge.

at least eight inches. his girthy cock erected and throbbing for you. there is no way that will fit inside yet your throbbing pussy says otherwise.

he sensed your apprehension, his expression softens. “i’ll go gentle, bebé, lo prometo. if you need me to stop, dime. don’t be afraid to, vale?” miguel brings up a hand and caresses your cheek with such tenderness as a way to ease your worries.

his words bring you comfort, making you nod. that soft smile he gives you makes your heart flutter.

“lift up your hips for me.”

you obliged, lifting them when he slides a pillow underneath for support.

just as he grips his erected cock in one hand and aligns himself with your entrance, miguel quickly realizes you aren’t using protection.

“wait.” he quickly looks up at you, a little concern. “do you want me to get a—”

“i’m on the pill.” you quickly reassure him.

a sense of relief washes over him. miguel gives a small nod then proceeds to line himself with your dripping cunt. a shared moan mingles in the air as he slowly slides through your tight, warm walls.

“chinga…” miguel groans at the tightness of your walls, clenching onto him. “you’re fucking tight, bebtia. gotta breathe for me, okay?”

you could only answer in a small mewl, trying to follow his advice but he’s so damn big. you swear this man is gonna rip you in half.

miguel senses your discomfort, making his heart ache. “i’m gonna pull out.”

“don’t, please!” you grip onto his shoulder to prevent him from doing so, tugging him closer which makes miguel’s heart skip a beat. “i- i just need a second.”

“of course, bebita.” he coos, caressing your cheek.

once you’re comfortable enough and give him the green light, miguel continues sliding through at a slow pace until he finally bottoms out. you softly gasp as you feel so utterly full of him.

“tell me when, preciosa.”

“now, please~”

he softly chuckled at your eagerness. very slowly, he drags out his cock for a second before plunging it back inside you. a slow deep thrust, making you moan and arch your back.

his thrusts start off slow but deep, making sweet love to you. the bulbous tip of his cock kissing your sweet spot over and over, making you go crazy. he feels so good, so deep and thick. your tight walls squeezing the life out of his cock.

“fuck, bebé— you’re so— tight.” miguel groans in between phrases as you clench around him.

one of his hands reach towards your face and cups your cheek as he leans down and capture your lips in a passionate kiss. you reciprocate, your moans and whimpers muffled by his lips as his cock continues pumping in and out of your slick cunt. miguel sallowing those pretty sounds of yours.

“preciosa.” he coos, parting from your lips to gaze down at you with utter adoration. “mírame.”

opening your eyes, you look up at your handsome lover with fluttering lashes, softly whimpering. the corner of his plump lips curl up into a smile.

“mi niña preciosa.” miguel coos, earning a soft whimper from you. “making you feel good, hm?”

“y-yes.” you moan as he does a deep thrust.

he was making you feel good, so fucking good.

one of your hands falls flat on the bed. miguel delicately takes it with his larger, calloused hand and interlocks fingers. making the connection more intimate as you continue making love.

miguel eventually picks up his pace, his hips repeatedly snapping into yours. moans and groans mingle in the steamy air of delicious sex. obscure noises echoing around the four walls of your bedroom. the gentle pit-pat against the window due to the rain occurring in the outside world. it feels like you and miguel are in your own world. two souls connected as your bodies move in harmony. nothing else matters, only each other in this moment.

your lips connect, sallowing each other’s noises of pleasure as your love-making progresses intensely. his grip on your hip tightens as you clench around his cock for the millionth time.

“fuck, hermosa—” a groan escapes him, brows furrowed in pleasure. “you’re gonna make me come if you keep clenching me like that.”

your mind goes fucking haywire at the thought of miguel cumming inside you.

miguel is so lost in your sweet, little cunt. sucking him in and squeezing the life out of him. your nails digging into his muscular back. hissing a little at the sensation but oh so loves it so much.

“d-don’t stop.” you whimper, gripping onto his back as if your life depended on it.

“not gonna stop, preciosa. too fucking good to stop.”

the burning sensation in your core increases rapidly. an endless chorus of ecstasy falling from your mouth, moaning and panting as miguel’s cock plunges in and out of your tight cunt.

“miguel!~” you moan and arch your back as he hits that sweet spot with a deep thrust.

“i know, bebé. i know, i fuck—” a groan falls from his lips as he feels you clench around him so fucking tightly. sensing his forthcoming orgasm.

reaching down with a hand, he flicks your clit to give you more pleasure. each flick in unison of his thrusts. the sudden sensation makes you squeal loudly, digging your nails further into his back which causes miguel to groan. you both are about to burst.

“cum, mi amor. let go.” he purrs.

a couple more flicks and thrusts, you do with a loud moan of his name. singing so beautifully, his mind going haywire at the sight of you reaching the pinnacle of pleasure. so goddamn beautiful. gushing all over his cock with your sweetness.

miguel soon follows as his hips stutter before spilling himself inside of you with a moan. pumping you full of his cum, painting your walls white. you softly moan at the sensation, feeling so utterly filled.

you share one final passionate kiss before miguel carefully collapses on top of you. making sure not to put his full weight on you. arms wrapped around his shoulders, a hand in his hair, gently combing the soft curls through your fingers. miguel lets out a low hum at the calming sensation, burying his face in the pillow right beside your head as you both recover. your synchronized breathing echoing in the room.

after a few minutes of recovery, miguel lifts himself up by the elbows and looks down at you. “you okay?” he caresses your cheek with a hand so lovingly.

“yeah…” you answer, still a bit breathless.

“do you need anything?”

“water would be nice.” you weakly smile.

miguel mirrors your smile then plants a gentle kiss on your forehead before carefully pulling out. eliciting a soft whine from you. getting off the bed, miguel slips back into his boxers and quickly heads over to the bathroom to retrieve a wash cloth. returning with one in his hand, he kneels at the edge and carefully cleans in between your thighs. being so gentle as possible to not overwhelm you. giving your thighs gentle rubs as comfort as he cleans you up.

after discarding the now dirty wash cloth and put on fresh panties for you, miguel returns from the kitchen with your requested water bottle.

you start to sit up but miguel swiftly steps in and helps you, placing a hand on your back for support as he guides you. he brings up the water bottle that’s already opened to your lips and you take big sips. hugging the bed sheets up to your chest.

“thank you.” you softly smile at him as you finish.

“siempre.” he takes it back and places the plastic bottle on the nightstand then plants another kiss on your forehead. crouching beside you with his hand rubbing the small of your back in small circles. “estas hermosa…” he whispers, admiring your afterglow.

your cheeks warm up at his sweet compliment, leaning your face against his shoulder to conceal your bashful expression. “estas loco…”

“si, para ti.”

both of you chuckle, you rolling your eyes.

“alright, acuéstate, preciosa. you need rest.”

“and you don’t?” you arch a brow playfully.

“oh no i do, gonna knock out.”

you laugh more as he guides you to lay back down on the bed before he makes his way over to the other side of the bed and joins you. his arms scoop you up and you snuggle against his chest. letting out a soft sigh as you feel his body warmth. so smoothing and comforting, his heartbeat against your ear. causing you to start drifting away into sleep.

“rest well, bebita.” miguel whispers before slumber calls to his name as well. arms wrapped around you protectively as you both succumb to slumber.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[oharaslove]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 21

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: Día de Los Muertos, year three. Word Count: 11.6k Warnings: possible second hand embarrassment at the beginning; a new character introduced; some Spanish, but translations are in-text; mention of deceased loved ones; fluff and more fluff; face painting due to the celebrations; I think that's all??? 🤭 A/N: Hiii, just want to remind everyone that three new chapters were posted in early October. I know some readers missed one or two because the algo sucks, so check this post out to access all three chapters just in case you missed one! Music Inspo: "Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado" - Eydie Gormé, Los Panchos "Recuérdame (Arrullo)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Lucy Hernández "Remember Me (Lullaby)" - Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores, Libertad García Fonzi Masterlist

Part 21

You look around your apartment, making sure your place looks decent for the hundredth time. It smells good, you know that. Miguel told you so when he arrived earlier for breakfast with you. Unfortunately, he had to leave because you have a guest coming.

With a sigh, you return to your small kitchen to look at the coffee pot and freshly baked pastries you made for the occasion.

Despite spending the night in Nueva York at Miguel’s penthouse, you came back to your own place to bake because you’re expecting a person you never thought you’d be welcoming into your apartment ever again: Harry Osborn.

It’s been some time since you’ve seen him and ever since then, you decided to give him another chance. After debating for so long, you felt that it was right. At least, a part of you does. You have a feeling that neither Miguel nor the rest of the spider gang are happy with your decision because of Harry ditching you when you needed someone the most. You don’t blame them. If you were in their shoes, you’d probably dislike Harry, but well, you’re not in their shoes and you know Harry personally. There’s history with him, all the way to elementary school years. How can someone ignore that? Yet again, Harry did once, you suppose. You ultimately decided to do this for Peter, for his sake.

You figured he’d be open to giving Harry another chance, to maybe find out what happened, though that’s not a revelation you’re searching for right away. You’re sure with time, Harry will share the reason for his abrupt exit from your life. You’ve wondered already what the reason or reasons were, but none of your own explanations make sense. There was never a reason for him to do such a thing; to walk out of your life like you were no one to him.

There were no signs and that’s what made it hurtful, even if you were planning on cutting ties with him anyway when you thought you were doing everyone in your circle a favor by shutting them out. It came out of nowhere, just like your encounter with him that day at the flower stand, and now, you’re waiting for him to arrive to your home once more, so many years later.

You wipe the counter with a kitchen towel, feeling a bit anxious about this considering you’re practically strangers. Sighing heavily, you wish you were either going to be alone for the next hour or so, or back in Nueva York with Miguel at the penthouse.

You look at the spot where Miguel sat earlier during breakfast, the seat now empty. The two of you agreed that it was too soon for him and Harry to be introduced, at least in person and formally, so Miguel left about fifteen minutes ago.

That’s why you’re waiting for Harry alone, even though you wish you could’ve gone through the same multidimensional portal Miguel, who looked equally unenthusiastic about leaving you, opened. He didn’t say anything, but you could see and sense the hesitation. He didn’t want to leave you alone, but he had to.

