Wholesome Mig And Gabi Pillow Fight For The Soul ()*

wholesome mig and gabi pillow fight for the soul ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ

lowki i feel like i could carry miguel LIKE i can carry my 6’5 samoan brother so that’s close enough right

since traumazine is FINALLY getting the recognition it deserved after nearly two years imma let y’all know budget, consistency and red wine are my songs you cannot take them ok?? ok anyways new post on ig i queued it on here since all of y’all r only active when i’m asleep 🙄🙄

idk if u still wanna add the reference to ur post but i have it saved so here ❤️❤️❤️

AAAAAH ty bae ✊✊

little practice i did from a request on here to reactivate my drawing skills because i lowki forgot how to draw lol (deleted the reference and i cbf finding it soz but it’s somewhere….)

ref below

“todo va salir bien mi niña. believe me, this will pass. okay?”

i’d cry for another hour just but that omg omg omg😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

dbf!miguel comforting you and wiping your tears away….. *sobs*

tears stream down your face as you cry and whimper into your pillow. the past 4 months have been rough. balancing school, work, and your personal life all at once. almost everything in your world is in shambles. you’ve shut your bedroom door and are wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants. slivers of sunlight illuminate through your closed blinds. your dad is in the living room talking to someone, grateful he's too distracted to hear you. you try to keep quiet but yelps and cries slip out of your mouth regardless.

minutes later, you hear a knock on the door. you go silent, scared that your dad heard your mental breakdown. “uh y-yeah?” you stutter out, trying to sound as normal as possible. “it’s me, can i come in?” a low familiar voice says. it's miguel. you freeze in fear. fuck me. he definitely heard your cries for minutes on end through your thin walls and now you want to crawl into a hole. “um yeah, just g-give me a second” you say loud enough, your voice shaky. you quickly go to your mirror and fix your under eyes that are puffy and smeared with mascara, as well as fanning your red eyes. you pat down your hair and sit on the edge of your bed as casually as possible. “you can come in”.

miguel opens the door and enters your room. “hola chica” he smiles, quietly shutting the door behind you. “hola, disculpame por el desmadre... um did you need something?” you ask, knowing damn well he was concerned about you. “oh no-no i’m fine” he smiles slightly. you say nothing. he looks at you, with a worried expression as he crosses his arms, “solo quiera ver sí estabas bien” he says low and raspy. “i uh… was visiting your dad and was heading to the bathroom… but on my way there i heard you crying” he says. you sit there awkwardly as you turn your head down, too ashamed to look at him as you feel tears building up in your eyes again. “thanks but i'm uh actually f-fine” you lie, looking at him for a split second before looking down again, fidgeting with your hands.

he slowly walks over to you with a slight frown, sitting next to you as he observes your face and body language. “yo se que no estas bien. qué pasó.. hm?” he shifts his face down towards you, trying to make eye contact with you. “mírame ángel. you can talk to me about anything y’know? no tengas pena con migo” he reassures softly, gently stroking your shoulder. “por favor”.

his words make you finally burst into tears, resting your elbows on your knees as you cover your face with your palms. “i’m literally a walking disaster” you weep. miguel instantly shifts against you, holding you. “hey…. why do you say that? that’s not true” he says calmly. “but it is. i’m so fucking b-behind on assignments and despite working everyday i still got bills to pay, and just everything is literally f-falling apart and, fuck, 'm just so tired of it all” you cry. he furrows his eyebrows and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “shhh, look at me” he says, gently pulling your hands away from your face. you turn your face away from him in embarrassment. he shifts it towards him with his thumb, then cupping your face. “i’m sorry things are going the way they are chiquita, como quisiera quitarte todos tus problemas para que nunca estés triste” he wipes your tears with his thumb.

“i know how hard life can get. yo a pasado mementos difíciles en mi vida que no pensé que podría sobrevivir. but look at me now. i live a happy life. i have a good income, a home, people who love me, you here with me... hm?” he says softly, kissing your forehead. he keeps one hand on your cheek and shifts the other to hold yours, stroking your thumb. “todo va salir bien mi niña. believe me, this will pass. okay?” he whispers, looking into your eyes. you nod. “c’mere” he murmurs.

he brings you into his chest, holding you as he strokes your back. “i'm always gonna be here for you, whatever you need bebita” he kisses the top of your head, petting it. you snuggle your face against his warm body, comforted by his natural scent and his big arms embracing you. “por favor ya no llores okay? no me gusta ver te así…. mi princesa” he releases you from his arms. he strokes your thigh and kisses your cheek.

“tomorrow’s my day off, i'll take you somewhere nice hm? te lo mereces preciosa” he smiles. you grin at the thoughtfulness, but part of you feels like he’s only inviting you because he pities you. he stands up and walks towards the door as you follow him. “i mean, it’s okay you don’t have to-” you say before he cuts you off, “what do mean i don’t have to? you’re crazy, claro que si. estaré aquí a las 2 okay?” he reassures, raising his brow at you. clearly his mind was made up and nothing was gonna change that. “fine” you smirk, rolling your eyes. he hugs you one last time, caressing your back. "see you tomorrow chiquitita, no te preocupes tanto hm?" he smiles, walking out your room.