Pookie, You ATE! The Fluff UGHHHH

Pookie, you ATE! The fluff UGHHHH

Puppy Love

Summary: Gabriella wants a puppy! Miguel doesn’t. You convince him. Kinda. Not really. Art: Spinkee on Deviantart (quality is booty but i couldn't find another miguel with a dog hah)

Miguel x Reader, Pure Fluff that’s it.

“No. No, no, no, ningún perro.” Miguel shakes his head at Gabriella, his eyes glued to the TV screen.

His daughter is on her knees on the floor, looking up at her father on the couch with her hands clasped together. She falls on her back dramatically.

“Pero porque nooooo?!” She whines and Miguel sighs, rubbing his temples with one hand and dragging it down his face. He watches Gabriella complain and pound her fists and feet on the floor.

“Ah-ah-ah! Nada de eso.” He says sternly and Gabriella huffs, sitting back up with her legs crossed. She pouts angrily at him to show her fury but all Miguel sees is his baby girl throwing a tantrum.

“Gabi, mija, you’re not even gonna take care of it. Who’s gonna clean up the poop and pee, huh? It’s gonna be me.”

“Papi, I’ll take good care of it! I promise! Pinky promise!” She whimpers, scooting closer and tugging on his pant leg.

“Dije que no, Gabriella. Deja de chillar.” Miguel doesn’t even look down at her, his stress levels heightened after Gabriella had been asking for a pet dog for weeks now.

Gabriella’s face scrunches up, her tiny features contorting unpleasantly as tears well up in her eyes. “MAMI!” She cries, getting up and stomping away from Miguel in the living room to barge in your room where you were folding her clothes.

Gabriella faceplants in the bed, screams muffled as she flails her limbs wildly in frustration.

You pick up one of her clean shirts and fold it neatly in a growing pile. “What happened this time?” You ask her, taking a quick glance up to see Gabriella had moved her face to the side, cheeks flushed red with anger.

“Papi won’t let us have a puppy.”

“Gabi, my love, a puppy is a big responsibility.” Your daughter groans and flips on her back, watching you do her laundry.

“But, Mami, I'm not a baby anymore! I’m ten years old! Ten! I’ll be so responsible! Tell Papi that he won’t need to do anything!”

Once you’re finished folding, you place a hand on your hip and raise your eyebrow down at her. “Papi said no so we’re not getting a puppy, Gabi. Not now.”

“Mami, please!”

“Take these to your room, my love.” You hand the folded pile to her and she begrudgingly takes it. She hops off the bed and goes into her room where she shuts herself in for the rest of the day.

You meet Miguel in the living room, TV volume lowered of a faint cheer of futbol fans during a game. Curling up on his side, he welcomed you with his arm around you, tucking you closer and getting more comfortable with a heavy sigh.

“Maybe we should get a puppy.” You say, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel groans, his head rolling back and you look up at him with amusement. “Not you too.”

“We have the funds! I don’t see why we can’t have a little pet around here to keep Gabi occupied.” You place your hand on his chest, rubbing in little circles.

Miguel’s head tilts towards you. “It’s not the funds I’m worried about. I know as soon as that dog comes in, all Gabi’s gonna do is play with it and I’m stuck cleaning it’s shit.”

“Aw, c’mon, baby. It’s our baby girl we’re talking about. Our princess.” You coax him but he’s firm on his stance.

“No. Dogs and all those animals belong outside. So they’ll stay outside and never in my damn house.” He trains his eyes back on the screen.

“You’re so stingy.” You pout and cuddle up to him, head resting on his shoulder.

“She can get a dog when she moves out which is never.” Miguel grumbles, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Remember: Don’t tell Papi how much we spent.” You remind Gabriella, giving her a pointed look with your index finger over your lips. 

Gabriella beams with happiness, nodding vigorously as she holds a brand new puppy in her arms. A little black pitbull sniffing the air and wagging its tail from left to right, matching the girl’s excitement.

You open the door and Gabriella places the dog down gently. The puppy sniffs the floor and huffs through its nose, getting familiar with its new home. It quickly sneezes and sniffs through everything, half of its body being swung around with its tail. It gives a small yip and its jumps around, wanting to play.

Gabriella is ecstatic! She chases the puppy around, taking toys from a bag and throwing it. “C’mere Princess!”

You slump on the couch, peering in the bag of pet supplies for a baby dog that Miguel would definitely not be happy about.

Gabriella runs around with the puppy for hours before passing out after a day of play. While placing pee pads in the corner of the living room, You hear the door unlock.

Your lovely and blissfully unaware husband hangs his keys in the hook, shrugging off his coat. “Hola, mi amor.” He greets you. 

You welcome him with a hug and a kiss, one he hums in delight. His arms go around your waist and he bends down for another kiss. “How was your day?” You ask him, lips brushing against his.

Miguel sighs. “Fine. Could be…better…” He trails off after hearing unfamiliar footsteps and a bark.

Miguel turns his head to the side to see a little pitbull running up to him and barking, thinking he’s an intruder! Princess circles around him, sniffing and sneezing with her snout, darting this way and that way before looking up at him with a ‘smile’. All she’s really doing is baring her teeth.

Miguel stares blankly at the dog. “You didn’t.”

You grin up at him, wincing. “I did.” You stop him when he groans your name, a lecture on the tip of his tongue. “Princess is already here and Gabi is just so happy.”

“You named it already?” He rolls his head back, hand coming up to cover his eyes in disbelief. He pulls away from you, a pout on his lips. “I’m not taking care of it. You keep that thing away from me.”

“Miguel, now you’re just being dramatic.” You place your hands on your hips. Princess continues to sniff at Miguel’s legs and he shoos her away.

“Mama, listen. I'm not walking or feeding or playing or cleaning it’s shit. That’s for Gabi to do. Whatever it needs, it’s not my problem.”

Miguel kept most of his promise. That was until you went weekly grocery shopping with him on the weekend. While you were finding the meats, you told Miguel to grab the seedless green grapes that Gabriella wanted.

He came back with the grapes and a dogs chew toy. It was a plain bone with ridges around the middle. He tosses it in the cart and hangs by your side. You glance at the toy and then Miguel.

“Why?” You ask. Miguel takes a grape from the box and eats it. Mid-chew, he answers you.

“For the dog. She’s chewing on my shoes.” 

“Uh-huh…” You nod, unconvincingly. Miguel ignores the way you don’t believe him, his hands grabbing the handle of the cart and moving without you. 

The next time is when Miguel comes home from work, dropping his work bag to the floor and tossing his coat on the arm of the couch. He sits with a loud groan, flipping his shoes off. 

The scratches of Princess’s nails scurry down the stairs and rushes towards Miguel, pawing at his pants. 

