#miguel O'Hara x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluesidez · 3 days

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[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

859 notes · View notes

miguelhugger2099 · 1 day

Note

Just a silly little request👉👈

Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭

Just One Touch

a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy. excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3 Art: mar_mar0u on instagram ! Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(

It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together. Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight. “Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable. “No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him. “Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!” Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.

You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.

Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.

“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits. “Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.

You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.

“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.

“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.

“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.

“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.

He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.

You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.

“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.

“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.

“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.

Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.

You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.

He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.

His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.

Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left. You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly. He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass. You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth. He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch. Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.

So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap. You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing. You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat. “Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.

His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist. Oh, he’s in heaven.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader reblog #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

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greensagephase · 2 days

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Nonviolent Communication - Part 15

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: You get sick and then get hit with your period at the same time. Word Count: 15k (most reasonable word count this story has had in months 🤣) Warnings: Sickness; menstruation; Miguel just wants to look after you!!; Short A/N: I'm ready to read the comments on this one, you guys better not disappoint Previous Part Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Corazón de Poeta" - Jeanette "Sparks" - Coldplay, Acoustic Guitar Revival (guitar version)

Enjoy and thank you for reading! ❤️

Part 15

The moment you wake up, you feel it. The worst thing to wake up to.

A sore throat.

You sit up, blinking a few times as you adjust to the lighting. The sound of rain reaches your ears as it hits the penthouse’s windows. Glancing around, Miguel is nowhere in sight, though the pillow he used last night is still on the floor near you.

You swallow saliva, finding it hard to do so. Yep, you’re definitely sick. You sigh and push the blanket off you, only then realizing it’s been covering you.

Memories of last night come to mind. The power went out just as Miguel and you were going to have dinner, which led to lit candles and flashlights, and music from cassettes while lightning and thunder filled the sky. You eventually moved to the living room, where you continued to listen to music. You showed Miguel new ideas for his place and talked before you fell asleep next to him. And did you offer Miguel your pinky finger?

Staring at the rain, you remember you did and not only that, Miguel accepted it as you gaze into his eyes before you drifted off, too tired to bother with a blanket, which means Miguel covered you at some point after you fell asleep.

For a few seconds, you think about how you’ve slept on Miguel’s living room floor twice now. With him, Miguel. You never imagined such thing but the thought brings a soft smile to your face despite the ache in your throat.

You look around again, wondering where Miguel is before you stand up, your body feeling off, fatigued.

You still have it in you to fold the blanket before you realize you need to wash it considering you’re sick now. You sigh quietly in disbelief. For the first time in a few years, you’re sick. Your thoughts are interrupted by Miguel’s footsteps coming down the stairs, which makes you realize it must be sometime after 6am.

“Hey, good morning,” Miguel says, stepping into the living room, hair damp from his morning shower. Traces of Miguel’s hygiene products, scents you’re all too familiar with these days, immediately reach your nose when he approaches you, already in his suit. It doesn’t take long for Miguel to sense that something is off. “Are you alright?” Miguel asks, immediately taking in your appearance now that you’re awake.

You nod but then shake your head. “My throat hurts. It feels sore,” you reply, wincing slightly as even talking seems to make the ache worse.

Miguel’s eyes soften as he hears your voice for the first time today, taking notice of the way you wince and how your voice sounds different.

“Mierda [shit],” Miguel says gently, taking several steps closer to you. “Sore throat. Do you have a fever?” he asks.

You lift your hand to your face, unable to tell right now. Are you warm because you just woke up, or are you warm because you have a fever? You wonder to yourself, hand on your cheek, trying to figure it out when you suddenly feel fingers pressed to your forehead. They feel cool against your skin, though not cold.

You blink, realizing.

“Tienes fiebre [you have a fever],” Miguel says, his tone being one of concern while the back of his fingers are still pressed softly on your forehead. His fingers are bare despite the fact that his suit is already activated, making the contact skin to skin. “Your face is burning.” Miguel lowers his hand at last, not even thinking about what he just did, concern for you being the only thing present in his mind.

“You shouldn’t be this close to me then,” you say, stepping back. “I might get you sick.”

“Nonsense,” Miguel replies. “I won’t get sick, don’t worry.” Miguel steps forward again until he’s the same distance he was just seconds ago. “I’ll have one of the doctors at HQ check you.”

“That’s not… necessary, but thank you. I”ll be okay,” you reply, touched by Miguel’s offer and his concern nonetheless.

Your response instantly makes Miguel frown. What do you mean you’ll be okay with a sore throat and fever?

“You’re sick,” he says gently, despite his frown.

Holding on to the blanket, you look away from Miguel. You know you’re sick, you can feel the ache in your throat and how your body feels off, but a part of you doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this. A part of you simply wants to take some over the counter medicine and go on about the day, pushing through your symptoms. It’s what you did in the past the few times you were sick before joining the Spider Society, and after Peter’s death. You learned to take care of yourself since then and now, you’re no longer used to the concern or attention from someone.

“Do you want to go to your universe, or do you want to go HQ?” Miguel offers. “One of the doctors can check you, give you medicine.”

Your gaze meets Miguel’s at last. He’s staring at you, intently, waiting for a response. You nod at last. “HQ. Let me put my suit and get ready.”

“No suit,” Miguel says. “It’s raining and you’re sick. I’m driving us there, no swinging to HQ today. So just… put some regular clothes on, okay?” he adds softly. “Go ahead and get ready, I’ll let my team know we’re going.”

“Alright… thank you,” you say, agreeing with Miguel. You have a feeling that if you were to decline both of his options, he’d probably bring a doctor here to the penthouse to get you checked.

You get ready and change into regular clothes before you meet Miguel downstairs. He’s now wearing regular clothes, too, his suit disengaged to blend in, though that’s not his priority. His priority is to get you treated by a doctor and make you feel better.

The two of you leave the penthouse and head down to the car garage. He unlocks the vehicle and is quick to open and hold the door for you before he gets in the driver’s side. Despite feeling sick, you’re still somewhat aware of how strange it is to watch Miguel drive. It’s like you’ve unlocked another side of him.

The drive to HQ is a short one with Miguel knowing shortcuts around the city. You’re soon walking into the building under an umbrella that Miguel holds to shield you from the rain, walking near you as if he’s your bodyguard.

You head straight to the infirmary sector where a doctor is already waiting for you. Thankfully, the paperwork is short and soon, you’re in a room ready to get checked.

Miguel watches the process, standing by the door as the doctor does basic procedures such as getting your throat swapped and blood work.

“Lab results should take a few minutes. I’ll be back then,” the doctor says before they step out of the room.

You turn to Miguel as he walks over to you, a soft look on his face. He’s already making plans.

“Don’t,” you tell him softly.

Miguel raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me… You’re going home, right?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not working today, so you’re going home, yes?”

“You don’t want me here?” you ask softly.

Miguel steps closer, placing a hand on the patient’s bed, a few inches from your body, and looks down at you, his gaze gentle. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you need to rest properly on a bed where you’ll be comfortable, cozy. Not here at HQ.”

You nod. “I know, I was just… I don’t know. It’s been a while since I’ve been sick,” you admit, feeling fatigue. You turn away and yawn, covering your mouth.

Miguel watches you, hating that you feel unwell. He has little time to think about what you’ve said, about it being a while since you’ve been sick, but a quick thought comes to mind. Have you been sick before joining the Spider Society? The door to the room opens, interrupting his thoughts. Miguel turns back to look, removing his hand from the patient’s bed and stepping back to give you and the doctor some space.

“Blood work looks good and the throat swap is negative. It seems to be a simple cold, but I’ll give you medicine. Would you like a shot as well?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

“I’ll take care of that, let me just write down the prescriptions I’m giving you - record keeping,” she explains looking up at you and then at Miguel for a second before turning back to their paperwork. They scribble quickly, thinking it’s not strange to see the owner of the building, the boss, with you. Not anymore.

They recall when he was here a year ago, injured. You stayed by his side the whole time and it had been briefly discussed by the other infirmary staff that you had taken care of Mr. O’Hara at his home. Clearly, the two of you are close friends, or something like that.

Now, Mr. O’Hara is here with you for less serious reasons, a cold, to show up for you like you did for him.

They finish up and excuse themselves.

“While you get the shot, I’ll be stepping out. I need to take care of something,” Miguel tells you, both to give you privacy since the shot will likely go on your upper buttock, and also because he needs to talk to Jess about today, maybe even about tomorrow.

“Alright, everything okay?” you ask him.

“Yes, don’t worry. I just need to talk to Jess about something,” Miguel reassures you.

You give him a nod, not probing for more information just as the doctor returns. Miguel gives you a small smile, that being his cue to exit the room. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay?” he says softly.

“I’ll be out shortly,” you reply giving him a small, reassuring smile.

With that, Miguel steps out of the room to give you privacy. He calls Jess through his gizmo, standing outside the infirmary room. A second later, she answers.

“Miguel.”

“Jess,” Miguel says. “Morning. It’s very sudden, but I want to ask if it’s possible for you to take care of things around here today?”

“I can. Is everything alright?” Jess asks, watching as Miguel turns away.

“Y/N is sick. It’s only a cold, according to the doctors here at the infirmary, but she has a fever…”

“It’s always good for someone to be around when dealing with a fever. It may change,” Jess tells him, knowing already that Miguel doesn’t want to leave you alone.

“Yes,” Miguel replies, turning back to face her. “I’m going to look after her, make sure it goes down.”

“Let me know if you guys need anything. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Thank you, Jess,” Miguel responds. “I’ll keep that in mind. And I’ll tell Y/N about it. Thank you for today.”

“If you need to, take off tomorrow, too. It might just be a cold, but it can take a toll on the body for days.”

Miguel gives her a nod, relieved that Jess is making such offer so he can look after you. He had already planned for that, if he was honest. “Thank you. I appreciate it, Jess. I hope it doesn’t get worse, but we’ll see. I’ll keep you updated if I do take off tomorrow just to give you a heads up.”

“No need. I’ll know. Just look after her, alright? And tell her I hope she feels better soon. I’ll be sending her a message in a bit but either way.”

“I will,” Miguel replies softly. “I’ll tell her. Thank you again. Do let me know if I’m needed for backup.”

“Alright, take care.”

“You, too,” Miguel says before he ends the call. He gazes down the hallway leading to the infirmary lobby, lowering his arm to the side. Thankfully the floor is empty save for the medical staff, you, and him. No serious injury or someone on the verge of death. He sighs deeply as he remembers the few days he spent on this floor, injured, before he was allowed to go home. It feels like a lifetime since then.

He decides to wait a bit more to give the doctor and you time, so he stands there, just looking around. It’s so silent. He wonders if this is what it was for you, spending so many hours next to him with no one around to talk with. He thinks about you, waiting in the lonely lobby while his injuries were treated that rainy night.

You stuck by his side, like glue. You could’ve easily gone home at some point to rest, asked someone else to take a shift, but no. You stayed by his side every day. Miguel has a suspicion you would’ve stuck by him every second if you had it your way. He believes that especially when he remembers you offering to sleep on his bedroom floor to look after him that first night.

Miguel shakes his head now, still in disbelief. He would never allow such thing. He would’ve shared the bed with you before letting your body lay on the ground while he rested on the mattress. Of course, he didn’t make that offer because it was too personal for either of you back then, but now…

Miguel’s thoughts are interrupted when he hears the door open. He turns and finds the doctor wishing you a speedy recovery before she exits.

“I’ve given Miss Y/N medications and the shot, she’ll be feeling better soon but in any case that she doesn’t, bring her back in and we can give her other treatments,” she tells him. “Also, she’ll need to rest.”

“I understand, I’ll make sure she does. Thank you,” Miguel responds with a nod.

“You guys take care.”

Miguel nods again before he knocks on the door, entering when he hears your voice. He finds you halfway across the room, heading for the door already. You’re carrying a prescription bag just given to you by the doctor.

“You okay?” he asks softly, holding the door open for you as you keep walking.

“Yeah, I got the shot. It’s kind of hurting a bit,” you admit, feeling it sting as you walk. “But hopefully that means I’ll feel better shortly. Along with the medicine.”

“I hope so,” Miguel says genuinely as you walk out, falling in step with you. The two of you walk down the hallway, side by side, towards the lobby. “We can go home now. I’ll cook you some breakfast, something warm to ease the ache in your throat. And you’ll need to rest so you can get better, let the medicine do its job - let your body recover.”

“Rest? I don’t think I need to.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Miguel replies gazing at you, a hint of a smile on his face, wondering if you’ll be stubborn about this.

“She told me the same thing,” you say with a sigh as you both enter the lobby and head for the elevators.

“You’re not going to ignore doctor’s orders, right?” he asks.

“I guess not… What are you cooking?” you ask softly.

Miguel smirks softly to himself as he presses the button, the doors opening in seconds. He gestures for you to enter before he steps in.

“Don’t worry about it. You just rest and get better.”

The doors close and the lobby is once again empty, or so it seems. A nurse and the doctor turn to look at each other after listening to the little snippet of conversation, the interaction between the boss and you catching their attention. They turn to the elevator again, not recognizing the man that just walked by. He’s a different man from the one they met many years ago, one that was distant and stoic.

“To love and be loved, is to be changed,” the doctor mutters before turning to look at a medical chart, smiling to themselves.

-♥︎-

Miguel and you leave HQ, and drive home. You said you didn’t need to rest but the entire drive back to the penthouse suggested otherwise to Miguel. He glanced at you a few times while driving, finding your sleepy gaze each time as you stared out the window.

Upon arriving home, he ushers you upstairs to change into more comfortable clothing, which you obey without question before heading back downstairs, feeling tired.

You find Miguel moving around the kitchen. Pans are already on the stove. He’s changed into sweatpants and a dark t-shirt now that you’re both home, ready to look after you for the day, tomorrow, or however long it takes for you to be back to your healthy self.

You sit down on the counter and grab the medicine bag, taking everything out so you can read the directions and side effects, seeing that you’ll need to eat before taking some of them.

“Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes, okay? Do you want coffee?” Miguel asks softly, walking up to the counter and standing across from you now.

“I can make-”

“Sit tight,” he says firmly but gently. “I’ll make it.”

“It…” you finish but Miguel has already turned around. A few seconds later, he starts on the coffee. He moves quickly around the kitchen, his moves careful yet determined.

Just as he’s placed two cups on the counter, he turns to the stove and checks on the food.

You lean back and close your eyes, feeling drowsy. You wrap your arms around yourself, glad you’re in cozy pajamas and wearing one of your favorite sweatshirts, the one Miguel gifted you for Christmas. You could actually go to sleep now without eating but knowing Miguel, he’ll probably refuse to let you sleep on an empty stomach and besides, you don’t want to decline his kind gesture when he’s already halfway done. So, you sit back and wait, listening to Miguel’s movement with your eyes closed. It brings you comfort and a sense of home, something not unusual to you in Miguel's presence.

“Café [coffee],” Miguel says gently a few minutes later, careful not to startle you.

Upon opening your eyes, you find Miguel in front of you. You glance down and find a mug of fresh coffee on the counter, steam coming from it. You can already imagine how great the coffee will feel against your throat, soothing the ache.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the medicine bottles. He picks them up and reads the labels once you gesture that you don’t. He nods to himself, noticing that they’ll likely make you feel drowsy and dizzy on top of the fact that two of them need to be taken with food. He also memorizes how many times a day you’ll need certain medicines and the hours between to make sure you don’t miss them.

