#miguel o'hara x fem!oc

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter One: Tequila Sunrise

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!OC (Cecilia Anderson)

Summary: Meet Miguel O'Hara, a rugged bareback rider who could have had it all, and Cici Anderson, the spirited daughter of a stock contractor trapped in a toxic relationship. When fate brings them together for a dance, they see each other again and again.

Word count: 7,133

W: language, drinking, some locker room talk (but not by Miguel)

Ao3 link here

A/N: Anything that is italicized within the quotation marks is said in Spanish.

I didn't have wifi for almost a week and we've been dealing with one thing after another in the new apartment, but chapter one is finally here. And how did we get here? Basically, I read several rodeo romance books and thought "fuck it, cowboy Miguel" and now here we are. If you want to be added to the taglist you can comment or fill out the google form here

Miguel pressed the end call button and stared at his phone. 4:17. The afternoon interview and autograph sessions were done, but it was too early to get ready and too late to nap in his truck. He got up from his shaded spot outside with a grunt and started to look for Peter. Knowing him, he was probably near the concession stands looking for a vendor selling pizza. 

Sure enough, Miguel spotted his friend tucked away to the side, melted cheese hanging from the corner of his mouth, and his baby, Mayday, strapped to his chest. He laughed silently to himself and acknowledged his friend with a tip of his hat.

“How’s Gabriel? He doin’ okay?” Mayday leaned forward to get a nibble of pizza, and Peter moved it away at the last second.

“He said he was probably going to order a pizza for dinner, and I said that’s fine as long as he doesn’t make that a habit everytime I’m out of town for a competition. Don’t exactly have the money to support that kind of habit.”

“True, but the kid deserves a treat every now and then.” To prove his point, he gave Mayday a bite of cheese. “Don’t tell Gwen I did that, she made me swear not to give our baby junk food.” 

Kid. At 25, Miguel didn’t think he would be looking out for a kid, much less his kid brother. At least Gabriel was fifteen now, so Miguel didn’t feel the need to hire a babysitter, but on his first weekend away he found himself checking in frequently. Peter spoke again, not concerned by Miguel’s silence. 

“He doin’ okay now? Last time I saw him he still looked really down, which I get it, y’alls mom died just a few months ago, but he didn’t laugh at a single one of my jokes.”

“Eh.” It wasn’t one of his favorite subjects, and he didn’t like dwelling on it. He knew Peter meant well, in his own way, but he would rather stand in silence. “He’s getting there.”

“And you? Are you getting there? She was your mother, too, you know.”

Debatable. “Let’s just say I had a different experience than Gabriel and leave it at that.”

“Alright,” Peter put his hands up defensively, “I can hear it in your voice, you don’t want to talk about it, so we won’t talk about it. But you need to talk about it, or it’s going to eat you up from the outside.”

Miguel grunted, signaling the end of the conversation. He stood with his arms crossed and a resting glare — that couldn’t be hidden behind sunglasses — weighing his options. It would be time to get ready soon, dressing in all his layers, checking his equipment, and stretching, but for now, he people-watched. 

Rookies milled about, either walking with too much confidence and not enough experience to back it up or wide-eyed hoping not to land in the dirt tonight. Families, wives, and girlfriends made their way to the seats to beat out all the fans who would be let in soon. The buckle bunnies would show up when the gates opened, hanging onto the fences to get a glimpse of the cowboys. 

Two women walked past, but every five steps they took they were stopped. Bareback, saddleback, and even bull riders approached them, some desperate and anxious, others dripping with charm, but all walked away disappointed. 

“Who’re they?” Miguel asked, gesturing with his chin rather than pointing.

“Who? Oh! You mean Barbie and Jessie from Toy Story. Those aren’t their names, of course, that’s just what I call them because that’s who they remind me of.”

He looked them over carefully with the nicknames in mind. “Jessie” referred to the redheaded cowgirl, plaid shirt and jeans to boot, with a hat pushed high on her brow. She stood with her hand pressed to her lower stomach as if she was cradling a barely there bump and checked her watch. “Jessie” gently nudged “Barbie” with her foot.

And “Barbie” was, well, Barbie. Dressed all in pink, with heels rather than boots, makeup done to subtle perfection, an easygoing smile, and batting her eyes. But she wasn’t a traditional Barbie, no, and he appreciated the difference. Her blonde hair wasn’t straight; it fell in ringlets across her shoulders. And she wasn’t built like a Barbie doll, with perfect proportions and a slim waist, no, she was plush and soft, something he could hold and squeeze. She was better than Barbie.

“They’re Andersons,” Peter continued, “Barbie is Cecilia, Jacob’s daughter, and Jessie is actually Taylor. She married Nick about a year or two ago, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, there should be another Anderson by the end of the year.”

Andersons. Everyone in the rodeo knew the Andersons' names. They were one of the major contractors for the shows, supplying the horses and bulls for the cowboys to ride. Jacob and Nick could often be seen wrangling the horses, helping shuffle them around to and from the chutes, but Miguel would have remembered seeing Cecilia before. 

Miguel clicked his tongue and slightly tilted his head, watching a pair of riders approach them. “And I take it they’re all trying to sweet talk them to know more about the ride they drew?” She reminded him of a princess holding court.

“Yup. And of course they never say anything to keep things equal, but it doesn’t stop them from trying.”

She quickly and easily dismissed the two rookies with a light laugh, tucking her blonde curls behind her ear. They stomped away cursing her name, but she paid no attention to them. Miguel chuckled, remembering when he was young and headstrong. And now? he thought, he wanted to try his luck. 

Miguel straightened his back, tugged on his jeans, and slicked back his hair under his hat. He better look decent if he was to present himself to the stock princess and plead his case. 

“Miguel O’Hara,” he offered his hand, and she took it. Her hand was soft and small in his, her nails a delicate shade of pink, and he looked in her dark blue eyes. She was tall, but still short compared to him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her voice was saccharine sweet, dripping with honey. “Cici Anderson, and this is my sister, Taylor, but I think you already knew that. To what do we owe this pleasure?” 

“I thought I would join the masses trying to get a reading on their ride.” His hands rested reflexively on his hips, subconsciously emphasizing his gold stallion belt buckle. Miguel was damn proud when he won it. He caught her eyes flick appreciatively, and he smirked.

“Is that so?” Taylor asked. “And who did you draw?”

“Fate.” Miguel scrutinized their reactions, and their shared sly glance told him more than their words would.

“We really can’t say…” Cecilia trailed off, smiling apologetically with wide eyes, “You understand?”

Her sympathetic look drove him crazy. If it was an unlucky draw, he wanted to prove her wrong. “Is that so? Then how about a bet?”

Taylor rolled her eyes, but Cecilia was curious. That was the foot in the stirrup he needed to give him a lift. “What kind of bet?”

“If I get 90 points or higher,” she raised her eyebrows in amusement, “then you owe me a dance, Cecilia.”

“And if you fall short or fall off? What do I get then?”

He narrowed his eyes, his brow pinching together. This was his trump card. “I’ll leave you alone, and I’ll tell all the other riders to leave you alone from here on out.”

Taylor snorted, “That’s a good deal.” 

“You’re on, Miguel.” Cecilia smiled like she already won. “I guess we’ll see tonight.”

“You will,” he promised with a wink. 

Miguel tipped his hat to them to leave, and as soon as he turned away another cocky rider approached. He stopped the man and leaned in close, his sunglasses sliding down his nose as he growled, “leave ‘em alone.” Intimidated, he backed off.

Peter covered Mayday’s ears to ask “What the hell was that?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “If I get 90 points or better, I’ve got a date tonight. If I don’t then I stay away.”

“What the hell was that?” Taylor whispered harshly in Cici’s ear. “You have a boyfriend, what are you going to do if he wins?”

Right. She may have let herself get carried away talking to Miguel. She never should have agreed to his bet but felt confident she would win.

Cici rolled her eyes. “He’s riding Fate. Sure, she’s a good horse, and he could score eighty points, but he has to be smart. She’s young, so he needs to set his feet and pick her up or she’ll move out down the arena. There’s no way he’ll beat ninety points.”

“What’re you two gossiping about?” Cici’s cousin, Gwen, plopped herself down beside them. She had plenty of time before she needed to dress and stretch for the barrel racing events, and she knew what it looked like when her friends were up to no good. 

Cici sighed and started to explain. “You know the bareback rider Miguel O’Hara?” 

“Who doesn’t?” Gwen’s eyes bulged out of her head. “Not only is he drop dead gorgeous, but he’s majorly talented, too. Some people say he could’ve won at the finals last year if he hadn’t dropped out.”

Taylor set her chili cheese dog aside, a pregnancy craving, and interjected. “Which is total bullshit by the way. It's a ten day competition and he left on day six. There’s no telling how far he could have gotten. For all we know he could have been bucked off before the whistle the following day.” Satisfied she made her point, she took another messy bite. 

“As I was saying,” she gave her sister-in-law a pointed look and handed her a napkin, “he introduced himself-”

“-Saying it was a pleasure to meet her.”

“And he was curious about the horse he drew to ride tonight. I couldn’t tell him anything, of course-”

“-of course.” Gwen giggled and rolled her eyes.

“But he must have read my expression because next thing I know, he’s betting he’ll get ninety points or more on Fate.”

“What does he want if he wins?” 

Cici sighed deeply, knowing this was the part that made her a fool. “He wants a dance…” She saw her cousin’s shocked expression and immediately tried to make it sound better than it did. “But if I win, which I know I will, he promised to leave me alone and get all the riders to stop pestering us for info.” 

“I don’t know, Cici. Sounds a little too good to be true to me.” Gwen shrugged, wanting to be supportive, but still doubtful.

“And what are you going to tell Josh?”

Right. Josh Miller, her boyfriend since sophomore year of college. They both pursued business degrees and met in their prerequisite courses. After graduation, he landed a job in the city while she started working for her father, making their relationship long-distance for the last two years. It was tough sometimes, but any relationship worth having took work.

“I’m not going to tell him anything because there will be nothing to tell,” Cici proclaimed confidently.

“And it would royally piss him off,” Gwen grumbled. 

Sometimes, Cici grew tired of defending him to her friends, but she always put on a brave face. After five years together, she liked to think she knew him better than they did. “Try to see it from his perspective. He lives three hours away, we don’t get to see each other often, and then I dance with some other guy. Who wouldn’t be a little jealous?”

“Jealous enough to track your location and call you when you go somewhere without telling him?”

“Jealous enough to curse you out over the phone?”

“Jealous enough to give you the silent treatment and then gaslight you into thinking you’re the jealous one?”

“Jealous enough to keep you from even hanging out with us outside the rodeo?

“Ugh, enough” Cici huffed, “he apologized, didn’t he? If that’s enough for me, it should be for you.”

Both girls stayed quiet knowing they pissed her off. But to them, they saw it as trying to help her. They could lead a horse to water, but they couldn’t make her drink.

***

Cici jokingly referred to the national anthem as the cue for the bareback riders. Traditionally, it was the first event of the night and came after the flag bearers and the grand entry. She felt the familiar twinge of excitement, a quick beating of her heart, as the lights dimmed in the stadium. Everyone stood for the opening strains of the anthem, including Cici, and she watched the flag bearers come thundering out.

