#but after that description of miggy fighting

[orestesimp]

Punch-Out Love

Artwork by @guruan

FIGHT NIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You're lucky enough to score ring-side seats at a boxing match on Friday night. Getting the best view in the house of boxing champion: Miguel O'Hara.

Word count: 1,500

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You know fuck all about boxing.

About the only thing you know about the sport was from the glimpses you caught watching scratched up old recordings of Muhammed Ali fights on the boxy mini-tv of your old childhood friend's house.

It always seemed barbaric. The practice of watching two human beings beat the shit out of each other for spectator's entertainment. It seems like something that was better left in the Ancient Roman times. Have we all human beings as a society, really not come further some 2,000 years later?

Your bestie used to get mad at you for this. Constantly defending the sport from your criticism, because (according to him) it's not just about smashing each other's faces in. Supposedly, there's an art to the sport. Boxers are taught to respect their opponents and adhere to the principles of good sportsmanship. It takes great mental discipline, dedicated work and years of hard and punishing training to master boxing.

You never saw any of that in the matches he showed you. All you saw were two men needlessly being hurt, sustaining brain damage for rich people's enjoyment.

Then again, he was more than a little bit biased, considering it was his dream to go pro one day. Tall and gangly, with his scrawny antelope legs, thick-rimmed glasses and big-ass braces, he looked like he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag, much less another person. You never understood how exactly he thought he was going to make it as a boxer.

But you never found it in you to burst his unrealistic bubble when he used to point at the screen excitedly, drawing your attention to Ali's footwork and the artistry in it. 

"It's like he's dancing," he used to say.

Except dancing is done with swelling music in the background. In dancing you often have a partner. It's an embrace. It's gentle and kind.

Boxing... was not that.

So you don't know how you managed to find yourself in the ringside seats of a local boxing match on a Friday evening, staring up at the boxing ring with the glaring ring lights shining into your eyes.

"Aren't these seats amazing?" your cousin shouts excitedly over the familiar lyrics of ‘We Will Rock You' being belted out by Freddy Mercury on the loudspeaker.

You smile, and nod, because boxing-fan or not, she's right, these are some amazing seats. And considering you didn't have to pay a dime for them, personal aversions aside, you're never going to turn down free stuff.

Her boyfriend tested positive for covid at the last minute, and you're the only one in your social circle that is anti-social and single enough to not have any plans on a Friday evening.

On the monitors above you, the menacing headshots of the two fighters swish into view.

"The first guy is an old reigning champ," your cousin explains to you, as she leans in, shouting into your eardrums (and yet you can still barely make out what she's saying over the music). "The challenger is some new kid on the block. Has an amazing track record. Zero losses in the season. He's something else."

You look up at the gigantic screen, at the sharp cut cheeks, strong thick brows and the intense pitched brown eyes staring down at you.

Angry looking dude.

...Handsome too.

With a face like that, surely he could've gone into other careers. Calvin Klein model, movie star, or a news anchor. You wonder what makes a guy voluntarily have his face bashed in for money as a career.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a loud booming voice announces from the stage.

You jump in your seat from the suddenness, as you see a bald and overly formal dressed announcer in the middle of the ring. 

"Welcome to the electrifying boxing showdown of the century! Are you ready to witness some knockout action tonight?"

The crowd around you cheers with a pandemonium of shouting and whistling.

"Introducing our first fighter, a true hometown hero! With an impressive record of 20 wins, 15 by knockout, and only 2 losses, standing at 6'3 feet, and weighing in at 240 pounds of determination and strength, give it up for ‘the Knockout King’ Bobby Kane!"

You watch as the reigning champion walks down the tunnel to the midst of adoring cheers as he waves and gestures at the crowd like royalty.

Every inch the king that he is nicknamed, he jumps over the rope and stands tall and proud over the ring.

The man is huge, bulging with almost grotesque muscles. He's so large that you almost expect each of his steps to send a reverberation throughout the hall, as if this was Jurassic Park and he's a T-Rex.