As he reads, you reach for the mug and softly blow on it to cool it off before grabbing the spoon and stirring it. You yawn just as Miguel places the medicine back on the counter, pretty much all the directions locked into his head. He’s going to make sure that you’re taking the medicines the way they need to be taken, his priority is for you to feel better soon.

“Let me get you breakfast,” he says turning away and walking to the stove. He fixes your plate first, doing it with affection and hope that you’ll find it suitable despite your sickness. He grabs the appropriate utensil before walking over to you, plate in hand, and gently places it in front of you, his gaze soft. “Please eat, it’ll help you,” Miguel says as he puts the utensil on the side of your plate.

With a sleepy smile, you nod. “I am, thank you, Miguel,” you say softly, your tone tired. You pick up the utensil, eating because he’s asked you to. You try to cool off the food a bit before taking a bite. Of course, your throat hurts even to eat but it doesn’t take away from Miguel’s amazing cooking, and you feel like it even awakens your appetite. “So good, as always,” you comment before taking another bite.

Miguel smiles, watching you eat and enjoy the food despite being sick. His chest flutters at the sight of your sleepy smile, unable to not find it endearing.

“Are you not eating?” you ask softly, an eyebrow raised.

Miguel blinks, distracted. He nods. “Si [yes], yes, of course. I was just… Making sure your breakfast is okay.” He turns away to fix himself a plate before joining your side. He glances at you every few seconds, wanting to make sure that you’re alright and not in need of something, but you eat silently and peacefully, at least as much as you can while being sick.

You both finish eating and continue to drink your coffees. The rain has not let up since yesterday and so, you both hear the soft pit pat on the penthouse’s windows, filling the silence in a very cozy way. A few minutes later, Miguel watches as you place your empty mug down. He downs the last bit of his and stands up, picking up both mugs to take to the sink.

You watch as he retrieves a glass and fills it with water before he approaches you. He places it on the counter gently and then places the medicines in front of you. “For your medicine. Then, rest.”

You thank him for the water and take your medicine, hoping the ache in your throat will disappear soon. “Hopefully I feel better soon.”

“You’ll feel better soon,” Miguel says, reassuringly. “You just need some rest. Why don’t you go to bed?”

You shake your head. “I’m not sleepy,” you say even though your eyes say another story.

Miguel tilts his head to the side. “Really?”

You nod but end up yawning at the same time, causing Miguel to raise an eyebrow. You give him a sheepish look. “Okay, maybe I am…” you glance at the medicine bottles, thinking about laying down and Miguel heading back to HQ. “Be careful, okay?”

Miguel blinks in confusion. “Be careful? Of what?”

“If you go out on missions. Just - be careful, okay? If you need backup, call for backup. Please.”

He shakes his head, brows knitted as he stares directly at you. He waits until you look back at him to respond. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not…?” you reply, looking up at him, now confused.

“Nowhere. I’m staying here. At the penthouse. With you…”

“Oh.” You look down at the glass with water and take another sip. “I thought…” you trail off, not finishing your sentence. You thought Miguel would head back to HQ after breakfast to work, especially since it’s a work day. You look up at him again, finding a gentle and reassuring look on his face.

“No, I’m staying here… I’m looking after you. I’m not leaving you alone,” Miguel responds softly.

Holding his gaze, you nod, for some reason feeling relieved you won’t be alone, yet you don't want to keep Miguel away from work. “Thank you… Are you sure though? I’ll probably just sleep, so you probably don’t want to waste-” you start, wanting to let Miguel know he doesn’t have to stay at the penthouse all day, that he can go on about his day.

“Por favor [please],” Miguel says, lowering himself on the counter, resting his arms on it to be eye level with you. “Don’t say waste. You’re starting to sound like the old me,” he says gently, internally feeling frustration that you’re thinking like that, as if you don’t matter to him. “The one that didn’t want you to spend an entire day in the infirmary room with me a year ago.”

“That was different, though, you were injured. Seriously injured… Close to death. I’m just sick with a common cold.”

“Thankfully,” Miguel states. “It’s just a common cold and nothing more serious, but that doesn’t make it less important. It doesn’t mean I’m going to leave you all alone here to fend for yourself. I wish to do this, okay?” Miguel pauses and clears his throat quietly. “You’re my best friend.” Miguel's gaze is unwavering, leaving no room for questioning nor arguing with him. He's going to stay home and look after you today, tomorrow, or however long, until you're well. Period. “Déjate cuidar [let yourself be taken care of],” he adds gently.

You hum softly. “I wanted to say that to you a year ago.”

Miguel grins, eyes softening. He knows a year ago your friendship was still unofficial, neither of you had addressed it, so you held on to many of your thoughts, keeping them to yourself with the purpose of not pushing his boundaries. It’s a year later and things are different, at last. Progress has been made and Miguel can say what you are to him without the fear of what it means. He can now say those words you weren’t able to say to him a year ago. “Then, you understand… I ask the same of you now. Let me look after you. Please. It’s what friends do.”

Hearing Miguel’s soft tone and words, not missing the fact that he’s used the same words you said to him a year ago, you nod after several seconds of silence. “I understand,” you say, nodding. You know that feeling too well, of wanting to take care of someone. It was exactly how you felt with him when he was hurt. You just wanted to look after him and make him feel better as best as you could. You wanted him to be back to full health because you hated seeing him hurting and unwell. “Okay,” you add softly, accepting.

“Good,” Miguel replies, happy and relieved you’re not being stubborn about him staying at the penthouse to look after you. “I’ll stay here, if you need anything - anything at all - please let me know, okay?”

“I will, thank you, Miguel.”

“Always,” Miguel says, a hint of a smile on his face.

You give him a smile and nod, really accepting the fact that Miguel is going to look after you today. You understand where he’s coming from but a part of you feels off. It’s not because of Miguel, of course, but rather because it’s been a long time since someone has looked after you when you get sick. You’ve grown used to taking care of yourself ever since Peter died. Now, Miguel wishes to do so, and a part of you is trying to remember what that feels like - trying to accept that it’s something normal for you to experience, to receive, as well. You sigh softly as you feel drowsiness, thinking it’ll take you a moment to get used to receiving this kind of care after so long. You yawn again, covering your mouth. You already felt fatigued after the doctor’s appointment, and now the food and medicines seem to be taking effect, adding to it. “I’ll go upstairs and rest a bit,” you tell Miguel, your voice showing signs of sleepiness.

“You need all the rest you can get,” Miguel says nodding. “I’ll be here, go on and take a nap.”

You finally stand up and give him a nod, thanking him for breakfast before you head upstairs to your room. You quickly find yourself in bed, under the sheets. Snuggling into the pillows and covers, you can definitely feel the medicines kicking in.

Your eyes flutter and you feel yourself slowly falling into a slumber when you hear footsteps - Miguel’s footsteps. You raise your head to see just as he walks in.

“Shh, rest. Duerme [sleep],” he says softly, carrying a blanket.

You lay back down as he comes to a halt next to the bed, your brain trying to process what he’s up to. He gently throws the blanket over you, tucking it in around your feet and legs. The rest, he carefully pulls up your body, just below your shoulders.

“There,” Miguel says quietly, watching your sleepy face, one he’s memorized by now but still beholds with keenness.

You hum softly, half-asleep and half-awake, his scent reaching your drowsy senses. “It smells like you,” you say sleepily, a soft smile grazing your lips, content and comforted by Miguel’s warm and cozy scent.

Miguel grins softly, gazing down at you. He can’t deny that he’s equally surprised and delighted by the fact that you even recognize his scent on the blanket. “Sometimes I sleep with it, so I guess it makes sense it smells like me,” he shares, his fingers still holding on to the edge of the blanket.

“I like it,” you say before you blindly reach for the blanket, your fingers curling around warmness before you tug it towards your face, wanting the scent closer.

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise when he feels your fingers wrap around his, tugging them, and the blanket, closer to you. “You like it?” he repeats gently, something in his chest stirring as he keeps gazing at you, slowly drifting off.

You nod sleepily. “I love it,” you whisper with a soft sigh, still holding on to Miguel’s fingers and the blanket before you let go, unaware that you were even holding them or of what you’ve admitted in your sleepy state.

Miguel exhales softly when you release his fingers, feeling the loss of touch immediately. Your words echo in his mind. You love his scent. A few seconds later, Miguel notices that you’ve surrendered to sleep, the sound of your even breathing reaches his ears in the quietness of your bedroom. “I’m happy you… love it,” he whispers back even though you’re asleep now. He lets go of the blanket, his knuckles brushing under your chin softly, tenderly, before he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger for about four seconds, the gesture so instinctive - so right - Miguel doesn’t realize nor questions it in the moment.

He lets go and steps back, watching for a few minutes as you sleep, listening to your soft breathing. He tells himself it’s time to step out of the bedroom and let you rest, so he does. He leaves your door halfway open and returns downstairs to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast.

Once he’s done, he works from home, checking on a few things that he can do from the penthouse to help the team but unlike previous years, Miguel doesn’t drown himself in work. He doesn’t feel the need nor want to check everything, to ensure that everyone is doing what they’re supposed to.

His focus is you, everything else is secondary.

He checks on you every thirty minutes to make sure you’re okay and resting well. Each time, he checks you to make sure the fever has gone down, pressing the back of his hand to your face, keeping track of how warm your face feels. He also fixes the blanket around you when he notices it’s shifted in your sleep, wanting you to feel the most comfort possible. Miguel watches your face, his eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in your sleep before he exits the bedroom, his steps deliberately gentle to avoid disturbing you each time he’s in the bedroom.

On the two-hour mark, Miguel is pleased when he touches your face once again and finds a normal warmth, no longer burning hot.

“Normal,” he whispers to himself with a relieved smile.

Despite your fever going down, Miguel continues to check on you throughout the day. He cooks lunch and gently wakes you up at midday so you’ll eat and take your medicine again, making sure you hydrate yourself, too.

After lunch with some food and medicine in your system, you decide to stick around in the living room, not wanting to be in bed all day despite Miguel’s gentle comment about you resting more comfortably on a bed rather than the couch.

You fight off sleep as much as you can but you eventually doze off once again after replying to the spider gang chat, who sent you messages stating they hope you feel better soon, even asking if they can send you something.

Upon seeing you fall asleep again, Miguel brings his blanket downstairs and once again, covers you with it before settling on the couch, across from you, to keep watch.

He continues to work from a tablet, spending some time reading about mission updates and replying to questions from spider members, though he still doesn’t spend much time with work related tasks. He reads for a while, too, but even that doesn’t hold his attention. His eyes find their way to you more than he realizes, as if he finds the sight of you much more intriguing than any word in his book.

At some point, Miguel gets up to make dinner while you sleep and as always, he moves around the kitchen with ease. He’s a man that knows his way around such space, the kind that makes cooking look easy as he gathers everything he needs on one counter from the fridge and pantry. He has two goals in mind with the meal he’s cooking for dinner. One, to give you some comfort and make you feel better.

And two, to please you with his food. For months, he’s found happiness seeing that look you always get of pure delight when you take a bite of the food he makes. It used to be twice a month with the weekend dinners at each other’s place but ever since you moved in, temporarily, Miguel has the opportunity to cook more often for the two of you.

He always looks forward to it, wondering what your thoughts will be when he cooks something he hasn’t before. Either way, whether it’s something new or something he’s cooked before, Miguel always cooks with love.

He peels and dices vegetables, each one with precision. He washes the rice and keeps an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t burn once he pours it on a pan before applying some oil. Despite his concentration with the food, Miguel takes a few seconds to check on you, finding you still passed out on the couch, the TV playing quietly in the background.

Some time later, you wake up. You blink the sleep away and sit up slowly, feeling disoriented for a few seconds before you realize you’re in the living room. You breathe in, only to find your nose stuffy, which immediately dampens your mood. You sigh and look for Miguel, finding his usual seat empty. His tablet is on the spot next to his seat along with the TV’s remote, left alone. Glancing around, you hear subtle noise from the kitchen, giving you an idea of where Miguel is. You look down at yourself, finding his blanket over you once again before you tug it close to your face. It’s so soft and you can smell just a bit of his scent on it, unable to truly smell it due to your stuffy nose. Despite thinking about Miguel’s scent, you don’t remember your confession from earlier.

You stand up from the couch and stretch at last. This has to be the most you’ve slept in a while during the day but you feel rested. You follow the scent of food to the kitchen where you find Miguel stirring a spoon in a medium size pot. He’s still in his sweatpants and t-shirt, gizmo on his wrist. He turns suddenly, as if sensing you.

“You’re awake,” he says softly, a smile immediately forming on his face, happy to see you up. “How do you feel?” Miguel asks walking around the counter to meet you, he pats the chair you always sit on, silently gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Better. I can still feel a light ache in my throat but it’s not as bad as it was this morning. It’s doable,” you reply as you move to the chair, Miguel pulling it out for you.

“Is your nose stuffy?” he asks, with a slightly raised eyebrow, making note of how your voice sounds now.

“And my nose is stuffy, yes,” you reply with a sigh.

“Hopefully dinner will help with the discomfort of your throat. It might help a bit with the stuffiness, too. I have something that’ll help for sure, if you’re open to it - after dinner,” Miguel says with a frown on his face, wishing you hadn’t grown sick.

“I’ll accept anything if I can breath properly again,” you state, now sitting.

“I feel that,” he replies leaning on the counter, eye level. His body is pretty close, seemingly not worried about catching a cold from you. He observes your face, his gaze landing on your chin. He suddenly remembers what happened earlier, realizing he brushed his knuckles against your skin, and how he then held your chin for a few seconds. He clears his throat. “Let me check the food, so you can go ahead and eat. I hope you like it,” he says softly, pushing himself off the counter. He flexes his hand, the same one he caressed you with earlier, having the sensation on his skin still.

“What did you cook?” you ask softly, sniffling.

Miguel smiles a bit at the sound of you sniffling before he thinks of something. Instead of walking back to the stove, he walks to the laundry room. “Hold on, just a sec.” You watch as he disappears into the laundry room, before he steps out several seconds later, carrying a small box. He approaches you, reaching you in no time, and offers it to you, which you realize is a tissue box. “For your nose,” Miguel says. “So you don’t hurt your skin with something else, like a napkin, if you need to blow your nose.”

You accept the box with a soft smile and thank him.

“Always,” Miguel says with a little nod and gentle smile. “Now, let me get you some food. I feel certain it’s going to make you feel good. My mom made it for Gabriel and I when we got sick sometimes. It’s caldito de pollo [chicken soup] with vegetables,” he says. “I made some rice, too.”

You lean back on the chair.

“That sounds really good. I think I’m actually hungry.”

“You think?” Miguel asks, amused as he grabs some bowls.

“Okay, I am hungry,” you say, fixing it. You give him a soft smile. “I think I’m still drowsy from the medicine.”

“That’s to be expected. The dosage on one of them is pretty high. If I remember correctly, it’s the same one you have to do double the dosage for bedtime,” Miguel replies as he recalls the instructions. “But maybe you’re also sleepy from hunger. I noticed you didn’t eat much for lunch. You haven’t had much fluids either.” Remembering that, Miguel stirs the pot before he gets you a glass with water. He takes it to you and of course, you catch the message.

Hydrate.

You oblige and drink, making Miguel satisfied. He turns back around and fixes a plate with food for you.

“So Gabriel and you used to eat this sometimes when you were sick?”

“Yes, we always loved eating this. It gave some relief to our sore throats. And well, we both enjoyed it overall, so it was also a comfort food.”

You nod, thinking about a young Miguel and Gabriel, sick and eating caldito de pollo as children. The image painted in your head brings a smile to your face.