Miguel leans down and rubs her back a bit before patting her. Princess tumbles to the ground and rolls on her back, huffing while her tongue slips off to the side. “Hey, Princess.” He mutters, patting her over and over again. Princess tries to gnaw on his hand, still growing out her sore canines and Miguel tsks slipping his hand off her. “Okay, okay, ya, ya!” 

Princess rolls back on her stomach, unphased by Miguel’s snapping. She then sits up and jumps so her front paws are on the couch seat and Miguel shoves her paws off. 

“No! Not on the couch! You have a bed!” 

You approach with Miguel’s dinner, him taking the plate from you appreciatively. You then stare down at Princess, her beady black eyes looking between you and the food on Miguel’s plate.

“You just ate, Princess. Go. Bed.” You command and she walks off to her little round fuzzy bed, collapsing on it and rests her head on her paws. She looks between you and Miguel again, her eyes become more and more cute in hopes of some extra food.

“You taught her stuff?” Miguel asks after taking giant bites of your cooking. You sit on a chair by the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table in the middle.

“Me and Gabi.” You hum and turn on the TV to a novela that you and Miguel both liked. 

Miguel grunts. “Quick learner.” He mutters. 

The other time is when you woke up and couldn’t find Princess. You knew Miguel was on his run so she couldn’t have escaped so she must’ve been hiding. But where?

You searched high and low before Gabriella woke up in the morning for playtime. A deep pit of worry in your stomach began to brew, the thought that Princess might’ve escaped somehow. 

While making your own breakfast, you hear the front door open and a loud bark, followed by loud panting. You leave your breakfast, moving over to peek at the front door to see Miguel huffing and puffing and Princess on the ground equally exhausted but her leash around her body. 

“You took Princess?” You ask, placing a hand on your chest in relief. You wouldn’t face a ten year olds tantrum today. 

“I thought Princesa could use an actual workout instead of twenty minute playtime with Gabi and—“ Miguel sighs again, wiping sweat off his forehead and fanning himself with the front of his loose white tank top. “Jesus, she has energy.”

“Princesa?” You ask with a raised brow.

“What?” He sniffs. “It’s still Princess. Don’t be weird.” You put your hands up in defense but he quickly surrounds his sweaty arms around you.

“Ew! No!” You laugh and try to leave him embrace. Miguel pressed a loud obnoxious kiss to your temple. The sound of the kiss making Princess jump up and start barking. She lunges at you both, using her force to push you enough to take a step back. 

She continues to bark and whine, nudging herself between you and Miguel’s legs. Miguel lets go of you which makes Princess jump up as high as possible to Miguel. He leans down and pats her body all around. 

“Alright, alright! I’m gonna shower.” He laughs and leaves another pat to her head before giving you a proper soft kiss to your forehead. 

But what really solidified Princess as an O’Hara was when Gabriella had a mini talent show in front of Miguel.

With one hand she held a treat. Her other hand did commands for the tutu wearing dog.

“Sit!” Gabriella said. Princess followed.

“Spin!” Princess spun.

“Roll over!” Princess stood still.

“Roll over!” Gabriella tried again. Princess tilted her head. Gabriella faces her father. “That one is still a little new.” She frowns but Miguel chuckles. He pats the seat beside him and Gabriella giggles, jumping into his arms.

Princess barks, feeling left out and tries to jump in as well. 

“No, no, no! Bed!” Miguel shakes his head, commanding her while trying to push her off and Gabriella helps her up. 

“Papi! Just let her do this one time!” Princess whines when Gabriella tugs on her front limbs.

“Gabi, no! The couch is gonna smell like dog!” 

Princess lands on the couch, her body having grown a little bit bigger after these few weeks. She places all her weight down on Miguel’s lap, tumbling down to lay down on top of Miguel and Gabriella’s lap. Gabriella tries to move but can’t so she laughs.

“She’s getting heavier!” 

Miguel groans. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” 

Princess tilts her head up, her tongue coming out to lick his neck and face. Miguel stops her. “Eww!” And Gabriella breaks into laughter.

After a while, Miguel stays up watching TV, Gabriella and Princess both asleep in his lap, Gabis arm around Princess. 

You come from outside your shared bedroom and yawn. With your slippers you shuffle into the living room and see all three of them huddled up together. 

“You’re still here?” You ask, another yawn escaping you. 

Miguel looks at you and then his two girls in his arms. “They were so tired.” He mumbles softly.

You sigh and shake your head. He could be soft about his daughter and dog another day. Not in the middle of the night. “No. C’mon. Take Gabriella to bed.”

A/N: Heavily inspired by my own parents teehee

His Tip 𔘓

Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Surprising Miguel by getting his tip color as your nail color. Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: this isn't an original idea, s/o to Ayrus @improbable-outset and whoever the amazing anon was who pitched it. Decided to make something. Let me know who you are so I can give you a forehead kiss. (platonically) 🫶🏽

CW: MINORS DNI, SMUT(cuts off, suggestive P IN V, handjob, blowjob), suggestive themes

-----------

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Miguel smirked as you stared silently, longingly at his girthy cock, erect and proud before you, your chest pressed against his thigh as you laid there in the bed next to him after he slid his boxers down to his ankles.

Miguel starts to fidget a little under your burning, somewhat deadpan gaze, slightly uneased by your lingering silence.

"Is everything...okay?"

"Hum?" You reply numbly, your eyes still locked on his thick length, your hand slowly closing around the shaft in a fist.

"I m-mean you....haah.... you're just....mnnhhhh....staring at it like you've never seen me naked before..."

Miguel chokes back another moan as you gentlyy swipe your thumb back and forth over the tip, catching little drops of precum you drew out of him from the passionate kissing you were partaking in moments before.

You hum, slightly tilting your head as you remain mesmerized by his dick, committing every mole and vein to memory in your palm, although you've done it hundreds of times.

This time, you were taking mental notes on...one characteristic in particular.

"Just admiring..."

"Admiring....?" Miguel snorts out a laugh, shifting to pull his boxers back up.

"N-No...I'm not done!" You pout.

Miguel scoffs, shaking his head but quickly presses it back onto his pillow, biting his lip as he watches you get up, straddling his leg as you begin working his cock with slow languid strokes.

"Lemme make you cum before I go to my appointment..."

"Shit....it's nail day, right?" Miguel smiles fondly at you, cupping your cheek. "Don't you want to wait til you get home, baby? Love seeing my cock wrapped in whatever pretty colors you pick out...."

Miguel's full lips part, the most pathetic groan rumbling in his throat when you abruptly shut him up by licking around his pretty fat tip.

"Gimme two minutes..." You coo, sweetly humming before you take him in your mouth again.

"Fffuck....I fucking love you...." Miguel whispers, closing his eyes as he felt the silk warmth of your mouth slowly envelope his cock.

------

Truth was, you spent ample time studying Miguel's manhood for...less than scientific purposes.

It was a little depraved, and totally freaky.

You grinned as you thought about Miguel's reaction and the blush he'd wear when you came home showing him exactly what color you got this time.