Her father and brother were by the chutes, and Gwen was getting dressed and stretching, so it was just her, her mother, and Taylor in the Anderson section of seats. She thought about just a few years ago when they would be gathered together to watch Nick compete in the bareback rides, but a knee injury bucked him out of riding. He started working more seriously for their father then, helping him now that he was getting older. 

She spotted Miguel sitting on top of chute number three, waiting for the right time to settle onto Fate’s back. He wore starched jeans under his simple tan leather chaps, and a blue and red shirt tucked into those jeans highlighting the narrowness of his waist. Looking down the chute, his pale hat covered his face, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. Miguel rolled his shoulders back and forth, trying to release some of that tension.

The first rider had a good, clean time. Nothing remarkable, no flashy spur strokes, but controlled sweeps. A solid run that earned him 75 points. The second got overconfident, and when he reached for her neck he found nothing but air. His foot swung over the horse’s neck as she dropped her nose, ducked back to the left, and launched him ass over heels.

Bareback riding was one of the more finicky and dangerous events of rodeo as the best rides straddled the thin line between going big or going home. Judges wanted to see long, flashy spur strokes, but riders needed to stay centered and get their boot heels firmly planted in the horse’s neck before its front feet hit the ground on the next jump. The harder or the fiercer the horse bucked, the bigger the score. The rider was rewarded for opening up and taking chances unless he fell over that line and lost control.

The first cowboy played it too safe, and the second fast and loose.

“Coming out of chute number three…” Cici’s pulse quickened, “Miguel O’Hara!” The chute gate banged open and the crowd roared when he came out on Fate. He would only have eight seconds to do ninety points or nothing.

With her first move out of the chute, Miguel’s legs snapped straight, his heels planted solidly in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder. Fate responded by dropping her head and kicking high. For the next two, three, four jumps, Fate barely moved from the spot as Miguel lifted her straight in the air, his spurs rolling clear back to his rigging. His fringed chaps beat like the wings of a bird, daring them to go higher and higher.

“Holy shit,” Taylor murmured beside her.

The buzzer sounded at precisely eight seconds, and the pickup men closed in, setting Miguel safely on the ground. Overhead, the big screen replayed the ride in slow motion. Miguel stopped walking to the chutes and turned to watch. Cici wondered if he was mentally calculating his score like she did. 

“The judges have awarded 92 points to Miguel O’Hara, easily making him the top scorer of the night! Let’s see if he can keep that title before the end of the night.”

Taylor leaned over so Cici’s mother couldn’t hear. “Looks like you’re going dancing tonight.”

***

Cici watched from the side as the press swarmed Miguel at the end of the night. They all wanted to get a snappy quote from the highest scorer, and he greeted them with a pretty smile. Miguel locked eyes with her as he spoke, and blood rushed to her cheeks. Thank God she wore enough makeup so he couldn’t see.

“I guess it was a good turn of Fate,” he winked at the camera, but she knew it was meant for her. “I had to convince her a little, she’s young and shy of course, but she responded well to me.”

“How appropriate is it that your first horse back is called Fate?” Journalists never could resist a good story.

“I’m hoping it’s a sign of good things to come.”

“We hope so as well. Thank you, that was Miguel O'Hara, everyone who’s just tuning in, top scorer here tonight in Fort Worth.”

Cici spoke to several camera crews as well, giving the perspective of a contractor. Miguel waited until the journalists cleared out and the cowboys and cowgirls left to talk to her. He walked with extra pep in his slightly bow-legged step, a certain swagger in his hips. 

“It seems like Fate wanted you and I to dance,” he quipped. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” Cici rolled her eyes. “But seriously, good job out there. I thought she was an eighty at best, and you proved me wrong. Not many can say that.”

Miguel looked at her seriously, a little furrow between his brows. “Thank you.”

“Now about that dance…” his dark brown eyes lit up when she mentioned their dance, a flicker of gold across the smooth darkness. “I know what you’re thinking-” 

“-Uh huh, and what am I thinking?”

“I know cowboys like you, and you all think the same thing.” Cici made it a rule not to date cowboys. “If you give me enough drinks, if you rope me into one more dance, then I’ll go back to whatever motel you’re staying at, or even in the cab of your truck, and not call me in the morning like you promised.”

“Ouch,” Miguel pouted, “been burned by the rope before?”

“Nope, and I never will. I have a boyfriend, and I don’t date cowboys.”

He looked her up and down, from her high heels to her pink headband, his eyes lingering somewhere in the middle. “That’s a damn shame.”

“You can have one dance,” she held up her finger, “at a bar of my choice, with the understanding that it will lead to nothing more.”

“Why bother then?”

She looked him square in the eye. “I won’t have it said that Cici Anderson doesn’t fulfill her bets. If you want your dance, you’ll meet me tonight at Lone Star.”

“It’ll be later tonight,” he stumbled over his words, “I need to shower and change before I go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry. Did you think I’d go dancing in these shoes?”

Miguel showered and shaved back at his motel. He didn’t want to smell like horse and dirt when he showed up. He rifled through his suitcase, wishing he packed a better selection of clothes and settled on a simple black button-down shirt, clean bootcut jeans, and his least dusty pair of boots. Looking in the mirror, he ran a handful of gel through his hair and spritzed himself with cologne. 

He struggled to find a spot in the crowded parking lot, but he found one in the back corner. Miguel hesitated to cut the engine and get out. What if she wasn’t there? What if he made a fool out of himself? She already told him it wasn’t going to lead to anything, but he wanted his dance. He earned it. 

His watch buzzed on his wrist, alerting him of an incoming call from his brother. He smiled and answered. Miguel could hear Gabriel crunching chips and playing a video game in the background, and it grated on him.  

“Fucking kid. You better not be gaming and snacking again because I am not taking apart another controller because you got crumbs stuck in it.”

Gabriel paused mid-chew, talking over the food in his mouth. “What happened to hello? How are you? My name is?”

Miguel laughed and sighed, reminding himself that Gabriel was fifteen. “Hello? How are you?”

“Better now that you’re asking. Thanks for the pizza by the way. I’d save you the leftovers, but there won’t be any.”

“Well with your taste I’m not worried. You probably put pineapple on it.” He grimaced at the thought of it.

“I did, and it was delicious. Now are you gonna tell me how you did or keep me in suspense?”

Miguel kept an eye on the parking lot, wondering if Cici was already there, waiting for him or taking her time to get ready. “Top scorer of the night, and I wasn’t sure when I watched a couple of the other guys.”

Gabriel laughed, and for a moment Miguel thought about how his laugh changed. He remembered Gabriel’s giggle as a baby. “You were moping around here for a week, nervous to even go, and look.”

“Maybe it was fate,” Miguel snorted, “that was the horse’s name.”

“Ha ha, maybe, but it was you, too.” There was a pause, neither brother was sure what to say to the other. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Well, I'm sitting in the parking lot of a bar right now, so I think I'm going to celebrate a little.”

“A little? You have free reign right now. I’m home, fed, and know not to open the door for strangers. Go nuts.”

Miguel spotted a baby pink BMW convertible pull into the lot, and he knew without seeing any faces it was Cici. No one but the princess would drive that car. Somehow, she found a parking spot near the door and wasted no time pulling in. He watched her check her hair and makeup in the mirror, turning to her friends for confirmation. Satisfied, she cut the engine and left, not bothering to put the top down given the drought. 

“Hello?” Gabriel let the “o” drag out, “You there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm here. But not for much longer,” he grumbled. 

“Have fun, be safe, don't make me an uncle before my time!” Gabriel ended the call before Miguel could call him out. He thought about sending him a text, but he didn’t even know what he would say. Instead, he waited a few minutes before entering the bar. Too soon, and it would look like he waited for her, and he certainly wasn’t doing that.

Lone Star was like every other bar rodeo goers frequented, and it wasn’t the type of place he expected a princess like Cici Anderson to frequent. Parts of the floor were sticky as he walked, letters flickered out on neon signs, and a jukebox played old country songs. He ordered a beer on tap from the bartender, wanting the foam on top that he couldn’t get from a bottle, and retreated to a dark corner. 

Cici sat at a high table, one half booth and one half chairs, which made him think of an island. Taylor sat across from her, and a friend sat beside her. He thought he recognized her from the barrel racing, but out of uniform, he couldn’t tell. Cici laughed with them, little creases by her eyes and her head thrown back. He wanted to know the joke so he could make her smile like that. 

Her friend whispered something in her ear, and she turned ever so slowly and subtly to the side to look. Cici spotted him, hiding by a collection of decorative license plates mounted on the wall, and smiled. She bobbed her head up to him in greeting. He tipped his hat to do the same. Miguel made no move to join her, so she beckoned him with her dainty little manicured hand. How could he refuse?

“This is nice, you’ve got your own little spot-” He pulled back one of the chairs.

“-Stand,” Cici’s friend directed.

Miguel frowned, looking at Cici. “What?”

“You have to stand. All men who approach the gals table have to stand. They can’t sit down; they have to stay on their toes, ready to leave if they piss us off,” she clarified. 

Damn. He didn’t realize describing it as an island was so accurate. “Can I at least set my beer on the table, or will you make me hold that, too?”

“Hmm,” she pretended to deliberate, “you can set your drink down, but if you touch the food you’re done.”

He put on a thick southern drawl, “Yes ma’am. I understand.”

“Good, I’d hate to see you kicked out. 

***

Miguel was a good sport. He stood, occasionally shifting his weight from one foot to another, but he never complained. He didn’t want to risk being voted off the island. As promised, he never laid a finger on their food, no matter how tempting the loaded fries, mozzarella sticks, and buffalo wings looked, and he tried to listen more than he spoke. But he just couldn’t help himself from getting into trouble. 

It started when he watched Cici walk to the bar for another drink. Miguel told himself it was to make sure no creeps hit on her, but he was the one thinking about how her ass jiggled in that baby pink dress she wore. Each cheek must be more than a handful, and he wanted to feel her spilling over his fingers.

But, she has a boyfriend, he reminded himself, and she doesn’t date cowboys.

Cici took a sip of her drink before she left the bar. She nodded once to herself, pleased with the taste, and returned to the island. Miguel looked at her drink, wrinkled his nose, and asked, “What is that?”

She grinned mischievously. “Sex on the beach. You want a taste?”

He pressed his lips to the lipstick mark she left on the rim of the glass. It was fruity and sweet, almost overwhelmingly so, but he tasted something bitter too, lying just underneath. So perfectly Cici.

“I should’ve expected the princess would have some fruity little drink,” he teased.

Cici rolled her eyes. “My fruity little drink has more kick than your little beer.”

“If you want something with kick, you should be drinking tequila.”

Gwen talked through a mouthful of mozzarella stick. “Is that a suggestion for shots? Count me in!”

Cici looked at him with challenge and trouble in her eyes. “If we’re doing shots, then Miguel, you need to take two to get on our level. Those beers aren’t gonna cut it.” Miguel never could resist a dare. After all, it was a bet that brought him there in the first place. 

He spoke to the bartender to get four shots — one for Cici, one for Gwen, and two for him — and another Dr. Pepper for Taylor. Miguel tapped his knuckles against the bar and looked over his shoulders as he waited for them to be poured. A group of guys at the bar were too rowdy for his taste, and they certainly weren’t slowing down when the bartender served them another round. He ought to keep an eye on them. Bull riders with money burning a hole in their pockets and more alcohol in their veins than blood were trouble. 