Miguel finishes fixing you a plate and his own, so he brings both to the counter, placing yours in front of you with delicacy. He’s quick to get utensils and napkins along with some warm corn tortillas, and refilling your glass with water before he sits next to you.

“Eat,” he says gazing at you. “It’ll help you recover sooner.”

You nod with a small smile before you begin eating, the warmth of the liquid soothing your throat immediately. It’s like easing an itch. You sigh softly in content before you eat more, the flavors hitting you all at once in the most delightful way possible thanks to the rice and vegetables.

“That feels and tastes amazing,” you mumble as you bring another spoonful to your mouth.

Miguel smiles, feeling pleased with himself. You didn’t eat much during lunch but now, he’s hopeful you’ll eat the serving he gave you and that you’ll feel much more nourished.

“Tortilla?” Miguel offers as he grabs one from the tortillero [container used to keep tortillas warm]. “Gabriel and I used to roll it like this before dipping it in the caldo [broth], and then ate it.” Miguel demonstrates as he lays the tortilla flat on his palm, looking smaller than it actually is against his large hand before he rolls it outwardly. The tortilla is now a thin roll. He dips it in his caldo before taking a bite from it, clearly enjoying it.

You grab one yourself, craving it. “I’m very familiar with that,” you say with a little smile as you do the same, dipping it into the warm liquid. “Childhood memories,” you say before taking a bite.

Miguel smiles once more at the sight, watching you eagerly eat. There’s definitely a difference now. You’ve got more of an appetite than you did earlier and your tone sounds less tired.

“Did I miss out on something today? Missions?” you ask, looking at Miguel.

Surprisingly, the man that once used to bury himself in work with data reports on anomalies and missions, the fate of the multiverse, playfully rolls his eyes. “No work talk on a sick day. You worry about resting, and that’s all… but I will say, the spiderlings went on a mission today and their team flow was amazing, well planned out,” Miguel says, a hint of admiration and pride in his voice, like that of a proud mentor, or parent.

You smile. “They’ve grown and learned, so much. Sometimes I forget they’re growing up, but it’s happening.” You look down at your plate. Time is passing, whether you realize it or not. The years have gone by, and maybe it was the loss and grief, but when you lost Peter, it never occurred to you that the years would go by so quickly after his death. You almost feel that a part of you doubted you’d even make it this far without him by your side, but you did.

You have.

Despite the tearful days and nights you spent alone grieving, you made it. You silently hope you’ve made Peter proud, wherever he’s now.

“I forget, too,” Miguel says after a few moments, thinking. “It’s strange. They’re still these kids but much more mature, more experienced in their roles than when I first met them. I’m - proud of them.”

“I am, too,” you reply softly, putting your thoughts on Peter to rest. “Though sometimes…”

Miguel chuckles. “Sometimes they say the craziest things, and it reminds you they’re still kids.”

“Right? They keep us on our toes, for sure,” you say chuckling, feeling a sudden discomfort in your stomach, a cramp. The sudden shot of discomfort reminds you that you’ll be having your period soon.

“Trust me, I know,” Miguel replies, still smiling and talking about the spiderlings.

You both chuckle at that and keep eating, with you deciding to ignore the thought of your period. You ask Miguel what he’s been up to all day and he tells you about it, how he’s worked on some things regarding the society, read, and other miscellaneous things. Of course, he mentions checking up on you, accidentally informing you of how often he did it. You find the fact endearing, that he checked on you every thirty minutes.

Eventually, you both finish eating. You feel better than you have all day, so much that you feel like taking a shower. You offer to help Miguel clean up but of course, he politely declines, telling you to go and rest, and then to go shower once you mention wanting to do that.

After your shower, you come back downstairs, planning to just hang out in the living room. After sleeping for the majority of the day, you don’t feel like being in bed any more. You find Miguel fixing something in his bookcase before he turns, glad to see you again. He takes in your appearance and sees you seem to feel better. You sniffle as you approach the couch, which reminds him about the thing he said he’d give you for your stuffy nose, but before he heads to get it, he notices your little pout when you look at the couch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, walking over to you, standing just a few inches away.

You look up, surprised he noticed you pouting over the fact that his blanket is gone from where you left it. “I… Nothing,” you say softly, causing Miguel’s head to tilt to the side, thinking. It takes him a few seconds before he realizes. The blanket, which he threw in the wash along with yours from earlier.

“Go ahead and lie down, rest. I’ll be right back,” he says gently, itching to place his hand on your shoulder and give you a soft squeeze to reassure you, to comfort you. Once he sees you lay down, he heads upstairs, a plan in action.

He collects what he needs and heads back downstairs, walking through the living room before you even notice him entering the kitchen and dining area of the penthouse. Silently, you wonder what he’s up to. You try to into the kitchen from the couch, curious. He appears a few seconds later, your face softening at the sight.

There’s Miguel, a 6’9” tall man, walking towards you with a blanket draped over his shoulder and on the other one, what seems to be a sweatshirt. On his hand, there’s a saucer plate with a cup on top, steam rising from it. And in the other, a familiar small blue and green tub. He walks towards you, with purpose, a man on a mission.

He reaches you in no time with his long strides and begins to work, placing the saucer and cup on the coffee table, along with the small container before turning to you.

“Miguel?” you say, gazing up at him from the couch.

“Yes?” he responds as he unfolds the blanket.

You don’t even know what to say as he spreads the blanket over your body. You simply gaze at him with wide eyes and awe as you watch him towering over you while he tucks the blanket around your feet and legs once more, leaving it loose above your knees and pulling it up to your tummy.

The sight stirs something in you, something stronger than endearment and appreciation that grows stronger as Miguel carries on with his pampering.

“Is your nose still stuffy?” he asks and for a moment, you don’t even comprehend his question, still awestruck.

“Ye-yes,” you stutter softly, sniffling once more.

Miguel nods and grabs the small blue and green container from the coffee table before he gets down on his knees, next to you. He’s now more eye level with you, though he still towers over you easily. He opens the tub, a familiar scent hitting his nostrils right away.

“Put some on your chest and rub it in gently,” he instructs softly.

You nod and pick some up from the tub once he holds it out to you. You slip your hand under your top and do as he said, pushing past your undergarment to apply it properly. Once done, Miguel nods.

“Good. It also helps putting some on your back,” he says gently, still holding it out for you.

You nod, knowing that, too. You pick up more and lean forward, reaching behind you and under your top once more. You apply the product as best as possible, it being a bit of a struggle with your undergarment, which Miguel notices.

He looks down at the tub and then back up at you. “Do you need help?” he asks quietly, making you pause.

Shaking your head, you reply. “Thank you but it’s alright, I got it.” You lie. You’re struggling but you’re not about to accept Miguel’s help with something so… Personal. Intimate. Especially when it involves Miguel and physical contact.

For a moment, Miguel wonders if you’re simply uncomfortable with the idea of him, as a man, touching you, a woman. He wonders if he’s pushing boundaries just by merely offering.

You stare at him, noticing the look on his face. He’s questioning his offer. You frown and regret your words instantly, thinking that you might have made Miguel feel rejected.

“It involves physical contact,” you say softly. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, Miguel.”

He glances up at you, listening to your words before he nods. He gives you a reassuring smile, feeling relieved. You’re not rejecting his offer, his gesture, for the reasons he was thinking. You’re as always, looking out to respect him and his boundaries.

“Even when you’re sick, nose stuffy and feeling fatigued, you’re still so considerate… so sweet, you know that?” Miguel says staring right into your eyes, without fear or embarrassment from stating those words. “I don’t mind, at all,” he continues as he looks at the container and collects some of the ointment with his fingers. “If you allow me, I’ll help you.”

You smile and facepalm, chuckling. It’s been so long since someone has looked after you like this. The last person was Peter, of course. You used to look after each other when the other got sick, just like Miguel has done for you today. Still smiling, you nod, accepting his help. You remind yourself to accepting the fact that Miguel is looking after you, that this is normal. That friends look after each other.

“Lean forward for me, please,” Miguel says, giving you a smile back.

You do so and lift your top slightly, just enough to let him slip his hand underneath it. “My - I’m wearing my-” you start, trying to tell him you’re wearing an undergarment to support your chest.

“I know,” Miguel says gently. “I could tell you were struggling because of it. Is it okay if I shift it slightly?” he asks carefully before he even makes a move, being a gentleman as always.

“… Yes, that’s alright,” you reply softly.

Miguel nods. “I’m going to slide my hand under your top now,�� he says, letting you know what he’s doing as a way to avoid making you uncomfortable, and aware of his actions. As soon as he slips his hand under your shirt, your warmth radiates off your skin, greeting his own.

You stare right ahead, sensing the warmth from his hand even though he hasn’t even touched you yet. You wait as he moves his hand further up.

“I’m going to apply it now,” Miguel says softly, waiting to see your reaction. Once you nod, he nods back. He presses his fingers to your bare flesh, a second later, he begins to rub the ointment onto your soft skin. His fingers move gently but efficiently, making sure he’s applying the product appropriately so it does what it’s supposed to do.

Your eyes move to your lap as you feel Miguel’s fingers on you. They’re warm, but you’re not surprised. The man always seems to be warm, so it’s not unusual. What’s unusual is his actual touch. From pinky hugs to him touching your forehead and now your back, this is a lot of progress on Miguel’s end. It’s a lot for one day and yet, he’s doing it.

Then, there’s your own progress, you suppose. You haven’t had someone look after you in a long time, haven’t had someone touch your bare skin like this. You try to remember the last time someone, Peter, touched your back when you were sick like this. You find that you can’t remember it. It’s been that long.

Miguel rubs his fingers gently over your skin, unable to ignore how soft your skin feels. “I’m going to move your underwear a side. Is that okay?” he asks again, withdrawing his hand to grab more of the ointment.

“Yes, that’s okay,” you reply softly, returning your attention to the moment.

With permission, Miguel slips his hand once again under your top. He shifts the undergarment aside, gently and respectfully, before pressing his fingers to your skin again. With more space now, he moves his fingers more freely, rubbing in the ointment until he feels it’s been applied properly.

Neither of you truly notice that his fingers have gone still against your skin once he’s done. His fingers remain there, pressed to your soft skin, your warmth marrying his.

It’s seconds later that Miguel realizes, leading him to withdraw his hand in a way that would seem hesitant to anyone watching. He exhales softly and collects more ointment, just a little, not as much as before while you both silently miss the touch and warmth from each other, like the moon misses its stars on a starless night sky.

“And then, for the stuffy nose,” Miguel says, gaining your attention. “Just a little right here.” With you facing him, he reaches with his index finger and gently rubs the ointment on your nose. “It’ll help you breathe a little better,” he whispers, staring at your nose to be precise with the application. “There.” He slowly lowers his hand and meets your gaze. You seem surprise, so Miguel gives you a small and sweet smile. “We need to cover these arms,” he says, pointing at them. “The AC has been turning on, you’ll get cold. Here, you can put this on if you’d like.” Miguel tugs at the cloth still draped over his shoulder. A sweatshirt.

Wordlessly, you accept it. You recognize it as his, Miguel’s. Sometimes he wears it around the penthouse in the evening. You remember him wearing it yesterday, which means it’ll smell like him. You put it on, careful not to rub off the ointment from your nose. The sleeves are a bit long for you but you don’t mind, if anything, that makes it feel even more cozy. You sniffle quietly, noticing how warm and soft it is, and despite the ointment’s fragrance on your nose, you still catch Miguel’s scent on it. You smile as you fix it around your waist before Miguel pulls the blanket higher up your body.

“Thank you,” you say softly, gazing at Miguel who is still on his knees next to you.

He’s still smiling, giving you that sweet and gentle smile, even when he reaches behind him. He offers you the saucer plate with the cup.

“I made you a tea, it’s supposed to help with colds,” he says while you accept it. “Be careful not to burn yourself.”

You take a small drink, the flavor settling well with you and rushing soothingly down your throat and chest.

“Thank you, Miguel. That's really soothing and it tastes great.”

Seeing your smile, Miguel continues to smile back. “Me allegra [I’m happy], I'm glad you like it. Are you comfortable?”

You begin to nod but Miguel gets up. “I should get you a pillow. Hold on.”

“Wait, that's not-” you start but Miguel is already up the stairs. A few seconds later, you hear his approaching footsteps.

“Lean forward, please,” he says gently, so you do. Miguel slides the pillow behind you, fixing it so it'll be positioned just right for your head to rest on. “There.” He steps back and looks at you, trying to think if he’s forgetting something, or if there’s anything else he can do to make you feel better and comfortable.

“I… Thank you, Miguel,” you say, looking up at him, holding your tea. You briefly notice that he didn’t bring a pillow from your bedroom, but one of his own since the pillowcase is grey, just like his bedding set.

Miguel smiles softly at you and nods. “Always,” he says softly. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod once more, giving him a smile. “I will, thank you. You’ve done so much… Thank you, truly.”

Miguel crouches, grabbing the ointment container and closing it. “I’m looking out for you, just the way you looked after me,” he says, turning to look at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this, you know. So rest properly, so you’ll be back to your usual self. Please.”

“I will… I am,” you reply, sounding like you’re making him a promise.

“Good, thank you,” he says, as if you’re doing him a great favor by resting and getting better.

“You should rest, too.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you’ve been - looking after me all day. You’re probably tired, too.”

“I’m good,” Miguel reassures you. “Not tired at all. Promise.”

“Alright… will you at least sit down?”

Miguel smirks softly. “That I can do,” he says before he settles on the couch across from you once more. “TV?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

With a soft smile, Miguel asks what you want to watch before you both decide on something, settling for a movie. You spend the rest of the evening in the living room together, Miguel watching over you like a loyal knight to his queen, both when you’re awake and when you doze off due to the medicines’ effects.

He makes sure you have everything you need and even notices when your face shows signs of discomfort, your hand pressed to your tummy.

“Is your stomach hurting?” Miguel asks, worried that your cold is turning into something else.

Noticing his concern, you ease his worries by telling him the truth. “It’s my period. It’s coming up soon, probably a few days. Or even tomorrow,” you say, trying to remember what day it is. With running into Harry and then your lunch with him, and now sick, you can’t even remember. “It’s cramps. They’re not bad, thankfully.”

Miguel almost scoffs. They’re not “bad” and yet, your face shows clear discomfort. “I can make you another tea - canelita.”

“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll just take some medicine in a bit,” you reassure him before you ask him a question about the movie, distracting him from the topic for the rest of the night, or so you think.

-♥︎-

The next morning you wake up without an alarm. Miguel and you decided last night to take off today again, for your sake, and yet, you’ve waken up just past 7:30 by the need to use the bathroom.

There, you’re met with the lovely (not) news that your period has begun.

“Yay,” you say, grumpily. “Sick and now on my period.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re back in bed with brushed teeth and different clothes on. You fall asleep again for some time. Only waking up when you hear Miguel’s gentle voice, coaxing you from your sleep.

You blink softly, your gaze finding his warm gaze and sweet face.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, gazing back at you. He notices you look better today, back to yourself.

“Better,” you reply in a whisper, eyes fluttering for a few seconds to blink the sleep away.

“I’m relieved to hear that,” he says, crouching next to the bed. “How are you feeling… your period?” he asks softly, worried you’re feeling unwell from it. Last night you may have succeeded in changing the topic but not in erasing the worry and thought from Miguel’s mind. It reminded him of the first time he went to your apartment, how unwell you were. You haven’t missed any days at HQ because of your period since then, he knows that. Ever since that time, you’ve added more self-care steps to your period routine but Miguel hasn’t forgotten how unwell you were.