Your cleaning ceases when you hear a knock at the door, realizing Harry is here. Breathing in and then out, you make your way to the door and look through the peephole to confirm. Seeing it’s Harry, you unlock and open the door with hesitation.

In front of you, Harry stares back at you, dressed in a business suit despite the fact that it’s Saturday, the second of November — Día de Los Muertos [Day of the Dead]. You notice he’s holding a bouquet of pretty flowers, but you don’t pay any more attention to it beyond that. Meeting your gaze, Harry offers a small smile, which you return.

Then, at the same time you offer your hand for a handshake, Harry steps in for a hug. He ends up running into your hand, freezing at the formal gesture before backing away in embarrassment.

“Sorry -” you start, lowering your hand.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that,” Harry apologizes with an awkward smile. He steps back again and then, simply offers the flowers. “These are for you. I was driving by the same little flower stand we ran into the other day, and I thought some flowers would be great since your building is back and running. Well… has been for a bit, but since I just arrived to the states, you know…” Harry trails off.

“That’s thoughtful of you, thank you,” you answer, carefully taking the flowers. “Come in.” You gesture for him to enter, closing the door once he’s inside. You lead the way to the kitchen. “Please take a seat. I have some coffee and freshly baked pastries.”

Behind you, Harry thanks you as he settles on the kitchen counter, taking one of the two chairs — Peter’s, or at least the chair that used to be his. “It’s so great to see you again,” Harry starts as you find a vase to place the flowers in. “I… Thank you for — for calling me back. I know you needed some time to think about it, and I… I’m grateful to have heard back from you. To be here after all this time.”

“I’m glad to have you here,” you answer, giving Harry a smile before continuing to fix the flowers. “Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re lovely.”

“Of course, I’m glad you like them,” he answers.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” Harry replies, prompting you to withdraw two mugs from a cupboard, even though you already had one coffee with Miguel. You carefully pour the fresh coffee and fix some pastries on a plate before placing everything on the counter.

“It smells great in here,” Harry comments, flashing you a grin when you place the mug in front of him. “It always smelled amazing here though, with your great baking.”

You hum and offer a smile, staring at the man you never thought you’d see in this apartment again. Seeing him sitting in front of you, with the rest of the apartment behind him is a strange sight. You can’t help but think that Harry looks out of place, even though there was a time in which he visited this place every weekend. He was once in photos that decorated your gallery wall, too. You swallow subtly. “Thanks. It’s the baking. It’ll make your home smell great for hours. And, the oven will warm up the place — so it’s perfect for the colder months, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s so cozy in here. It always was,” Harry says, looking around the kitchen for a few seconds, observing, or perhaps remembering the days he used to come over.

You’re about to respond with another weak answer when there’s a knock at the door. You both look equally surprise to hear it.

“Are you expecting someone else?” Harry asks, looking over his shoulder and at the door.

“No,” you answer, putting your mug down and walking around the counter towards the door. “Let me see who it is. Might just be a neighbor,” you add, reaching the door. You peek through the peephole, feeling your spider senses act up probably out of the nervousness and awkwardness from this get together. You step back, unlocking the door while looking at Harry. “It’s your… Chauffeur? Butler?”

“Felix?” you hear Harry ask as you open the door to face the older man.

“Hey,” you start softly. “Come in. Is something wrong?” you ask, wondering if there’s an issue.

Brown eyes thoroughly scan your face, as if memorizing it. You remember this is the first time the man has seen you up close, so you disregard his focus on your face.

“Felix?” Harry says, standing next to you now. “What’s wrong?”

“Forgive me, sir,” Felix says looking at Harry to address him before turning to you. “And ma’am. Nothing is wrong. I noticed Mr. Osborn left his wallet at his apartment and decided to bring it to him since he’s driving.”

“Oh, I could’ve sworn I did pick it up,” Harry says while Felix retrieves the wallet from his own suit. “I guess I was a little… Never mind. Thank you, Felix,” Harry continues, accepting the wallet and tucking it away. “Shouldn’t be driving around without a driver’s license, huh?” he asks, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“Certainly not,” you answer, still standing there, feeling Mr. Felix’s eyes on you. “You don’t want a ticket.”

“Definitely not,” Harry responds. “Thank you, Felix. As always, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help, sir. I’m sorry for my sudden appearance. I hope you and Ms. Y/N don’t mind the interruption,” the man says, lowering his face slightly as a form of apology before straightening again. “I shall leave you two now and return to my duties.”

“We don’t mind,” you answer, giving him a nod of understanding. “It’s kind of you to have brought Harry his wallet.”

Felix turns to face you, eyes meeting yours. You silently decide he’s about fifty years old or so, based on his demeanor at least. He nods back. “Just doing my job, ma’am, which I take very seriously.”

“Too seriously, sometimes, Felix,” Harry says with a bit of a chuckle, clasping his hand over the man’s shoulder. “He’s a great man, Y/N. He’s been working with me for years and I don’t plan to let him go until he decides to retire, which he states he has no plans on doing, so, he’ll be my right hand indefinitely.”

Offering a smile, you extend your arm to formally greet him, a sight that makes Harry wince internally when he remembers the awkward moment you both had earlier when he arrived. You introduce yourself and shake the man’s hand when he accepts yours.

“Felix. Felix Kerr,” he introduces himself, giving you a firm handshake while holding your gaze. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am. I have heard nothing but wonderful things about you from Mr. Osborn and his father.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir. And that’s kind of you, and of Harry and Mr. Osborn,” you reply, withdrawing your hand and turning to Harry. “We’ve known each other since elementary.”

“A long time,” Harry says with a grin before he remembers that you’re not so acquainted with each other anymore. As if sensing his boss’s change, Mr. Kerr nods at him.

“I’ll be at the apartment, sir. Please notify me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Felix. I doubt I will, but I appreciate it. Careful on your way back,” Harry softly says.

“Will do, sir. Ma’am,” Mr. Kerr addresses you once more, nodding at you before turning on his heel and leaving.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says as you gently close the door.

“It’s no problem, no need to apologize,” you answer. “You needed your wallet. Please, take a seat. Again,” you say with a soft amused smile, trying to break down the awkwardness. “Before the coffee and pastries gets cold.”

You both reach your previous spots again now that his personal assistant, or whatever title Mr. Kerr has, is gone.

Harry picks up his mug and takes a sip, smiling at you. “It’s great. Thank you for it.”

“You’re welcome.” You smile slightly, twirling a spoon in your coffee. “So… How was your trip? Did everything go smoothly?” you ask, hoping to make conversation, which you succeed because for the next thirty minutes, Harry tells you all about his trip from the elegant and luxurious hotel he stayed at, the food he ate, a brief summary of the business dealings, and what he did on his free time. You try to ask questions to keep the conversation going, showing interest. You figure this is a good way to begin to know the man in front of you again.

“But enough about me. What have you been up to? How was your move-in?” Harry asks once he’s done telling you about the different historic locations he visited on his free time.

“It went well. Smoothly,” you state. “I had to clean, a lot, but it didn’t take me too long.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harry says nodding, turning on his seat to look at the living room. “You had… help, I hope?”

You look at the living room, not answering for a few a seconds. “Yeah, I did. Thankfully,” you answer simply, not providing any more information beyond that, like how it was Miguel who helped you clean.

Harry hums and stands up, walking closer to the living room, still looking around. “It looks so different,” he murmurs. “Despite the fact that it’s still the same place.”

“Yeah… It’s been some time since you were here,” you reply, opting to keep to yourself that only over a year ago you redecorated the place for the first time. You don’t want Harry to know that you kept the apartment the same for years after Peter’s death, from the furniture to the placement of objects.

“I know,” Harry replies with a sigh, moving to touch the couch. “You’ve changed the couch.”

“I did,” you say, remembering that the old one is still at Miguel’s place in storage. Staring at the new one, you realize maybe it’s time to fully depart with the old one. You haven’t even thought much about it. You suppose it’s true what some people say: out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps much like you’ve been for Harry and him for you. “It was time to replace it, unfortunately.”

Harry nods and turns around, his eyes landing on the gallery wall where photos that included him used to be displayed. Now, there are photos of your new friends. With interest, Harry gazes at them, walking closer.

You watch him carefully, knowing this will be the first time that Harry looks at the entire spider gang and Miguel.

“Are these — Are these your new friends?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” you simply answer, moving so you can look at the photos, too. Your eyes spot the various photos that you left up since you made sure to remove every single photo in which you or any of your friends are wearing their super suits to avoid revealing your super hero identity and raising suspicions.

Harry nods again, his eyes stopping on a photo specifically — the one of Miguel and you with Mayday from New Year’s Eve. “Hm… That little kid again. What was her name again?”

“Mayday.”

“Mayday, that’s right…” Harry trails off, still staring at the photo.

Based on his interest, there’s no doubt in your mind that Harry is wondering about the man next to you in the photo, the one with the little kid on his shoulder.

“Is that her dad?”

“No. That man isn't her dad. Her dad's name is — “ you pause when you almost say Peter's name, realizing it might be weird for Harry to hear that you befriended a Peter after your own. “Benjamin. He's a good friend of mine along with his wife.”

“Benjamin…” Harry hums at that. “Is this ‘Mig’?” Harry asks, reminding you of your first encounter with him at that flower stand after years of not seeing each other. You were grocery shopping with Mayday and after a bit of conversation, Harry invited you to a coffee shop for a drink. It was there that Harry asked about your living situation because he had learned about the fire to which Mayday eagerly replied with ‘Mig’ — unfortunately revealing that you were staying at someone’s place. Thankfully, Harry didn’t prod for answers then. You recall his answer to Mayday’s simple response was that as long as you were safe, that’s all that mattered.

Now, it seems that Harry wishes to know more, especially now that he’s seeing all these new faces on your gallery wall. It must be strange for him, you realize, to see that the people you both knew once — laughed, ate, shared jokes and memories with — are no longer part of this space, and instead, there’s all these new people that are now your family, but strangers to him.