Gwen wolf-whistled when he brought back the drinks, making him blush and tip his head. Miguel lined up the shots on the table, the glasses tiny in his hands, and he passed the soda to Taylor. She hadn’t asked for a refill, but he saw her cup was nearly empty. 

“Cheers”, they all said as they clinked their glasses together. They tapped the bottom of the glass against the table before drinking it. Miguel set his aside and moved his second in front of him. 

“Cheers,” he smiled wolfishly before repeating. 

“Now we’re even.”

The ladies finished off the last of their appetizers, and Miguel caved and ordered wings after looking longingly at them for the last half hour. Cici switched to strawberry lemonade for the time being, not wanting to get too drunk, but enjoying the slight floaty feeling. 

Miguel got up to get another beer, and she noticed him talking to the bartender longer than it would take to say “Another Modelo, please,” and Cici wondered what he was up to. He returned, careful not to lean on the table and upset it with his size, and he sipped his beer. The Shania Twain song faded, and when a piano flourish started to play, Miguel half grinned, confident but trying to hide it. 

“I think it’s time for our dance, princess.”

Cici deliberated for a moment, recognizing the song and trying to remember the name of it. “If you think so.” Miguel offered his hand when she left the bench seat, and she tried not to think about how his hand dwarfed hers and his rough calluses against her soft palm.

He led her to the center of the makeshift dance floor where several couples paused, unsure how to dance to the song. One of his strong hands snaked toward her waist and the other held her hand. They stood close together — another step and they would be pressed chest to chest — and she wondered if her head would fit under his chin. Cici stood tall, especially in the heels Josh didn’t like her to wear, but Miguel stood taller. 

“Just follow my lead,” he whispered, “and try not to step on my toes with your heels.”

Cici reached up to rest her unoccupied hand on his shoulder. The muscle flexed and twitched under her delicate touch. She didn’t mind his hand on her waist, he kept a respectful distance between them, and if anything, it helped him guide her. But she couldn’t ignore how warm his hand felt against her. 

“Did you have to request Dos Gardenias?” Cici’s foot followed his, carefully avoiding his toes as he pleaded, and matching the song’s tempo with her hips. 

Miguel was a large, sturdy man, but just like in his riding, he could move lightly and gracefully. His lips twitched as they turned, “I’m surprised you know the song.”

“I’m full of surprises, but evidently so are you.”

He raised his arm and adjusted his hand so Cici could spin out. She did, letting the dim light of the bar shimmer across her satin dress. Cici caught Taylor and Gwen’s wicked grins and raised brows when she spun. She ignored them, knowing they would have plenty of time to talk. 

Miguel quickly responded, increasing the cadence of their dance. “I like surprises, and I like surprising people.” Sweat dotted his temples and his hairline. Cici wondered if he felt the heat growing between them, and she reminded herself the air conditioning here could barely fight the Texas heat.

She slipped her hand back in his, his fingers curling against hers. “It’s a good thing those go hand in hand.” Cici tilted her head up. 

The words never left his mouth, but his molten eyes spoke for him. Almost as if it was Fate. The final chorus of the song played through the cheap speakers. He clicked his tongue against his teeth. Miguel’s voice was soft, but his eyes turned playful, a subtle twinkle in the deep brown. “Do you trust me?” Cici nodded, trying not to show how breathless he and the dance made her. “Fuck, pretty, I need to hear you.”

She meant it when she said, “I trust you.” 

“Good.” Miguel’s grip on her tightened. One hand held her waist while the other her back. Cici stretched her arm across his broad shoulders, and she let herself be supported by him as he dipped her.

They stayed nose to nose as her back went parallel to the floor, close enough to kiss, but Miguel never did. Cici felt his breath ghost upon his lips. She smelled the tequila and beer, but underneath it something cleaner, fresher, like his minty toothpaste and soap.

Cici trusted him not to drop her or cross her boundaries, and he respected her wishes. Miguel held her there for three seconds, but it felt longer when she admired his face. She had never been this close, and now she could see all the subtle imperfections. A cut by his lip, the sharp points of his canines, the lines etched on his forehead, and the dark marks under his eyes. They made him human. 

The song ended, and Miguel brought her right side up. Blood rushed to her face, fueling the flame she felt. She excused herself, and Gwen and Taylor were quick to follow. Cici left Miguel on the dance floor with his hands in his pockets.

“Did you grab my purse?” Her voice shook.

“Here,” Taylor thrust it into her hands, “I have to pee again.”

“Baby still kicking your bladder?” Gwen asked, leaning against the double sink counter.

Taylor spoke from the stall, unashamed with her family. “Yeah, he better be one hell of an athlete with all this kicking.”

“Or a dancer, he could be a dancer,” Gwen teased.

Cici rifled through her purse for her touch-up makeup. Immediately after grabbing her powder, she dropped it and searched for the brush. She would feel better, calmer, and more composed once she fixed her makeup. 

Taylor laughed. “Both would be nice. What about those football players who do ballet for their training?”

“Or the riders who do yoga to stretch?” Gwen chimed in, “It’s time to think beyond traditional gender roles.”

Cici dropped her lipstick, lucky the purse caught it instead of the floor. “What is wrong with me?”

“Oh, are we talking about it now? I’ve been waiting all day to talk about it.” Taylor washed her hands in the sink next to her, exaggerating her facial expressions in the mirror. 

“I told him I have a boyfriend. He knows this. He respects this. But he still makes me feel so-”

“Bubbly?”

“Jittery?”

Feverish. Charged. Wanted. Protected. “Something like that,” Cici sighed, leaning in to re-curl her eyelashes.

 Taylor dried her hands and stayed in front of the mirror, leaning on Cici’s shoulder. “He’s hot. It’s only natural. And now that you’ve fulfilled your bet you can tell him to fuck off if you want.”

“True,” Gwen held the fragile pink bottle of perfume for Cici, “we can always kick him off the island.” 

But Miguel didn’t do anything to deserve getting kicked out so cruelly. It was not his fault she felt this way. She simply needed to control herself and remind herself of her boyfriend she loved very much. Cici sent him a text saying he could call her later, or she might call him because she missed the sound of his voice.

“Are you ready?” Taylor rested her hands under her growing bump, something she did more often by the week.

“Almost,” Cici took the perfume from Gwen’s hand and spritzed it generously, “now I am.”

Miguel watched her hurry off, her friends following close behind, and he tried not to let it sting him. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest, and he wanted to reach out for her. He picked up his beer from the table and stalked off to the pool tables, ready to do as he said and leave her alone. Their deal was finished, and he earned his points and his prize, but he felt hollow. 

The rowdy bull riders he saw at the bar congregated around the tables, and they invited Miguel to play. Typically, Miguel did not enjoy their company, but he thought in their inebriated state he could get away with “mhm” and “uhuh” until he was sober enough to drive back to his motel. They commended him on his straight shot and his ride, and he muttered quiet thanks, trying not to draw attention to himself.

It did not take long for them to change the subject, discussing the various girls across the bar and who they thought they had a shot with. If their game was like the way they played pool, they would be alone. Miguel stayed silent, not wishing to be part of their conversation. 

But, of course, they had to drag him into it. “What’s up with you and Anderson? You going back with her tonight?”

“She looked like putty in your arms. If you’d’ve kissed her I bet you’d be fucking in the bathroom right now.”

“Watch your mouth,” Miguel growled. He bent over the pool table, crouched like a panther ready to pounce. 

“What dude? It’s not like I’m into her or anything. She’s not my type, too heavy, but hey, if that’s your thing then go for it.”

“You can always hit it then quit it.”

“Or, I mean c’mon, she’s an Anderson. Use that to your advantage.”

Miguel stood up straight, tapping the pool stick on the wooden floor. “I told you the first time you disrespected her. You continued.” His voice was as rough as gravel. “I won’t tell you again.”

They muttered their apologies, but Miguel knew it wasn’t him they should be telling. It was Cici, but she shouldn’t know what they said. It would only make her sad, or upset, and Miguel didn’t want to do that to her. He looked for her across the bar, at their island. He saw Gwen and Taylor, but he didn’t see Cici. Miguel wandered off to a high two-top table, sipping on a Coke, and tapping his knuckles against the slanted, sticky table. 

He assumed she would be right back, powdering her nose or whatever ladies did, but he still didn’t see her. Miguel hoped to say goodbye and goodnight before he left. He settled his tab with the bartender, and he asked for the Anderson tab too.

“Are you sure?” the bartender asked. With multiple cocktails and appetizers, it wasn’t as cheap as beer and soda. Earlier, he split the shots between them, but it all came out the same in the end.

“Yeah, and when she asks for it, give her this copy of the receipt.”

He signed at the bottom, leaving a generous tip, and flipped it over. Thank you, he wrote, and on impulse, he scrawled his phone number too. With one final glance at their island, and still not seeing her, he decided it was time to head out. 

Miguel found Cici out in the parking lot. She leaned against her car, holding her cellphone to her ear, and she kept her head down. Cici didn’t see him, so he stayed by the door to listen.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled between her words, “I know you don’t like it when I hang out with them, but they’re my family. What do you want me to do? Not see my family?”

Crickets chirped and the music from the bar spilled outside, filling the awkward silence while she listened to the person on the other end of the line. 

“You’re right, Josh, I should’ve told you I was going out with them. But it was a special occasion, last minute, and-”

Josh. Her boyfriend, he guessed, and he must not be a cowboy because she doesn’t date cowboys. Miguel wondered what Josh was like. He must be jealous, by the sound of it, and controlling. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your night… I love you.”

Cici ended the call and tipped her head up to the sky. The stars twinkled above, the moon finally came out to play, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. She took deep breaths in and out, wiping away tears with the tips of her fingers. Then, she looked at the door and jumped.

“Fuck, sorry, you scared me.”

He knew better given his size and stature. He knew people crossed the street when they saw him coming, clutched their keys tight, and never let him out of their sight. In the dark by the door, his shadow intimidated. 

Bashfully, Miguel stepped into the light. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped there.” Silence crept between them, keeping them an arm’s length apart. Miguel uncrossed his arms, and Cici stepped closer. “But, for what it’s worth, it sounds like he should apologize to you.”

Cici exhaled, shuddering, and tears welled in her eyes. Miguel didn’t know what he should do, but he knew what he wanted to do. Protect her. Comfort her. Hold her. But, that’s not his place, he bitterly reminded himself. Josh, the one who made her cry, should be the one consoling her.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him closer than when they danced. Her head notched under his chin, fitting them together like two broken puzzle pieces. He sniffed her addictive floral perfume in her hair and memorized the press of her soft body before she could pull away from him. Miguel barely heard her whisper into his shoulder, but he did. 

“Thank you… just, thank you.”

He took one last look at her, shining under the mix of starlight and parking lot floodlights. Cici’s eyes were glassy, her hair flattened from the heat, and her makeup smudged, but there was something intimately vulnerable and gorgeous. Miguel walked away before he could say something stupid they would both regret. Something like… Your boyfriend sucks. You deserve better. I’m sorry you have to deal with that. Let me treat you better.

He shook his head as if he could shake all those thoughts from him. The more he thought about her that way, the stronger those feelings would grow. It was better to drop everything now, keep to his word, and leave her alone. 