You saw on social media lots of other women doing this for their partners. Just a silly trend just for fun, and nobody would know anyway. It's not like anyone besides his exes or his doctor knew his tip color. God help them if you ran into them one day.

You stopped by your favorite drive through cafe first, loading up on your tall drink of choice to spoil yourself this afternoon, paying with the sleek black credit card Miguel slipped in your purse last minute, insisting this entire self care day was on him since you were so generous in gifting him an orgasm right before you left.

You pull up to your salon you frequent, a content feeling of satisfaction when you walk in and it's nowhere near as busy as it usually is. You take out your phone, pulling up your color shade you picked out specifically for this sly occasion, grinning when you lay eyes on a color that's a carbon copy of what you're looking for.

Weird, that's the third girl this week picking out a brown or tan colored shade. The nail technician thinks to themselves, trying to pick their brain for any holidays or events they forgot to think of for such a color, but none come to mind.

Oh well, they think as they get to work on your nails.

A satisfied smirk grows on your face as they paint the first stroke.

-----

You come home, only to find Miguel missing, realizing he texted you to let you know he needed to stop by the store on the way home so he could get ingredients for tonight's dinner since he's cooking.

God am I lucky... You thought.

"Hey beautiful..." Miguel arrives home, grocery bags in hand, showcasing that dazzling shy smile of his, clad in that signature tight black t shirt of that spared you no detail of his chiseled, broad form, his dark hair slightly tousled, reeking of that cashmere scent that made your thighs clench. He pauses to give you a welcome home kiss.

"Mmm.... mmmppphh...."

Clank.

The groceries he was holding fall to the floor with a crash as his fingers find the back of your neck as he adjusted his passion to meet yours, kissing you deeply.

"What....fuck, what's this for....?" Miguel groans, tilting his head as your lips departed from his, scattering kisses all along his neck. "Baby....shit..." His jaw slowly inches open, his face and mind fuzzy.

"Missed you...." You murmur against his skin, barely audible as your lips continue to graze the surface of his throat, the deep masculine scent of his cologne binding you under a trance.

It's fresh with a bite of spice, hidden notes of sandalwood somewhere buried underneath. A man that never smelled so manly, never looked soo...fuckable as he does right now. And he just paid for your nail day as the cherry on top.

"I was gonna make dinner, but....God." Miguel closes his eyes like he's in deep prayer, your tempting kisses and little coos of playful seduction his salvation within arm's reach.

"Need you now, baby."

And that's all he needs to hear before he's carrying you like a cloud straddled across his body to the bedroom. The heated, intoxicating blinders of lust in full effect as your clothes start to fall into messy heaps on the ground.

"Espera..." (Wait) Miguel's breath hitches when you're scooting to meet him at the edge of the bed, already reaching for his cock.

He had every intention of devouring your pussy first to repay you for earlier, but seems like you had a mind on your own. That's when he notices your freshly done nails for the first time.

"You like em....?" You whisper with a smile, planting a wet kiss against his tip where you've gently wrapped your fingers, the colors blending seamlessly against the skin underneath, his eyes widen in surprise.

"The..... shock?" He lets out a chuckle flavored with disbelief and amusement.

"I got your tip color baby." You giggle, gazing into his bewildered crimson eyes, enjoying the display of shock and speechlessness he's giving you.

He blinks rapidly, cheeks turning red. "Wait, no way...other people are gonna see it."

"Nobody's gonna know."

"They're gonna know."

"How?"

Miguel pauses. You're right, how would they. The only person that's came into close contact with him so intimately was only you, was only ever going to be you, right now, and for the unforseeable future. He'd rather mop the ocean than imagine anyone else seeing him that way.

"You adorable little headache..."

You laugh, going breathless as he leans down, his lips hungrily nip and suck the tender skin of your neck, "You love it though....it's like our own little dirty secret."

"Mmm yeah you're right I do.... But you're goddamn fucking right it's a fucking secret. Nobody better know except me...."

"Nobody will, I swear..."

He stops, smirking as he tenderly bumps his nose into yours as his forehead rests on yours, starring comically bug eyed into your soul.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good."

He lays you on your back, his own rough thick fingers interlacing with yours. "Now..." You squeak and bite your lip when his knee parts your thighs effortlessly.

"Think we were in the middle of something right before my cunning little angel of a girlfriend was showing me what she's been spending my hard earned money on..."

You sigh sweetly as you feel him trace that broad heavenly tip that now matched your nails in that wetting sea of arousal that started to build around your entrance before he slowly eases it in, watching your eyes melt hopelessly.

He smirks as he rolls his hips slightly back, then slamming them snug against you, sharp gasp which quickly was lost in the lewd, dirty sounds of skin on skin and his soft frantic lips so passionately trying to devour your own, his fingers tightly squeezing yours against the mattress coated in the brown shade of his tip.

----

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

🖤

Thank you for the tag, Cupcake!

Looks about right… I can't ever be mad at pinterest 😪

No pressure tags: @theorphicangel @miguelhugger2099 @mybvalentine + anyone else who wants to play along

how does pinterest see you?

search up fashion, pantone, mood, food, and then save the first picture that comes up.

ty @mrs-lockley for the tag 🫶🏽 (i am so behind on other tag games but i couldn't resist)

tagging @lunar-ghoulie @flowerpotmage @cositsamarvelfan @virtie333 if you'd like

Miguel, when I CATCH YOU 😭😭

tengo tu foto

part two

part one here

pairing: photographer! fem reader x miguel o’hara

contents: more angst 💀

synopsis: the wedding day arrives but some new information comes to light

author’s note: included miguel’s pov since i kinda did leave things vague. thank y’all for the sweet comments & reblogs on the first part 🫶🏼

word count: 7.1k (…)

An imposter.

He was reminded of that fact every day, waking up in bed sheets that didn't belong to him next to a woman who he was sure wouldn't stay with him if she knew the truth. He was reminded of the fact when he got up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Past all the similarities, even he could tell that he was a subpar replacement. But he'd be damned if he didn't at least make an attempt to try to perfect this persona.

His very atoms would defy the possibility of being in this room if it weren't for the bracelet that adorned his wrist. Warnings from his assistant echoed throughout his mind, the hologram appearing every day to alert him of the danger that continued with every single millisecond that passed. The instability of the universe and all the other things that he usually tuned out by the third minute before he shooed her away.

How long did he need to fake this for this place to finally start to feel like home?

He was a jagged piece in this puzzle, forcibly trying to push himself in to fit. Forcibly forging his way into this universe as if that would make him be a part of it. Forcing himself into a family that wasn't originally meant for him to enjoy. But he wouldn't stop until his puzzle piece eventually got damaged from how hard he was trying or until the puzzle itself would fall apart at the seams.