You stare at the photograph, at Miguel specifically. There’s no point in denying, or withholding information when you’ve left all these photographs out. You didn’t want to hide them. Hiding them would mean hiding the people who’ve brought you so much happiness, who have become your family. It didn’t feel right to hide them, the small family who took you in when you were all alone and helped you be where you’re now, not even to protect the feelings of the stranger in your living room who you once knew so well.

“Yes, his name is Miguel,” you finally say, not providing a last name. “And he’s my best friend,” you add, with a firmness and pride that leaves no doubt in Harry’s mind that you mean those words with every fiber of your being.

He turns to face you, tearing his gaze away from the man, Miguel, who seems to be in a lot of pictures with you. He hasn’t failed to notice that, of course. He'd be blind to not notice that Miguel makes up a big portion of your gallery wall.

In fact, the number of photos this Miguel is in, is the same amount as Peter, your Peter.

“Your best friend,” Harry repeats, with that thought on his mind. This man is your best friend, and he along with Peter, make up the majority of your gallery wall. This man is part of the gallery wall just as much as Peter, your previous best friend and lover, is. That thought makes Harry grow still before his eyes flicker to your left hand for a second, as if searching for something. His gaze returns to your face when he finds nothing special, yet the idea doesn’t abandon his head entirely. “I’m glad you have people to rely on,” he continues some seconds later, giving you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though you don’t notice that. “They seem like good people.”

“They are. They’ve been an amazing support system over the last few years,” you answer, turning to the gallery to scan your friends’ faces. A smile, one so warm and gentle, so tender, forms on your face.

“You truly seem happy,” Harry comments, taking notice of the smile. “I’m happy for you.” After a pause, Harry turns to the photos again. “So… This is who you were staying with… This Miguel?”

“Yes,” you simply reply. “With Miguel.”

Nodding once more, Harry turns to face the photos again. His eyes scan every photo with the man. There’s the one with you and him and Mayday on New Year’s Eve. There’s the two of you putting together some kind of furniture piece, which Harry quickly realizes is the new bookshelf in your living room.

The realization leads Harry to register the truth — this man is important to you and ingrained in your life, so much he's helped you build furniture for your apartment’s new look, which seems like a too personal task. A task that only close friends, or a boyfriend, would do. At least, in his mind it seems that way.

Harry continues to look at the photos before his phone begins to ring, startling the two of you. He apologizes for the interruption before taking the call.

Remaining in the same spot, you listen silently. It seems to be about work.

“I’ll be there soon,” you hear him say quietly. “See you in a bit. Bye.”

Hearing him end the call, you turn to face him. “Everything okay?”

“Yes… Yes, everything is okay. I just — I must go. Something came up at work,” Harry says, his tone apologetic. “I’m needed, so I must go now. Being the boss's son sometimes means work on Saturday. I’m sorry for how abruptly I’m departing.”

“That’s alright. I understand. Work is work,” you answer, genuinely. “Do you want some of the pastries to go?”

“I — Do you mind?” he asks, slipping his phone into his jacket’s pocket.

“Not at all,” you say, quickly entering your small kitchen to pack some of the pastries for him. In seconds, you gather a few pieces and wrap them up for him to take. “Here you go.” You hand him the package. “I hope you enjoy them. Maybe you can give one to your dad. Tell him I said hi, by the way.”

Harry takes the package and nods. “Thank you so much. I will. I told him I was coming here, so he knows. He was happy about it,” he says, giving you a smile before you both move to the door. Harry’s strides are long and quick, so much his handkerchief falls to the ground without his knowledge.

You stop and pick up the dark green piece of fabric. “Harry, you dropped your handkerchief.”

“Oh, I didn’t even realize,” Harry says, turning around to take it from your extended hand. He easily slips it back in place. “Thank you. For that, and for the coffee and pastries. And for having me here, in your home.” He looks down at the package with pastries, trying to formulate the words before speaking. Once he gathers his thoughts, he looks up at you again. “Thank you for the chance you’ve given me — You have no idea how much it means to me, Y/N. Thank you,” he gently states, stepping closer and looking at you.

“It was nice having you here,” you answer genuinely despite everything. “I hope you enjoyed the coffee and pastries, and of course… You’re welcomed here.”

Harry smiles slowly at you before he steps closer. “May I… May I hug you?”

You nod slowly, agreeing to it, and that’s all Harry needs. He carefully wraps his arms around you, placing his chin on your shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, you hesitantly place your hands on his shoulders from beneath his arms, staring at the ceiling and feeling weird about hugging Harry after all this time.

You close your eyes slowly and think about all the times you’ve hugged your friends, the spider gang, before you think of someone else. Unbeknownst to Harry, you think about hugging that someone else: the man in your photos Harry kept staring at, Miguel.

You frown slightly. You got a hug from Harry Osborn, someone who hasn’t been in your life for years, before you got a hug from Miguel, your best friend.

At last, to your relief, Harry pulls back and so do you. You offer him a smile. “Go. Work calls.”

Reaching the door again and opening it, Harry gives you another smile. “Yeah, I must get going. Thank you again for everything. Be careful alright?” he says, already halfway out, his gaze sweeping over the place once more, thinking about the new look of your apartment and the fact that Miguel helped you — that that man has been here in your home and helped you redecorate it.

“Will do,” you reply as he begins to close the door. “You, too.”

“I will,” Harry says, waving goodbye and beginning to close the door, but stopping at the last second. You stare at each other for a few seconds. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N?”

You nod your head, confirming. “Yes, soon.”

“I’m relieved, thank you. Take care.”

“You, too,” you answer, waving goodbye.

With that, Harry finally closes the door. After a few seconds, you lock it and sigh, leaning on it. That was a bit awkward.

You finally push yourself off the door and clean up the kitchen before you hang the other photographs back on the wall. Over half an hour later, you change into your suit and slip out of your apartment for a quick patrol of your city, trying to clear your mind after meeting with Harry.

You swing around the city for almost an hour, stopping a bank robbery and a petty criminal from stealing someone’s purse in that time span. You eventually travel to Nueva York, where Miguel waits for you at the penthouse.

“Hiiii,” you say, offering a smile to Miguel as soon as you step out into the living room. You find him carefully laying out some of the decorations for his ofrenda [Day of the Dead altar] on the coffee table, preparing.

Hearing your voice first before he sees you, Miguel smiles and turns to face you. “Hey, how did it go?”

You sigh and sit down on the couch. “It went.”

Chuckling, Miguel sits down across from you as well, deciding to take a break to give you his full attention. “Was it that bad?”

“When he first arrived, he was going for a hug and I offered him a handshake,” you confess, feeling a rush of embarrassment at that. You press your hands to your forehead and sigh. “So embarrassing. And awkward.”

Miguel offers you a small smile of understanding, though his interest perks up when he hears Osborn went straight for a hug. He clears his throat. “That sounds uncomfortable. How did you handle it?” he asks, curious to know if you eventually hugged Osborn.

“We apologized to each other, and then, he gave me some flowers he brought,” you state, leaning back on the couch.

Flowers? Miguel watches you lean back, noticing the little get together got to you a bit. He hums, thinking about the interaction.

“We talked for a bit about his business trip over coffee and pastries. He eventually looked around the living room and saw my gallery wall. He asked about you,” you continue to share.

“He did?” Miguel asks, intrigued by that.

“Yes. He remembered that Mayday mentioned a ‘Mig’ that day we ran into him at the flower stand. He looked at one of the photos of you and I with Mayday, one from New Year’s Eve. He asked if you were ‘Mig’ and I confirmed it. I told him your name — just your first one — and that you’re my best friend.”

Hearing you say that, and the way you say it so proudly, brings a gentle blush to Miguel’s cheeks. He smiles fondly at you, elated with the fact that you told Osborn about him. Miguel silently wonders what Osborn thought about him and the rest of your friends, however.

“After that, he said he was glad that I have a support system,” you continue, telling him about the remainder of the get together, including the hug at the end.

The revelation that Osborn got a hug from you after all, leaves a slight pout on Miguel’s lips and a strange feeling he doesn’t have enough time to identify. All Miguel knows is that Osborn seems to have received what he wanted from the start.

“It was a bit awkward, but I suppose it will be like that for a bit, considering we’re basically strangers at this point. It’ll take some time before that feeling goes away. Anyway, I’m glad we had that little get together, no matter how uneasy it felt, and even gladder that I’m here again. I’m so excited to cook and bake, and help you set up your ofrenda,” you eagerly say, standing up.

“I’m excited, too. I started on a few things already to ease the workload. I’ve set up the other pots and pans we’ll be using, the dry ingredients, and the supplies for the ofrenda. I figured it would help since gathering the things takes a bit of time, too. I also finished the filling for the tamales [Latin dish].”

“Gathering everything is a process of its own,” you agree. “Collecting everything, or as much as you can, beforehand, helps so much. You avoid the running back and forth when you’re actually doing the task, and prevents you from entirely skipping a step because you’re all over the place. It’ll make the process run much smoother being organized, especially since we’re doing a lot of cooking! Do you want to start now?” you ask with so much excitement it’s clear to Miguel you’ve been looking forward to this.

“If you want to, yes,” Miguel answers, standing up as well. “But first, I think you might want to change into more comfortable clothing since we’re doing a lot.”

You look down at yourself, remembering you’re wearing your suit. “You’re right. I’ll be right back!” you tell Miguel, already halfway to the stairs.

After changing into far more comfortable clothes — clothes you’ve left in your bedroom, at Miguel’s penthouse — and turning on his record player, Miguel and you begin to work on the food for the ofrenda.

Hominy for the pozole [Latin dish] is placed in a pot to boil along with the necessary vegetables needed for the sauce and flavor.

With that done, Miguel makes the masa [dough] for tamales, so you can begin making them.

As always, you work together with ease. You move around the kitchen in sync, making steady progress while Latin romantic ballads play in the background.

You also open the packages of candy and set them on a tray to later offer to each of Miguel's family members.

Little by little, progress is being made. You reach a point in the cooking that allows you to take a break and have lunch before you both set up the ofrenda, using tables and shelves to give it two levels.

White tablecloths are used as the base before gorgeous and vibrant banners made out of papel picado [pecked paper] with intricate designs cut into it are hanged at the edge of each level. Colorful and handmade sugar skulls are placed throughout both levels along with white candles to be lit later on.