Over the months, he’s silently, and discreetly, made sure you don’t push yourself too much when he guesses you’re on your period. Thankfully, the new things you’ve been doing has helped you a lot, which include drinking canelita ever since he made it for you the first time. Either way, Miguel still tries his best to figure out if you’re pushing yourself too much because he worries about you.

“You don’t have to tell me… I just - you’re okay?” Miguel adds.

“Yes, I- I started today. I’m feeling alright right now. No cramps, or headaches,” you share, feeling comfortable to talk about your period with Miguel.

He seems relieved to hear that. “Good, I’m glad.” He sighs softly. “I bought you medicine either way, if you’re interested.”

You sit up slowly, fixing the covers. His blanket is sprawled over your bed and you’re still wearing the sweatshirt, the one he gave you last night. “You did? When?” you say, shifting slightly and patting the edge of the mattress, offering Miguel a seat.

He stands up and sits, keeping some distance to avoid disrupting how comfortable you look on the bed right now. “After you went to sleep last night, I ordered some. I got it delivered this morning,” he replies. “I figured I could help and offer you another option just in case what you’re taking now is not working. Plus, I remembered that medicine from this universe might be more effective than what you’re taking from your universe.”

“You think so?” you ask, looking hopeful.

Miguel smiles, his gaze softening because of your face. “I think so. Lyla has done some research and comparisons. Medicines are more effective in some universes than others, from prescriptions for colds to menstruation pain, even birth control pills. Apparently this universe is one of them, so this menstruation medicine might be better than yours.” Miguel pulls out a box from his pocket and offers it to you, the package sealed. “So, if you want, try this out. See if it works better. If it does, I can buy it, or if you’d prefer, I can have the infirmary supply it to you, whatever you wish to do. If you’d like to try another prescription in the future, just let me know, too, and we can look for an alternative,” Miguel offers as he watches you look at the box with hope.

“I’m going to give it a try if the need arises, thank you,” you tell him softly, looking up at him with a smile. “If it does, I’ll definitely be asking you or the infirmary to supply it to me. I’ve been trying new ones but they seem to stop being efficient after some time, so I’m hopeful about this one. Thank you so much, Miguel.” You gaze at him happily, feeling hopeful about this medicine. You’ve been using a different kind ever since the day Miguel showed up to your apartment, realizing the former one only seemed to make you drowsy and since then, you’ve been trying out new ones, hoping to find something more stable. You have hope this new medication will help after what Miguel said.

“Always,” Miguel replies, returning the smile. “Just let me know what you want to do, okay? I’ll happily do either. Do you want breakfast yet?”

You place the medication on the nightstand, considering Miguel’s question for a few seconds before realizing your stomach feels empty. It’s as if the moment he brought up food, your body recognizes it’s hungry.

“I myself, do,” Miguel says. “My stomach feels empty. I didn’t eat anything else after the chicken soup.” He pats his stomach, a bit of a frown on his face. “And neither did you,” he adds.

You chuckle. “So does mine, so I could definitely go for breakfast,” you reply. “What are we making?”

“I’m making something I’m certain you’ll like.”

You grin, hearing him emphasize that it’s him that’ll be doing the cooking. “Alright, alright. I’ll just…”

“Sit on the counter and give me cooking advice,” Miguel says, remembering the first time you cooked for him here at the penthouse when he was injured in the spring. He wanted to help you make food but you declined and told him he could offer conversation and advice, but no physical help considering his injuries. Despite you being capable to use your arms and the rest of your body, Miguel refuses to let you do any kind of work. He wants you to keep resting so you’ll fully recover soon.

“I see how it is,” you reply, shaking your head slightly in amusement. “But I can do that… I have no choice.”

Miguel smiles and stands up from the bed. “You’re still recovering, so take it easy. I’ll wait for you downstairs, okay? I’m going to start on the coffee.”

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit. I’m going to make the bed.”

He nods with a small smile and heads back downstairs, giving you your time to start your morning routine in peace. He’s relieved to see you feeling so much better this morning, even smiling and playing along with him. You’re almost back to your usual self, the way he likes to see you. If he could, Miguel would take away your sickness for himself. Hell, he’d take the period cramps, too, if it meant you wouldn’t experience pain and discomfort.

As Miguel starts on the coffee and waits for you to come downstairs, he wonders to himself for the first time why you got sick. He wonders if it was the rain, or maybe sleeping on the living room floor, even over the rug. Growing up, he was told that such thing can make someone sick among other things, like walking barefoot, or sleeping with wet hair. He was always warned by his Mexican mother about it but he brushed it off, even when he got sick after doing one of those very things he was warned about.

Miguel sighs softly. Maybe it was sleeping on the ground.

Then, he wonders if it was stress from your encounter with Harry Osborn, a thought that brings a frown to Miguel’s face. The encounter with Osborn left you tense and nervous, and he hated seeing you like that. He doesn’t like how Osborn caused you such stress and is now wanting to be back in your life after years of ghosting you when you needed someone after Peter’s death.

Miguel still doesn’t know what your decision on that is. He hasn’t asked, though he won’t deny he’s curious. At the end of the day, it’ll be your decision.

However, that doesn’t mean that Miguel will let go of the grudge he has for the man. Miguel can’t help it, knowing what Osborn did to you. It does more than upset him.

He clears his mind from Osborn when he hears you approaching the kitchen, deciding to not give a moment of his time to the man when you’re here with him. What matters right now, is you, so he carries on with breakfast.

Miguel gives you a cup of coffee and continues to cooks, filling the penthouse with lovely scents of food. You sit at the counter, drinking coffee and talking with him. At some point music starts playing, surprising both Miguel and you.

“Lyla,” he says, remembering. He hardly saw her yesterday since he stayed home and she was busy helping Jess at HQ.

Both of you wait for her to pop up but she doesn’t.

“I guess she’s busy,” you say softly when she doesn’t show up.

Miguel nods with a grin. “Seems like it. I’m sure she’ll make an appearance later today.”

The two of you continue on and have breakfast, with soft music playing in the background. You take your medicine afterwards, which prompts Miguel to ask you to go and lay down. Even when you offer to help clean the kitchen with him, he declines and gently asks you to rest.

So you do. Feeling better than you did the day before, you think about yesterday and everything Miguel did to help you get better, even pushing his own boundaries regarding physical touch. You softly touch the top of your nose, remembering the way he gently applied the ointment yesterday. That leads you to the fact that he applied some on your back, too. That seems surreal but it did happen.

You smile at the thought, thankful for Miguel, who eventually joins you in the living room where you both watch some TV for a while. He’s truly glad to see you in a better mood today, taking notice that you don’t seem as sleepy as yesterday and that your nose isn’t stuffy either. It seems that you’re recovering quickly, which makes Miguel feel relieved. He still feels some worry about your period, though, but he really hopes that the new medication will at least help lessened your symptoms if you experience any.

He watches you for a few seconds after taking a seat, noticing that you’re still wearing his sweatshirt. With looking after you and making sure you have everything you need, he suddenly remembers yesterday, when you told him in your sleepy state that you “like” and then “love” his scent. The thought brings a warmth to his cheeks.

Did you really mean it? Or, was it just words being said in such sleepy state? He almost wants to ask you now but he stops himself, thinking the topic might embarrass you, and maybe, you really didn’t mean them.

He shakes his head at himself, turning to look at the TV instead. You both watch it for a while and spend the morning together. You manage to stay awake all the way up until after lunch time when you excuse yourself to your room, telling Miguel you’re going to take a nap because the medicines prescribed by the doctor at HQ are making you sleepy.

A few hours later, you wake up to your name being called. Miguel is crouched next to you, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. You’ve been sleeping for a few hours and he’s decided to finally wake you up to ask if you’re feeling unwell due to the cold, your period, or both.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asks quietly, trying not to startle you too much with his voice.

You nod and stretch your legs under the covers. “Mhm, I’m okay,” you reply sleepily, making Miguel smile softly. He ends up sitting on the floor, next to your bed, and leans back on the nightstand, his body covering most of it. He stays quiet for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling in silence, thinking about something while waiting for you to fully wake up. Ever since you’ve been sick, he’s had this on his mind but every time he’s about to really think about it, something interrupts his thoughts. He’s wondered about it before but he’s never asked about it. Part of the reason why he hasn’t asked is because the timing was not right. The other part, the main reason, is that Miguel didn’t want to know the answer.

He still doesn’t because if the answer is yes, Miguel knows that it will hurt him. The time has come though. With you being sick and Harry Osborn trying to come back into your life, Miguel finds that this is the best time to ask. Sensing that you’re fully awake now, Miguel decides to ask what’s been on his mind.

“Did you ever - get sick? Before joining the society?” Miguel asks, still staring at the ceiling. “Between Peter’s death and you joining the society?” he continues, quietly, softly.

On your side, facing him, you stare at the wall thinking about his question.

“Yes. I got a few colds here and there but nothing more serious like the flu, thankfully,” you reply a few seconds later after thinking about it, thinking of the few times it happened. “And then a few times because of my period.”

Miguel nods, gulping softly. He turns to face you, remembering when he went to your apartment the first time ever because you were unwell due to your menstruation. You were all alone in pain and discomfort. That was one time alone - one month in many years of solitude. He silently wonders for how many of them did you experience a similar situation? How many times did you lay alone on your bed in an empty apartment while the rest of the world went on about its day?

How many times did you lay half-unconscious, half-awake squirming in pain and clutching your stomach?

It kills Miguel to think about it.

“Hey,” you whisper softly, catching his attention. For several seconds, his eyes have a distant and pained look in them. “What’s wrong?”

“I”m sorry,” he whispers back, blinking and coming back to the present - to you.

“For what?”

Miguel sighs and looks away, leaning his head back. Eyes closed, he wonders if he should tell you.

“Miguel?” you whisper. “What is it? You look upset.”

Miguel’s head snaps back to face you, eyes open. “Not with you.” He shakes his head, making it clear he’s not upset because of you or at you. “Never with you, I’m sorry. I just - you being sick - I’ve thought about it before and now that I’m here to see it, it’s brought back thoughts - questions,” Miguel says in a whisper, eyes meeting yours.

“Questions… About what?” You prop yourself up with one arm, wondering what’s going on inside Miguel’s mind. Whatever it is, is bothering him deeply. You wonder if it has to do with his question about you being sick in the past while alone.

“It hurts me,” Miguel admits softly.

“What hurts?” you ask, brows knitted, concerned.

“To think about you, alone for so long all those years. Especially when I think about you feeling sick, with no one to care for you - to make sure you ate, someone to ease your discomfort. To think that you were on your own,” he whispers.

You inhale deeply, your heart’s strings pulled by how bothered Miguel is by this. It feels as if Miguel really is in pain.

“Don’t think about that, Miguel,” you tell him softly. “It’s in the past now. Those days are over.”

“But you shouldn’t have been alone. Someone should’ve been there with you.”

“It was my fault. I pushed everyone away after Peter died.”

“No,” Miguel says, shaking his head. His tone is somewhat stern. “None of your friends should’ve ever accepted you parting from them. They should’ve kept reaching out. Kept showing up to look for you - to make sure you were okay. You had just lost Peter - you shouldn’t have been alone,” Miguel insists, his voice gentle. “Harry… He should’ve been there for you, especially.”

Surprise rushes to you. You weren’t expecting Miguel to talk about this, for this to be what’s been bothering him so deeply, as if it pains him in a physical way. “I was going to cut ties with him, too,” you reply, trying to lessen his hurt by stating a truth. “I was planning on it.”

“Planning,” Miguel states. “But you didn’t. Maybe you would’ve gone through with it but you didn’t actually do it because he disappeared before you could. He just - left you,” he says softly, shaking his head in disbelief. Ever since he learned about Harry Osborn and the fact that he abandoned you right after Peter’s funeral, it’s been impossible for Miguel to not hold a grudge against him but now, knowing that there were times when you were sick and alone, it only makes that grudge grow. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry you were alone all those years, with no one to look after you.”

“You have no reason to apologize. You didn’t do anything,” you reply gently, wishing that you could lay a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“No one deserves to be alone,” Miguel says.

You slowly sit up when he says that. “No, no one does. Including you,” you say softly, remembering the time Miguel told you he used to think he was meant to be alone, to live a lonely life.

Miguel’s gaze softens. He nods. “Including me.”

Smiling, you pull the covers higher as Miguel watches you. He returns the smile, feeling some calmness despite his negative emotions about this topic.

“I’m sorry if I’m… Overstepping.”

“You’re not,” you respond, gently.

He gives you a nod. “I just - I hate thinking about it. I wish…” Miguel trails off. “I wish you hadn’t been alone for so many years. If I,” Miguel pauses. “If I was there… I would’ve never left you alone. I would’ve gone to your place, every day, and knocked on your door until you opened up.”

You smile softly, your eyes slowly filling up with tears because of Miguel’s words. You blink them away, trying not to cry in front of him. With a sigh, you nod.

“I have no doubt you would’ve,” you tell him, believing this in your heart.

Miguel smiles, his own eyes glistening while thinking about the past. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” he says, sincerely.

You shake your head, sniffling a bit. “Don’t be, Miguel. In the past, I’ve wished I had been here sooner, that I could’ve been here for you when you needed someone, too. Even if you pushed me away, I would’ve kept trying, the same way I did when I first started organizing the lab for you. Knowing what I know now about your life, I’ve wished for that many times. Too many,” you admit. “But you know what? I’m just thankful we’re in each other’s lives now. I wish it had been sooner but the fact that we’re even here now, that makes feel so grateful.”

You sniffle softly, thinking about your past.

“Those years I spent on my own… They’re in the past. Behind me. And although there were many lonely days and nights - days that I can’t even remember anymore because they all blended into one - it makes me appreciate the now so much more. I’m thankful for our friends, the spider gang. This,” you say gesturing to Miguel and yourself. “I’m so - so thankful for it. For all of it. For you,” you answer softly, smiling sweetly at Miguel despite your eyes threatening to spill your tears.

Miguel smiles again and leans forward. He reaches with his hand, placing it on top of the bed. He offers his pinky finger, which you notice immediately. You smile warmly at the offer and take it, wrapping your own pinky around his. Gently, you give it a squeeze, one Miguel returns.

His feelings of hurt regarding this conversation have calmed more. A part of him will always wish he had met you earlier, that he had found you sooner so you could’ve been in his life earlier, but your words and smile - your sweetness - replaces his hurt with pure ternura [endearment], so much the next words simply spilled from his mouth like stardust.

“I’m grateful for you, too, dulzura [sweetness],” Miguel whispers, still smiling. “I have been, for a long time now.”

You stare at each other, smiling, your chests stirring with affection, appreciation, and love. For several minutes, you simply enjoy the moment of such vulnerability with Miguel, calming each other.

You think about the little nickname Miguel gave you. Despite all the feelings you’re experiencing right now, that doesn’t mean you missed that part. You chuckle, still holding his pinky finger.

“Does this mean I can call you ‘Miggle?’” you ask.

Miguel rolls his eyes, playfully, of course. “Only when we’re alone. The spider gang would have a field day with that nickname. Peter B. especially,” he says gently.

You snort softly. “Fair enough.”

Miguel stares at your joined pinky fingers. “You may call me something else.”

Humming softly, you give Miguel’s pinky finger a hug with your own, smiling. “I’m going to think about it, then.”

“I look forward to hearing your ideas,” Miguel replies, amused.

You stare at the wall, beginning to think of a nickname you’d like to give Miguel.

Mig.

Migs.

Miggy.

Fangs.