Miguel sat in his truck, unsure if he should drive back yet. Was he drunk on her or the drinks? If it came to it, he could sleep in the cabin or the bed of the truck. He kept a pillow and blanket tucked under the passenger seat, just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he doubted it would be the last. He set a timer and closed his eyes. He’d be sobered up when it went off and could drive back to his motel. 

With his hat over his eyes, it was dark enough for him to doze off. But before he did, he swore that if he closed his eyes and focused, he could smell her perfume, feel her weight in his arms, and hear her laugh and say his name.

Fuck, he was in trouble.

Next chapter

taglist: @Kay.dot @tojishugetiddies

[guilty-pleasures21]

See, my brain refuses to accept that Miguel O'Hara is a suave flirt, because this man's first girlfriend was the girl who defended him from his childhood bully, he's had at least 3 long-term relationships from what I know of comics lore and in the movie, his definition of true happiness was being a father! You cannot convince me that this man's flirting abilities extend beyond awkwardly posing, unintentionally sounding like a smug know-it-all while trying to show off his intelligence, and telling dad jokes. 🙃😍

[yeaiamme2]

15 seconds. Thats all he gave you. 15 seconds. Your silently counting down in your head as you take off into the woods.

Branches breaking. Leaves rustling. Crickets and owls in the area. ‘Crap. Im really out of shape’ you think to yourself as you sit next to a tree calming down, catching your breath.

Then all of a sudden it all stops. The leaves, branches, the owls and crickets. ‘I have to keep going.’ Just as you were going to run off again he grabs you by the waist.

“Looks like someone was too slow” He chuckles lowly in your ear, but loud enough to hear.

His hands travel down your shirt until he makes his under your skirt. “Oh my, if I knew you were going to be so wet off of a little chase like this we would have done this ages ago.”

His pointing finger playing in your pussy. He then inserts his pointing and middle finger in to your pussy. “Oh look at that. She’s gripping me so tightly. Mmh I cant wait to see what she feels like on my cock.”

He says moving is fingers in and out of you at a faster and harder pace. Before you realize it your moaning like never before. Back arching, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed tightly.

You can feel it coming. Your pussy tightens around his finger. “Im gonna-“ You do your best to complete the sentence but the pleasure is to overwhelming.

“Shh I know, I know. Let it out for me baby.” He says softly and starts rubbing your clit with the right amount of pressure for you to see stars.

“I-I” You’re barely able to start your sentence before you beginning to cum. His fingers go slowly, his hand still on your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm.

“You did so good my sweet girl.” He says before picking you up and taking you home.

Happy halloween

[hrhmimieucliffe]

⚠️⚠️🔞W H O R E 🔞⚠️⚠️

I'm projecting, I just want him between my legs and I wanna pounce between his legs and-

I want to be those tentacles so bad

[fantasyqueen502]

Officer O’Hara

Rated: PG

Word count: 950

Summery: Officer O'Hara hates spider-man, but doesn't know she's married to him.

“You're under arrest!” An officer barks, her gun raised and aimed at the luchador's skull, glaring at her. She steels her nerves, meeting the eyes that were concentrated on hog-tying an unconscious Lizard with its own tail. 

“I think the words you are looking for are 'thank you,'” the man says, speaking through a voice distorter. 

She maintains her distance. “Nueva York police department, you are under arrest for tampering, vigilantism, battery, bodily assault, and contaminating and jeopardizing numerous crime signs.” She lists. 

“I thought we had something, Officer L/N.” 

“And getting on my damn nerves. It's officer O'Hara now,” she corrects. 

“Is that against the law?” He quips. 

Gripping the walkie, pinned over her heart. “I need...” she managed only three syllables. And that's being generous before an electric hiss sliced the air, a force shoving her into a far wall. The wind knocked out of her two more zips, sound bright red webs pinning her hands to the brick. 

"Awww, we can't have our fun now that you're off the market.” He whines. 

“You're gonna pay for this. You hear me. There are consequences. You can’t continue evading the law---mmm.” Webbing glues her mouth shut.

“Till next time, officer O'hara,” he chirps. 

“Congratulations to the new beau.” He swings off. 

“You look like a chipmunk, mommy.” Gabriella observes. 

Her cheeks and lips are red and puffy. One hand holding an ice pack to her left cheek. 

“And you will be too if you don't finish your peas.” 

“I did.” She points at her empty plate with her fork. 

The mom lifts the plate, revealing a grouping of peas hidden under it. Using a butter knife, she slid them back into the plate, placing them before her. Gabriella pouts, slouching back in her seat, kicking her feet in a mild tantrum. “But I don't wanna!” She whales. “They’re yucky.” 

“Finish your dinner, and you'll get a slice of tres leche cake, Daddy made.'' She coos cleaning the dishes. Holding the ice pack with her shoulder. 

“With strawberries,” she mumbles.

“And raspberries,” she nods, smiling to herself, seeing the reflection in the window of Gabriella begrudgingly eating her peas. 

“I'm home!” Calls from the front door.

“Kitchen!” She returns.

“Ow.” She yelps as her husband sneaks a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking to get a good look at her face. “Did adhesive solvent help?” He asks. He had received a slurry of texts while at work about the situation. Trying the call only to be declined until she sent him a selfie of herself. Red webbing covered her from below her nose to her chin. 

“Yes, but my face is now burning from scrubbing it raw,” she groans. 

“I'm sorry, honey.” Placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Another reason to the list to keep myself restrained from wringing that thick neck.” She grits out

“Why do you not like Spider-Man, mommy?” She mumbles while taking a break from her peas. “He's so cool and saves people like you, mommy.” 

“That's right.” 

“No, honey.” 

The couple looks at each other. 

“He didn't go to school like mommy did, followed the rules, and not just swing around as I pleased and assault an officer. Me!” 

“But he's a good guy. He even wears your colors.” 

“Why are you defending him?” 

“I'm just playing devil's advocate.” He holds his hands up. 

“Finished!!!” Exclaimed the young girl. “Cake, now.” 

“Dinner’s in the microwave,” she sighs before leaving the kitchen.

Reading and rereading the same line from her tablet of a book she downloaded a while ago but never got the time to finish, thanks to life. 

Knock!!! Knock!!!

“We got ice cream for you, mommy.” 

Gabriella says, nudging the door with her hip. Big bowl in hand. Throwing the now useless melted ice pack to the side. To greet her daughter, taking the bowl as she focused on climbing into bed. Snuggling up close to her mom. 

"Thank you.” She coos kissing her cheek. “Got your slice of cake?” 

She nods. “Big slice.” 

“Did you brush your teeth?” She asks. From the smell of whipped cream and fruit, that was a no. 

Gabriella nods, hiding her mischevious grin. 

“Gabriella.” Calls from the doorway. 

“Uh-oh.” the young girl coos. 

“Busted.” the mother laughs. 

“Teeth and bed; I'll be there in a minute.” He instructs.

The tiny tot scampers out of bed past her dad. He pats her head as she makes her way to her bathroom. 

“I'm sorry,” she exhales through her nose. Eyes tired. 

“For what?” His voice is soft and gentle. Kissed her ears.

“I know how much Spiderman means to the city, seeing the looks on you and Gabby's faces when he’s on TV and the daily bugle.” She sighs, massaging the space between her brows. 

“I understand your feelings with the webslinger.” 

“The only feelings I have I can't say in fear of our five-year-old hearing and repeating.” 

He chuckles. She looks at her bowl of moose tracks topped with chocolate syrup and takes a heaping spoonful of cold goodness. Sighing as she closes her eyes and moans from the relief it brought to her lips. 

“Let me say all of the no-no words for you,” he offers. “Give him a piece of my mind.” 

“Really.” She chuckles. 

“Really,” he assures. “I’ll get him a stern talk on lowering the polymer strength in the adhesive in those weds.”

She laughs, but squeaks, holding her cheek, but laughs anyway through the pain. “I feel bad now,” she says through her breaks for breath. “I don’t want him to die from your science talk.” 

"Well, too bad for him,” he tuts. She leans in, giving his lips a peck. He smiles and licks his lips.

[redr0sewrites]

ATSV Characters with a Goth S/o

heeeeeyyyyyy guys 😇 *slowly sliding the 100+ REQUESTS in my inbox to the side to make room for a new special interest*

🥀Cw: none, mostly fluff!!!

🥀Pairing(s): Hobie x reader, Miles x reader, Miguel x reader, Spot x reader

Hobie

he would LOVE any type of alternative partner tbh- he just LOOOVESSS that ur goth and will support you 100%

people who go against societies expectations/standards and don't fit in with the norm intrigue him, and your style is probably what piqued his interest in the first place

y'all definitely wear matching fits sorry i don't make the rules- hobie just can't pass up the opportunity to match w you!!! whenever you go to meetings within the spider society he always brings you along, regardless of whether or not you're a spiderperson and hobie loves showing off you and your style

MAJOR "THATS MY PARTNER‼️" VIBES

look me in the eyes and tell me hobia would not absolutely rock some funky eyeliner LIKEEEEE- he def lets you practice on him and will do your makeup for you too!!!

hobie loves thrifting with you, there is no way he isn't a major thrifter and you both definitely DIY a lot of your clothes

HE MAKES YOU GUYS MATCHING PUNK BATTLE VESTS FOR YOUR ANNIVERSARY, AND MAKES SURE THAT IT MATCHES UR AESTHETIC AS WELL!!

hobie absolutely has BLESSED music taste, but while he usually listens to rock, punk, dad rock, or post-punk type of music, i def see him enjoying more gothic/new wave music- especially if u introduce it to him!!!

i see him enjoying bauhaus, sisters or mercy, scary bitches, etc- he'll also give YOU a lot of music recommendations and help to expand ur taste!

hobie would also accompany you to any protests or conventions that you wanted to attend, and would act as your scary dog privileges

YOU TWO DEFINITELY GO TO CONCERTS TOGETHER OMG. I TOTALLY SEE THAT AS A SPONTANEOUS DATE THAT YOU TWO ENJOY A LOT

honestly hobie is a lovely partner to have if you are goth, and he's not only supportive but VERY enthusiastic about your fashion and lifestyle!