To finish, both Miguel and you add marigold flowers to the ofrenda. They're fresh and so lively, their scent filling Miguel's living room, where he decided to set his ofrenda this year.

While placing a flower down, you find it hard to believe that you’re here now. Three years ago, Miguel showed up to your apartment out of nowhere. Smiling, you recall that evening.

You were doing chores, specifically putting items away where they belonged and laundry. All of a sudden, you sensed a portal and when you stepped out into the living room, there he was, Miguel. He looked around your apartment, probably noticing the autumn decorations before you asked him if everything was okay. You were surprised by his random appearance and even more so because he looked calm, so your guess was that nothing was amiss. Still, you had to ask just in case you needed to change into your suit.

“Are you busy right now?” Miguel asked after he assured you everything was fine.

“I was just doing some chores, so, no…” you replied, unsure of why Miguel was there so late. He was calm and said nothing was wrong, so that meant there was no threat to the multiverse. At least, that was your impression.

After nodding and sighing to himself, he told you his reasoning for being there. “I would like — to show you something,” he said, meeting your gaze.

In the span of minutes, if even that, you were in the lab and looking at Miguel’s ofrenda for his family.

That was what he wanted to show you, his offering and way of honoring and celebrating those who were once in his life, but now gone. By doing so, Miguel also wanted to assure you that your own way of honoring and celebrating Peter was okay — that you weren’t alone. It was a way of reciprocating the vulnerability you had allowed Miguel to see on Peter’s birthday. And since you had made him part of your celebration, Miguel wanted to do the same for you, something that brought you so much tenderness at the time and continues to do so to this day.

Now, three years later, you’re at his penthouse helping Miguel set up his ofrenda again, just like last year. The difference now is that you’re here instead of at the lab because Miguel decided to set it up at home since he spends more time here than he did in the past. You hum softly and place the last flower before turning to look at Miguel just as he adjusts Gabriel's photo.

You smile at the sight. Gabriel, Gabriel O’Hara. How you wish you could’ve met him and Gabby, the same way Miguel wishes you could’ve.

Heck, Miguel even wishes you could’ve met Conchata. Perhaps she would’ve liked you. Perhaps she would’ve done better as a mother and grandmother to Gabby if all three of them were still alive. Perhaps.

You look at each photo before meeting Miguel’s gaze, both your mouths curving upwards into a smile.

“I was thinking,” Miguel says, still smiling, but with a hint of shyness and hesitation. Perhaps it’s too much what he’s about to say, what he’s about to offer. He scratches his neck nervously, his cheeks red. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, or offensive. Or… find it weird, or to be too much,” he continues, rambling without realizing it. “I was wondering if you’d like to — like to add your loved ones’ photos, too?” Miguel manages to ask at last, staring at you sheepishly. He has been thinking about it for days, about asking you, but he kept going back and forth on the idea, and now it’s Día de Los Muertos and you’re both here. Maybe it’s a stupid idea, or too much since it’s about your deceased loved ones. Miguel almost begins to apologize for the bad idea, but then he notices the look of surprise and then tenderness on your face.

You slowly smile at him, a sweet smile. “You’re serious?”

“Yes… Yes, I am,” Miguel gently replies.

“But this is for family,” you state softly, wondering if Miguel has truly thought this through.

Miguel nods and that’s how you realize that he knows, that you’re making his point. It’s for family. He’s offering your loved ones a place on his ofrenda because you’re… Family.

You’re part of Miguel’s family.

“Oh…” you simply answer, a small knot forming in your throat before you push it down by swallowing. You smile. “Are you sure? I mean…” you look at the ofrenda, thinking. “It’s your ofrenda and I don’t have any food for them anyway, and I don’t want to crowd —”

“There’s plenty of space,” Miguel says gently. “As to the food, I can help you cook just like you’ve helped me. There’s plenty of time for it.” Noticing your smile, Miguel smiles, too. “Just say the word,” Miguel continues. “And we'll start immediately.”

That’s how, a bit later, the ofrenda is no longer only Miguel’s. It’s his and yours.

Instead of only four portraits, there’s seven. There’s one of both your parents, one of Aunt May and Uncle Ben, Peter, Conchata, Gabby, Gabriel, and Miguel’s wife. Like Miguel, you’ll be offering favorite foods and snacks later on when he does, too. Additionally, you went ahead and added belongings to your loved ones that were significant to them in life. For Peter, you’ve obviously offered his record player and favorite albums.

When you place the last one, a Billie Holiday album, you step back to look at everything. There’s even more sugar skulls, candles, and banners than before. And, the scent of marigolds? It has grown tenfold because more were acquired by Miguel, who went out on a quick trip to buy more.

You smile, feeling thankful for the kind and sweet gesture and privilege to share and partake in such a beautiful tradition with Miguel.

“There,” Miguel gently says with his own smile, staring at the ofrenda with everyone now. He hums and readjusts a flower in front of your parents’ photo before stepping back, standing next to you. “We can place the food in a bit,” Miguel offers before something catches his attention through the windows.

A few seconds later, you both walk to the windows to look closer. Vibrant holographic sugar skulls decorate the sky above Nueva York’s downtown, announcing that the celebrations have started.

At the sight, Miguel smiles softly. It’s been several years since he’s gone to any of those events. Too many years. He slowly turns to face you, noting the smile and intrigue in your eyes. He doesn’t even think about it twice before he makes another offer. “Do you want to go?” he asks. “There’s always live performances, amazing food, small businesses, and great music.”

“Really?” you ask softly, looking at him. “Do you want to go?”

With you? Anywhere. Miguel grins and nods, not sharing that thought. “I’m up for it, if you are.”

You chuckle with a spark in your eyes. “I’d love to!”

-♡-

When you reach Nueva York’s beautiful downtown, the sight of sugar skulls and marigolds greet your and Miguel’s eyes. Lively music reaches your ears and the wonderful, mouthwatering scent of food sold from food trucks reaches your noses.

As you both walk side by side, you notice children eagerly pointing to the holographic sugar skulls in the sky, trying to get their adults’ attention. Countless of people walk around with their faces painted in the traditional sugar skull makeup with intricate patterns. You also notice that many girls and women walk around with beautiful and bright hair accessories, many of which include big flowers.

Pulling your jacket closer to you due to the chilly weather, you smile in delight because of the spirit. There’s always an energy to Nueva York, but tonight, you can sense a different kind — one that seems to be almost pulsing. You silently wonder if that energy comes from those who have departed this physical world, but are visiting their loved ones still on Earth once more.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a lady from a small booth beckons Miguel and you with a bright smile. You glance at Miguel before looking back at the lady, quickly realizing the service she’s providing: painting people’s faces for the celebrations.

“Would you guys like to have your faces painted? I have a special price for couples!” the woman offers, still smiling.

You look away with a small smile. There it is again.

Only three weeks ago on Miguel’s birthday, back in your universe, Mr. Stanley assumed Miguel is your boyfriend. Now, there’s this lady also making the assumption. Thankfully, Miguel didn’t seem to mind. He said it was an innocent assumption, which calmed your worries about him being offended that day.

Next to you, Miguel scratches his neck after hearing the woman’s words. Once again, someone has assumed you’re dating. Despite how many times he’s been told that personally, Miguel still finds it surprising. Do the two of you give that impression? He wonders, considering that this lady has to be the fifth or sixth person to make that innocent assumption. He then wonders how many more people make that silent presumption just from seeing the two of you walking around. Before he has a chance to think further, like what does it mean that you’re being mistaken as a couple, you smile and walk to the booth to look at the different design options. And, of course, Miguel follows you.

“You can do matching, or different designs if you wish,” the lady offers. “I can do different eye colors, too. And, just letting you know, my friend in the next booth is selling hair pieces if you’d like to complete the look, señorita [miss].”

“That sounds lovely! Thank you for letting me know,” you answer politely before looking at the lady’s work again.

“Do you want to get it done?” Miguel asks after he thanks her, too.

“I…” you trail off and look at him, wondering if it’s okay.

“If you want to, you should. It’s fun,” Miguel gently says with a small smile. “We have time, too.”

“Alright!” you happily answer before the lady leads you to a chair and begins to ask you what design you’d like.

Meanwhile, Miguel watches from the side, intrigued by the process. He leans on a street lamp, slipping both his hands into his pockets as he quietly listens to you and the lady make small talk while she paints your face. Unbeknownst to him, Miguel looks like a devoted boyfriend and/or husband, waiting on his partner.

To Miguel’s surprise, it doesn’t take long for the lady to finish the makeup, but then again, he realizes that the lady must have a lot of experience and your face is probably one of hundreds she’s painted today alone.

You stand up and look at yourself through a handheld mirror that the lady offers you, admiring and thanking her for the wonderful service before you return the mirror. You then reach into your pocket for money — cash you’ve converted to this dimension’s — to pay the lady, but before you even get a chance to pull it out, Miguel has already handed the woman a bill.

“Miguel —” you start, but Miguel politely shakes his head at you just as the lady, who silently finds the interaction cute, takes the money.

“It’s on me. Keep the change, doña [short for señora/madam],” Miguel says.

“You’re paying for two people, mijo [term of endearment; my son],” the lady says. “Let me give you your change.”

“No, that’s alright, really,” Miguel insists.

“At least, let me paint your face, mijo. You’re not only paying for your girlfriend’s, but for one more person. You might as well.”

“I don’t…” Miguel starts, but trails off. He’s unsure of how to explain to the kind lady that he’s not open to someone touching his face plus feeling sheepish because she’s called you his ‘girlfriend’.

“Your girlfriend can do it, if you want,” the lady offers, picking up on Miguel’s reluctance.

Standing there, your cheeks feel hot. Not once, but twice has this lady said you’re Miguel’s girlfriend. Pushing past that, you glance at Miguel. “I can if you want, Migs,” you offer.

Miguel looks around for a few seconds before nodding. “If that’s okay… Alright.”