You feel a cramp in your stomach, interrupting your thoughts. With your free hand, you press your stomach slightly, something that catches Miguel’s attention.

“Does your tummy hurt?” he asks, worried.

“Just a cramp,” you reply. “I’m going to take some of the medicine you gave me.”

He nods. “I can get you a heating pad. I have one.”

“I have… the socks with rice.”

Miguel’s brows raise in surprise. “The ones I made you?” he asks. “From back then?”

You nod, looking away, embarrassed. “Uh, yes, they’re quite efficient, so I… Kept them. They’re in the dresser,” you say nodding at them.

He turns to look, still surprised, only to find them laying next to a clean stack of clothes. He didn’t notice them before until now. He nods after a few seconds, gently squeezing your pinky finger. He doesn’t want to let go, even if he doesn’t voice that, but he also wants to look after you.

“How about I make dinner and then you take the medication? I’ll heat up the rice socks for you, if that’s what you want to use.”

You nod after a few seconds. “I like that plan, but I can help-”

“By resting,” Miguel finishes, somehow standing up without letting go of your pinky finger. “I got it. You rest, alright?”

“Alright,” you say with a sigh, still not used to someone looking after you like this after so long.

“Good. I’ll cook and you can rest. I’ll tell you when dinner is ready.” Miguel stares at your joined fingers once again. He frowns for a second before squeezing your finger one last time for today.

You understand, so you squeeze back before letting go. “I’m going to take a shower while you cook. A hot shower always helps me.”

He nods, smiling softly. “If that helps, then go ahead and take your time. We have unlimited hot water.”

“Trust me, I know,” you say standing up at last from the bed. “I’ve become quite spoiled with the shower here, I feel like I forgot what my shower even looks like.”

Miguel chuckles despite the fact that he remembers that soon you’ll be returning to your universe. Your building will be livable once again and you’ll be gone. He fights the urge to tell you that you can come use the shower whenever you wish to. That you can use all the hot water.

That you can stay here longer, even if your building is ready.

But Miguel doesn’t.

“It hasn’t been that long, has it?” he asks, personally feeling that it hasn’t. Weeks have gone by, but for Miguel, it feels like you moved in just yesterday. “You just got here.”

You laugh softly as you grab something you’ll need for your shower. “It feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Miguel nods. Always. “Yes, sometimes,” he replies instead, looking away from you and around the bedroom. It looks so homey, so cozy. So you. He wishes the bedroom would look like this for longer. He sighs quietly, shaking his head as you gather what you need. He needs to let it go. He clears his throat. “I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen, alright? Take your time with the shower, no rush.”

You nod with a smile. “Alright. I’ll be downstairs shortly.”

Miguel gives you a little nod and smile, wondering what you’d think about his thoughts. If only he voiced them. He finally steps out of the bedroom and leaves you to get ready for your shower, pushing his thoughts aside and focusing on cooking dinner and making you feel better, even though his mind is whirling with thoughts about you moving back to your universe, about your expressed gratitude for him, his nickname for you, which slipped from his mouth without a thought, and of your joined pinkies.

Two hours later, you lay on the couch. You’re in clean pajamas, wrapped up in Miguel’s blanket. You’re still wearing his sweatshirt, something that pleases Miguel for some reason. The socks with rice are under your clothes, pressed to your tummy. As soon as you came downstairs after your shower, he heated them up for you since he remembered to get them while you were showering.

You also took your medication for your cold and the new medicine Miguel got you for your period, which seems to have helped with the cramping.

And of course, Miguel made canelita for you. Your empty cup is now on the coffee table thanks to Miguel, who noticed you falling asleep still holding on to it.

As you sleep, Miguel sits across from you. The TV is on since you both decided to watch the telenovela again but you fell asleep halfway through it, which is no surprise to him due to the medication, and the fact that you got hit with a cold and your period at once. Definitely too much in a few days.

Miguel sighs softly. At least you’re feeling better. The worse of the cold is over now, at least it seems so, and you have new medicine for your period, so hopefully it’ll be better this month.

“She’s sleeping?”

Miguel blinks in surprise, finding Lyla over you. “Yes,” he says softly.

Lyla nods, watching you. “She always looks very peaceful in her sleep.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow but nods. “She does.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Miguel replies.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

“Why?”

Lyla snorts and disappears for a second before appearing over the coffee table. “You fall asleep on the couch sometimes, especially recently.”

“Okay, and?”

“I’m just saying.”

Miguel rolls his eyes, not annoyed but just wondering why Lyla is even bringing that up. “How are things at HQ?” he asks.

“Good. Everything is running just fine. Don’t worry.” Lyla stares off to the side, arms crossed over her chest now. “I learned about a theory the other day.”

“What’s the theory?” he asks.

“Humans sleep better when people they love are around. Sometimes even small things that remind the human of their loved ones help, like the sight of their jewelry, or the smell of their perfume…”

Miguel hums. “That’s interesting. What piqued your interest in that?”

Lyla shrugs. “Nothing, just came across the article. Interesting stuff,” she says looking at Miguel and then at your sleeping form. “Well, I’m glad to see she’s doing well.”

“She is. She was better today. I’m sure the worst is over now,” Miguel says, his tone one of relief.

“I’m glad,” she says, turning to face Miguel again. “Well… I’m going back to HQ. I have some stuff to do.”

Miguel turns to her, nodding. “Okay, that’s alright. Thank you.”

Lyla smiles and nods. “You got it, boss. Take care of Y/N.”

“I will,” he says before Lyla gives him a peace sign and disappears.

He turns to look at you, finding your sleeping face. You truly do look so peaceful when you sleep.

“Always.”

A/N: MIGUEL GAVE US A NICKNAME!!!!! Sorry for screaming but - it was necessary!! You guys... Miguel... 🥺😭 HE WAS SO SWEET AND TENDER AND JSJIDJ why is he not real??? I want to marry him. AND WHEN HE TOUCHED OUR CHIN ??? AND APPLIED VAPORUB ON OUR BACKS AND NOSE????!!!! (Not me screaming about my own fic) Miguel really said f them physical contact boundaries today 😌 for real!!

I really hope you guys enjoyed this update!! Thank you for the support as always, guys 🥺 it really does mean a lot to me!! THANK YOU!!!!

-Alondra ❤️

Also, this was Miguel fr but with a smile and tenderness because it's reader obviously:

taglist: (text block limit sucks) @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp

@rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi @loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner @geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

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princessfizzintine · 2 days

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dating miguel o'hara pt.2 ᯽

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runa-falls · 7 hours

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what a mess~

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader cw: smut, established relationship, superhuman stamina, overstimulation, cum EVERYWHERE, 'use a condom, it's too messy X(', 'bitch stfu i'll show you messy'..., so many sheets, reader is a pushover (bc I WOULD BE TOO) wc: 1k + a/n: i um... just take this and I'll go to a corner of a room and think ab what I've done.

---

Having a superhero boyfriend is great – he gets you discounts at your favorite restaurant, he easily carries you home after a long night out at the bar, he saves you from getting kidnapped by his arch-nemesis for the fourth time this month (though isn’t that his fault in the first place?....) – but there are aspects of the relationship that you didn’t consider before.

Apparently, with great power comes great… stamina.

To put it plainly, Miguel’s (sex) drive is unheard of. You better clear out your schedule for the whole day because he can go for hours. And most nights, you can barely sit up after he fucks you.

You like that – or you did when you could afford to be sore every other day. You like how enthusiastic he is – how much he wants you. It makes you feel desired and beautiful. But it’s not just the intense workout you risk every time you steal a kiss that turns into more – it’s the number of times he can…finish.

Every time you think he’s finished, he’s still hard and thrusting into you, overstimulating you until black stars start to fill your vision.

It’s a mess in the end.

You lay on top of him, filled to the brim, dripping all over his lower stomach and onto the sheets under you, breathing so hard you’re sure you’d rupture a lung. You feel like you’re barely conscious on the bed as your heart beats harshly against your chest from how hard you came. Hair sticks graciously against your forehead as your eyes struggle to stay open to see Miguel, who gently pulls out and watches his mess spill out of you.

He whispers sweetly of how well you took him, how pretty you look all fucked out, how much he loves that he can turn you into a blabbering – mindless whore. Being the possessive man he is, he attempts to shove it back in, using two of his thick fingers to gather and push his essence back into you, hoping that, against all odds, it’ll take, despite the fact you take your birth control religiously.

Of course, when he sees how your thighs shake and squeeze around his hand from the overstimulation of him fucking his fingers into you after you just came, he immediately gets hard again.

He gazes down at you with apologetic red eyes as he bites his lip under a sharp fang, “I can’t help it when I see how wrecked your pussy is for me…”

It’s nice – it’s hot – but you end up having to change the sheets 5 times a week. He’s insatiable… well ok, you’re just as thirsty as your boyfriend, but the amount of maintenance you need for each session is ridiculous. You basically gave up washing your sheets after every fuck, and instead ordered several identical sets of bedding to make the process easier.

Many sheets have been destroyed beyond recognition. Okay, maybe you’re being a bit overdramatic, but the amount of cum-stained sheets in your linen closet is insane. How are you supposed to hide this if you were to have guests over?!

After staring at the layers of folded-up and stained sheets that you’ve accumulated over the past few months, you decided you were going to do something about it.

You can still have fun without the mess.

…right?

—

Miguel has you on your back at the end of the bed with your legs resting on the crook of his arms. You have on a cute little nightgown – white to symbolize purity (though what you were about to do was far from pure) – with nothing underneath. It was one you bought just to get a reaction out of him – and now you got it.

He holds you open for him, regarding you like he would a special gift – though there’s nothing to really celebrate (unless you count his raging erection). He breathes harshly against your neck as he paints your skin with kisses and nips. You’re nearly folded in half with how closely he’s pushed against you, but you can barely recognize the mere tinge of soreness in your legs with how fluidly pleasure seems to travel from his lips down to the apex of your thighs.

Miguel O’Hara, the strong, independent Spider-Man, is truly a mess in front of you. His once neatly ironed tie now hangs loosely around his neck, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and his hair a tangle of unruly curls. His fingers, now caressing your body, are already dripping in your slick from when he forced a couple of orgasms out of you right when he got home.

You find a sense of satisfaction in the disheveled state of his appearance, relishing how his once meticulously groomed demeanor has been disrupted – how his eyes transition from their usual chocolatey brown to a striking blood red, how his lips swell sweetly with lust.

Miguel groans deeply as he grinds his clothed hardness against your wet center, “Mm…I want you so bad.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants, sighing as he releases himself from the tight fabric. No underwear?

“Wait, Mig." he pauses his movements, waiting patiently – prepared to do whatever you want. “Get a condom.” …Except maybe…that.

“Condom?” He could barely hold back his sneer, but you could faintly hear the growl vibrate from his chest.

“Mhm, we’ve been too messy lately. We can’t just keep buying new sheets every week!”

“...We could…”

“Miguel!”

“I don’t see what the problem is… this is just how it is.”

“But it’s too messy.”

“I thought my baby likes to be filled up…”

“...I-I mean, I do sometimes, but –”

“Don’t you like it when I get you all messy?” He leans in close, distracting you from denying him. “Have you dripping with me for days?” He presses closer, and you can feel his hard cock slip against your wetness, dragging against your sensitive clit.

“Miguel.” You whine.

It’s so hard to deny this man.

“How about we just try to be more careful, hm?” He presses against you gently, nearly entering you, but not quite. It feels so good, the tip of him barely stretching past your entrance.

“Okay…j-just this once though…” You surrender with a whisper.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel oʼhara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel oʼhara smut

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cherryredstars · 23 hours

Note

PLSSSS GIVE US A SECOND PART OF RIBBON

I NEED IIIIIIIIT it gave me 🦋🦋🦋

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fingering, Makeshift "Collar", Fluffy Miguel

A/N: Enjoy, my love!!!

Unedited

Part 1

You won't even look at him.

He finds it amusing, tapping his fingers on the desk's surface between the two of you. He knows from your peripheral vision, even as you try to keep your attention on the professor, that you can see his wrist. You can see the pale pink silk contrasting against his rich skin and the black of his jacket. Your pretty pink bow. The same bow that happened to go missing once it was untied from your wrists.

The same bow that has slight discoloring at one end from where it soaked up your smooth arousal not even twenty-four hours ago.

He's wearing it like a prize, proud of what it symbolizes. It isn't just proof that he was able to slip between your pretty thighs, but proof that you own him. It marks him as your territory. Fuck if he doesn't look like a silly school boy, practically radiating from his spot besides you as he absentmindedly fidgets with the smooth material. He doesn't give a fuck about the teasing remarks he got from his friends when they had seen it, could care less about the jealous looks girls have been glaring at the bow. The only reaction he cares about is yours.

Your cheeks are flushed, big doe eyes fluttering as you avert your gaze from him. You squirm in your seat, shifting every now and then in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position that doesn't make you feel hot and stuffy under your pretty clothes. Some part of Miguel hopes all your movement is partially to blame on how sore you are between your legs, trying to distract yourself from not only his wrist, but also the aching hollowness he's left behind from the day before. He can picture it in his mind: you waking up with a cute wince as your inner thighs ached, a plump pout on your lips as you tried to find the bow from yesterday before deciding you don't have time to look for it and rushing out of the house with your hair loose. Or maybe it was a conscious decision, one made after recalling the way Miguel whined into your neck about how pretty your hair looked free and flowing around your shoulders and pillow.

He has to bite back a groan at the thought.

The class ends all too fast in his opinion as the hour and thirty minute lecture comes to a close and you begin to promptly shoot up and put your things away into your tote bag. Then he finds that the class couldn't end soon enough when you go to leave, your small hand barely wrapping around his decorated wrist as you pull him along. His tail is practically wagging as he lets you drag him out of the class, finding it amusing that despite your fast paced steps he has to walk slowly to not trample you. His heart is pounding horribly fast in his chest as you drag him around campus, his skin burning beneath the ribbon until you enter the school library and drag him to the very back.

He almost pouts when you drop his wrist, turning to him with your arms crossed over your chest. His eyes drop there quickly, admiring the way your breasts are pushed up before he looks back at your face. He's not particularly ashamed as you give him a knowing look, a smooth smirk tugging at his lips.

"That's mine."

You say it simply, stating the obvious as you point at the pink on his wrist. Miguel holds his arm up, a faux look of surprise on his face as he twists his hand around to get a good view of it.

"Huh, is it? I can see why you wear them. It looks pretty on me, don't y'think?"

His lips twitch as you let out an exaggerated sigh, your eyes rolling in annoyance. You hold your hand out expectantly, your shoes making a dull thumping noise as it taps against the carpeted flooring. Miguel simply stares at your hand, eyebrows furrowed as he slightly angles his wrist away from you. He's acting like a spoiled child, possessive over his favorite toy. Your eyes narrow, your hand dropping as you groan. You simply don't understand him, he hates you. Yet, he's clinging on to your precious bow.

"Miguel." You sigh, your hand coming up to play with your loose hair as a way to calm down. "You're giving people the wrong idea wearing my bow."

Miguel crosses his arms over his chest too, matching your stance. He straightens up, towering over you as he spreads his feet shoulder width apart.

"I think everyone is getting the right idea."

You quirk your brow shaking your head, "And what idea is that?"

Miguel's cheek flush, but his face stays the same. Serious and determined. He doesn't want to say it aloud. That's the purpose of the bow anyway: an unspoken, but obvious sign of who he belongs to. He doesn't want to make a fool of himself by saying it out loud. He's spent all this time silently pining after you, he's not ready to have it crash and burn at his feet. Especially not after he knows what it's like to have you. Not when the feel and taste of you are already implanted in his memory.