Late nights spent reviewing a digital case file, going through every minute detail of this man's life. What time he got up to use the bathroom at work, how many times, what kind of toothpaste he used. Anything and everything that he needed to become the perfect image of this Miguel O'Hara. He'd even spent nights working on his inflection when he spoke, every inch of him molded into the perfect image.

Was this all worth it? Putting this amount of work into the image of having a perfect life while simultaneously having that nagging worry in the back of his mind that it could just crumble into pieces? Doing all this with no regard towards what type of potential consequences this could bring?

The logical part of himself knew the answer clear as day—no. The instability of the universe was carefully woven by a thin line, and even just moving a speck of dust an inch where it didn't belong was enough to destroy the equilibrium. His selfishness could cost this universe grave consequences, consequences that could very well signify the end of this timeline. It was all about probability and educated estimates, though.

Then again, he had to remind himself that if he wasn't meant to do this then the opportunity wouldn't have appeared to him in a silver platter. He was reviewing some old case files at his office in HQ, monitoring a Morbius variant that stumbled into the wrong universe. Typical Friday evening activity. He had to will himself not to fall asleep standing up, gulping half of his body weight in coffee. His attention was pried away from the monitors when he heard an alarm go off.

One of his variants had died.

He itched to check the file, his responsibility to the Society at the backend of his mind in that moment. Just for a couple seconds. Morbius was sleeping, anyways. Not like he'd wake up in the couple seconds that he looked at the file. He opened up the summary of that Miguel's universe, the digitalized video on screen showing his variant getting shot. One of the more avoidable deaths, if he had to offer his opinion on it. Truly. All the gunmen were asking for was his wallet and valuables.

Not that he had any time to linger on the thought. He needed to get back to checking up on Morbius as soon as possible. Clicking on the details from the universe, he went every connection that his variant had. Pretty much the same that he did, a crappy relationship with his mother and an even shittier relationship with his 'father.' The only thing that did differ, was that this Miguel had managed to find some sort of family with his daughter. One of the things he'd found himself longing for, but would never be selfish to go after.

Much like any other personal relationship.

Leave the case alone.

It was a case that altered his judgement. He knew better than anyone to get involved in cases that would prove to be too personal. Technically there was nothing to address, considering that his variant wasn't anything special. It wasn't in his timeline to become a Spider-Man, ever. It was like just another simple civilian had died. He should treat it as such. Remove his personal feelings from this. Not interact. He could do that. He'd given so much for the Society already.

He didn't give himself the chance to think twice before entering the coordinates into his gizmo, tapping the teleportation button quickly before he thought better of it.

It had all been so simple. Almost like this was his calling. He'd managed to get to the crime scene before the authorities showed up, pocketing his variant's personal belongings as if they were his own.  As far as he was concerned, there was no actual proof of this corpse being Miguel O'Hara. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn't. What would he even say to explain himself if the police were to show up? That this was all some sort of twisted fever dream? No. He needed to seize this opportunity.

He snuck around the streets of Nueva York, trying not to get caught carrying a body around. While he knew that the police wasn't exactly the brightest, even they wouldn't be able to look past this suspicious behavior. He needed to dispose the body somewhere it wouldn't be easily found. Last thing he needed was having the police come over to his house and find him standing there. But where? All the options in his brain sounded so cliché when he went over them.

Underground? As dumb as the police dogs were, he knew that even they would be able to identify the smell of rotting flesh.

Frame it as a suicide? No. The idiot had gotten himself shot in the chest trying to be a hero.

The Hudson? As far fetched as the idea seemed to be, it seemed to be the only logical answer. Maybe the fish would eat him alive and he wouldn't have to worry about this resurfacing in the future. Wishful thinking, he knew. But at least he was certain that it would take a couple years for this to get to light.

As comfortable as Miguel was in this universe, he made a point to go back to his universe when Gabriella and Xina weren't around. Just to see how it was doing. A part of him had expected it to fall apart at the seams without having Spider-Man arrived, but it seemed just the same. It was almost like he'd never left. Though, he wasn't sure why he'd thought that. Throughout his time as Spider-Man, he was constantly hearing retorts about how he failed to compare to the original Peter Parker that passed away. That he would never be able to carry the mantle.

To be completely honest, the idea of romance wasn't exactly one he was completely interested in when he first arrived. Being Spider-Man back in his universe proved time and time again that love just wasn't something that intertwined nicely with his routine. From the impending danger that they would constantly have to face to the long hours that he would spend on patrol. But there was no role of Spider-Man here for him to fulfill. Peter Parker was still swinging around in the streets, monitoring the streets.

His life was.. unfulfilling when he wasn't with Gabriella. Which happened to be the eight dreadful hours that he was stuck at Alchemax. "Hey, do you want to go on a date?" He'd read enough about Xina in Miguel's file to know that they were close friends, figuring this request wouldn't be too awkward. "What happened to that relationship you were in?" She asked, focusing on screwing in one of the bolts in the machine she was toying with. Relationship?

The only semblance of a relationship that Miguel saw from his variant was that photograph he'd tossed a couple weeks back. Overall, nothing that he seemed too important. While it seemed like a fun fling from the couple scenes he'd seen, it wouldn't go anywhere serious. "We broke up, our relationship became stale," he was surprised by how easy the lie had slipped out. Better than telling her that his variant had left you without a word before he took his place. Xina gave him a warning look, letting out a small sigh.

"Look, Miguel. You're one of the closest friends I have here and I'd rather not jeopardize it over some fleeting thing," Xina told him, setting down the screwdriver she had in hand. "It doesn't have to be a fleeting thing, I swear. Just give me a chance," he told her, handing her the next tool that she needed. He enjoyed spending time with her like this. It was simple. She knew when he needed to be alone and didn't prod for any extra conversation, a sense of silent understanding between the two. "Okay. One date."

"Don't worry, I get it. Just tell me when you plan on staying late at work and we can plan around it," she gave him the patience throughout countless missed date that he'd never received from his previous partners. Not only that, but Xina had managed to fit so perfectly in his little family, He could see the happiness in Gabriella's eyes when the two of them stood at the stands during her soccer matches, cheering louder than the other parents. He could see himself doing this for the long term. That one date led to them getting engaged a couple years later.

The wedding planning had been something he'd left up to Gabriella and Xina. Considering that if it was up to him, he would've preferred to just have an array of grey, black, and white. He accompanied her to a couple of the events, such as getting her dress fitted or picking out the wedding cake and food arrangements. Anything that would make this process less stressful for her. He could've sworn that he saw her falling asleep in the bathroom for five minutes before she went back to searching for flower arrangements.

Miguel knew he should've come up with an excuse when he finally clicked on your LinkedIn profile, recognizing your photo to the one he'd thrown all those years ago. Tell Xina that he didn't think the reviews were that good. That your reputation was complete garbage, even if he couldn't confirm that if she asked for some kind of evidence. But a part of him was curious enough to go through with it. You looked.. very average from your profile. Nothing too interesting on your social media.