Once Miguel agrees, the lady quickly sets things for you on the other side of the table, so she can continue to work if other customers arrive. In a minute or two, you’re sitting in front of Miguel with a makeup brush in your hand. You begin by painting his entire face with white paint, just like yours. While you do so, Miguel stares at the tent’s ceiling, not failing to notice how close the two of you are sitting. You’re so close to each other that your knees are slightly pressed against each other’s.

After a few seconds, Miguel finally looks at you. His gaze travels over your face, taking the opportunity to look at the painted details now that you’re closer. His eyes stop at your own, noting that you chose a light purple color for eye shadow.

“You chose purple,” Miguel states as you paint one of his cheeks, almost done with the white paint.

“Mhm,” you simply answer, eyebrows furrowed. You look away to gather more paint before resuming. “I chose it because of Gabby, since she loved the color lilac.”

Miguel’s lips part in surprise. He hadn’t made that connection, but now that he knows, his chest flutters with ternura [tenderness]. You chose it for Gabby, his daughter. He smiles, even as you work the brush against his cheek again. “That’s so sweet of you,” Miguel says very softly so the lady doesn’t hear.

You smile back, your cheeks warm. “I just thought it would be… Nice. In her honor.”

“It’s more than nice. It’s sweet, Dulzura,” Miguel answers. “It’s a sweet gesture and I like to think that wherever Gabby is… Perhaps here… She’s appreciating it.”

“I’m sure she’s here,” you answer, reassuring Miguel. “With you.”

Smiling, Miguel nods. “With us.”

“With us…” you repeat softly, your chest filling with happiness at the fact that Miguel said ‘with us’.

Once done with the white paint, you switch to black paint and begin to draw the lines on Miguel’s face. You do the cheekbones and teeth first, finding it the easiest to do. Then, you do his nose by drawing an upside down heart at the tip, finding it cute. You draw circles around his eyes next, tracing Miguel’s orbital cavities, before filling them in and adding a decorative outline.

When you reach his forehead, you think about it. You had flowers drawn on yours, but you don’t want to do that for Miguel. You wish to do something different, something more fitting for him, but what? You hum softly before you begin to draw.

You carefully draw a sun in the middle of Miguel’s forehead, with little rays coming from it to indicate that it’s shining. When you’re done with that, you add a few more details above Miguel’s eyebrows. With a smile, you pull back when you’re fully done and grab the handheld mirror so Miguel can see the final result.

“You drew a sun,” Miguel murmurs with a smile when he sees it.

“Yep,” you say proudly. “Solecito [little sun].”

Miguel’s eyes move from the mirror to you, finding a grin on your face.

“What?” you say. “Some time ago, you jokingly said you were everyone’s solecito. ‘A ball of sunshine’, if I recall correctly.”

“It was sarcasm,” Miguel says, chuckling. “I’m not.”

You sigh and put away the makeup brushes. “For them, maybe.”

“Wh-what?” Miguel stutters, caught by surprise.

With a smile, you close the paints. “I’m saying you’re a ball of sunshine. To me.” You look up, closing the last paint. “Solecito.”

“Solecito,” Miguel repeats, his cheeks growing hot. “Little sun.”

“Mi solecito [my little sun],” you say this time, nodding with a warm smile, leaving Miguel speechless when you add the ‘mi’. Your little sun. You’re saying he’s your little sun. You stand up and grab the materials before walking to the lady to return them. “Here’s everything, ma’am. Thank you so much!”

Meanwhile, Miguel’s brain is having a moment. He’s never been given such a nickname by anyone. Ever. And now he’s your little sun — your ball of sunshine. Miguel’s cheeks grow hotter the longer he sits there, your sweet nickname echoing in his mind, leaving him flustered.

Your solecito.

“Are you ready for the live performances?” you ask, standing in front of him, so eager to go while Miguel’s brain is short circuiting.

“Si [yes],” Miguel replies, clearing his throat. “Yes. I’m ready.”

Miguel forces himself to stand up, trying to push past his pleasant surprise from your new nickname for him. You both thank the lady and wish her well with her business before walking away, happy with the service.

Walking again, Miguel continues to push past his feelings when he spots the small business the lady who painted your faces mentioned earlier. His gaze quickly sweeps over the beautiful hair accessories, which reminds him of the lady’s words, about how you can complete your look with something like that. He stops walking, something you quickly notice.

“Miguel?” you ask, wondering what’s up.

“There’s hair accessories,” Miguel states, staring at one of the tables with organized accessories. He flashes you a grin and gestures for you to follow him before he walks to the booth, leaving you wondering.

You slowly reach his side, finding him already talking with the owner.

“We have several options. Are you looking for a specific color?” the woman asks.

“Hmm, Dulzura,” Miguel turns to face you. “Do you want it to match your makeup?”

You smile, realizing. “I suppose it would be appropriate,” you answer.

“Something purple, please,” Miguel politely says before the lady shows the two of you all the options she has.

The lady shows you headbands, bows, and other cute dainty hair accessories — all with the color purple in different shades. You watch with careful attention as she shows you thing after thing, all so beautiful you’re undecided on which one to buy until you turn to Miguel, who lifts a headband from another table to inspect it. Gazing at it more closely, you realize the headband has handmade flowers out of lilac and white ribbons. It also has some hints of pink due to smaller decorations glued to the ribbons for a little dazzle.

“That one, please,” you say with a smile.

“This one?” Miguel asks with a smile, moving it forward so you can get a better look at it.

“That one,” you confirm, finding it beautiful.

“We’ll take this one, then,” Miguel says, looking at the price tag. Before you even have a chance to pull out your money, Miguel, once again, pulls out his wallet and pays.

“Miguel,” you say softly.

“What is it?” Miguel asks, already knowing by the little pout on your lips.

“You can’t keep paying for everything, you know.”

Miguel grins. “It’s my treat, so please let me,” he answers with amusement before he steps closer to you. To your immense surprise, Miguel steps even closer while holding the headband in both hands. He moves them closer to your head carefully and slowly, as if to avoid startling you. And then, to add to your growing surprise, Miguel gently slips the headband on your head.

You’re so caught off guard by Miguel’s brave gesture that you’re not sure if you misheard yourself gasping, but you’re aware of your widened eyes and parted lips.

Happy with the way the headband looks and how it adorns your hair, Miguel steps back with a soft smile. A gentle blush covers not only his cheeks, but also the top of his ears. For a few seconds, Miguel seems to avoid your wide gaze out of shyness. At last, he meets your eyes, still finding surprise on your face. “Does it feel okay?” Miguel asks, slowly and almost reluctantly taking another step back to give you space.

“Ye-yes,” you answer softly, speechless. You clear your throat and smile, trying to shake off the surprise, or at least not make it so obvious that you're shocked. “Yes. It's fine. Perfect, actually,” you continue with a smile.

“Good,” Miguel says with a small grin. “Now your look is complete, Dulzura.”

“Your change, sir,” the business owner says, dropping the money on his hand.

While Miguel thanks the lady, your eyes land on a beautiful bow. It's lilac with little white pearls lining the two tails. You gently pick it up, imagining that little girl with the toothy smile who loved science and fútbol so much wearing it.

In seconds, you imagine what it'd be like if she was here. You can picture Miguel carrying her on his shoulders, both their faces painted for the celebrations. If she was walking, you can imagine her holding his hand as they walk, tugging him to the small businesses to see everything. You even imagine her pulling him to this booth and picking this very bow because it matches her dress.

Smiling, you check the tag before pulling money out. “I'd like to buy this one, please,” you tell the lady once Miguel finishes talking with her.

Miguel turns to look at you, surprised. “You should've told me you liked that one, too. I can pay —” Miguel starts but you hand the money to the lady before he can finish.

“It’s for Gabby and I wish to pay for it,” you gently reply to Miguel.

“Would you like to get this packaged?” the lady offers.

“Please. That way it doesn't get damaged on the way home,” you answer.

“Of course. Are you guys going home to your child? A little girl, maybe?” the woman asks the two of you with a smile, making another innocent assumption that you both have a daughter.

“I…” you trail off before you start to shake your head.

“My daughter — she — she's no longer with us,” Miguel explains gently, though not explaining that Gabby is just his daughter.

The lady's face softens when she hears that. “Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss,” she replies full of sincerity. She closes the small box and hands it to you, your money on top. “It's on the house, for your little girl.”

Both Miguel and you decline politely at the same time, but the lady gently pushes the box into your hands.

“Please. As a gift,” she insists, still pushing the box into your hands.

You accept it hesitantly, only to not come off as rude. You pick up the money bill and offer it again. “Please-”

“No, no. Please take it. For your daughter,” the lady continues, stepping back. “I want you to. Accept it as a Día de Los Muertos gift. I hope your little one enjoys it.”

You sigh softly and lower your hand. “Thank you so much,” you reply, holding the box carefully.

“Gracias, doña. You didn’t have to, but thank you,” Miguel says after you, sincerely thanking the lady.

“Of course, jovenes [young people; youths]. Please take care and enjoy the celebrations. Have a great night,” the woman says, wishing you well before another customer approaches the booth.

Miguel and you walk away and continue on your way to watch some of the live performances, holding the box closer to you to make sure the bow doesn’t get damaged somehow.

“That was so nice of her,” you say softly as you both reach the center of the downtown, where there’s already a lot of people waiting.

“It was,” Miguel answers, agreeing. “It was a kind gesture. Hers and yours,” Miguel continues. “I appreciate you trying to buy it for Gabby. I’m certain she would’ve loved it.” Miguel smiles at that, knowing it’s true.

You grin. “I was thinking about her wearing it with a matching dress.”

Miguel’s smile softens, imagining his daughter eager to wear her bow with a matching dress. It brings a warmth to his chest. “Thank you, Dulzura. She would’ve definitely worn it like that. I… I imagine she would’ve wanted me to do her hair in a ponytail to wear it, too.”

You both grow quiet, thinking about that vision until the live performances begin. With interest and enthusiasm, Miguel and you watch lovely performances by amazing artists, including a mariachi band, who sing some of the most iconic songs to Mexico and talented ballet folk dancers donning beautiful and authentic attires among other great presentations that keep the spirit for the celebrations high.

Towards the end, Miguel and you eventually decide to go home, but not before you run into an elderly couple who you both overhear quietly talking about not having enough money to buy food from one of the food trucks.