"Now, entering the ring with the confidence of a warrior, fighting out of the red corner, with 15 wins, 10 by knockout, and no losses, standing at an astounding 6 feet 9 inches, and weighing in at 230 pounds of raw power, let's hear it for tonight's challenger, ‘Steel Jaw’ Miguel O'Hara!"

Wait what? You do a double take at the announcement. Six foot nine?!?! What kind of giant is that?

From the far corner of the hall, you see his silhouette emerge, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. Tall doesn't even begin to describe him. 

There's a 200 year oak tree at Central Park, and with the shadow this man casts, you think their height must be nearly comparable. If you thought the Knockout King was tall, the "King" is practically tiny compared to this challenger.

You watch, as the man with cheeks so sharp they mind as well be blades (and god never has a nickname made more sense to you) as he strides towards the stage. He reaches the rope and barely even has to climb over it with how tall he is.

He's leaner than his predecessor. Every inch of him is cut muscles and tanned gorgeous skin as he stands in front of you. His presence is electric. The air crackles where he stands, towering over the stage.

You swear that his towering height blocks out the ring lights with it, casting the stage in the darkness of his tall shadow.

Somehow, he's even prettier in person compared to the still image of him blown up and plastered on the big screen. Soft brown curls and pouty lips. You don't understand in what world a man like that is a professional fighter.

From this distance, with the way that the light refracts from his irises, his eyes almost glow with a scarlet red that takes your breath away as you look up at him and meet his eyes.

If you didn't know better, you'd think he was staring at you.

The bell rings out, but he's not looking away. The intensity you find there is enough to make you swallow your tongue. Your face prickles with heat and for several long moments you forget to breathe, until the air seems to thin around you and your vision starts to swim.

Then he turns to face his opponent.

You're not quite sure where to look. There's so much happening at once. For his size, Miguel O'Hara is surprisingly deft on his feet. His footwork is somehow both unpredictable yet intentional all at once.

The King throws a strong punch, as he lunges forward, after his tall opponent. But O'Hara dodges them seemingly without effort. It's followed by punches so quick, the movements blur together.

Strike after strike. The King is giving it his all. But none of it properly connects. With every failed hit, you can see him growing increasingly more frustrated.

Your heart is in your lungs, and despite how close you are to the stage, you almost want to get up from your seat for a closer look.

Safe as you are behind the ropes, adrenaline rushes through your veins with a fury. You can't recall the last time you felt this ecstatic about... well, anything.

With each punch O’Hara dodges, you feel yourself lurch back in your seat, trying to dodge the punch with him.

It's titillating.

Exciting.

O'Hara's movements are precise and honed with intention despite the ferocity in his movements. Each one is measured and intricate and if you didn't know any better you'd almost call it graceful.

You think back to those moments in your childhood friend's home, and his excited words buzz in your ears now. For the first time ever you finally understand what he had meant.

It is like a dance.

Before you, O’Hara's eyes cross over in your direction and for a split of a second, you swear your eyes connect again. His gaze holds you there, pinned to your seat, and excitement shoots through the entirety of your spine until you feel lightheaded from the attention.

Then he finally steps forward, no longer evading.

It's brutal and efficient.

An uppercut that connects cleanly to his opponent's jaw.

Spit and blood flies out from the man's mouth, the flabby flesh of his cheek vibrating from the impact as he lands on the floor with an ear-shattering thud.

Then the guy is out.

Barely even eight minutes in. 

There's a stunned and shocked silence. The crowd seems both enthralled and disappointed at how fast it all went. On the ring floor, you can practically see the circle of cartoon birds flying above the defeated King's head.

You may not know anything about boxing, but you know that this man is not getting up anytime soon, no matter how far the referee counts.

Tearing your eyes away from the motionless body splayed out on the ground elevated above you, you can see the victor towering menacingly over the body.

But Miguel O'Hara isn't even looking at his defeated opponent

No, his eyes are staring straight into the sea of awestruck spectators. Except he’s not looking at them.

He's looking at you.

To be continued.