Just a couple photos from a couple shoots you'd done and a couple selfies—nothing too captivating. And yet, you had this universe's version of himself wrapped around your finger. Pictures of the two of you took up the majority of the gallery on his old phone, with a picture of Gabriella here and there. He wanted to know why. But after sessions of advanced research, from going through the college you enrolled in to checking the video footage from a couple dates that you'd gone with this Miguel, he couldn't find anything.

He couldn't see himself making the same effort that this Miguel had made. At least not for someone he deemed so plain. Someone who clearly had no concept of time, either. He checked the time on his watch, watching each passing second that you weren't in the room. A full minute had passed until you stepped in the room, seemingly out of breath. If he had to guess by the way that your chest was heaving anyways. He could see that small flicker of recognition in your gaze, not that he could reciprocate it even if he wanted to.

Gross. He could see the bread crumbs you'd hastily tried to wipe off before stepping foot into the room, a couple lingering by the corners of your mouth. Maybe he was looking too hard into this. Xina didn't seem to notice anything and neither did Gabriella. Was he purposely looking for reasons to dislike you? To get some kind of validation that he was right in not even bothering to try to keep the facade going with you? No, that couldn't be the issue. He was treating you the same way that he would treat anyone else. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

You tried to be discreet, he could tell at least that much. But your face completely betrayed the façade that you were trying to paint. The lingering glances combined with the tinge of anger and disbelief were painted across your face every time you looked at him. He could see that you were desperate to get some kind of recognition, that you hadn't just imagined the events prior to the accident. He wouldn't give in to it, though. His duty wasn't to reassure a stranger, it was to keep Gabriella and his fiancée happy.

"You have me confused with someone else." That was not on the list of things he thought you'd say. A part of him had expected you to grovel at his feet, to beg for some kind of explanation. He could see the mask of indifference threatening to slip with every second that he spent in the room, strangely wanting to test out just how long you would keep it up. "I'm sorry, seeing so many faces has made me lose track," he gave you a tight lipped smile, unable to help himself from making a petty remark.

Your lips twitched, almost like that fake smile you'd plastered was seconds away from melting away. You quickly schooled your expression back to normal, though. Impressive. You seemed determined not to let him know that he affected you. He almost had to admire you for that. He left the room without another word, following behind Xina and Gabriella. Surely, she would make the decision to pick out someone else after those weird displays you'd shown throughout the meeting. Or at least, he could only hope so.

"Well, she seemed nice," Xina told him when the three had made their way out of the building, her arm wrapped around his own. He held Gabriella's hand tightly, making sure that she was keeping pace up with them. "You didn't find her weird or anything like that?" Miguel asked her, an accusatory tone to his voice as he spoke. He was ready to explain how he'd come to that conclusion but Xina simply just looked at him, her brows furrowed.

"Do you know her or something? You seem very determined to find a reason to dislike her."

"No, I don't know her. All I'm saying is that she showed up late and when she did show up, she showed up with crumbs all over her shirt. And she made these weird comments," Miguel pointed out every single one of his complaints, opening the door for his two ladies when they arrived at the restaurant.

"Just give her a chance, Miguel. Her portfolio's not all that bad," Xina whispered as a hostess came over to greet them. She sounded exasperated. He couldn't blame her though, not when she'd spent these last few couple weeks going from place to place to sort out the last couple details for the ceremony. He shouldn't have been causing her more stress, he knew that. But yet.. he wanted to reassure her that they didn't have to stick with last resorts.

"You know I'd get another photographer, mamita. The best in the country if that's what you wanted," Miguel pulled her chair back, doing the same for Gabriella before going over to take a seat across from them. He was starting to sound irrational, pulling at any strings he could find. He wanted this less than you did, if that was somehow possible.

The conversation didn't go much further than that considering that Xina had started talking to Gabriella, asking how many of her friends had confirmed to go. Conversation about how the food was. Everything other than the meeting at the photography studio. Miguel didn’t want to risk pissing her off, eating his food and offering his insight on a couple topics that he knew of.

The first thing that you did upon getting back home was finally taking off that necklace, the weight of it suddenly becoming too much to bear. The one thing that differed from your plans was that you hadn't buried in the back of your cabinets, you ended up tossing it in the garbage disposal. The sounds of metal grinding echoed throughout your apartment, a couple pieces falling onto the sink. As if even the necklace was sticking to those last semblances of hope.

You really needed to get over him by now. Finding stupid metaphors in getting rid of a necklace wasn't doing you any favors.

Soon after that came removing the clothes from the back of your closet, throwing them in a box. You didn't spare a second to think about the sentimental value that each of these articles held, because you knew that if you did, you'd end up regretting your decision and you'd just end up hanging them back up again. The clothes themselves only took up about half the box, the other half was full of mementos that he'd gotten for you throughout the relationship. The Polaroid camera that ended up breaking after four uses.

A stuffed shark he'd gotten for you during a trip to the aquarium. Ticket stubs to a movie the two of you spent a majority of making out for. Notes that he'd written to you, describing everything that he couldn't bring himself to say. Anything and everything that served as a bitter reminder of what used to be. They were just material items, you knew that. But as you stood in front of the garbage dumpster, attempting not to gag at the rancid smell, a rush of memories came. You just needed to throw this away. Start getting rid of him from your life bits by bits.

You just had to see him one more time, in a couple months before he left your life once more. You hadn't talked to him since that day, not that he bothered to reach out anyways. You kept your conversations strictly reserved for Xina, going to her for some last minute confirmations and ideas that struck you at the middle of the night. Just one afternoon of having to see him. Not even a full day, just a couple hours. It couldn't be that hard, right?

You'd set up about 15 different alarms for the day of the wedding shoot, having already dozed through the first eight. You really wish you would've told Xina you just couldn't do the shoot, return her deposit. The last thing that you wanted to see was the man you loved getting married to someone else, looking at her the same way that he used to do to you. If not, even more adoringly. With a warmth that he only seemed to reserve for her and her alone. But you figured it wouldn't professional to cancel two hours before you had to show up.

With that thought in mind, you reluctantly got yourself out of bed and into the shower. The cold water offered a nice distraction, your focus on freezing your ass off instead of the ceremony. Why couldn't he have given you the basic decency of some closure? You scrubbed your body wash into your skin, almost hoping that if you scrubbed enough that the memories wouldn't be there anymore. That this would just be a normal wedding you're doing a shoot for. Why did he get to be happy after doing you so wrong?

After condemning you to a lifetime of missing his company. Scrub. For giving you that little slice of domesticity and understanding before ripping it away without giving you a chance to fight for it. Scrub. Scrub. You weren't sure when the warm tears streaking down your face started to mix in with the cold stream of the shower. It hurt. It hurt crying over someone who obviously didn't care. It hurt to still be in love with him. To even think about him. To not be able to hate him no matter how much you wanted to. At least that would be better than this meaningless longing.