“Tenemos comida en la casa, mi amor [we have food at home, my love],” the elderly man said. “Maybe in a few weeks we can buy the ingredients and make this meal ourselves. We can save for it.”

“You’re right, Balby. We should go home now,” his wife answered.

Hearing that, neither Miguel nor you could simply walk away. So, you bought the couple dinner and even gave them extra money for food. You’re not sure how much it was in total, but Miguel gave them plenty and you gave them what you converted a few days ago. Knowing they’ll be enjoying a great dinner, Miguel and you wish them a good night before you walk away, wanting to go home to complete the ofrenda and have dinner.

While you both walk away, side by side as always, the elderly couple watch you from their seats.

“So you were right, mi amor,” the man says with a grin.

“I always am, Balby,” the woman answers with satisfaction. “Those two have pure and courageous hearts. And they’re meant to be together.”

“I cannot deny it,” the man says. “Even I can see that. However will we pay them for their kindness tonight?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the woman says, watching the two figures fade into the crowd.

“How about a wager, mi amor?”

“No wagers tonight!” the woman replies before they both disappear, invisible to everyone else, to pass on the kindness Miguel and you gave to them.

[Characters from The Book of Life film; La Muerte and Xibalba (Balby)]

It takes less than half an hour before you reach the penthouse, and upon arrival, Miguel and you change into lounging clothes before heading to the kitchen to reheat the food. In the meantime, Miguel also makes pancakes with chocolate chips for Gabby, wanting those to be freshly made.

Once everything is ready, the food is offered.

Plates with tamales and pink conchas are placed. Bowls with delicious pozole, too. A fresh batch of chocolate chip pancakes is set in front of Gabby’s photograph. Apples and oranges are placed for Conchata and strawberries for Gabby. The various kinds of candy you placed on a tray earlier are distributed between Gabby and Gabriel, which include Paletas Payaso, Canel’s gum, and Pulparindos. And of course, Miguel didn’t forget his loved ones’ favorite drinks like the Jarritos and Chocomilk for Gabby.

Your parents, uncle Ben and Aunt May, and Peter had their favorite foods and drinks served, too.

To complete the ofrenda, Miguel places other offerings for his loved ones. He begins by putting a few things for his mom and his wife. When he’s done with their portions of the ofrenda, he moves to Gabriel’s part. Miguel smiles at his brother’s photo before he gently pulls out Gabriel’s green scarf from his pocket, placing it on the lower level in front of the photograph, offering it.

At last, there’s the youngest O’Hara, Gabby. Like previous years, Miguel places dolls for her, from a scientist to a soccer player and a few other toys. He offers a few new books because she loved to read, books he bought a few days ago with you at his side. From the bag in which he stored everything, he also pulls out a soccer ball. It was a must, of course. And finally, Miguel places her guitar, too, hoping that wherever Gabby is, she can enjoy her beloved guitar.

“I almost forgot,” you say softly, walking closer with the packaged bow. You offer it to Miguel, so he can place it, but Miguel shakes his head.

“You place it,” he replies. “I know you were going to buy it for her, so you should do it. It’s alright if you do so.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, not wanting to push boundaries.

“I’m sure, truly,” Miguel reassures you with a small smile, one you return.

With a nod, you open the box and pull the bow out, admiring it for a few seconds and thinking once more about a different timeline in which Gabriella was here, physically. You place it between the two dolls, silently hoping that Gabby likes it. You step back to look at the fully finished ofrenda. It took some time and love, but it’s completed at last and it’s so beautiful.

Both Miguel and you stand in silence, admiring it. The silence is a comfortable one, not out of grief despite the several photos in display of loved ones physically gone. It’s a silence of comfort and hope that those who have left too soon and unexpectedly come home, even if just for a few hours to share a meal with their living loved ones once more.

Miguel’s eyes trace every single photo in silence. He feels at peace, something he didn’t feel three years ago. There was too much pain, too much heartbreak. And, too much loneliness, even if he didn’t fully admit it to himself back then. Yet, three years later, Miguel stands in his penthouse — same one that felt so incredibly void and cold before, but now feels like home.

Home.

Miguel turns to face you. Things are different now. There’s less pain, less heartbreak. He’s learned better ways to manage his feelings, too, that’s for sure. Even better, there’s no more loneliness. With a soft sigh, Miguel finally breaks the silence. “Dinner?” he simply says, watching the way you turn to look at him with your face still painted, much like his.

“That sounds good. I’m actually starving,” you confess with a grin.

“It’s all that walking,” Miguel answers before he gestures for the two of you to return to the kitchen for food.

Due to the celebrations, Miguel and you go back to the living room with plates containing food to have dinner with your loved ones. You enjoy the food over conversation regarding the wonderful performances.

Not surprisingly, Lyla shows up halfway through dinner to play music for the two of you. She also takes the opportunity to sneakily take pictures for her secret, or not so secret, folder of digital content before disappearing again.

Eventually, Miguel and you take off the makeup before returning to the kitchen for what feels like the hundredth time to prepare café de olla and arroz con leche specifically for Gabby. When all is done, more than two mugs are set on one of the kitchen counters to pour coffee into them. Together, the two of you carry the mugs to the ofrenda, placing one mug for everyone except Gabby.

“Para ti no, mija,” Miguel tenderly states with a smile on his lips. He places the mug you gifted him for Father’s Day earlier this year, the one with the two bees, filled with arroz con leche and topped with a generous amount of cinnamon powder with the rest of her food. “Estás muy chiquita para tomar café todavía, but I made your favorite instead.” Taking a step back, Miguel’s eyes soften when he looks at his daughter’s photograph. If only she were here, Miguel thinks, before he settles down on the floor with you in front of the ofrenda. He picks up his mug with coffee and takes a drink, the music from earlier still playing thanks to Lyla who left it on. “Thank you,” Miguel suddenly says, turning to look at you. “For joining me tonight and participating in the tradition… For allowing your family to join mine.”

You hum and offer him a smile, holding your mug in both hands. “No, thank you… Solecito,” you reply, using that nickname again. “For allowing me to be part of it again and for inviting my family into your ofrenda. It means so much to me,” you continue. “So, thank you.”

“Siempre,” Miguel whispers, his heart skipping a beat when he hears the new sweet nickname you’ve given him. “Always… But, seriously… Thank you for being here with me again. For accepting my offer.” Miguel’s eyes meet yours, his gaze tender. He knows that his invitation for your family to join the family ofrenda might have been too much — too personal — even for best friends, but still, Miguel couldn’t help himself from making it. He turns to look at the ofrenda again, noting how big it turned out with your family being part of it. After a few seconds, Miguel turns to face you again. “Thank you.”

You smile sweetly and nod, knowing what Miguel means. Having your family join the ofrenda was certainly a personal gesture, a much more intimate one than previous ones simply because it’s about family, and it’s a gesture you appreciate so much. “Always,” you whisper back.

Much, much later, you lean back on the couch with heavy eyes. It’s late at night, about three in the morning now. Miguel and you have spent the last few hours just talking and drinking café de olla. You were feeling alert, but all of a sudden, you’re hit with a tranquility, one that seems to caress you into a sleep. You lean into it for a few seconds, closing your eyes and feeling a warmth surround — embrace — you.

Feeling the same, Miguel’s crimson eyes flutter, but he fights the sleep. Or, tries to, anyway. He glances at you, remembering your meeting with Osborn earlier today. He thinks about the hug you two shared, pondering for a bit before he finally speaks. “Dulzura?” he whispers, not sure if you’re asleep already.

“Hmm?” you sleepily respond, your eyes fluttering just to look at him.

Miguel’s lips quirk up at the sight. You look so cute when you’re sleepy. “I was just thinking about how you said your meeting with Harry was awkward at first because he went straight for the hug,” he says slowly.

“Mhm, it was,” you confirm.

“Did the hug feel awkward, too?” Miguel asks, seeing you’re more asleep than awake now.

You yawn softly, covering your mouth, and nod. “It was. It felt weird,” you respond too softly.

Miguel hums as a response, thinking. He feels something in his chest again, something he didn’t register earlier. Envy, perhaps? Envy that Harry Osborn who has only been in your life for a few months now, if even that, has embraced you before he has, even if it was awkward.

He sighs and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s even feeling like that. It’s silly.

Right?

On top of that, Miguel also feels a bit of shame and disappointment in himself. “I’m sorry,” Miguel sleepily murmurs to you.

“What — For what?” you ask, Miguel’s words waking you up a bit.

“For… I still haven’t — You know. I haven’t embraced you yet,” Miguel replies quietly, disappointment and shame laced in his tone.

“Miguel,” you start gently. “You don’t have to apologize. Not for that, you know that. This isn’t a race. It’s a healing journey, and everyone needs their own pace to heal from their grief and trauma. You’re going at your pace and therefore, honoring your boundaries and yourself, which is so important. That’s all that matters to me.” You offer him a reassuring smile before continuing. “That’s not to say, I don’t wish to… One day have the opportunity to experience that — a hug from you, but everything at its due time, okay?” you murmur softly, as if there were other people in the room.

Miguel nods, reassured by your words and gentle reminder. “Thank you, Dulzura. I appreciate it…” he answers, feeling better. You’re always so understanding of him and his boundaries. After a few seconds, he continues. “One of these days,” Miguel tells you softly, sounding like a promise he fully intends on fulfilling.

“One of these days,” you repeat gently, looking forward to the day.

You both think about it — about the day in which Miguel will be open to that kind of physical touch. You think about what it’d feel like, to hold each other close. To learn what it's like to be in each other's arms.

When that day comes, Miguel knows he will hug you close and remember what it feels like to hug someone after so many years of going without a single embrace.

With that in mind, you both admire the ofrenda again. It somehow looks even more beautiful now in the dark living room with the candles’ dancing flames. It almost feels like they're waving at the two of you.

Still looking at the ofrenda, Miguel wonders if there’s a chance that both your relatives are here tonight. If they made it. He hopes they did and that they enjoyed the food and belongings that were offered to them.