Miles

hes such a sweetheart!!! he definitely supports you if you're goth and asks a LOOOT of questions lmao

miles draws you and your fashion a lot, and will def design makeup or eyeliner ideas for you too!!! while ik this is more associated with punk, i also see miles drawing you a few custom patches and stuff like that

your kind of like his muse in a way, and miles just really enjoys sketching you, especially since you have such a unique aesthetic and such cool outfits

HE HAS DEFINITELY GRAFFITIED U SOMEWHERE‼️

he loves watching you get ready and do your makeup. seeing you do perfect eyeliner wings and heavy makeup in general lowkey relaxes him, and he just loves admiring you

im sorry but miles knows absolutely nothing about goth music or culture, ur gonna have to introduce him to a lot of the songs/bands!!!

while i don't think he's huge on the music at first, i think it would grow on him over time. its definitely the type of thing that he loves because YOU love it, and he sees how mu much you enjoy it so he starts listening to it as well so he can talk to you about it

i think his favorite band would be the cure, and his fav songs would either be boys dont cry or the walk (both by the cure- idk why thats so specific but they just kinda fit his vibe yk?)

miles likes holding hands a lot, and he loves when you wear rings or gloves or something along those lines because it just reminds him so much of you! your hands just feel different compared to other peoples and he just loves how unique you are

if you have a lot of piercings, miles would definitely ask about them or buy you specific jewelry for piercings!!!!

overall, very very cute and supportive about your style!!! (he lowkey gives bi wife energy, and iyk what in talking ab then ily mwah)

Miguel

he's pretty indifferent to your style at first, i don't see him as the type to judge much based on appearances. its your personality that really throws him for a loop, and a part of him admires your dedication to making yourself look how you want to look and truly living to be your best self, regardless of what others think

if you think miles knows nothing about being goth then be prepared for miguel bc he knows NOTHINGGGG- no music, no history, no political views, zero, zilch, nada, goose egg

if he cares about you i do see him being intrigued about your style, and once you two are officially dating is when he'll show more interest in your personal fashion sense

he strikes me as the type to like, NEVER listen to music, so he literally only listens to the music you like!!! he does find himself occasionally humming the tune of some strawberry switchblade song or casually listening to a siouxsie and the banshees song while he works, and over time you influence him a LOT with your music taste. he definitely associates any and all goth music with YOU, and that's probably why he starts enjoying it.

he's a "hand on you at all times" type of guy, and while he is rarely touchy with others, miguel is definitely keeping you close. your fashion makes that convenient for him, and he loves pulling you into a kiss by grabbing onto your belt loop or something of the sort

miguel loves how you look with and without makeup on and isn't afraid to tell you that, however, he really likes it if you incorporate his colors or color scheme into your makeup one day. he'll never admit it, but you keep catching him admiring you with the smallest smirk on his face every few seconds

if anyone ever gave u shit for what you wear and how you dress, especially someone in the spider society, you'd practically have to restrain miguel from drop kicking them across nueva york- he doesn't want anyone to be rude to you , and while he knows you can stand up for yourself, he just gets protective at times

Spot

goth? whats that???

he's lowkey such a nerd, and spends too much time being science-y and planning on how to beat spiderman to actually get caught up on fashion

spot doesn't know how he pulled you tbh, but he appreciates you nonetheless!!! he thinks you and your aesthetic are something to be admired, and will unabashedly tell EVERYONE he knows about you

he will shoplift any clothing or jewelry that you want, and he'll even take you to other dimensions where there are better alternative clothes as well

spot doesn't really have a face to do makeup on, but he'll offer to do yours for you! surprisingly enough he's pretty good at it, though he does work pretty slowly

spot loves fiddling with your accessories, whenever he's standing near you he's always reaching out to touch you in some way shape or form. he loves playing with any chains or necklaces you wear, and will help adjust them so that they lay correctly

he helps you get ready in the morning!!!!! if ur the type of goth to wear corsets, he makes lacing them up SO easy and will gladly do it for you

i personally hc that spot HATES seeing himself in mirrors/pictures, it reminds him sm of what he used to look like, but he LOVES taking photos of you and your style!! whenever you are wearing a cute outfit or have funky makeup on, spot adores just taking photos of you

if you ever did a makeup look inspired by him and his spots he would probably CRY :(

URGRHHRHHRRR I LOVE ATSV SMMMMMMM!!!! this post will DEFINITELY have a pt2 w more characters!!!!! i swear tho atsv literally pulled me out of the most horrendous burnout ever i FELT the artblock and writing block lift off of my body as i watched it. IM SO INVESTED I MADE A SPIDERSONA...

[dxndxrxvxbe]

Spider-Romi

Another spidersona Spider-Romi.

Why am I still doing spider stuff idk.

I wanna make screenshot edits for her and fics and hcs and everything because I'm now freaking obsessed with her😭.

On a real note I do want to get back into writing, I used to do it on wattpad but now I'm kind of just always on Tumblr.

(My Base Was Done By Hannibifawn)

[catchingdaydreams]

[Un]welcomed Guest

Shadow Miguel x Reader

Chp 1 Lost His Ways

You didn't mean to get lost in the woods that weekend camping trip with your college friends. And you certainly didn't mean to bring back an unwelcomed guest. But from then, wherever you go, you now have two shadows following you.

Warnings: Murder, Drug use, Slight mentions of depression

[10 Years Ago]

As two cars pull up along the beach of an emerald lake, a group of conspicuous looking men step out. A gruntled yet muffed shout came from the back of one of their trunk , only to grow louder as they opened.

"Line him up over there", one of the men demanded. Grabbing the bound males body before chucking him onto the rough gravel. A low yelp of pain erupted from the male as the rocks dug into his skin. Coming to his bearings the man gets up into his knees, his blind fold losed from the the fall. His burgundy hued glare was calculated, filled with hatred and wrath towards the unopened car in front of him.

One of the men opened said door, reviling a rather slimming gentleman in white, doaned in gold rings and a chain. He ignored the man's gaze in front of him as he lit a cigarette, breathing in only to let out a wheezy cough. Whether it was years of smoking or the coldness of this winter morning, it didn't matter, his voice carried a raspy undertone as he spoke.

"Mike, Mike, Mike", he repeated, taking a drag once more before he continued." Or should I say Miguel O'Hara, am I correct?". The gentleman finally meets Miguels gaze. Seeking some form of gratification from a surprise reaction, however was challenged by his unwavering cold stare.

The gentleman tisked.

"Miguel O'Hara, by day a renowned geneticist at alchemax, by night you steal their very own rapture and sell it directly to our...'goods and services". The man waffles as he begins to walk round Miguel slowly.

"It was simply a story to follow, so simple Miguel".

"But that was until you decided to change scripts on us and sell those shitting contaminated knockoffs!" He yells, flicking his cig at the tanned males face. The gentleman finally meets back to face Miguel, crouching down to meet at eye level.

"Can't have my clients dropping dead so quickly, really put at dint with my mens numbers too."

" But I like you Migs, I really do. It would be ashamed to get rid of such a valuable young man like yourself. And what if a few people ended up as food for the rats, it's just business" He chuckles.

He placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder as he continued.

"whatever "this" is can easily go away you know. You can go back and keep retelling your same story over and over for us. If you only just tell me where the real drungs are." The man firmly gripped onto Miguel shoulder, nails digging in just enough to give pain through his shirt. Yet Migs cold gaze continues to remain.

"Tell me, cause as lord as my witness I know you still have them. Where's the real rapture".

"Go.To.Hell" Miguel spits with venom.

"Oh believe me I'll be there soon" Then weakly laughs, before coming to a coughing fit. But he manages to recollect himself. " Ah well then, I actually really hope it would come to this". He smiles wickedly.

For the first time, Miguel broke his facid, confusion crossed his face as an uneasiness begins to fester looking at the man before him.

The gentleman snaps his fingers.

"Boys"

A group of men shuffled through the backseat. Emerging out they cradled a small, limped child. From the moment Miguel first saw her body, he lost it.

"Gabi?, Gab!!!" Miguel shouted as he tried to run to her, but he couldn't even get the chance to stand as two men held him down. Frustrated he grunts and curses bursted out as he called out to her. Yet meet with no response. Not even a stir.

"Let's try this again-"

"What did you do to her you bastard !??" Miguel shouted, tossing and kicking his way free proved frivolous. Merely it served to delight the gentleman. A sadistic grin edged his face. Finally he got to see the fear in the young man who betrayed him.

"She's drugged. Simply asleep at the moment. Don't worry Miguel I ain't that heartless for a child to experience these things. I just need her here to make you more compliant."

His henchmen placed the child into their boss's right arm, while his other hand being free, reaches into his pocket.

"You wouldn't want anything to happen to your daughter. Best not to test me Miguel. My hands... Are shaky with age." He says as he grabs a knife to her neck, pressure applied to her skin yet not enough to slice it.

Miguel frivolous struggle came to a hault. Jaw tensed out of needed compliance, gritting his teeth with a mixture of frustration and worry. He needed to be calm and collective, for his daughters sake.

"Good, good". The boss was pleased at Miguel's commitment to restrain himself. He waited for Miguel's response.

"I don't have them." Miguel says plainly.

"Oh?!" The man says in fake shock, as he flicks the knife as a gesture for Miguel to cut the crap.

"Im telling the truth. I gave you your rapture to your lackies as usual. I didn't cheap you out. Why would I? There's no benefit in double crossing you, every crime lord in this city and the next knows that. Look whatever happened between shipments doesn't concern me, I don't have no control over your men." Miguel tries to reason with him. Though rather poorly. He was never a good at controlling the way he phrase things to make it sounded more sweater or the the other persons liking. He does spend most of his days in his private lab after all.

But Miguel was in fact telling the truth. He never would have thought he would end up as a supplier to a well known underground criminal syndicate. But that all changed when his daughter fell ill. Despite his law biding job paying well, it wasn't enough to cover all her medical costs. He was desperate. Rapture leaking into the market too early anyway, becoming a very popular drug; and so he had to do what he though it was right by any means necessary to save her. But what good did that do. He couldn't protect her from his other life. Despite everything, he never knew it would lead to this.

Whoever double crossed him had to know that he was going to quit this side gig. And no one's quites this. Miguel wanted to leave the cesspool of the city once Gabi was getting better. And had to be sneaky about it. Until the time being, he was stuck being someone's drug mule.

He just hoped the boss believed his words.

It didn't.

"Don't you think I've looked into it on my side. Everyone that day had an alibi. Camera checked. All the sorts. But when I'd looked into you, do you know what I got? Nothing. Causes everything you did that day was wiped off every system. No camera, no signs of transaction. Heck it looked like you didn't even go to your job to even get us our goods Miguel."

All Miguel could do was just stare at the boss, he had nothing to say. What could he have said?

The man signed

"Oh I'm sorry Miguel"

"Para, oh Dios, no, no, no!!"

And just like that, time slowed down for Miguel. To witness the absolute horror no father should experience. To be so utterly helpless in protecting his child.

With one swift motion the man sliced her neck, blood spewing along skin, dripping pearls down onto the ground.

"Gabi !" Miguel cried. He tried to, anything, to go to her. He struggled. He tugged against his constraints as well as the men holding him down. But it only lead to gravel being kicked around. She was just out of reach.

"But really this is all your fault". The gentleman drops her limp body without a care. She tumbled over, landing a few meters before her father. Whatever universal grace Miguel got in this situation was that her face was shielded away from his sight. He never got to see her tears.

His body trembled as he slumped down. Not once did he took his eyes off her. His own heart beat drums out the wheezing laughter from her killer.

A million thoughts traveled his head in a matter of seconds. 'He should have never got into this business'. ' Who double crossed him'. 'Why did they have to kill her?' 'Shes innocent'.

'Its all his fault'

'Its his fault'

'Its his fault'

'ITS HIS FAULT'

"Get on with it then" He says in defeat.

"Oh no no Miguel, I won't be so merciful with you." He says as one of his henchmen delivers a brief case.

Opening it he reveals a large injecting gun filled with cloudy green liquid. He flicks the gun, looking at the way the liquid sloshes back and forth, before meeting back to Miguel gaze.

"I think you know what this is." He snarks as he walks up to his defeated form and stabs is arm. Miguel does not retaliate, why should he. He lost the very thing he cherished the most. There's no point in trying to escape when he has no need to live anymore.