You were jogging down the street to catch up to the subway, otherwise you'd have to wait about an hour for the others to come by before you landed on your butt. "What the-" You were cut off, looking over at the tree that mysteriously appeared right in front of you. That wasn't there before, was it? It didn't even look like one of the trees situated in Central Park. You looked around to see if anyone had noticed the sudden abnormality, but you were only met with cold indifference instead.

You were running late. The last thing you needed was for Miguel to think you were unreliable after the first encounter at your office. But.. your curiosity was peaked. You stepped closer to the tree, tentatively reaching out for it. Before your fingertips could even graze the surface of the bark, the tree glitched into a variation of different colors before turning into something else completely. A mailing box. There was no way that no one could've missed that, right?

And yet again, you weren't really sure why you were expecting a different reaction than the one you'd gotten earlier. You resumed jogging down the street, almost tripping over your camera equipment when you made your way down the stairs to the subway. Please. Please. Please. You were silently begging with a train, hoping that it wouldn't leave just yet. Your footsteps pounded against the concrete as you made the final stretch over to the train, a stark comparison to the others leisurely walking while scrolling through their phone.

"Train C is now departing," the automated voice called out, the doors starting to shut. You quickly ran over, knocking on the doors before they had the chance to shut completely. You gave the conductor your best pleading look when they turned to glare at you, seeing their resolve crumble within just a couple seconds. You stepped back, almost expecting for the train to take off but surprisingly, the doors opened. You stepped inside, getting your Metro card out from your pocket.

"Thank you," you whispered over to the conductor, tapping your card against the reader. Well, at least you still had enough money in your card for the ride.  "Don't let it happen again," they bit back, their tone almost guaranteeing that you would indeed try not to let shapeshifting trees distract you next time.

You took a seat at one of the available seats in the near back, taking a couple seconds to catch your breath after nearly running for a block. A couple people came in shortly after you, muttering their own apologies to the driver before sitting down on the remaining seats available. The train pulled out of the station, starting to make its designated route down the train tracks.

You tried not to think about one of the conversations you'd had with Miguel—a talk about what a wedding would look like between the two of you.

"You see yourself getting married with me?" You asked him, your fingers gently running through his hair. Piojitos, as he'd called them. Miguel closed his eyes, completely in a state of bliss as he leaned against your stomach. "Well, yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious by now," he told you, his fingers making small circles on your thigh. You felt a small shiver crawl up your spine at the sensation of his nails.

"It's not obvious until I see the ring."

"Touché. But yes, I do see myself getting married with you. Coming home to you, spending my afternoons with you and Gabriella."

"What would be your ideal wedding?"

He let out a small hum, considering the question as his movements on your thigh halted for a moment. "Well, I've already had my version of what I thought was my ideal wedding with Dana. We had this grand venue with a majority of her friends and a couple of my co-workers. And I still wasn't happy by the end of it. I loved her, obviously, but it still felt like a mistake."

"Anyways, this is all just a long way to say that I don't really care about the venue or what type of wedding it is, as long as it's with you," he finished up, his fingers resuming their movements on your bare thigh. "For the record, I also think that my ideal wedding would just to have you involved in it."

You scrolled through your phone as the train started to move, your camera equipment tucked away under your seat. The news from the day popped up on your screen and you weren't sure if it was the boredom that inclined you to click on it or if it was just a gut feeling telling you to do so. Either way, you did. You were met with the reports of the stock market, a couple robberies and kidnappings. The usual stuff. You got to the bottom of the news article, certain that your eyes were deceiving you.

Dead man found in the Hudson River—more on page 3.

The image shown underneath showed a corpse of a rotting man, flies sticking to the holes on his skin. It couldn't be him. But even so, you recognized that grey sweater that he'd worn more often than not during your dates. The grey sweater he lent you when you were cold coming back home from the park. It didn't make sense. Then again, nothing made sense. Trees were starting to appear places that they shouldn't be. Articles about your ex boyfriend being dead were being published. You pinched your arm in an attempt to wake up from this cruel dream.

Instead of getting awakened into some sort of fantasy land of your current reality, you were only left to stare at the nail indents on your arm. You saw him, you know you did. Miguel had the same name and everything. The same appearance, with a couple minor changes. But you couldn't deny who it was in that photograph. You were starting to drive yourself mad with every thought that ran in your head, almost missing the stop you had to get off on. How would you be able to face this Miguel after that article?

Well, it’s not like you had another option now.

Half of your interns had shown up by the time you got there, most of them busy at work with setting up the photo booth. Well, finishing with setting it up. You wouldn't be surprised if they showed up just an hour ahead of time just to maximize the time they had to impress you. You set down the coffees you'd gotten for them on one of the tables, watching as they all scrambled to get a cup. You couldn't exactly judge them if their pay was anything of what you had to endure. They took sips from their cups, all while simultaneously trying to arrange a low-lighting environment per Miguel's request.

You looked from a distance as a white limousine pulled up to the park, Xina's white dress trailing behind her as she walked. A man that you only recognized by pictures, Gabriel, stepped out of the car and walked over to help her with the train. Miguel walked next to Xina, their hands intertwined as they made their way into the venue. Gabriella walked over to you, taking a seat on one of the available chairs with her father's phone in her hand.

"I thought you might've stopped the wedding. Went up there like in the novelas and announced your true love for him," she noted, not even bothering to greet you first. Direct, just like her father. You took a seat next to her, letting out a small chuckle.

"Should you be watching novelas at this age?"

"They're very educational. Though I don't get how why the women get done so dirty and then continue to go back," one of the common issues you'd noted as well. There was one of a woman getting her dog ran over and she still married the bastard.

"Foolish notions of love. And it makes for good television," you gave a small shrug, looking over at the parking lot as more cars started to pull up. "But no, I wasn't planning on stopping your father's wedding. He deserves the chance to be happy."

Even if you were unsure that it was him. You couldn't back up any of the theories you had in mind, only being able to rationalize them with your gut instinct. And though you weren't a researcher like Miguel was, even you knew that wasn't enough to substantiate your claims. "Even if you're not happy?" Gabriella spoke up after a while, her brown eyes boring into your own. You hesitated on answering, your voice wavering as you spoke, "Yeah, even if I'm not happy. He deserves that much."

The image was still burned into the back of your mind, the striking similarity between the man that was just found and the one standing in front of you with a look of impatience. "What seems to the problem? Just take the picture, please," he grunted out after a couple more seconds, your finger hovering above the button. The flash of the camera followed after, a smile taking over the original look of irritation. It wasn't him, it couldn't be. It couldn't be that man from the article. Though the more that you thought about it, the more that the details lined up.