As the minutes tick by, that wave of sleep rolls over you again and instead of fighting it, Miguel and you surrender to it this time. There’s a warmth that reaches and embraces you both. It’s so familiar neither of you can help yourselves from leaning into it like a child leans into their parents’ warmth for safety and comfort.

The last thing you both hear is static coming from the speakers from which music was just now playing. A soft, sad guitar begins to play, but you’re both asleep already — lulled by a warm, gentle, and familiar energy not visible to the human eye, but always around.

Remember me

Though I have to say goodbye

Recuérdame…

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Hiiiiiiii!! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter 🥺 Ever since last year, I wanted to write a short chapter for Día de Muertos, but alas, I didn't get the chance to, so I couldn't miss it this year!

Guys... I was giggling and kicking my feet when MIGUEL PUT THE HEADBAND ON OUR HEADS RAHHHHHHHHHHH AND THEN THE FACT HE FELT A BIT JEALOUS OVER HARRY HUGGING US??? (forgive me for screaming but !!!) and then the fact he's thinking more about it -- about hugging us!! 🥹

Also, don't mind the direct reference to The Book of Life. I was working on this chapter Thursday and listening to the official soundtrack for it because it's genuinely one of my fav movies ever, which I plan on watching tonight, and then the idea popped in my head to include La Muerte and Xibalba somehow and well... I did it. 😌

Also, what do we think about Harry? I was cringing while writing that part because they're so awkward!😭😭 But anyway, what do we think? 🤔 Side note, I was fighting the urge to make Felix a hot old man, I'm ngl 😔(I'm still imagining him to be hot, I'm sorry).

Ok, I think that's all and I must go now because my siblings are bothering me to help them with something. I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, show it some love! Take care everyone, and happy November! 💖

Alondra❤️

p.s. I haven't forgotten about chapter 20's comments and reblogs. I'm sorry for how long it's taken me to reply to them. I got behind because of the three chapters I dropped 3 weeks ago, but I promise I'll get to them this upcoming week!! Thank you so much for the amazing love and support as always!! I love you guys 💖💖🥹

Credits: Gif by @/halloween-pumpkin-queen. Purple dividers by @/thecutestgrotto and green divider by @/vysleix

Taglist:

@loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj

@taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii @nina-from-317

@kavimoo

[oharaslove]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓒hapter 𝓢even

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ military!miguel 𝓍 fem!neighbor!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. your friends decide to go to the fair and you invite miguel, spending time with him. while indulging in fun, someone from miguel’s past comes in to ruin it.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, angst, tension, swearing, derogative terms, shaming, sexual remarks, mild physical violence

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

“he did what now?!”

lyla and mj said in unison.

you tell them about the whole joel shitshow. they knew about him and your relationship. oh they hate him as much as you do. thankfully, they never met him or else you believe they would kick his ass and honestly you would allow them to.

when you mention miguel stepping in, both women have mischievous smirks on their faces.

“oh so your prince charming came to your rescue, how adorable.” lyla teases.

your expression falls flat. “cállete. he was just concerned, nothing else.”

“but it’s kinda like that though, your charming prince rescuing you from a monster.”

you roll your eyes.

joel is no doubt a monster, though.

“i always knew there is something going on between you two.” mary jane adds in.

your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

both of them give you a deadpan look.

“honey, i’ve seen the way he looks at you. that night at the bar, he couldn’t stop looking at you as if you were the most prettiest being in the world. also not to mention how many times he offered to help you. giving you a ride home, fixing your sink and bookshelf, now helping you telling your ex to fuck off. the man is head over heals for you.”

you stare at her, speechless. her words sinking in, each of those moments flashing through your mind. you did feel his eyes on your the entire time at the bar, making you nervous and bashful. his sweet offers for fixing things with no payment. it makes your heart flutter. the man is truly a sweetheart. every time you walk by your bookshelf, you get flashbacks of miguel fixing it. it always leaves a smile on your face, heart fluttering at the memory.

him standing by your side while confronting joel, providing safety, protection, and support. never felt so much relief when he showed up. not to mention how attractive it was seeing miguel so firm and authoritative. those military tactics were kicking in.

everything this man has done for you leaves you speechless yet swoon over the moon.

is mary jane right?

is miguel truly interested in you like that?

“well… okay yes, he is a sweetheart but i’m not sure he is head over heals for me. he’s probably just being a good neighbor.” your words betray your thoughts.

lyla groans frustratingly and mj facepalms herself.

“girl, the MAN IS INTO YOU!” lyla exclaims, hands raised in the air. “these are obvious signs! the man’s love language is acts of service, pun intended.”

“okay, listen…” mj starts. “peter and i were thinking of going to coney island with the group. how about you invite miguel to come with us? yes, he’s friends with peter and peter probably already or will ask him but if you ask him, he’ll 100% say yes.”

“it’s a perfect opportunity for you two to hangout someplace else besides your apartment. go on rides together and play games. he might even win you something.” lyla wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

you roll your eyes again at her last comment, lightly nudging her arm which causes her to giggle. trying to hide your smile at the thought of miguel winning some type of prize for you at the park. although, you can’t ignore the heat slowly rising in your cheeks.

“you guys are really trying to set up a date for me?” you across your arms, leaning back in the chair.

“yep!” they say in unison with proud smiles.

another eye roll, finally smiling. “i hate you guys.”

the three of you laugh.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

returning from your girls day out, you catch miguel exiting his apartment. the same black duffel bag over his bulky shoulder. a black tank top with a navy blue hoodie over it and a pair of gray sweatpants.

jesus, he looks fine as hell.

you approach him with a smile. heart fluttering up when he notices you and returns the same smile. but you miss the way his eyes widen a bit as he glances downward towards your outfit. a pretty lavender sundress with a matching bow in your hair.

miguel is mesmerized, enchanted.

you always bewitched him with your beauty and lovely sense of style. it’s not often he sees you in a dress, a sundress more or less, because you’re usually dressed in business attire like blouses with pencil skirts or pants. casual clothing when it’s your day off. but a sundress? it takes his breath away.

it makes him wonder what got you dolled up for. did you hang out with family or friends? was it a special occasion? did you went on a date?

for some reason, the thought of you going on a date creates an unsettling sensation in his chest. miguel shouldn’t feel this way. you’re his neighbor, nothing more than that… right? there’s definitely nothing with you going on a date. you’re an amazing, beautiful person. anyone is luckly to go on a date with you.

but the thought of someone seeing you so dolled up stills makes his chest ache in a strange way.

why is he feeling like this?

he shouldn’t.

he shouldn’t feel his heart beating faster whenever he sees you returning home from work or walking luna outside. or when you standing so close to him, making his palms sweaty and face warming up.

totally nothing… right?

“hey. going to the boxing gym?” you ask, smiling.

“yeah. you look… nice. a special occasion?”

really, nice?

miguel wants to facepalm himself. nice isn’t enough or justifiable for describing how beautiful you look in that sundress. gotta get his shit together.

although, he can’t deny the desperation to know the reason for looking so pretty today. not saying that you don’t look pretty all the time, you do.

“girls day out with my friends.”

that unsettling feeling vanishes, a big wave of relief coursing through him. it wasn’t a date after all.

“lavender looks pretty on you.”

both your cheeks warm up from the compliment. miguel flushed as hell for speaking his thought out loud. you feeling flustered by his sweet words.

there he goes again making your heart flutter.

“thanks.” you smile bashfully.

now suddenly your feel nervous. it’s time to ask him, invite him to come with you to coney island. why are you nervous? it’s just a simple question. you’re simply asking your neighbor, and friend, if he’s willing to go to the park with you and your friends. simple question and easy to ask, right?

so why is your heart suddenly beating rapidly in your chest? why are your palms now slightly sweaty? why is your body literally on fire right now?

it’s a simple question, just do it!

“so uh - i don’t know if peter asked you this already but um…” you awkwardly clear your throat. “do you… do you wanna come with us to coney island?”

god you sound awkward as hell. you can’t believe how stupid you probably sound.

but the smile on miguel’s face says otherwise.

“i would love to.”

a feeling of relief washes over you. “cool.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

the park is full like usual. a never ending sea of people roaming around the park. the colorful attractions and vibrant lights illuminating each inch of the park. laughter and screams filling the atmosphere, sounds of enjoyment.

the weather seems to be nice, between high 60s and low 70s. you settle on a white turtleneck crop top and a brown pleaded mini skirt with black tights and comfortable shoes since you’d be walking around a lot. since it’s autumn and halloween around the corner, you want to match theme and spirit. when miguel first saw you while waiting outside your door, his pupils dilate drastically. miguel swore an angel was approaching him. you look breathtaking in that cute outfit. the colors makes your appearance so cozy. how the tights perfectly captures the curves of your legs. his eyes lingering on them a bit too much. warmth rose up to his cheeks.

still manage to snatch his breath.

“you look beautiful.”

your cheeks warmed from his sweet compliment, heart fluttering in your chest.

“thanks.” you bashfully smile.

with your friend group, you venture through the park. it was peter, mary jane, eddie and shockingly anne. you recall eddie telling you about their reconnection lately. it’s nice to see them together, even as friends. harry couldn’t come because he had a business trip to attend, the rich bastard he is but you love him.

miguel remains by your side as you walk around. your hands would accidentally brush against each other, sending jolts through both your bodies. you apologize the first few times but eventually stop since you continue doing it. neither of you minded. he still remains glued to your side while waiting in line for rides. more so you both glued together.

miguel was hesitant at first about rides due to his tall and bulky structure. you and the group reassure him it’s totally fine but ultimately understand his concern. although, he was able to go on most rides. most times you two would ride together but sometimes you would sit with mj or anne to mix things up. he wasn’t fond of sitting next to peter, considering how of much the man screams and takes a million selfies before and during the ride. eddie isn’t that bad but miguel prefers riding with you.

he adores seeing you smiling, laughing on rides. how happy you look. the joyful screams that sound like music to his ears. never he would thought a sound would make his heart swoon. he recalls you saying you’re a roller coaster person, you were definitely not lying. miguel adored watching you having fun. it’s a sight he loves to see, it brings a smile to his face.

after a good amount of rides, it’s time to grab some food. there is a corn dog stand nearby. you’re about to get in line when miguel steps in front of you, making you smile confusingly at him.