Miguel hisses from the jap as the green liquid drains from the syringe into his veins. Almost instantly the effects take affect. Miguels heart rate increases as his breaths get shorter and shorter, as if lungs were clogged. The boss signaled his henchmen to let go of him. There was no need to restrain him, the scorching heat burning throughout his body cause him to curl in pain. An agonizing screams spewed out amongst his gasps. The agony felt like hours but carried out in just minutes.

As his vision was going black, barely, just barely he glaces at his daughter that lays beside him on the gravel.

"Ga-gabi." He whispers.

Whatever little strength he had left he used it to drag his weakening body across the dirt. With each movement the serum flowed through his blood stream faster, burning his insides. But he did not care.

"Lo siento mi hija".

He manages to reach out, shaking fingers ghosts her hand, trying all his might to hold onto hers. But his strength wasn't enough.

He remained holding her hand.

Until his spark finally burned out.

"How touching" The gentleman sneared as he wiped the blood off the knife with a handkerchief before waking back to his car.

"What should be do with the bodies, boss" one of his men questioned.

"Tisk, dump them in the lake for all I care, just make it look like a bloody accident." He waved off.

This was not how the story was supposed to go but I like a bit of a back story for our sad spooky guy. I haven't proof read this so I'll re-edit once I push out a few chapters. The next chapter will be reader centric. If you have any ideas how you want the story to go feel free to suggest it, I like sharing ideas and providing a different view on things.

Thanks for reading!!

[vampireium]

Old married couple and their holo bird

[lorna-d-m]

Rodeo Hearts Series List

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!OC

Summary: Meet Miguel O'Hara, a rugged bareback rider who could have had it all, and Cici Anderson, the spirited daughter of a stock contractor trapped in a toxic relationship. When fate brings them together for a dance, they see each other again and again.

Rated: E for explicit language, eventual sex, drinking

Ao3 link here

Tag list form here

Spotify playlist here

Pinterest board here

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Chapter One: Tequila Sunrise

Chapter Two: Backyard Stars

Chapter Three: Popcorn Pillows

[guilty-pleasures21]

The roommate

Note: fem!reader × roommate!Miguel

Part 1

Part 2

BONUS! Halloween story!

Warnings: explicit descriptions of sex.

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Roommate!Miguel who sneaks you away from the party, the both of you stumbling down the street as you stop every once in a while to share a sweet kiss. He pounces on you immediately when you finally reach the privacy of your own apartment, his lips moving hungrily against yours, his hands roaming across your body, stroking and squeezing you through the thin material of your dress. He walks you backwards into his bedroom, the space decorated with little signs of you: the colourful bedsheets you'd bought him after complaining about the dullness of his room, the neatly framed posters you'd dragged him to the library to get printed out, the fluffy blanket he'd stolen from you when you'd finally finished knitting it after working on it for three months. He tosses you onto his bed and as you gaze up at him, lips twisted into that saccharine smile he loves so much, he swears his heart melts into a puddle in his chest.

Roommate!Miguel who's so gentle as he thrusts himself into you, his strokes slow and deep, his swollen cock brushing against your walls and stuffing you up so very nicely. He nibbles on your neck as he kneads your breasts with his large hands, your soft skin glistening all over with his saliva and your sweat. You wrap your arms around his neck, tilting his head up to yours and he speeds up the movements of his hips as you kiss him deeply.

Roommate!Miguel who's secretly still your roommate when you bring him home during summer break to meet your family. He went straight to the guest room like a gentleman, desperate to make a good impression on your parents. But you'd snuck into his room after everyone had gone to bed, unable to fall asleep without his strong arms wrapped around you. You tiptoe over to the bed and slide under the covers, crawling on top of him and snuggling yourself against his chest. "¿Cariño?" he murmurs, finally able to get comfortable now that your soft little body is pressed against his, your curves supporting his arms and legs as he curls himself around you. "Your parents ..." "I'll get up before they do," you assure him, your heart fluttering at how important your parents' approval is to him.

Roommate!Miguel who still can't believe that he gets the chance to wake up every morning with his beautiful and kind and intelligent little roommate all snuggled up in his arms. His heart thuds in his chest as he watches you walk around the kitchen in your shorts and his shirt, you hair tied up in a messy bun to reveal your adorably scrunched up features as you mix the batter for your vanilla cupcakes. You bake whenever you get stressed, the careful process of measuring out the ingredients and mixing everything in the perfect order focusing your thoughts and calming you down. He moves around the kitchen island and helps you put the trays in the oven before spinning around and pinning you against the counter. "I can think of another way to help you relax, princesa," he murmurs, smiling against your lips. You wrap yourself around him as you kiss, letting him lift you up onto his waist and carry you over to your bedroom.

Roommate!Miguel who's still your roommate after all these years, just in a bigger house, with a ring on his finger that matches your own and three other little roommates who race around the house everyday. Thank god for that administrative mix-up 😪.

Tags: @safixiovi @amberbalcom14 @shack-wheel-oneal

[angel-eyes05]

bite the hand (chapter 1)

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara 

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, emetophobia, violence, blood mention, fangs

word count: 2.5k 

notes: i'm super excited to start this series!!! i'll also be posting a copy of this on ao3 cause i wanna start sharing my work there too so i'll put the link up here when i post it. also if you see me use "you" instead of "she/her" just ignore it i probably missed it while proofreading and it's instinct lol

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The stuffy air from inside the bag her head was under nearly suffocated her before she could wake up. Her breath was hot and shoved towards her face by the bag, causing her to sweat a little. As she slowly woke up, she found herself unable to move her arms and legs, bound to the chair by her wrists and ankles. She tried to wriggle herself around, the rope bounded so tightly she could feel herself losing circulation, but it was in vain as she quickly felt a striking force against her ribs as a result. Lorena in her chair was knocked to the ground. The bag was removed from her head, exposing her to the harsh, fluorescent lights in the room.

Another kick was sent to her stomach, knocking a nasty cough out of her. All she could see right now as her eyes were still adjusting was the two feet standing in front of her face. She spat some of the blood forming in her mouth onto the freshly cleaned black shoes. She winced as her head was pulled up to face the man in front of her by her hair. His cold, dead, blue eyes shot daggers into her fiery brown irises. “You’ve turned into quite the problem, haven’t you child?” the old man spat at you, his breath stinging your eyes. “Well maybe you should be nicer to your guests,” Lorena panted out, still recovering from the two kicks. The man nodded to someone behind her and her chair was pulled up to a sitting position.

Lorena grunted as her head was yanked back by whoever was behind her. “Come on Armando, I said I would get you the money, and I am! My guy’s just taking a little longer than usual,” she nervously blurted out, seeing Armando further up in the room by a desk of torture weapons. She wasn’t going to give him the money any time soon, and he knew it. She barely had any money to buy herself food.

Lorena had been stuck on Earth-523, her safe zone, for the past week. Normally, she would be out within a day or two. But with her portal watch broken, she had no way to get out. And she had been glitching a lot recently. Glitching bad. She had asked Armando, a black market dealer she had previous history with, for parts to fix the watch. She had forgotten about how much money she owed him though, and when she failed to have it with her when she asked for the favor, she was knocked out and taken to whatever bunker she was currently in.

She had honestly gotten tired of hopping between so many worlds like this. She had been doing it for the past couple of months and it was draining her. She missed the stability of a home. Her home. Earth-2497. But she couldn’t go back now. It was physically impossible. She watched everything she knew and loved glitch out of existence while she just ran through her portal. Instead of dying a noble death alongside her people, she just ran away. Like a coward. Now she was being chased for it. That was another reason she needed her watch fixed.

Their appearances were becoming more and more frequent. People who looked just like her. She could sense her connection to them. One of them, a woman riding a motorcycle and big yellow sunglasses, said that she was. Lorena had experienced similar things to the others. Like the death of her tio. And then the death of her boyfriend. Her struggles were the same as theirs. But she wasn’t supposed to be here anymore. She explained that Lorena “broke the canon”, whatever that meant.

A man with multiple mechanical arms, almost like an octopus, had come through an orange portal and began wreaking havoc on New York City. Lorena had stopped him, but too early apparently, according to the woman. The man was supposed to kill Captain Stacy, the father of her best friend. But since he hadn’t been killed, she had accidentally ripped a hole in the space time continuum, or something, consuming and ripping apart her entire universe. She was supposed to die with it. But she hadn’t. She ran away. Now she was considered an anomaly. The woman described that most anomalies were sent back to their worlds after they were captured. But Lorena had no world to go back to.

“So what’ll you do to me then?” Lorena asked the woman.

“.....I’m not sure.”

That was enough to convince Lorena to start running. The different Spider-Men would pop up about every week or so. But the gap had been closed to around every day now. She had gotten a break this past week while her watch was broken, what she assumed to be some kind of break from the universe or something. But she knew it was only a matter of time until they found her again. Until he found her again.

Lorena had only been chased by him twice before. But both of those times, she had only escaped by a narrow margin. He looked significantly different from the other variants, sporting a mainly blue suit with a weird red symbol in the middle that warped around to his back. He was tall also. Really tall, with huge, broad shoulders. Lorena couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like under his mask, having not seen his face before. But no matter how much she would probably ask him out if they met under different circumstances, Lorena was terrified of him. She had left both chase sequences with him with enormous gashes on her from his sharp talons. She honestly wondered if he was actually human.

She was brought back to reality when she saw Armando walking back from the table. In his hand was a metal rod, the end of it a scorching orange. Lorena scrambled around in her seat, her head still yanked back. Fuck this is bad, she thought to herself. An idea suddenly snapped into her head.

She rarely used them, as they normally ended up harming her too in the end, but she would rather be burned by her own acid webs once than by this hot plate repeatedly. She repositioned her wrists, pointing one of them out. She braced for the pain. Suddenly, four strings of a radioactive green acid web shot out of her wrist, breaking the rope around her hands and wrapping around the thigh of the man holding back her head. He screamed out in pain as the acid melted through his leg. With him and Armando distracted, Lorena quickly broke out of her ankle restraints, ripped the hot branding stick out of Armando’s hands, and pushed it deep into his face. He let out an inhuman scream and quickly passed out from the pain. She then used the stick and smacked the metal against his partner’s head, knocking him out too.

Lorena stood to catch her breath for a second, bracing her side with her right arm from the pain in her ribs. She hoped they were just bruised, and not cracked. She then took off the gloves from her suit to examine the fresh acid burns on her left wrist. She had developed a bit of resistance from the pain, having had to use them so much recently since she’s been without web fluid for months now, but it still stung a bit and left quite a mark on her skin.

She stripped Armando of his long sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants to cover up her suit, and shoved her mask into the pockets of the pants, before walking outside the door into the night.

She was almost immediately soaked to the touch as the rain poured down on the city. The large t-shirt, absorbing all the water falling onto Lorena, only put extra weight onto her damaged ribs. She struggled to walk through the street as she continued to cough blood into her hand. Fuck, this was bad. Maybe her injury was worse than she thought.

Things only got worse when she suddenly felt her heartbeat speed up. Goosebumps flooded over her body and she was nearly paralyzed from fear. Her spider-sense was kicking in. Jesus, what is it now. She looked into the alleyway next to her to see if that's where the source of her fear was coming from. Her suspicions were confirmed correct when she saw an orange glow interrupt the darkness in the back of the alley, and a red spike ripping through it. She nearly left her heart behind as she immediately started to bolt down the sidewalk.