He shifts uneasily on his feet. "I think you already know."

You lean back onto the bookshelf behind you, lips puckered in a purse. Of course you already know, you just don't understand why. Surely he's only doing it for an ego boost, bragging about how he got you in his (well, technically your) bed despite the fact you dislike him. You rub at your temple, eyes closing shut as you feel an oncoming headache.

"Yeah, but you don't like me." You finally say, opening your eyes and giving him an unamused look. "Why would you want people to think we're a...thing?"

Miguel takes a step forward. Then another, and another, and another until the tips of his shoes are centimeters away from yours. He casts a shadow over you from how tall he is in comparison, blocking out the already scarce light. If you were anyone else, you would be terrified of him looming over you. But you know that he wouldn't hurt you, especially not after the way he handled you yesterday. All sweet praises and desperately soft caresses. Your mind goes a bit hazy recalling it, and you have to blink rapidly to vanish the thoughts. Even as your core grows hot.

Miguel's hand, the one with the ribbon, comes up to your face. His brows are furrowed, but they relax slightly when his fingers run through your hair, pushing a strand back behind your ear even as it comes loose and falls back into place. He's quite a moment, and it takes great effort to even your breaths to not reveal the frantic state of your heart right now. He's simply studying you, taking you in.

"Who said that?"

His words are hushed, warm as they fan over your face from how close he is. It reminds you of the voice he had used when he asked if he can take off your dress, his hands hovering on your back as he pressed kisses along your jaw. You can feel his lips ghosting your skin as the memory hits you, and a slight shiver runs up your spine.

"I- what?" You mumble out, your mind scrambling to collect itself.

"Who said I don't like you?"

He mocks the tone you used, and your mouth drops to open. An instinctive 'You did!' crawls up your throat, but it gets trapped between your vocal cords. Your brows furrow as your mind works to find a moment of proof that you're right. Trying to pick through all the teasing until you find a time where the words slipped out of his mouth. But, you can't. Your mouth snaps shut, averting your eyes to his ear as embarrassment stains your cheeks.

Miguel hums knowingly, bringing his wrists between the two of you. You both look down as his hand comes up to pull at the ends of the bow. The silk dents under the weight of his thumb and pointer finger as he tugs softly at it, watching as it unravels. You gulp, suddenly feeling nervous as Miguel looks at you, your eyes meeting his. You flinch in surprise when his thumb presses on our chin, slowly guiding your head up so he can see your face properly. It leaves your neck entirely exposed, and you tense when the soft silk brushes the nape of your neck. Miguel's eyes drop to look at what he's doing, hands slow and careful as he starts tying the bow. His fingers move skillfully as he crosses the two lengths together, flipping one over the other and forming two loops. He tugs until it's snug against your supple neck. It's loose enough that it doesn't choke you as you move your head, only applying enough pressure to let you know that it's there. It blends perfectly into your outfit, like it was always there.

He follows the length of one of the ends down, brushes over your clothed breast slightly before his hand skims your thigh. It makes you jolt, both of your hands grabbing at his shoulders in surprise. Your eyes shoot down, blushing at the obvious bulge in his pants, but your eyes trace the movements of his fingers. The rough pads float over your skin, dipping occasionally into your inner thighs before returning to the apex. You can't help but squirm, hands tightening on his shoulders and your thighs flex.

Miguel's eyes are hazy and half-lidded as he watches you. His fingers gain more and more confidence as he watches you become putty, slipping under your skirt until his pinkie skims the edge of your panties. It causes a little gasp to part from your lips, doe eyes wide as you look up to him. He can feel a hunger burning in his gut, driving him to cup is hand completely over your clothed cunt.

"Miguel!" You hiss, bucking into his hand. "W-what are you-?"

He coos down at you, shushing you lightly as he leans down. His forehead meets your shoulder, resting there despite the weird angle that already is causing an ache between his shoulder blades. Your hands slide into his hair, your eyes looking to the ceiling when he grinds the palm of his hand into your clit. A wave of deja vu washes over you as his lips plant small kisses to your skin, inaudible mumbles breathed against your skin as he huffs at your scent.

"Just wanna make y'feel good." You barely make out. "Show you how much I like ya."

You have to bite your lip to prevent a lewd sound from escaping when his fingers move your panties to the side, stroking up your soaked slit. Your hands tighten in Miguel's hair, pushing his face closer to your neck. A full-body shiver runs up your spine when his tongue licks at the skin just above the ribbon, dampening the edges of it and leaving a shiny line on your skin. You swear your knees are on the verge of buckling when he repeats the action, switching between licks and suckling around the pink silk. His fingers toy with your slick, gathering it on the tips of his fingers and massaging it along your clit before dipping them inside of your again.

Miguel eats up every single quiet noise you let out, mind echoing with the soft squelch of your cunt and the shaky moans you produce. He has to flex his thighs to physically prevent his knees from bending so he can hump your leg like a damn dog, his cock aching to swap places with his fingers. But he knows you wouldn't want to risk anyone finding the two of you in such a compromising position, and he isn't very keen with he idea of anyone but him seeing how pretty you look when waves of pleasure hit you. So instead, he focuses all the pent up need into curling his fingers into you. The soft sound of his palm hitting against your mound drives him nuts, feeling your slick drip from his fingers until it's practically pooling in his hand. He makes sure his fingers find and press into that one gummy spot that was you gasping, your legs shakily trying to close from how good it feels.

Miguel's eyes roll back as you let out a shaky whimper of his name, your legs locking as your body shakes. He can feel the way your walls clench around his fingers, squeezing them tight as he come undone. Miguel practically whines into your neck, his jaw unhinging until his teeth sink into your neck. He pulls away when your body goes slack, indents marking above and below the silk. His hand is sticky as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, the dim light reflecting on the glossy liquid. Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, hot pants leaving your parted lips. Miguel can't help but slip his two creamy fingers past your glossy lips, eyes hypnotized as you lazy suck at them with no complaints. Miguel has to pull them out fast, feeling his cock twitch dangerous in his pants. He shuts himself off from a groan by stuffing the fingers in his mouth instead, licking up the remaining slick and your saliva. It's heavenly, and he's not a bit embarrassed when he licks up his palm too.

You hum at the sight, a soft smile playing on your lips as you slouch forward, taking your turn by leaning on his shoulder. Miguel's clean hand cradles the back of your head, his lips pressing into your hair as you float down into the present. You sigh tiredly as you gently push away, Miguel's arms quickly wrapping around your waist so you don't go too far.

You definitely don't mind being wrapped up, not if it's by him.

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sassypossumm · 1 day

Text

Thanks Frozen Turkey

Grocery shopping shouldn't send you to the hospital...

“Miguel!” You shouted from the porch, struggling with the many grocery bags ypu were carrying.

“Amor?” His voice could be heard from the kitchen. Jostling a slipping bag, you huffed.

“I’m not in the mood to play Marco Polo, Migs, come help me!” Your husband came hurrying to the door, and keeping it open with one foot, easily took the bulk of the bags into his large hand. Heaving a sigh of relief, you gave him a wide smile. “I knew I kept you around for a reason.”

“Is that the only reason you married me?” He smirked, leaning a little closer to you.

“We-ell,” Sporting a playful grin, you leaned in yourself and came nose to nose with him. “There might be a few other reasons, like, you're really helpful opening pickle jars.” Miguel snorted.

“And here I thought you married me because you couldn’t live without me.” He held the door open a little wider for you to pass him, before closing the door behind you. Walking to the kitchen, you placed your bags on the table and turned to say something only to come nose to nose with Miguel again.

“Miggy what in the,” He cut you off by wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you closer. “Hi.” He smirked again at the audible hitch in your breathing.

“Hi.” His smirk turned into a smile, and he rubbed the nape of your neck with his thumb, adeptly jostling the bags in his left hand, while anchoring you with his right. The sound of rustling plastic drew your attention, and your eyes flickered to the bags.

“Miggy,” you glanced up from the bags, only to be met with Miguel's lips on yours. Your eyes flew open in surprise. He pulled back with a cocky grin. “Oh, Miguel.” You wound your arms around his neck and returned his fervor. In your impatience to have him closer, you might have pulled him towards yourself a little too roughly, because the next thing you knew, “Oh! Miguel!”

You sprang back, and plopped into the nearest chair, clutching at your right foot. Miguel looked down to see what he assumed was a 20-pound frozen turkey. The bags were instantly forgotten as he rushed to kneel in front of you. You had a death grip on the edge of the table, and you were rocking back and forth.

“Y/N,” Miguel tried reaching for you, only to be met with your death glare.

“Give me a minute.” You ground out through clenched teeth, closing your eyes. Try as you might, you couldn’t hold back the tears, and with a frustrated huff, you gave in to the sobs.

“Okay, we’re going to the hospital.” Miguel flew into action, and as gently as he could manage, he lifted you into his arms and reached for the car keys. Making sure he locked the front door behind him, Miguel swiftly walked to the car, and placed you in the passenger side. After buckling your seat belt, he jogged around to the driver’s side and got in. Starting the car, he looked over at you and furrowed his brow.

“Just drive, Miguel.” You closed ypur eyes and he noted, with worry, that you were several shades paler than usual. He also knew you well enough to know that you were trying your hardest to hold back some rather uncharitable thoughts. Backing out of the driveway, he pulled onto the road.

(One Hospital Trip Later)

Miguel left the car running while he ran into the drug store. You had demanded ice cream as soon as you'd left the hospital. “Get married, they said. Marriage is great, they said.” He muttered to himself as he perused the frozen section.

Looking to his right he noticed a lady holding a bag of frozen peas, just staring at him. Giving her his best attempt at a smile he turned his attention back to the freezer. He opened the door and reached in blindly. Pulling out the first thing his fingers made contact with, he hurried towards the check-out counter and made his purchase.

“You’re back?” You called from the bedroom, hearing the front door unlock and open.

“Yeah.” He pushed the door shut behind him with his foot and made his way towards your voice. Pushing his surprise behind his back, Miguel peaked into the room. You sat propped up by a bevy of pillows, searching for something to watch on the television. You looked up at him with a smile.

“Did you get it?” Miguel had to grin at your infectious mood.

“Yeah.” Inching into the room, he smiled. “Close your eyes.” You narrowed your eyes before complying. “Hold out your hand.” His smile widened at your barely contained excitement. He pressed his surprise into your hand, and you opened your eyes.

“Oh, Miggy!” You grinned and looked from the flowers to him. “They’re beautiful.” Your smile softened and you patted the edge of the bed. He hurried to join you and took your extended hand. “Is this a peace offering?” You smirked with a raised brow. Miguel shrugged and wove his fingers in between yours.

“I’m sorry,” You both said at the same time.

“Why are you sorry, Y/N?” Miguel's brow furrowed as he looked at you slightly confused. You placed the flowers on the bed and looked down at your joined hands. With a sigh you traced the back of his hand with your free one.

“I was horrible to you.” Pausing you looked up at him with remorse in your eyes. “I’m sorry.” Miguel shook his head.

“Amor, you were in pain.” He glanced at the cast on your foot. “I’m sorry I dropped a frozen turkey on your foot.”

“Well, you now have the distinct privilege of having broken my ‘no broken bones’ streak.” You gave him a playful grin. His face paled, and you instantly regretted it. “Hey,” You said, gently touching his jaw and turned his face back towards yours. “Up here, Spider-Man.” His eyes snapped back to yours at the tone in your voice. “I know it was an accident, Miguel, I don’t blame you. And that was insensitive of me to say.” Miguel turned to press a kiss to your palm.

“Please, Y/N. I knew you had no filter before I married you.” He cocked a brow and smirked at you.

“Thanks, a lump!” You laughed, gently pushing his shoulder. Grinning, he maneuvered you, so you were leaning against the pillows, and he leaned over you. You turned your head and seeing your entwined hands, looked back at him with a giggle.

“Did you just giggle? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you giggle.” He chuckled and braced his arm on the other side of your head. Searching his eyes, you wound your arms around his neck again.

“I’m doped up on pain meds right now, and you are extremely appealing.”

“Wow. It’s a sad day when Miguel O'Hara needs the aid of modern medicine to turn his own wife on.” He shook his head and grinned at you.

“It’s not the pain meds, O'Hara.” You pulled him closer. “That’s all you.” Miguel's brows flew towards his hairline, and he fidgeted. He had to grin at the way you fought a yawn.

“I think someone needs rest.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth, you were fast asleep. Miguel went to pry your arms from around his neck but hearing your sounds of protestation he groaned. “I guess I could use a nap too.” Shifting your positions, he curled himself around you and buried his face in your hair.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel imagine #fluff #miguel o'hara fluff

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teenidlegirl · 11 hours

Text

꣑୧ ݁.﹒cop!miguel 𝓍 teacher!reader (part 2) .ᐟ

❛⠀ previous ⠀❜

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who hasn’t stop thinking about you. since the moment he laid eyes on you at the school, you never once left his mind.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who daydreams about you when he wakes up. those gorgeous eyes, a smile that makes his heart flutter, soft angelic voice. god he has got it bad, and he only just met you.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who almost forgets to wake up gabriella for school. he rips off the bed sheets off his body and jumps out of bed to rush over to her room. a sigh of relief escapes his lips when he finds his little girl all dressed up. smart, responsible girl.

“you slept in, papá.” gabriella giggles at the sight of her half-asleep father.

miguel softly chuckles, nodding. “i did.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who makes huevos con jamon for breakfast, gabriella’s favorite. while she eats, he packs her lunch in her cute mermaid lunch container. dino nuggets, cucumbers, carrots and an empanada as a dessert. a caprisun as well besides her water.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who drops of gabriella at school but sticks around a bit just to see you again. standing off to the side, watching his daughter run off to the playground to play with friends. it’s the morning routine when kids play for a bit before school starts. parents are allowed to stay until the bell rings.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel whose eyes dilate and heart flutters when you walk by with another teacher. there you are, the pretty teacher that he hasn’t stop thinking about since he met you. the woman who has infiltrated his mind. dreamt of you every night.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel whose heart skips a beat when you notice him and wave at him from afar. he quickly waves back, a little too excited.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who suddenly feels nervous when you start walking towards him. a wave of self-conscious hits him. does he look good? is his hair alright? does he smell good? god he hasn’t felt like this in years, since damn high school.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who is a nervous reck as you stand in front of him, all in your glory. heart leaping out of his chest. warmth rising in his cheeks.

“nice to see you again, officer o’hara.” you softly smile, arms folded over your chest.

“igualmente, señorita.” he gulps, plastering a small smile in return. “it’s always nice to you.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel that wants to facepalm himself when he realized what he said. god how stupid he sounds, but he’s being truthful. its always nice to see you, even if it’s the second time he’s seen you. it just happened to slip through his mouth.

those thoughts pause at the most heavenly sound ever, your laughter. a sound that blesses his soul. miguel quickly looks back at you and sees that gorgeous smile he’s been dreaming about.

“well, it’s always nice to you too, officer o’hara.” you say sweetly, that same soft smile on your face.

“miguel.” he said gently. “miguel is perfectly fine.”

“i like being polite, señor.” you recite his words from your first meeting. a little smirk on your lips.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who continues to be mesmerized by you. reciting his own words right back at him. a surprise after a surprise.

“how was your weekend?” he asks, very interested in what you did this past weekend.

“bien. i spent some time with my family, had a little get together. did some reading and grading.”

he nods, acknowledging. “sounds like a nice, peaceful weekend.”

you nod, softly smiling. “it was. and yours?”