“i can order for the both of us.” he sweetly offers.

“no, it’s okay. i got it.” you softly decline.

“i don’t want you waiting in line for a while. it’s a pretty long line.” he gestures at the line, consisting more than 15 people. “i can take care of it.”

god, this man is too sweet.

“you drove here, the least i can do is pay for food.”

you want to be fair and miguel knows that. you’re so sweet and considerate. but he feels guilty for making you stand in a long line for simple corn dogs.

“at least let me wait here with you.”

your heart flutters at the suggestion.

“alright, but if i see that wallet of yours, i’m sending you back to the table.” you tease.

miguel chuckles. “alright, lo prometo.”

after a long wait, chitchatting to kill time, you finally get your corn dogs. miguel was thinking of slipping his card over the counter but decided to respect your wishes. just this once, he thought to himself.

you return to the group at the table with all your individual choices of food. afterwards, you all collectively agree to get pizza as dinner.

after devouring the delicious pizza, you decide to play a couple of games and try to win some prizes. peter wins mary jane a stuffed bunny with a pink bow. eddie fails to make any rings in water bottles. surprisingly, anne manages to get them all, leaving eddie impressed standing there like a fool. you win yourself a tiny plushie of gary from spongebob. you wanted it since you first laid your eyes on it.

wondering around the various games and prizes, a pink butterfly plushie captures your attention. making you stop in your tracks. it’s so adorable, you never wanted something so badly in your life. well, besides luna. that plushie is absolutely adorable. too bad the game to win it is shooting basketballs. you failed at it in PE back in middle school and high school. there is no way you’d win for sure.

miguel notices your cute expression and an idea pops into his head. making his way over to the game stand, he hands the booth guy a ticket and starts playing the game. grabbing the ball, he makes the first shot. then the second, third, and fourth.

the group cheers and applaud for him while you stand there visibly impressed. not paying attention to eddie playfully nudging your shoulder.

after thanking the booth guy for handing over the plushie, miguel slowly approaches you with a grin, holding the plushie in his hands. they are just so big, the plushie looks so small in them. he holds out to you, heart beating like a drum.

you stare in awe, fixating between the plushie and miguel. “this is the sweetest thing ever… thank you.” you say with a pout, gently taking the plushie from his grasp. the soft, fuzzy material brushing against your fingers. “you didn’t have to…”

“i wanted to, hermosa. i saw how much you loved it so i had to get it for you.” he sheepishly admits, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

is it possible for your heart to flutter more?

this sweet man.

you smile bashfully, hugging the plushie to your chest. “thank you.”

what you both fail to see is your friends staring in awe of the adorable interaction between you and miguel. they even snapped a few pictures because it’s too cute. you two are too cute.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

after drinking tons of water, you head to the bathroom. miguel offers to wait for you, standing outside as people walk by, arms crossed over his chest. as he waits patiently, he notices someone approaching him. a man with platinum blonde hair, very familiar hair that miguel only knows one other person with the same hair color. his blood suddenly turns cold. thick brows now furrowed.

it’s kron, that asshole of a half-brother.

the devil himself, or actually his offspring damien since tyler isn’t the greatest man ever.

it’s a curse to be related to that son of a bitch. miguel doesn’t even consider kron a brother or family in general. the only connection they have is half their blood coming from the same, real devil himself.

fuck, what is he doing here?

“well, well, well… nice to see solider boy out here having fun instead of killing people.” kron taunts, a smug smile on his face.

miguel’s jaw clenched. “que quieres, kron?”

“oh nothing, nothing.” he lazily raises his hands. “i just was walking around until i saw your bulky ass here. y’know, you suck at trying to blend in. pretending you’re a normal guy but really commits the most brutal things just for stupid badges.”

his blood began to boil in frustration. he does not want to deal with this shit, especially not in public. “look, i know the shit i’ve done and i live with it every damn day.” he learns closer, whispering. “drop it.”

“yeah, the shit you know it’s fucked up, just like it’s fucked up that you got gabriel killed—”

miguel was about to punch kron in the face when you finally return from the bathroom.

“hey, i’m all set.” blissfully unaware of the tension between the two men in front of you.

kron, like the smuggest asshole he is, eyes you up and down. a smug smile on his face, licking his lips. “well… who’s the hottie here?”

you immediately are disgusted by him, especially with that smug attitude. “and you are?”

“kron.” he hands out his hand but you refuse to shake it. he seems unfazed by it, only smiling more. “so this your girl, huh? finally getting some, huh?”

you scoff in disgust and miguel is fuming, growing more infuriated with kron’s stupid behavior.

“leave, kron.” miguel said sternly, stepping in front of you to protect you from this smug bastard.

“whaaat?” he slurs out. “i just wanna know who’s actually willing to let you get your dick wet.”

your mouth drops open in offense.

miguel yanks him by his shirt collar with aggressiveness, eliciting a few gasps from bystanders. “say one more fucking thing and you won’t have that tongue anymore.” his hot, angry breath hitting against his face.

“oh yeah, it’s what you’re good at, huh soldier boy?” kron taunts. “do it, in front of miss hottie right there. she sure has you by the balls.”

just as he’s about to do something ugly, you push the two men apart, stepping in the middle.

“unlike you who won’t have any.”

before he could say something back, you kick kron right in the balls with harsh force. making the idiot groan in pain and crumble to his knees. hands cupping his now fucked up balls.

miguel, on the other hand, is impressed. no, more mesmerized by you. witnessing you kick the shit of his stupid half-brother was fucking incredible. but also impressed you stood up for him.

after informing security of the incident and kron being escorted by them, a big wave of relief washes over you and miguel. the asshole is finally gone.

“i’m so sorry you had to deal with that asshole.” miguel looks at you with a remorseful look. “all the disrespectful comments he said, it was wrong.”

those derogative and disrespectful words towards you made his skin crawl. miguel was about to let go of all his morals and show kron what disrespect looks like but luckily you arrived in time. supposed kron was lucky but next time probably not.

“it’s okay, someone had to shut him up.”

“nice kick.” miguel compliments.

“thanks, i don’t think that asshole would have kids after that. i may sucked at basketball but soccer wasn’t that bad.” both of you laugh as the rest of the friend group rushes over with concern faces.

“hey, you guys okay?” peter asks.

“what happened?” eddie follows up.

“yeah, we’re fine. just some asshole who was bothering us.” miguel explains.

looking past miguel, peter sees security escorting the troubled individual and recognizes him.

“oh shit, is that kron?” he sounds in disbelief. “wow, honestly not surprised it’s him.”

“who’s kron?” mj asks, confused.

“no one—”

“miguel’s stupid half-brother.”

your eyes widen in surprise.

half-brother? that asshole is miguel’s half-brother? now you understand the tension between them. you actually feel bad for miguel being related to him.

you look up at him to see miguel already looking at you, knowing what you’re thinking.

“through my father.” he reveals.

now it makes even more sense.

“like father, like son: major assholes.” peter jokes.

although you’ve never met miguel’s father, nor will ever meet him, by what miguel told you about him and meeting kron, you don’t doubt it.

“well, lets end the night with some fun and not let that asshole ruin it, yeah?” anne suggests.

all of you agree and enjoy the rest of the night playing a few more games and rides.

while waiting in line for one last ride, it starts to feel a bit chilly, causing you to shiver a little. goosebumps forming on your skin. shit, you should’ve brought a cardigan or a flannel, a dumb mistake you made. the fabric material of your turtleneck is thin so the cold breeze flows through very easily. you wrap your arms around yourself, an attempt to warm yourself up but obviously not enough. although, it doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain pair of brown eyes. taking off his leather jacket, miguel offers it to you.

your eyes land on the jacket then up at him. “oh no, it’s okay! i’m fine.” you kindly declined.

“i saw you shivering, please take it.” he pleads.

unable to say no to those eyes, you accept his offer and he helps you put it on. the inside is very warm, the leftover of his body heat. it feels like a jacket heater, very smoothing. you also smell his cologne, musky and rich. smells really damn good. the jacket is very big on you, reaching down passed your knees and the sleeves covering your hands that they barely peak out. the sight puts a smile on miguel’s face. how adorable you look in his jacket, how big it looks draped over your smaller figure.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

you and miguel return home from the amusement park. you recall tonight’s adventure as you make your way to your apartments. trying to not talk or laugh too loud and disturb other neighbors.

as you reach for the door handle of your apartment, you suddenly realize you’re still wearing his jacket.

“wait, i gotta give you this back.” as you go to take off the jacket, his response stops you.

“keep it.”

you look back at him in surprise. “what?”

“keep it, chica.” he chuckles at your expression.

“but it’s yours and i’m not cold anymore. i can’t keep something that isn’t mine.”

“i have other jackets, losing one won’t be the end of the world. don’t feel bad about it.”

“are you sure?…” you ask hesitantly, making sure he is actually allowing you to keep the leather jacket.

“i’m sure, hermosa.” miguel said sincerely, smiling.

but the real reason is that miguel loves seeing you in his jacket - his own clothes.

part of you still feels a little guilty but you believe him. “okay… i promise to take good care of it.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “alright.”

neither of you realize how close you’re standing towards each other, closer than ever. now you understand why you feel a small burning sensation in the back of your neck because you have to crane your neck all the way up just to meet his eyes. miguel really is a giant. yet, you don’t mind the sight pain.

standing so close to you, miguel can’t help but briefly drop his gaze to your lips. painted with lip gloss, giving it a shiny look. those very same lips that taunt him. as if they were a magnetic force, drawing him in.

should he be looking at your lips?

he should stop but doesn’t. why?

you do the same with his, guilty as charged. plump lips that seem a bit too plump, too kissable.

should you…?

as the both of you slowly, very slowly lean closer towards one another, you back away. you act nonchalant about it and say goodnight to each other before heading into your respective homes.

you hugged your butterfly plushie throughout the entire night, smiling in your sleep as you dream about the memory over and over.

little did you know miguel is having the same dream.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @marshhbs @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @watertribeissuperior @lovehadlovelost @auiciqa @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @miguelsfavwife @asterrrrose @glossygreene @aefin @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @jadeloverxd @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer

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