Author's note: What's that you say? CiCi wtf are you doing starting another series when you already got one going on? ... Idek man. But I hope you guys enjoy it, cause I had a blast writing it, smut will ensue in later chapters I promise!

Dedications and Credits: Buckle up it's gonna be a big one!

Firstly to @guruan when I say she's my muse THIS IS WHAT I MEAN! Look at that beautiful artwork. I am drooling into my panties. I am crying between my legs. I am so damn horny! I cannot thank this amazingly talented genius enough. Please please give this wonderful brilliant human your love by following her, and drop by her KO-FI SHOP cause the art this woman bless us with is UN-fucking-REAL

Then to @djarinsbeskar who put this idea into my head. In my mind she is the OG Boxer AU champion and mastermind. If you are in the mood for more boxing content, she has a wonderful, devastatingly sexy series Boxer!Din AU that is just woof woof bark bark.

[javisjeanjacket]

Miguel O'Hara SFW Headcanons

A/N: just some soft/cute thoughts about our favorite red flag 🥺 !!

Warnings: mentions of miggy's lost family, one hc is about working out, mentions of nightmares but no description of them

-Miguel absolutely hatessss leaving you alone. Whether that's because he has to go fight crime or you have errands to run, he wants to be with you all the time. He lost one family and he never thought he'd find another and now that he has you, he doesn't want to let go 🥺

-He has nightmares where he sees Gabi disappear from his arms again and again. He'll wake up panting and trembling and be unable to go back to sleep for a few hours. When you start sleeping over, the nightmares will wake you too and once you're there to hold him and gently brush a hand over his back and through his hair, he'll never be able to sleep without you.

-He really is a giant teddy bear with you. Like imagine you're brushing your teeth in the morning, and he stumbles in, bleary-eyed and hair mussed, and lays his face in your neck and wraps his arms around you and says in his grumbly morning voice, 'Hey baby.'

-If you're out somewhere and someone messes up your order, Miguel is insisting it be taken back and made correctly 😤 He's not mean about it, just firm. You only deserve the very best.

-He wears one of your hair ties (or extra bra straps 😏) around his wrist at all times.

-He doesn't like change or trying new things, but if you ask him to try it, he will to make you happy.

-He ADORES you!! Every single part of you!! Sometimes he'll brush over your hair and then pick it up to give it a little kiss before he leaves.

-He's very introverted and closed off with his emotions, so even though he likes you it takes a while for him to really open up. But he does, little by little. He'll brush over your hand or tell you about the best meal he's ever had. And then eventually he's telling you things he never thought he could tell anyone and his heart is pounding out of his chest when he sees you.

-When you're sick, the doctor is IN 😤😤 He's got your medication times as alarms in his phone, he's checking if you need tea, water, Gatorade, whatever. You need cuddles? He's there. You need to watch 6 hours of SVU? Done. Miggy don't PLAY when it comes to your health!!

-Hes one of those that if you're together, even at home doing you're own separate things, he wants you to be touching him somehow. He likes to have you physically near him, it makes him feel safe 🥺

-He struggles to plan dates because he puts too much pressure on trying to make it perfect. He gets so in his head about it that he feels like nothing he chooses will be right. You might need to suggest things you'd like to do with him or ask him what he feels like doing and build dates together instead.

-He has shelves and shelves of books and they're all in alphabetical order and sorted by size as well.

-He drinks black coffee and has a specific roast he drinks every day.

-He knows what his 'just out of the shower' body and hair do to you and he definitely uses it to his advantage 😏 imagine him walking out of the bathroom while you're chilling, with only a towel slung around his waist, and "stretching" his arms in front of you with a big smug grin.

-He's actually incredibly romantic once he finds someone he really likes (i.e. YOU). He loves thinking of things you'd like, of turning over your words in his mind, of planning what he's going to say to you next time he sees you, just anything he could do to show you how loved you are. He wants all he is and all he knows to be for you. Loving you calms him.

-You two work out together (read: you workout and Miguel pretends to sweat and exert himself in the same gym as you) and he's always so proud of you no matter what you do or how long you workout!! Getting up and getting there is the most important thing! He'll squeeze your muscles and call you 'killer' after you finish too.