You'd tried to convince yourself that it was the years that had changed his demeanor, his mannerisms—along with everything that had originally attracted you to him. This version seemed to attempt to try to be like him, and while he succeeded for the most part, it just wasn't the same. You were certain Gabriella felt the same way. What other reason would there have been for her coming to you? She was seeking the same kind of reassurance that you were that this wasn't all just a fever dream.

But even so, what exactly could you do in this situation? Confronting him about it would do no good. He'd probably end up denying it and twisting a story to make you sound deranged—which wouldn't be that hard to do, admittedly. You couldn't go to the police either. They'd disregarded your concerns completely when you went through the whole ordeal of trying to file a missing persons report a couple years back and they'd probably end up doing it again.

You clicked on the button, working almost robotically. You'd already garnered enough attention earlier, not only from Miguel but from the interns that you'd brought to help you with managing the photo booth. Just click the button and get out of here. Just get through the rest of this afternoon without making a scene. You needed any good reviews you could get, given that less and less people actually required the need for a photographer. "Alright, all done," you announced after clicking the button for what seemed to be fifty times, getting almost angle known to you.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second," Miguel's voice took you out of your current task, looking up to see him practically looming over you. You looked around to see if this was a conversation that involved Xina. Which it wasn't. "Sure, give me a few just to finish with this," you found yourself purposely taking longer to finish adjusting the settings of the camera before walking over to the secluded spot he'd been standing in.

The tension in the air felt palpable, your mind running at a thousand miles per minute. He couldn't tell what you'd been thinking. You were basically hiding your face behind that camera. And it's not like he knew you well enough to know your mannerisms. You tried to assure yourself of these facts as you followed him to a secluded area in the back of the venue. The two of you stood in silence until he cleared his throat.

"You know," It wasn't an accusation, but rather a statement. The way he'd said it made it sound like he was telling you that the sky was blue. A simple fact, a universally accepted truth. "Your poker face isn't as good as you think it is. Even I could tell that."

He was eerily calm, his arms folded across his chest before he gestured you to speak. Giving you the opportunity to ask any questions that you had in mind. It wasn't that you didn't have any. Thousands of them were currently running through your mind. But you were too overwhelmed by the situation to be able to actually format them into something. The one that you managed to get out was a simple, "Why?"

"Why?" he drawled out, his pointer finger tapping at his chin in thought. His tone wasn't mocking but rather.. like he was contemplating this answer as well.

The truth was, he could get into the whole spiel about how his childhood was just one disaster after the next, from growing up with a mother that turned a blind eye to the way that his father acted to getting his face slammed in a locker for attempting to correct one of his upperclassmen's work. "Because I'm selfish, nothing more to it."

But how could he not be?

He couldn't recall a time where he hadn't been living with a void inside of him, without feeling like he was missing something. He started off young, molding himself into the perfect child to get a semblance of his mother's approval. It was stupid, being jealous of other students in his class. Hearing their parents tell them how proud they were over some mediocre award that he easily got a couple years prior. But even so, the jealousy within him burned deep in his veins. He did everything right, didn't he?

He'd given up every aspect of being a child, spending his time reading through high school calculus books in the third grade instead of going out to ride on his bike the same way that others his age did. But that still wasn't enough to please. He wasn't enough to please his mother. Much less his father. Then came saving the city of New York under a mantle that he hadn't asked for. He couldn't please them either. A majority of the articles that came out focused on the negative aspects of his fights, how Peter Parker wouldn't have made that mistake. As if he didn't know that already.

And then Gabriella just had to look at him like was capable of holding the earth up with his pointer finger, look at him with such admiration. It was a look he'd grown used to seeing from people over the years—from those in panic in the streets of Nueva York and the colleagues that he'd once tried to fit in with. But this, it just felt completely different. He didn't even need to try to impress Gabriella. Just being her father and being there was enough to please her.

It was the one time where he wasn't seeking out for some kind of self fulfillment. It was the one time he felt fulfilled with just being himself. Of knowing that it was enough. Of knowing that he was able to be loved. Even if his brain had imprinted the fact he couldn't be after hearing it from people he looked up to. People he desperately sought acceptance from.

You'd expected something more to it, your brows furrowing in confusion. "You impersonated a version of yourself just because you're selfish?" You asked incredulously, disbelief evident in your voice. While he'd acted nothing like your Miguel, if the one thing that they had in common was that they wouldn't do something this reckless without having some other reason for it.

"I saw an opportunity and I took it. I'm not going to apologize for that," his voice came out cold, detached. Almost like a practiced response. You looked at him in disbelief, any argument dying in your throat. Not that it mattered. You'd doubt he care.

"If it counts for anything-"

"It doesn't," you cut him off before he could finish, his gaze narrowing as he looked over at you. Now he looked at you like you were the one in the wrong. The sheer audacity this man had was enough to make you debate on doing a wedding shoot ever again.

Regardless, he decided to continue anyways, "He loved you. Though I can't really understand why, he did. I'm sorry that you didn't get the closure that you needed so long ago."

"I thought you had nothing to apologize for. With your selfishness and all."

"I'm not apologizing for what I did. I'm apologizing for the fact that you just happened to get caught in the crossfire."

The ground shook with an overwhelming intensity, a loud buzzing noise reverberating throughout the venue. "The sky's falling!" Almost like it was a stolen segment from Chicken Little, many of the guests start to scream that out as they started to run away. Sure enough, the sky itself to be defying every rule of gravity as it started to collapse. Was there any merit to running away? Just for that bit of reassurance of knowing that some kind of last attempt was made before an inevitable end?

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Miguel taking Gabriella in her arms as he ran away with her. Xina almost looked.. disappointed that he hadn't bothered to include her before she fell into step with him, or tried to. She was practically sprinting down the grass to try to catch up with his long strides, her chest heaving from the exhilaration. You figured you might as well run too, if only to fall into sync with what the others were doing. What did running do when the world was essentially falling apart though.

"No, no!" Miguel's voice boomed through the field, making you turn around to face him. He looked helpless as Gabriella faded into dust, his hands reaching out for something that he couldn't just quite grasp. Her wails for help echoed through the air, begging for salvation. "Dad!"

It was the only emotion you'd seen from this Miguel, the agony in his features a sharp contrast to the usual look of indifference. He looked like his body was suddenly too heavy, his legs collapsing underneath him as he fell to his knees. He buried his head in his hands, his body shaking from the silent tears he was trying to desperately hide away from the rest of the guests. His selfishness had gotten him up to this point, you realized. You wondered if he would do it all over again or if he regretted the decision.

Portals opened out of thin area, multiple masked people appearing from them with a Spider-Man costume on. Well, if you had to guess. While some were the Spider-Man costumes that you'd grown up reading about in comics and seeing in memoriam documentaries about, a lot of them just seemed to be a variation of the original. They all talked amongst themselves, analyzing the environment before eventually deciding that it would be a failed attempt to try to save it. At least, that's what you managed to get from their hushed whispers.