“bien tambien. i took gabriella to an aquarium. she loved it. she loved the clownfish because they remind her of finding nemo.” miguel smiles at the memory.

“awww que chula. i think of nemo too, it’s one of my favorites. i was actually thinking of playing nemo for the ‘end of the school year’ party.”

his eyes perk up. “really?”

“sí!” you nod happily. “that or shrek.”

while you are laughing, miguel simply gazed at you with adoration. relishing the heavenly sound of your laughter once again. he feels honored to hear it once again, blessing his ears again. it immediately improved his mood this morning, not that he was in a bad mood, just tired but you made him feel better.

“shrek is a classic.” he grins.

“mhm. gotta show them the classics.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel that has a little frown and pout on his face when the school bell rings. meaning morning recess is over and it’s time to line up to head to class. that also means he has to leave, unable to continue his conversation with you.

“time for class. it was nice seeing you again, officer o’hara. have a nice day at work.” you offer a smile.

he mirrors your smile, concealing the slight disappointment bundling up inside him. “it was nice seeing you too, señorita, y gracias.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who watches you wait for your students to line up. gabriella is first in line. the sight makes him smile. she noticed him and waves at him with a big smile. he waves at her then glances at you.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel whose heart swoons when you both smile at each other as a final goodbye before you walk away with your class to your classroom.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who exits the school and walks back to his car. the conversation with you replays in his mind, making him grin instinctively.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who arrived at the station. dressed in his uniform, a vest with “NYPD” on the front with a radio attached on his shoulder, his gold badge clipped to his belt along with his holster.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who isn’t aware that grin is still plastered on his face as he ventures through the station. that turn many heads, astonished.

“what’s got ya in a good mood, partner?”

miguel snaps out of trance, the grin vanished as he looks and sees his closest colleague. patrick, usually referred as ‘cowboy’ due to his thick western accent.

“don’t.” miguel grumbles, walking past him.

“you ain’t a good liar, o’hara. who’s the lady?” patrick follows him, hands gripped on his belt like a true cowboy. a little smirk plastered on his face.

“there’s no lady, patrick.” miguel denies.

“clearly there is if it got you smiling like that.”

a frustrating sigh escapes his lips. god he’s never gonna let it go, not for a long shot.

“cállete and let’s do our damn patrol.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who does his usual patrol around the city alongside patrick. luckily no crimes committed or sticky situations.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who still can’t stop thinking about you and your conversation this morning. he wonders what you’re trenching at this moment. are you reading that one book in class gabriella has been talking about? doing math problems on the white board? making some arts and crafts stuff?

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel whose patrol finished before gabriella is off from school. another chance to pick her up and to see you again.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel that is waiting in front of school along with other parents. his gear and vest are left on the car, not wanting to scare people with his pistol.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who smiles when his daughter runs to him, visibly excited to get picked by her father once again.

“papí!” gabriella squeals, jumping into her dad’s arms. “you picked me up again!”

“sí, princesa. i got off early today.” he smiles.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who allows his daughter to play with friends a bit, carrying her backpack on his shoulder. also, a chance to speak with you again.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who turns and looks for you to find you with a student who seems a bit sad. a concern frown settles on his face as you comfort the child while looking around as if searching for someone, a parent possibly.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who grows more concerned and walks over to investigate.

“is there something wrong?” he asks gently.

“oh, hi miguel.” you flash a brief smile. “this student’s mother hasn’t arrived yet to pick her up.” you glance down at the little girl beside you. “her mother normally picks her up on time but supposedly not this time. but i’m sure she’ll come, just a little late.” you gently pat her shoulder reassuringly.

miguel tries bypassing how you referred to him with his name, how heavenly it sounds from your lips, and focuses on the concerned student.

“yeah, i think she’s just a little late.” miguel crouched so he’s eye level with the little girl. “i’m sure your mom had something to do but she’ll be here soon.”

the little girl nods. “yeah, i’m just a little worried.”

both of yours and miguel’s expressions soften.

“it’s okay to be worried but i promise your mom will show up very soon.” he said softly.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who feels relieved when the said mother arrives and picks up her daughter, endlessly apologizing for her late arrival. apparently her car wasn’t starting for a few minutes but then it did.

“everything went okay.” you sigh, relieved.

he turns back to you. “sí, everyone is okay.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who feels that sudden burst of anxiousness and bashfulness when it’s only you and him once again, most parents gone.

“gabi was telling the entire class about her visit to the aquarium.” much to his surprise, you started the conversation, which miguel is pleased about.

“oh really?” he grins.

“yes, talking about all types of marine creatures she saw. she said she loved the moon jellyfish and they’re her favorite. the different types of fish and whales. how excited she was when she saw nemo and dory.” you softly chuckle.

that grin grow wilder into a smile. memories of the aquarium visit replays in his mind. how happy and excited his little girl was, mesmerized by all the marine creatures. it was a good day.

“she did love it. i’m glad i was able to get the day off and take her.” he folds his arms.

you mirror his actions. “and i’m glad you’re able to pick her up again.” a soft smile on your lips.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel whose heart flutters once again.

“i’m glad too. my patrol ended early so i was able to pick her up again.”

“gabi was very excited to see you again. i saw her running to you. she adores you very much.” you say sweetly but also sincerely.

that makes him smile. “i adore her too. ella es mi mundo.” he glances at his daughter who is playing with her friends in the small grass field.

now you’re the one to feel your heart flutter. how sweetly he talks of his daughter.

“you’re hers too.” that makes him look back you with surprise. “even though we’ve only just met and hardly know one another, you’re a great dad, miguel.”

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who doesn’t believe his heart could take more of your kindness. swoon over the moon when you say his name for the second time today. it makes his knees feel like jello.

“gracias… i tried to be. to give her the best life i can give her.” he said shyly, averting your for a moment.

“you are.”

he shoots up and meets your gaze.

“by how hard you’re working for your daughter, you are a good father.” you said sincerely.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who simply gazes at you, captivated by your kind sincere words, speechless. his heart on the verge of exploding by the endless amounts of kindness you’ve given him. his infatuation with you grows stronger.

by his lack of words, you suddenly feel concern that you might’ve overstep. “w-well, i’m must be getting back. got some assignments to plan.” you awkwardly said with a smile before turning around. cheeks a little flushed from embarrassment.

sudden panic settles in his stomach. “wait.” reaching out with a hand but never touching you.

turning around, you anxiously meet his gaze.

“gracias, for what you said.” miguel takes a step closer, still leaves some space in between you two. “i really appreciate it, it means a lot.”

concern and embarrassment fade away, relief washing over your body. that soft smile returns. “of course, miguel.” with that, you walk away.

there it is again, you said his name for the third time.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who watches you return to the school. part of him feels a bit disappointed because he wishes to continue talking to you but he knows you have responsibilities to do. plus, he needs take gabi home since she has some homework to do.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who is also disappointed with himself for not asking if you’ll be interested in a coffee or something. but perhaps it’s too soon since you two recently met. maybe next time.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ cop!miguel who is determined to pick up gabriella more often to get to know you more.

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˖ ࣪ ༘ @nightingale1011 (no date yet, sorry! need slow burn first but it’ll happen in the next chapter for sure!)

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓑𝐋𝐔��𝐁𝐒 .ᐟ #cop!miguel #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara blurb #miguel o’hara blurb #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #blurb

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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 days

Text

The Woman He Didn't Choose Part 7 🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Contestant!Reader

Synopsis: The host, Jason Donner, and James, the beach bartender open the dreaded truth box in Paradise. Word count 4.9k

Part 1 (previous chapters linked in the post)

A/N: Jersey shore inspiration once again! As well as a scene from the movie One Day with Anne Hathaway. Let me know what y'all think!🖤 TY AS ALWAYS FOR READING. 🫶🏽

CW: MINORS DNI, no smut, mentions of sex, DRAMA, ANGST, FIGHTING, MILD VIOLENCE, FIST FIGHTS, MISCOMMUNICATION, TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, BETRAYAL, MENTION OF CHEATING, GASLIGHTING, BULLYING, TRASH TALKING, fluff at the end

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

The fleeting adrenaline of the night has now taken the form of awkward tension and dead stares as the group sits around the bonfire. Jason Donner, the host, and James the beach bartender approach, holding Paradise's version of Pandora's box, anticipating the drama that will inevitably spring forth with quiet dread.

"Good evening, everyone." Jason greets. Muffled murmurs echo with little enthusiasm in response. He claps his hands together.

"Well, as you can see, James here, our wonderful MVB, or most valuable bartender, as I like to call him..."

He pauses for dramatic effect as the cringe joke lands.

"....has a little box of tricks for you this evening."

He takes the box in his hands, opening it as several scraps of paper nearly tumble out.

James assists him, helping him organize the slips of paper based on who they're written about, before he addresses the group.

"Alrighty, here we go, without further ado, time to drop some truth bombs."

George shifts uncomfortably in his seat, MJ is seated next to him with her arms crossed, blue eyes squinting at James as though she was trying to make out the words he's reading telepathically.

Miguel swallows and turns to look at you with a sort of half smile. You return it with your own, both your legs bouncing restlessly.

Felicia and Ben hold each other's hands in anticipation. Peter B. sits up, eyes glaring in George and Miguel's direction.

"First one: Ben is like a Golden Retriever. Blonde and always happy to be here."

The group laughs, caught a little off guard by the unexpected tameness of the first confession, with Ben nodding in agreement.

"I mean, they're not wrong...."

"Wait, there's more." James turns over the piece of paper. "P.S., I borrowed your razor to shave my ass the other day."

Ben turns white as Miguel and George wheeze with laughter. "Lovely..."

James unrolls another scrap of paper, this one's for you.

He calls your name and your heart does a death drop in your chest.

"Miguel truly cares about you. I know you're scared of getting hurt like you did when you were on his season, but give him a chance. I have known Miguel for a long time, and I can honestly say that he loves you and wants the best for you. I know he wouldn't take a huge risk like this unless he was committed 100%. Don't let this opportunity slip you by."

You feel a deep heat in your face as you look down. Miguel looks surprised at the confession as well. He glances discreetly over at you, moving one of his knees closer to yours.

Next confession.

"Felicia..."

Felicia raises her head, curious what this one could possibly be about.

"Felicia, honestly Ben deserves better than you. After being engaged to Flash and dating Harry, is it not obvious you're just a gold digger? I feel bad for Ben. He deserves someone authentic and who won't use him just for his looks or eventually leave him if someone more successful comes along."

Felicia looks like she could kill somebody with her bare hands. MJ tries to stifle a smile as she leans back in her seat. Ben looks worried at Felicia and a little hurt but doesn't let go of her hand, looking down at the sand and trying to make sense of what he was just told.

James' eyes glitter with a little bit of mischief as he reads the next two intended for just one person.

"Peter is a little bitch."

Peter raises his eyebrow unamused, eyes flickering over to Miguel and George, the latter who's doing his best to not let a snicker escape the smug grin he's wearing.

Time for the second truth bomb directed at Peter.

"Peter. Are you sure being on a dating show is what you need right now? The only connection you should be focused on is one with a therapist so you can get the help you need. You're not over MJ, you're mad that things didn't work out with y/n even though you were the one who fucked her over. What do you really want? Get your shit together- sincerely, everyone."

Jaws silently fall open with a mixture of shock and also silent admiration for anonymous to say what everyone is thinking.

"Well dayum..." You mutter under your breath, a little relieved someone is finally calling him out.

Peter turns bright red, a vein nearly popping out of the side of his forehead as he points at Miguel.

"So now you think you're funny, don't you?"

Miguel raises an eyebrow, "You assume I wrote that?"

"Yeah, because you're the one who can't seem to keep my name out of your mouth." Peter snaps.

Miguel scoffs. "Wouldn't need to keep it in my mouth if you could just keep it in your pants..." He mutters.

"Miggy, please..." You tug on his arm, your eyes pleading which makes Miguel soften a bit, apologetic he upset you. As satisfying as it would be to let Miguel lay Peter's ass out for everyone to see, you don't like the idea of him getting in a fight.

James blows air out of his mouth in preparation for the next two, knowing they will be about as effective as pouring gasoline on an already blossoming fire.

"Miguel needs to go home. All he cares about is getting pussy. He's a washed up bachelor who's only here because it didn't work out the first time. He is not ready to settle down."

"George..."

Oh God this might be it.

"When are you gonna be honest with MJ and admit you were texting your daughter's mother just days before you came on the show? You're a liar and you know it. MJ deserves better than you."

Even a pin dropped could be heard in the sand with the uncomfortable silence that washes over the beach. You and Felicia look at each other with shocked expressions, looking frantically around the fire for signs of who else could possibly be on to George.

MJ scoffs quietly, shaking her head and running her tongue over her teeth in annoyance. George's hands clench into fists on his legs, taking a deep breath, seemingly doing his best to keep his rage under wraps, for now. He glances at MJ but she keeps her vision straight ahead, hissing at him when he tries to reach towards her.

"Oh, that's nice." Miguel shakes his head, shrugging off the insult that was directed at him.

James tilts his head. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"No, because it's not true." Miguel retorts simply, crossing his arms.

"Bullshit." Peter chuckles darkly, murmuring under his breath, although it's clear he meant for it to be heard loud and clear.

"Oh and how would you know, Peter, enlighten me? Coming from the man who can't make up his mind, right?" Miguel sits up a little taller, moving his head to make eye contact with Peter.

"Mig...please..." You murmur, heartbeat starting to pick up, placing your hand on his thigh.

"You immediately fall back on Plan B when Plan A didn't work out. You just figure, "I'll go shoot my shot, doesn't matter she's already seeing someone else and trying to move on, what the hell." Peter makes air quotes with his fingers in a mocking manner. "Yeah, I was just engaged to someone else literally 48 hours ago, but let me run away to Paradise to solve all my problems."

"First off, you're the one who fumbled her the minute you decided to go down on Dana. And second of all, she did that on her own free will. You can't stand that she chose me. Well guess what, not my fault I'm here to fix what you broke." Miguel smirks a little at the last statement, happy to rub it in his face.

George cuts in, "Alright let me say something. Can I say something? Miguel!"

"What, George?" Miguel sighs, Peter starting to cut in loudly immediately after.

"Let me talk. I'm speaking!" George starts to raise his voice.

"George, shut the fuck up!" Peter fires back, standing up.

"No you shut the fuck up! Fuck this anonymous bullshit, I'll tell it to your face!" George takes three steps forward, only to be stopped by Miguel.

"Oh what, what, tell me what George?!" Peter nods his head, trying to put on a tough exterior.

"You're a punk and a bum!"

"Oh woww, really?" Peter's face turns redder by the minute. At this point, Ben stands in front of Peter, trying to talk him down to no avail while George continues poking the bear.

"You're a bitch!"

"Oh yeah? What else, what else, tough guy huh?!" Peter shouts, clashing with Ben who's fighting to hold him back.

George taunts, "You were born a bitch you'll die a bitch, ya mother's a bitch...

"Don't fucking bring up my mother!!" Peter launches forward like a rocket, Ben losing the battle as George rattles on, jutting his pointer finger out to punctuate each of his sentences as he relishes in the rise he's getting out of Peter.

"....ya father's a bitch, everything about this guy, this guy right here! Yeah, he's a little bitch!"

"FUCK THIS GUY!!!!" Peter snarls, doing his best to overpower Ben who's using his whole bodyweight to restrain him, while security sluggishly clamors to the scene when it's clear that Peter won't let up. Miguel tries to come to Ben's rescue once again.