-Sometimes when he gets really frustrated and doesn't know how to solve whatever he's working on (superhero or normal person stuff) you wrapping your arms around him or putting a hand on his cheek and getting him to focus on something else for a second will help him think clearly again. I'm just picturing him having been working and huffing around all day, only to then finally come and find you, pull you to him, and sigh heavily as all the stress melts away. You recenter him and make him feel safe!!

-He LOVES being your baby!! Your Miggy!! 😍😍 Especially when those pet names highlight the softness that he hides so very deep inside of him. Like if you were to call him 'sweetheart' or 'sweet man' ??? WHOOOO he's in a puddle on the floor!! 🥺🥺 Melted into the palm of your hand!! 🥴🥴 He never wants you to call him anything else but those sweet names 💘

MIGGY TAGLIST: @pettyprocrastination @chiliiscereal @wenclairswife @hottoyvodka @vanilla-sweets @707xn @shibble @nebulaegem @realsimpbitchshit @marsthedefender @justsomereaderwholikesanime @me0w-miix @reanie-xoxo @certainhorsegoopcop @mushroomieee @whinsical-ash @ninjawarriorprincess4 @nimyoongi

EVERYTHING TAGLIST: @over300books @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @ntlmundy @myheart-pedro @intu-witch-tion @frietiemeloen @greeneyedblondie44 @amneris21 @disasterhann @aana4664 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @maievdenoir @heyitsjaybird @nerdypinupcrystal @buckybarneshairpullingkink

[ralbeleren]

what are ur top 5 fave pieces of dialogue you ever wrote? n while we are at it how about description? 💖💕💖💕💖💕 hope ur day gets better angel

Thanks baby girl! It did not because the NFL reffing is trash. But here we go!

For dialogue:

(It’s a text but:) Maybe i wanna see more. Not your ugly cowboy clothes. Show me you.

The ICONIC: "You’re all quiet and surly, all in your head, all tangled up. Don’t worry, Uncle Julio’s got you." 

This makes me cry: “I just wanted to like…” Tyler starts and frowns a little. “I mean, I’m not but it’s good you’re not like… backing down or like, trying to deny or anything. I’m… proud of you, I guess?” 

:(((: “You run the forty in four point thirty-two and you think not making it on these short slants is fine?” 

There’s the narration in there because it’s needed for the weight of everything lmao: “My hand hurts so bad and it's throbbing and and it's not the only thing… that… needs attention.” He tries to imply it.

José's expression doesn't change at all. Doesn't act like he understands at all with James subtle bit of innuendo.

“you need more painkillers?” José asks.

For narration:

Nick would find a place and carve it out for them and put his mark on it and proudly show it off-- I did this-- when Liam smiled and was happy and felt loved. And Vanessa would come back too and she’d love him again. When she saw he was better. When she saw he was good now, that he could give it his all, that he could be as in it as she was.

Yes, everything would be coming up Nick then!

Cam’s fingers dig into his shoulder as he squeezes him. J.D. feels Cam laugh against him, just the little shake as his body moves and J.D. feels warmth spread through him. It’s that sort of comfort. He wishes this moment could last forever.

It affects everything. He can’t hit. He can barely keep his focus enough to do anything. Just like back when he was in Texas and struggling. Too much drop in his shoulder and can watch the ball sky high but never far enough and down-and-out.

He’s suffering. He feels himself suffering.

Those times are more often now. JD bites his tongue, keeps his eyes lowered-- tries not to think about what it’d be like to kiss Miggy. Where he’d place his hands on him or what his skin would feel like beneath his clothes. He fights them down, same with the catch in his chest, or how it suddenly feels like he can’t breathe.

Outside on the balcony is sweet relief. He breathes out cigar smoke and sweat and alcohol and breathes back in the air of the city. Even the slight breeze is welcome after how hot and over the top everything felt. He’s still excited and the electric feeling prickles on his skin, his hair is raised up. He leans against the wrought iron and breathes.