The one who had a bathrobe lazily wrapped around his suit walked over to Miguel, placing his hand on his shoulder. Miguel tensed underneath the touch, looking up at the man with an expression that could only be described as pure agony. "I ruined it all, it's all my fault," you heard Miguel cry out, holding onto the other man like a lifeline. He couldn't get himself to stand up, no matter how much the other man attempted to do so. "Come on, Miguel, we need to go. We can't do anything else for this universe," the other man told him, rubbing his shoulder.

Was the cost of his happiness really worth all this? The time that he'd spent pretending just for it to end up shriveling away like a rotten fruit? As much as he wanted to feel guilty for essentially being the end of this universe, he couldn't. The time that he spent with Gabriella were some of the best moments that he'd ever had. Maybe he could try again. Find another variant of her and take her to his universe instead. To avoid these situations. If he pretended once, he could do it again. The thought didn't settle right with him, though.

She wasn't something to be easily replaced, much like he'd done with her father. The child had grown accustomed to having him around but she didn't love him with the same intensity that she'd loved her father. Almost like she subconsciously knew. He got up to his feet, wiping the tears streaming down his face with the back of his hand. Miguel looked over from his peripheral, your expression completely calm. Like you'd accepted the situation rather than fearing it. Maybe putting the effort into pretending to be with you wouldn't have been as bad as he thought. Maybe.

Alongside the bitter feeling of acceptance came the feelings of regret. You didn't regret loving Miguel with the intensity that you'd had. You didn't regret anything that had occurred throughout the relationship. What you did regret, however, was holding on to the foolish hope that he'd come back after these years. That the two of you could live a simple life together. You'd ended up with nothing, disappearing into dust like you were nothing but just another meaningless speck to count off.

With the amount of yelling you'd heard from those affected, you would've imagined that the process would be much more painful than it actually was. It was if one second you could feel your legs and the next, you suddenly lost sensation of the limbs. Before you were suddenly enveloped by darkness, the last thing that you saw was Miguel entering a portal to escape this crumbling universe without so much as a glance back. Leaving the same way he'd done all those years ago.

taglist🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @hardlystrictlystarwars @koffcoff @greensagephase @what-the-jams @reader-1290 @mcmiracles

🫧࿐ THE BREAKING POINT ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋅ᯓᡣ𐭩 introduction | my love mine all mine

🔞 Miguel O'Hara x fem!Reader

tags: strangers to close friends to lovers, college au, slow burn, fluff, angst, and older brother's academic rival.

summary: when rivalries go too far, Miguel takes to another level of extreme...

content warning: fluff, no warnings

word count: 569 words (it's the intro, guys)

author’s notes: oh my god, this took a LONG time to work on. But here we are!

“What's your favorite color?” She asks in a soft tone, looking up at me in anticipation. I hum to her, soon looking down at her deep brown eyes. “My favorite color…” I mused to her, soon taking hold of her hand in a gentle grasp. My hand lightly squeezed hers, and I thought for a good moment.

I looked down at her anticipating eyes; her eyes were brown like Dana’s; however, there was something different about hers. Her eyes were brown. Brown like sweet, syrupy honey in the sunlight on a cold winter evening or being melty, like milk chocolate on a hot summer day with hints of golden specks.

Who knew that the color of cinnamon and mocha tasted so good to consume but to look at; at every given moment when she looked up at me with anticipation, brown wasn't Dana’s color. It's her. It belongs to her.

“Brown.” I shrugged before looking down at her.

"Really?" She retorts, her eyes squinting in playful disbelief. "That's such a basic answer. What type of brown are we talking about here? Bread brown or shitty brown?" She playfully punches my arm, causing a brushing sting under my skin that I can't help but rub.

I pause momentarily, gather my thoughts, and then look down at her with a small smile. "No, no," I chuckle, ruffling her hair into a muss. Her neatly painted acrylic nails reach up and fix the mess I left behind. “Think of mahogany wood.” I shrug before wrapping an arm around her. “Oh, okay!” She beams happily, resting her head on my shoulder.

It was easy to assume that the simile went over her head. Mahogany wood is one of the most durable and robust hardwoods. Strong to endure as flooring, even strong enough to build boats and yachts. Strong-headed, like her.

Mahogany. A dark amber color that you manage to light up when you get excited, especially when she sees the things she loves. Little red mushrooms with white spots, hearing that a pizza has stuffed crust, or how you discover pockets in your sundresses. Or how someone can remember something so simple about you.

I never want to forget the sparkle in your eyes.

“Your eyes,” She chimes in, cutting my train of thought.

“What about them?” I challenge her.

“They’re a russet color but a bit more red.” Her smile is so goddamn contagious, like the bubonic plague. It took everything in my system not to smile at the description. “Okay, and?”

“They’re beautiful.”

It felt like my heart skipped a palpitation from the cute, innocent compliment. I huffed, pretending to be amused by the compliment, trying to hide the crooked smile that was twitching to form. “You… Shut up.” I huff out to her, soon turning away from her, allowing her to be looking at my back instead of my crooked smile. “You’re smiling…”

“No, I’m not…” I mumbled through my palm, masking the smile.

“You’re smiling!” She repeats this but with such victory in her voice. “I want to see it!” She rushes over before me and grabs my wrist with her hand, wanting to see the shitty, crooked grin on my lips.

I shake my head, a smile playing at the corners of my lips as I press my hand against my mouth, muffling my voice. “No, you're not going to see,” I say, the words barely audible.

“Please?”

“No.”

tag list: @peachey-pie @maiyart @boringpersonality @flordelalunas @pretty-pink-princesss @ryk-mt @cl3stevu @lalalunel @resident-clown @marshhbs @slushycoookie @brokenpoetliz @ohara-whore @thedevax @kavimoo @lazyjellyfish300 @bluesidez @mybvalentine @migueloharasbbm @itsfairly @mcmiracles

Thank you for the tag, Cupcake!

I love doing these, it feels like y'all get to know me better little by little 🗣

THIS OR THAT

coffee or tea (none, I drink energy drinks and water) | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold (shout out to James Avery for my charm bracelets lmao) | pop or alternative l freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks I mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees I macarons or eclairs I typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library I rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens I masquerade ball or cocktail party

No Pressure Tags: @lazyjellyfish300 @ultravioletrayz @pinkhelados @fairlyang + anyone who wants to join in on the fun! 🩷

Thanks for the tag @steven-grants-world (we won't go into how giddy I get when I'm tagged in something!)

This or that…

coffee or tea (neither!) | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees I macarons or eclairs l typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens I masquerade ball or cocktail party

no pressure tags: @marieziffer, @jewelsrulz, @diplomaticprincess, @wrenwithapen, @witch-oftheflowers, @lunar-ghoulie, @coneygoil, and anyone else who wants to because I hate forgetting people! Do it!