"Don't you FUCKING touch me!"Peter growls at Miguel.

Miguel glares but backs off for now, Ben murmuring he's okay, patting Miguel's chest as they slowly go back to their seats, letting security plant Peter back in his spot.

Jason clears his throat, straightening his suit jacket nervously. "Alright, alright....let's keep this clean, gents...."

He nods towards James to keep it going.

"Ben." James calls out.

Ben exhales as he sits down in his seat, bracing himself for the potential brutality of this one.

"Ben, after everything we've been through, I would've thought you would have had my back better than that. Honestly, I'm disappointed in how someone I considered a friend for so many years, would jump ship so quickly to defend someone else. You abandoned me when I needed you."

"Alright..." Ben interrupts, standing up, already knowing who the author is this time as he looks directly at Peter B.

"I am a good friend, Peter. I don't care what you say, I think most of the guys here can back me up when I say: I am a good friend. "

He pauses.

"But I will not be a yes man. I won't just sit there and tell you everything you wanna hear just because you're my boy..."

Peter looks at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna back you up when you're the one in the wrong this time." Ben concludes.

"Great...great. Noted." Peter B. mutters, chuckling non-humorously.

"Oh, and whoever said that about Felicia being a gold digger, mind your business. I don't give a fuck." Ben adds as he sits down in a huff.

The tension between everyone is dialed up to uncomfortable levels, but the confessions continue. James clicks his tongue nervously. "Okay...let's go on, shall we...." He unrolls the next slip of paper between his fingers and reads it aloud.

"Miguel. Stop being a pussy and tell y/n how you feel. You've done a lot to redeem yourself, but you can't stop there. Take her on a date. Make her feel special. After everything you put her through, you owe it to her to be really honest with your feelings. How are you going to deal with the long distance and your mother disliking her outside of this? Are you sure you're not here just because things didn't work out with Xina? Are you ready to actually propose and give her the ring she deserves? These are the hard questions you should be asking yourself."

Your lips part a little bit, a mixture of anxiety, gratitude, and nervousness at this truth bomb. These were things you've been meaning to discuss with Miguel eventually, you just weren't sure when the right time would be, still teetering on the ledge, not sure when it felt right to jump back into something with him.

But you couldn't lie that you felt yourself getting closer and closer to making the leap. Your mind floods with a million thoughts as you decide to focus your attention on the crackling bonfire in front of you instead.

Miguel clenches his jaw and nods solemnly, keeping his body turned towards yours as the same barrage of thoughts invade his mind.

The John or Jane Doe was right. If tonight's truth telling session doesn't end in a complete shit storm, another shit storm with an impending rose ceremony certainly would increase the stakes. He's got to act soon if he doesn't want to lose you yet again.

"Amen!" Felicia says a little loudly, nodding in agreement and clapping her hands together.

Jason and James smile, saving the best for last.

"MJ..."

Ah, the big finale.

"Today at the beach, when you left upset, George put his hand on the surf instructor's ass. He was flirting with her and she was touching his arm and chest while they were talking. When you left crying at the club, George made out with two girls. He was also dancing and grinding with multiple mystery women. He also held a girl's hand and took down her number. Multiple people on this beach know. Therefore, you should know the truth."

MJ bolts up, snatching the piece of paper from James' hands before he can stop her, reading it over and over with her blue eyes a frenzy with shaky hands.

"......who the fuck wrote this?" Her eyes are now venom, boring into every single person sitting around the fire. You and Felicia are shaking, scared to speak up.

"Now..." James tries to take the slip of paper from MJ. "that's not how this works. All confessions are supposed to be confidential."

"I don't give a fuck, WHO WROTE THIS?" MJ cuts him off sharply and dodging him. She decides to take things into her own hands when nobody speaks up.

"What Felicia, you're mad I told the truth about you and Ben so this is your way of getting back at me?"

"What??" Felicia's eyebrows furrow in anger and confusion.

"This is your way of getting back at me?!" She repeats taking a few steps closer to where you're sitting.

"Are you fucking kidding me MJ?" Felicia stands up. "How the fuck was I supposed to know you'd write some bullshit about me and Ben? Why are you even bringing me and Ben up anyways? Who fucking asked you??"

She smirks when MJ gets dangerously close,

"Oh, what, now you got balls all of a sudden? Step up, then."

"Don't yell at me, honey, don't." MJ warns through clenched teeth.

"For someone who seriously begged, BEGGED to my best friend..." She gestures to you.

"....if you know something tell me, if you know something tell me. Telling people, 'let me know if George is flirting with other girls'....." Felicia tries to continue.

"And funny how those people become pussies all of a sudden!" MJ spews back. "I don't like you-"

"Really, you don't like me, all because I came to you as a woman and told you about your men??" Felicia gets in MJ's face, gesturing to George and Peter B.

"And you can't tell me to my face! So who wrote the note, you two?" She points at you and Felicia, keeping her finger dangerously close to Felicia's face.

"I'll tell it to your face, matter of fact I'll hit you in your fucking face right now!" Felicia yells.

"I'll hit you in your face too!" MJ sasses back. Without another word Felicia smacks MJ in the face, dragging her down by her hair in the sand, MJ grunting, arms flailing trying to scratch at Felicia's arms.

George rushes forward trying to get in the middle as they screech and struggle. You come running to Felicia's side as MJ gets up, becoming temporarily blinded when she kicks up some sand that flies past Felicia and almost hits you in the eyes. She gets in one good shot to Felicia's face, Felicia being accidentally sandwiched between you and George when you fall forwards into her.

George holds Felicia in place while MJ pathetically tries to keep swinging at Felicia over George's shoulder, none of them landing as Felicia squirms ferociously in his grasp.

"Let her go! Let her go!!!"

You try to lunge at MJ but she's being almost completely shielded by George. You try to encourage George to release Felicia instead by clawing at his face and pounding your fist into his arm, your comparatively smaller frame no match for his, but your frantic movements are distracting enough that he loosens his grip and the entire group falls to the ground in a clobbered mess while security tries to intervene.

"Stop!! Stop!!"

Ben and Miguel are now added to the fray, trying to retrieve you and Felicia who are in a tangled mess on top of each other while George fishes for MJ.

"Alright, alright SHUT THE FUCK UP, that's it!" George yells at you and Felicia.

"MJ, we were just trying to watch out for you!" You yell out of breath, your clothes askew and one of your tits in serious danger of falling out of your bikini cups. You lean to the side, trying to throw your words at George and MJ past Miguel and Ben who are both trying to block you now, creating a shield.

"Oh really, this is watching out for me? How pathetic. Can't even be honest with me to my face. You both can kiss my ass." MJ finally breaks free, rolling her eyes and scoffing, small scratch marks on her face from Felicia's nails that have begun to bleed.

"I said: shut the FUCK up, it's done, nobody gives a fuck!" George booms over the commotion. "Y/N, your relationships are all fucked up, and Felicia's jealous, so now you and your little sidekick got nothing better to do but try and bring us down!"

"What the hell?! I don't give a fuck, George! You wanna sit there and put me on blast go ahead!!!" You enunciate each word with loud claps of your hands, darting forward like a madwoman, shoving George with all your might as the veins bulge in his neck as he tries to keep a lid on his temper.

"We didn't do anything wrong!! I was just trying to watch out for MJ because MJ doesn't have a single friend on this beach!" You yell.

"Yeah and I thought you were mine." MJ waves you off sarcastically, trying to fix her knotted hair.

"And you, you started this bro!" George shifts his attention to Peter B. "You fucking started it, little bitch boy!" He furiously strides towards Peter B. who's already up and ready, Ben jumps up, throwing himself in the middle yet again, stumbling backwards and being practically steamrolled by George's bulking frame.

"Whoa whoa whoa!!! FELLAS!"

Miguel yells, "Hey!" sprinting to Ben's aid once again. Ben is bulldozed to the ground with a yelp as George and Peter B. start coming to blows.

Peter hisses as George hurls his fists, ducking and trying to go for his torso, yet George slides through his hands like a bar of soap.

Peter tries to gain the upper hand, struggling with their hands on each other shoulders, locked in a stalemate as George's face turns bright red, Peter wincing under George's formidable strength as he struggles to hold his own, both his build and his height overpowered by him.

Two enormous security guards weave their way in, one of them curling their bicep around George's neck to pry him away. He begins yelling like a madman, hitting his chest in frustration like a gorilla, high off testosterone and adrenaline, and an additional two guards to push him backwards.

"Let me at him! LET ME AT THE SON OF A BITCH!"

Meanwhile, Miguel and Ben rush to hold back Peter who's already trying to charge at George for another round.

As soon as Peter notices Miguel approaching, his anger is reignited all over again, "YOU!!"

He puts his head down and charges at Miguel.

Miguel grunts as he catches Peter around the torso, being knocked backwards from the force, both men struggle as Peter pushes him further and further down the beach towards the water, yelling when Peter lands two punches in the middle of Miguel's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"Peter STOP!" You scream, face widened in horror at the sight of Miguel being attacked.

Miguel wheezes in pain but is doing a good job of holding him off, however, you can tell Miguel's definitely holding back as he struggles with Peter in the water, since he could absolutely destroy him if he wanted to.

Ben tries to run towards the struggling pair but slips in the wet sand, falling down on his face.

Finally, when Peter shows that he's not giving up, Miguel locks in, furrowing his brow with a guttural yell, teeth clenched, face burning red as he practically launches Peter 10 feet in the air, with Peter making an enormous splash in the water, spluttering incoherently as the salty water burns his eyes, his whole outfit soaked and wet sand in every crevice.

"Stay the fuck away from me." Miguel seethes, breathing deeply as he slowly backs away from a bewildered Peter.

The security team trots down the beach, helping Peter get out of the water. Peter rips his arm away from one of the guards in fuming embarrassment and anger as he snarls at them that he can walk himself.

"And don't forget: she chose me!!" Miguel calls after him, panting, unable to resist sticking it to him one more time.

You run up to Miguel, out of breath, not minding his wet polo or shorts as you sweep him into a hug, tears running down your face out of concern. Miguel sighs and holds you close.

"I'm okay..."

"Thank God..." You whisper, closing your eyes and leaning into his chest.

Security is shepherding George and MJ into separate locations, MJ giving his hand a squeeze before they take him away, seemingly sticking by his side in utter clownery even after all the allegations.

You and Miguel find Felicia and Ben sitting by the fire, sitting down next to her and giving her a hug while Jason and James talk with the producers, shaking their heads with exasperated voices.

Jason finally storms off to the side to go have a cigarette after realizing this group can't go more than 24 hours without a world war explosion.

"You okay?" You ask Felicia, looking over her. Even though MJ got in one good punch, she didn't leave a mark, compared to MJ's scratched up face and bird's nest hair.

"What do you need, water, food, ice?" You wave your hand at a producer passing by, stealing a cold water bottle and a bag of mini Oreos, holding the cold bottle against her head.

"I'm fine." Felicia sighs. "I feel so bad right now..."

"Why??" You ask her, opening the bag of cookies and popping one in her mouth, nursing her back to health.

"We were just trying to look out for the girl. She's not being a good friend right now and if anything she should be the one who feels bad. She finds out we wrote the note and she's more mad at us than her cheating ass man? That makes no fucking sense to me. If they're gonna stay together after this, they're the clowns. Not us."

Felicia sighs and nods, eating her cookies thoughtfully as she leans on your shoulder.

"What happens now?" Ben asks quietly, looking at the scene that's starting to slowly simmer down with the aftermath.

"Well, Jason's gone. James is nowhere to be found." Miguel stands up. "I think we should call it."

"Where are you going?" You look up, reaching out to Miguel. "I don't want you going back over there alone..." You look in Peter's direction.

Miguel's eyes soften at you. "Come with me?"

You turn to Felicia and Ben. "I've got her." Ben reassures, wrapping a blanket around her. "You guys go on. Have a good night."

"G'night bestie."

"Love you!"

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You and Miguel walk in silence, your arm wrapped around his waist and your head leaned against him, one of his arms draped around your shoulders, holding you close.

Miguel smiles shyly, "So, uh,....you were really worried about me back there, weren't you?"

"Course I was." You answer, shuddering a little at the memory of the fight and the look on Peter's face.

"The last thing I wanted was for you to get hurt."

Miguel hums and gives your shoulder a squeeze and a rub. "I appreciate that."

"Of course."

He pauses, letting the quiet sounds of the nighttime crickets and croaks from the tropics' wildlife drown the silence for several moments. "And about whoever wrote that confession towards me, you know, the one about how I need to step up and be better towards you...."

You both stop walking, turning to look at each other. Miguel takes his hands in yours. "They're right, whoever they are."

You give him a hopeful smile, letting him continue.

"I am gonna be better...at telling you how I feel and making sure I'm there for you. I know next week is Fairytale Suites, and I don't want another rerun of what happened last time." He holds both of your hands in his and takes a deep breath, before he speaks honestly.

"You are my endgame. That's all I want at the end of this is you, and me, walking away from this together."

You break out into a full on smile now, the corners of your eyes softening in adoration at this confession.

"I know an engagement sounds crazy in just a week, but even if we don't get to that point, I'm okay with it. I just want this with us, you and me....so badly. If I have to wait, then I'm willing to do that."

He looks seriously at you, leaning down a little bit so his eyes can stay locked on yours. "And I don't care about long distance, what my mom is gonna say, and all that, we can sort through that later.... I'm willing to fight for this. What are you thinking? Please tell me...?"

"Miguel...." You look down, running your thumbs over the back of his hands pensively. "I mean...an engagement is kind of a big step..." You ponder for a moment. "There's so much we need to talk about before we can even consider taking that step if I'm being honest."

"I know..." Miguel whispers.

"Well..." You think deeply, before proposing an idea.

"Maybe we can start with a rose, for now? Tackle all the hard questions when we have the fairytale suites and all day and night to talk about it?" You grin up at him.

Miguel chuckles, bringing one of his hands to your cheek. You follow his touch, holding his arm as you look into each other's eyes.

"You want to claim my rose early?"

You nod, smiling, "Course I do...unless you think someone else has a chance," you tease, lightly poking him in the belly. "We'll start there and see what happens?"

"Not at all. I'm looking right at her." Miguel smiles. "We sure will..."

He brings you in for a hug, letting out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you...you don't know how happy I am right now about all of this."

He looks around until his eyes land on a small hibiscus blossom.

"I know it's not a rose..."

You giggle, bringing your hands to your mouth as he gets down on one knee, with a dazzling smile, offering it to you as he whispers your name.

"Will you accept this...flower? And be mine from this night going forward?"

You nod, beaming as you take his hands as he stands up, gingerly placing the blossom behind your left ear.

You sigh and plant your chin against his chest, "But I swear to God, Miguel...you lead me on..."

Miguel laughs breathlessly, cupping your face, "Baby I swear..."

"You mess with me, cheat on me, go behind my back or let me down for the millionth time I will murder you. I swear to God I'll murder you and go to prison for the rest of my life, you break my heart again."

"I won't baby..."

He doesn't say anything else, just brings his lips against yours in a loving kiss, for the first time in months. You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, re-acquainting yourself with his warmth, with his mouth, his face, the feeling of being so close to this man you once loved, letting the buried affection you harbored underneath the surface come back to life as you hold each other underneath the glowing moon of paradise with the tropic winds weaving all around you. The future uncertain but one thing you both knew for sure as of tonight,

"It's you and me..."

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Jason Donner speaks in a voiceover: "Stay tuned for another drama-packed episode of Singles in Paradise!"

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

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