Great, just my fucking luck, she thought to herself as she ran. The one day I’m in horrible shape to fight is the one day he shows up to get me. Lorena didn’t need to look behind her to know the man was already bounding after her. She didn’t have any web fluid, and her acid webs would cut through the poles, so she was given the disadvantage on the ground this time. She threw her mask on her face from her pocket, that way so in case she did get caught, she could at least keep the dignity of her identity to herself. Her running was desperate and sloppy, her red hair slipping out from the back of her mask and almost slipping in a puddle when she turned a sharp corner.

She could feel her heart rising into her chest and her ribs cried out to her in pain, begging her to just stop and accept her fate. But she wouldn’t go down like this. She couldn’t. She needed to keep going, no matter how much blood she was coughing up while running. She could hear his feet splashing in the puddles behind her as she made her getaway. He was getting closer. She wasn’t fast enough. She needed to do something if she wasn’t going to get caught. And fast.

Desperate for a way out, she ripped her right glove off of her hand and jumped around to shoot an acid web at her chaser. The split second she could see him while turned around frightened her beyond belief. The man was chasing her on all fours, like some kind of wild dog. His claws dug deep into the concrete floor for extra traction from the rain. Yeah, there’s no way this guy was human. She shot the web out of her wrist, burning her more than usual, and aimed for his face. If she was going to shoot for him now, she needed to try to go for the kill. Before the web was even fully out of her hand, she was back facing forward and running. Fuck, did that mess up my aim? She didn’t have time to think about that now. She didn’t even look back to check. She just kept running.

The low scream from him at least meant that she hit him, which was enough for her right now. Her high came crashing down though when she turned another corner. Suddenly, a shattering agony rattled throughout her body as she became a jumble of neon colored parallelograms, all of her atoms splitting apart in a split second. She quickly fell to the floor, shaking in pain. But she still had to fight. Lorena used her arms to crawl into an alleyway into the darkness. If she couldn’t outrun him, she could at least try to hide. She lowered her head to the ground though when she heard puddles lightly splashing behind her. Footsteps. She didn’t hit him hard enough. It was all in vain.

She could hear his pants above her, as she turned her head around to see him standing right above her body, like he was admiring his achievement or something. She still tried to crawl away though. She didn’t matter if it made her look stupid. She still had to try.

Lorena stopped though when she felt him web her hand to the ground though, too tired to keep going. The bright red, glowing web illuminated the darkness of the alley. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him reaching his massive hand down to her. He roughly ripped her mask off her face, exposing her to the outside world. She began to cough again, so much this time, that she ended up losing her limited breakfast. The puke sits next to the man's feet, more blood than partially digested food. He stared at her in disgust. Then he finally speaks. The first time he has to her ever.

“This is the one who’s been causing us so much trouble?” he said, as if it was supposed to be more of a genuine question than an insult. His voice was beautiful. A rich, low, dark tone that rolled off of his tongue smoothly. She could see a small avatar pop up next to his shoulder, illuminated in a yellow aura. “Yup, this is her. Lorena Reyes, Spider-Woman from Earth-2497,” the woman avatar responded. “Huh,” he said, crouching down next to her head. “Thought she'd put up more of a fight.” That one was an insult. “Maybe you just caught me on a bad day,” she croaked out. He looked at the puke next to her. “I can see that.” Lorena started to glitch again, letting out sparse pants once her atoms stopped separately. The man sighed. “Let's just get this over with.”

What he did next took Lorena by surprise. He flung his strong leg over to the opposite side of her body and lifted his mask up to just over his nose, still concealing his eyes from her view. Lorena stared at him confused, too tired and in pain to do anything right now. What she could see from his face was gorgeous. His perfect nose, the slight pout in his plump lips, and his rich skin tone. He placed his hands on her head, one holding the nape of her neck, and the other pushing her head back.

Then they came out. His fangs. A slight fear washed over her body when she saw them. Was this vampire man about to kill her? Then he sunk them into the skin of her neck. She flinched slightly. What on earth was he doing? More fear entered her when she found she was quickly losing feeling in her feet. It slowly moved up her body. Then her legs. Then her hands. Then her arms. Her nerves being attacked by some kind of paralytic venom. It was most likely coming from his fangs. She felt slightly lucky that she still had feeling in her neck though, especially when he removed his fangs from her neck, and used his textured tongue to clean up the blood. It was warm and comforting to her. Then her neck lost its feeling. Lorena was quickly grateful for the venom when she found herself glitching again, but not feeling any pain from it.

She could feel herself passing out next. As consciousness left her body, the last thing she saw was the man lifting up from her neck and wiping her blood off from his mouth.

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NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: thanks for making it this far!!! lmk if you want to be on the tag list for future parts

[hrhmimieucliffe]

More NSFW one this time, but...Hear me out...Miguel as some kind of Greek God or something and You're a Goddess who's the complete opposite of him so like he's the God of Pride and Strength and Chaos or something so he's just kind of a self-obsessed a-hole and you're just the Goddess of Love and Nature and all things good idk and you're very gentle, loving, patient and soft spoken (ik there's already ones for that but just imagine there aren't) and to everyone else, you don't get along much at all cause he's all "grr you goody two shoes, why do you keep fixing the chaos I cause for the humans?" And you're all "Peace and love, man," but behind closed doors, he secretly ravages you over and over every night and worships you and treats you as if you're the only one that is above him when no one is around, but he would never admit it otherwise. (Yes that's Oscar in the first picture🧎🏾‍♀️👩🏾‍🦯)

Yall probably just wonder wth goes on in my mind 😭💀

[silas-222]

Give Me One More Chance

When I wake up, the darkness before dawn holds its breath 

I can't find the words that the silence corners me

I wonder if this is the last time 

(Lord, give me one more chance) 

Twirling in the large black quinceañera dress with my main chambelán, we laughed loudly. The song, 'Once Upon A Dream' from the Maleficent Disney movie, coming to an end which had myself being held up as I laid on my friends. Acting as if I were sleeping in their arms. 

As the music cut off, I stood up and hugged my friends tightly, sending them off to the main table before going over to my father. "Papi!" I smiled and hugged him tightly. "Thank you papi.." I said softly and looked up at him. 

"Mija you're welcome.. but go enjoy yourself, go eat, then thank everyone for coming." My father, Miguel, instructed me. I nodded and went to the main table, sitting in a large chair with my damas and chambeláns on either side of me. 

"Girl let me fix your crown." My best friend, Naylah, said, reaching up and fixing my large crown. Giggling and thanking her. 

The damas wore black short dresses that suited all of their body types. An off the shoulder, sweetheart neckline, a small bow on the front and a lace up back. They all looked beautiful. Their hair was done in whichever way made them feel comfortable. 

The chambelans wore black on black with a soft purple bow tie. They all had gold chains that I gifted them. My main chambelán, Miles, was dressed more as a vaquero, the black hat ontop of his head made him stand out more. 

I noticed one of my cousins walking up to the table, making me stand up and run over to her. "You made it!" I squealed. "Of course niñita, anyways, here." She handed me a small bag. "Open it now, it matches your dress." I nodded, opening the bag and seeing a pearl white Vivienne Westwood choker. 

"No!" I gasped and looked at her, "yes! Go ask your dad to put it on." I nodded then ran over to my dad. 

"Papi, mira! Reyna gave it to me!" I squealed and giggled, "help me please..?" My father nodded, making me turn around and move my back length hair. 

He carefully put the choker on and adjusted it before letting me turn back around as he teared up. "Y/n... you're getting so big mi mija but know I'll always be your father regardless." I teared up and nodded, hugging him tightly. "I love you niña fresca.." I laughed softly. "I love you too papi.."

***Time skip like two hours.***

"Alright everybody! ¡Atención a todos aquí!" The DJ spoke up, a microphone held up to his mouth, "it's time for the father daughter dance! Y/n.. Miguel! Vamos!!" 

I stood up from my seat with Miles helping me down, walking me over to the dance floor as I heard the song my dad picked out beginning to start. 'Amor Eterno' the version sung by the wonderful Rocío Dúrcal. 

My father grabbed my hand, smiling tearfully, "papi ¡Dijiste que no podía llorar!" I teased him, tearing up myself. "Así es, no puedes, pero yo puedo." He said as he held me close. 

"Ay mija.. what happened to not growing up? You broke your promise niñita.." he said as tears started falling down his face. "I miss when you would climb into my bed and cry about thunder storms, and when you would cry over Miles taking your Barbies." I rolled my eyes playfully, feeling a couple tears falling down my face. "But I could not be more proud of you, my beautiful baby girl. I loved you from the second your mother-" we both rolled our eyes at the word, my mother wasn't the best. "Regardless, the second your mother told me she was pregnant, I knew and prayed to god you were a girl. I wanted a daughter more than anything. I loved you the second you entered this world and I'll love you till the second I leave it." 

I sobbed softly, putting my head in his chest. Ignoring the shiver that was sent down my spine.

Ignoring the figure in the doorway…

Ignoring my cousins yells to move…

The song barely reaching the middle before a loud crash happened, a pang of fear ran through my body. My fathers body tensing as he fell to his knees, grabbing his stomach. "Papi!" I screamed, watching as my fathers suit slowly became tainted with red. 

'Tarde o temprano estaré contigo.. Para seguir amándonos..' 

I screamed and fell to the floor with him in my arms, Miles, the rest of our friends, family members looking around and not knowing what to do. "Papi! Stay awake please.. papi por favor, you have to stay awake." I said as tears streamed down my face and onto his. 

The song continued to play, the lyrics haunting my mind as everything sped past me. "Daddy please stay awake.. I-I need you still, you have to stay with me okay?" I sobbed, holding onto his hand as he cupped my face. "Y/n... im so proud of you..." 

I shook my head. "Okay I know but you can tell me once you're alright, you can tell me anything you want." I told him, "mija.. I need you to be the best you can.. take care of people and yourself... my beautiful baby girl.. I love you so much.. remember that please baby.." I nodded and sobbed louder, the expensive makeup streaming down my face as Miles crouched behind me.

The EMTS rushing past the group and removing him, "no! No please! I-I need to stay with him!" I screamed through my tears. Being held back by Miles, his parents and Naylah. "Let go of me! Papi! Please!" I sobbed.

The haunting voice of Rocío continued to sing as this happened. "Yo he sufrido tanto por tu ausencia..

Desde ese día hasta hoy no soy feliz, Y aunque tengo tranquila mi conciencia... Sé que pude haber yo hecho más por ti.. Oscura soledad estoy viviendo..La misma soledad de tu sepulcro.. Tú eres el amor del cual yo tengo. El más triste recuerdo de Acapulco. Cómo quisiera, ay Que tú vivieras." 

I sobbed as I watched the EMT's wrapped my fathers body in a black bag, finally ripping away from the Morales' and Naylah as I ran over to him. "You lied.. you broke your promise! Papi please." I sobbed, opening the bag and cupping his face, praying it was a joke, a very very sick joke to be played. 

"Que tus ojitos jamás se hubieran.. Cerrado nunca y estar mirándolos.. Amor eterno.. E inolvidable." 

I screamed in anguish as I fell to the floor, the EMT's backing away and letting my cry. Holding onto his hand as I forced it to cup my face. "¡Papi, por favor, me lo prometiste! Prometes que te quedarías... Dios por qué ... por qué ahora.. ¿Por qué nosotros..?!" I sobbed loudly, my throat hurting.

"Tarde o temprano estaré contigo... Para seguir amándonos.. Amor eterno.. Eterno.. Amor eterno, oh.. Eterno...Ah-ah-ah-ah."

I continued to sob before I was picked up by my tio Gabriel. "Shh mija.." he whispered as I watched as the EMT's slowly and carefully wrapped up my fathers body. Clutching my tio's blazer and sobbing loudly, "papi..." I screamed again, feeling Miles and Naylah come up as they hugged me.

The song coming to an end as did my vision, curling up in Miles's lap as I was held by the trio, sobbing loudly till my throat became horse. 

***two weeks later***

I sat in the church chapel. Dressed in a black off the shoulder maxi dress that Naylah dressed me in, she styled my hair simply, only curling/straightening it. 

I leaned on her shoulder, watching as different people went up to his mahogany red casket, paying their respects before looking at me with pity, I watched as miles put a picture of him, Naylah and i when we were six, dressed up for a Halloween and surrounding my father who was dressed as a vampire. 

Miles spoke to his mom, she nodded then he walked over to me. He kissed my head and grabbed my other hand, sitting between two people who cared for me deeply. 

After two hours of people talking about my father, I stood up, the chapel going dead silent. Watching as I walked up to the podium. "Hi.. I'm y/n O'Hara, his only daughter. My father passed at my quinces, his last words to me were for me to be the best I could be, protect people and myself.. I-I don't know what he meant by that.. I probably never will.." I spoke softly, tearing up as I looked at the huge crowd of people. 

"My dad enjoyed watching random tv shows with me, taking me and my best friends to concerts, spoiling me, cooking, and his job. He took pictures of everything. Like I'm pretty sure if I look around our house there's a random picture of a bird or even a random picture of Miles and I on our trampoline in the back yard..." I chuckled softly. 

"He never looked for praises, He was never one to boast, He just went on quietly working For the ones he loved the most. His dreams were seldom spoken, His wants were very few. And most of the time his worries went unspoken too. He was there... firm foundation through all our storms of life. A sturdy hand to hold on to in times of stress and strife.

A true friend we could turn to when times were good or had one of our greatest blessings.. The man that I called Dad." I sniffed, feeling the tears fall down my face. 

I looked at the casket, walking up to it and looking down. Seeing his sleeping figure as I started breaking down again. "I-I need you papi... please.. it's not funny anymore.." I told him. Shaking his heavy body. "Come on.. wake up.." I whispered. 

Miles and Naylah looked at each other as they stood up, "papi please! I need you! You can't leave me!" I sobbed more, hearing the whispers from the people behind me. "Y-you can't! You promised you'd stay.. you promised you'd live to be 200, you can't leave!" I yelled as I fell to my knees. Clutching the casket tightly. 

"Y/n..." Naylah spoke as miles wrapped his arms around me. "Come on baby.." Miles whispered and picked me up, my sobs echoing throughout the church. Holding onto miles the same way a child was. "Papi!" I wailed, miles leading me to a more private area in the church. 

Miles sat me on the floor as he and Naylah kneeled infront of me, "I-I can't, Nai.. I need him. I need my dad.." I cried to my friend, she nodded and hugged me tightly. "I know y/n.. I know.." she coo'd. Miles' hand in my hair, petting it softly in attempts to calm me down. 

'God.. give me one more chance... please..'

Every time I look back, I can't find the answer

I wonder if this is the last time 

(Lord, give me one more chance) 

do you want to do something

[tonixe]

0b.se.s..ion

warn: a short sad drabble

notes: I felt like doing something sad.

Inspo: Here with me by d4vd

"Miguel is everything okay," you said, coming into the room, walking over to him as you, hanging your arms over his shoulder, hugging his body, your head softly digging into his neck.

"Why are you crying" you murmured as you blinked your lashes at him, "Hm?" you turned your head to him, turning yourself to him and sitting beside him.

You wiped his tears from his cheeks, cupping his face together and looking at him, "I don't like when you cry, my love," you said. Miguel quickly took your body into his chest, squeezing you softly.

"What happened" you whispered, you felt wet tears on your shirt, his arms squeezing you tight.

Miguel stares at your face for a while,

"Power off," Miguel said, your body went limp in his arm.

But you weren't real, even if he wished it. You are just a figment of his imagination, something that was there but never real. As he touches your face, but wasn't your face.

He was still hanged up on you, and he knows it.

As he holds your robotic-like face in his hands. 'Your' glaring glass eyes stared into his own. It was something so sad, that he couldn't take it back. Your shadow was still staring at him.

A moment of regret that he couldn't take back from your death. But it was far too soon. You were already gone, already 6 feet down.

All he could do is mourn after your death. He stares off at the glass display of your once-worn spider suit, still retaining its glory as you wear it.

Even if he tried going back to a different dimension where you were still alive, it was bound to happen again, once more.

Your photo still sits in the same spot on the nightstand, where your smiling photo with you and him was taken on your birthday.

The fresh wound still bleeding out and the grim scene was a picture still in his mind. As he hugged 'your' body tighter as if it was real.

Every time he stares at the photo, it brings him back to the day you died. Rain pours onto his body, as it muddles his blood, mixing into the dirt, water, and blood. Your eyes flicking as life fades through your eyes.

Tears escaped your eyes, "Miguel, I don't wanna die" You looked at him, that was the first time you saw his face painted with fear. That was the only thing you saw on that day, before fading into an endless abyss.

But I guess he was far too late to ever bring you back.

[bibiwrld]

The Sweet Babysitter🧁🎀| Miguel O’Hara

previous: –eight.

–nine.

KENEDI’S POV

Gabby’s soccer game was so fun. I was out of my seat the whole time, chanting her name along with Lorelai and Miguel. Her team won 3–0, which were all scored by her. I was so proud of her.

Miguel and Lorelai, flirted most of the game, well just Lorelai flirted. Miguel seemed rather annoyed, trying to keep his focus on the game.

Why did they even get divorced? They seem quite fine to me, but then again, what do I know?

But afterwards we all walked through the parking lot, Gabby hugging me and telling me she was so happy that I came.

Before I got into my car, Miguel came up to me.

“Hey.” He breathed out.

My eyes found his. “Hey.”

“You had any plans after this?” He asked, rubbing his knuckles.

“Yes, I was headed home to take a long nap.” I replied. “Pretty exhausted.”

The little light in his eyes seemed to go out., looking off into the distance. “Oh.”

My brows furrowed in concern. “Was there something you needed me to do?”

His eyes found mine once again. “We were gonna go for ice cream and maybe you could come over and stay for a while, but I wouldn’t want to deprive you of your sleep.”

I smiled brightly, admiring his cute he was.

“Miiigggguuueeeelllll!” Lorelai’s voice sang.

Miguel exhaled in annoyance.

I laughed. “You should get to your ex wife.”

The expression on his face was one that I’ve never seen before, it was expressionless, but spoke so many volumes. “Please, don’t call her that. It’s Lorelai.”

Did I overstep? Is he offended?

“Oh I..sorry.” I grew embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just hate being reminded is all.” He cleared things up. “Just Lorelai is fine.”

I opened my car door, nodding in response. “I understand, I’m sorry.” I sat in the driver’s seat, gazing up at him.

He leaned into the space between my car door, his arms resting on top, looking at me intensely. “Text me when you wake up?”

“Of course.” I flashed a smile.

🎀

Before succumbing to this exhaustion, I began taking out my braids. I texted Mommy to come over and help me if she could, then I fell asleep. The sounds of her knocking woke me up, she came in like a knight in shining armor to help me with my hair. I helped as much as I could, but the weariness in my body took over and put me to sleep once again.

I woke up on the floor, with a blanket over me and Mommy was gone. She cleaned up all the hair and everything. I shot her a thank you text, and went into the bathroom to see all the braids were out, and my hair was pulled into a large puff.

Going into the kitchen, rubbing my stomach from hunger, I scanned my fridge and realized that I needed to go grocery shopping.

I sighed, going into my room to grab my Hello Kitty tote bag with all my necessities. I typed on my phone while walking out the door.

Me

Woke up a little while ago😊

Well..I was in and out of sleep, but I’m finally up. Mom came over to help me take my braids out. About to go grocery shopping <3

How was the ice cream?

In a matter of seconds, my phone vibrated in my hands while walking down the stairs of my apartment building. I bit my lip with a smile, knowing it was Miguel.

Miguel

Grocery shopping this late? Please be careful.

Ice cream was great, I got rocky road, Gabby got strawberry shortcake. Lorelai was talking as always, I really wish you could’ve came😕

What style were you planning to do next?

Finally in my car, giggling to myself at his texts, I typed back a few replies.

Me

Yes ofc. We’ll get ice cream together soon.

I haven’t decided on a style yet.

I started my car and reversed out the parking lot and drove to my destination.

Strolling down the aisle slowly, I grabbed white bread, then scanned my phone for the grocery list.

“Kenedi?”

I looked up from my phone to see a guy with brown shoulder length locs. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Smiling shyly with furrowed brows, I answered. “Uh, hi?”

He smiled. “You might not remember me, I’m Croy from high school.”

I still didn’t know who he was. “Sorry, I don’t seem to remember.”

He let out an embarrassed laugh. “Damn, uh..” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m Trent’s best friend, was always with him, but you were too into Trent to really notice me.”

Then it clicked. He was the guy with the short, curly hair who would always hang out with Trent, my old crush.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” I apologized, laughing at my horrible memory. “It’s nice to see you, how have you been?”

He smiled brightly at me. “It’s very… very nice to see you, I’ve been good, just graduated.” He got closer to my shopping cart. “How about you?”

“Oh congratulations.” I beamed. “I graduated a few months ago, I’m a secretary/assistant, but I do baby sitting on the side.”

“Oh that’s cool. You should come to Trent’s birthday party next weekend.”

I slightly tilted my head. “I don’t know, Trent probably doesn’t remember me—”

He put his hand on my shopping cart, swiveling it playfully. “You still like him.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh no no, trust me I don’t.”

“So come.” He frowned, then dug into his pocket. “I’m the one inviting you, lots of people will be there, Trent doesn’t even know half of them, it’s fine.” He handed me his phone. “We should catch up, it’s okay for me to have your number?”

I took it, quickly typing my number in. “Yes, it’s totally fine.”

After that interaction, we said our goodbyes and I continued my grocery shopping that I was almost done with. I picked up the strawberries, thinking of the delicious shortcake I could make for Miguel and Gabby.

My phone began blaring in my bag.

Miguel’s name made me smile and answer quickly.

“Hey Miguel.” I greeted sweetly with a smile on my face.

“Hi Kenedi, you didn’t text back and I got a bit worried, it’s so stupid.” He grumbled over the phone.

Worried about me? This man kept getting cuter and cuter.

I pushed my shopping cart to self check out with one hand very slowly. “No it’s not. I’m sorry, I bumped into someone from high school, but I’m going to leave the grocery store in a minute.”

I scanned my items and bagged them.

He sighed, almost as if he was at ease. “Okay that’s nice. You didn’t forget our date tomorrow, right?”

I paused my actions, smiling shyly like a kid. “O-of course not, I’m very excited.”

“Me too.” He admitted.

“Can you stay on the phone until I get home?”

“Of course.”

🕷️

Next part: –ten.