Muchosbesitos - Tumblr Posts

DAYA YOU HURT ME ONCE AGAIN

tengo tu foto

pairing: photographer! fem reader x miguel o’hara

contents: angst w no comfort, longing (is anyone rly surprised by this point), and some suggestiveness (nuffin tew crazy)

synopsis: you were booked for an wedding shoot, not expecting to see your ex boyfriend there.

author’s note: inspired by this :3 anyways i incorporated one of the themes from the movie hehe >w<

word count: 7k (i may have gone overboard on the yapping, sorry)

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"No. Ten un poquito de paciencia que ya mero acabo," Miguel tuts from a distance, the sound of wrapping paper scuffling together following. Despite the fact that you'd told him he didn't need to get anything for your birthday, that just spending time with him would be enough, he still insisted on doing so. Even after taking you out to a restaurant of your choosing, not even batting an eye when the waiter brought the check over. (have a little patience that i'm almost done)

"I know you said you didn't want anything but I stopped by that antique store in Queens and found the thing you've been wanting," he told you, stepping close to remove your hands from your eyes. You blinked a couple times to get used to the light in the room, looking down at the gift bag in his hands. Well, at least it wasn't anything too extravagant by the size of it. Or at least you hoped that it wasn't.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do this. Your comp-"

"Before you say that my company would've been enough, you see me almost every day. Allow me to indulge in you a bit," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, giving you an innocent enough smile. "Just open it."

You took the gift bag from him, placing it down on your dinner table before starting to take out the sheets of wrapping paper. Even with that, you were trying to be meticulous enough not to rip it. At the bottom of the bag, you could see a white box peeking through. You took the box out with care, your eyes widening when you caught a glimpse of the words printed by the side. It was a vintage black Polaroid camera and a sleek leather photo album.

"Do you like it?" All you could do was nod, going over and wrapping your arms around him. You'd mentioned wanting this camera in passing a couple times, but you weren't expecting to actually get it. It should've been a nearly impossible task given that polaroids had ceased to have any usage with attachable phone printers, the quality of those unmatched. And yet you found yourself wanting this one after watching a movie, imagining all the different scenarios you wanted to use the camera for.

You basically opened the camera in record time, holding into in your hands for a couple seconds just to make sure you weren't dreaming. After the initial excitement passed, you examined the camera to see the different functions that it had and where you could put the film cartridge. You messed around with a couple of the buttons before the back of the camera eventually opened up, an illustration of how to set the cartridge etched inside.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you'd been so focused on even just trying to acquire the camera that you didn't bother to research exactly just how it is that it worked. You reached over for the box, the manual falling down on the table. You'd barely managed to open it before Miguel grabbed it from your hands, putting it to the side. "We can figure this out by ourselves. It can't possibly be that difficult," he stated, sitting down at the table next to you.

He'd almost wished he hadn't said those words so soon.

The two of you sat there for a couple minutes, trying to figure out how exactly it was that the camera functions worked. You were grateful enough that you had boxes of cartridges to go through, considering that you'd almost went through one in testing this whole thing out. "Go see if that one worked," Miguel pointed over to the one processing on the table, his focus on the camera almost admirable. "This would go by a whole lot easier if you weren't so reluctant to use the manual."

"I refuse. I promise it'll work this time."

"It's almost like manuals were included in the box for situations like this," you muttered under your breath, noticing the subtle scoff he let out.

If the two of you were in any other situation, you might've found this a bit humorous. The two of you struggling with a simple enough camera while he dealt with complicated tech at a super fancy genetics facility and you dealt with cameras that had much more to them. "It did not work," you grumbled, only seeing your reflection peering back at you through the black photograph. If you squinted enough, at least you could see the silhouette of both of your figures. That counted as progress, right?

"Maybe it might be time to reconsider using the manual?" You suggested, your voice raising up a couple octaves as you tried to coax him into the idea.

"We don't need a manual. I'm a genius and you're an expert in cameras. We should be able to figure this out."

He twisted the lens of the camera onto the symbol with the home on it, deciding to test it out since it was the only one left. Miguel pointed at the fruit bowl that the two of you had been using as a practice model, clicking on the button. The whirr of the camera followed, the photograph coming out almost immediately. You slipped it out when it was halfway through, setting it down on the table to wait for it to process. "How's it going at the photography studio? Is your boss still being stingy?"

"It's gotten absurd. I had a client come in this last Monday and he immediately swept in to tell him that I don't have any experience," you couldn't help but feel annoyance when thinking back to the scenario, knowing pretty well that your portfolio was just as good as any of the other interns'. If not, even better.

"How are you supposed to get any experience if he's not giving it to you?"

You gave a small shrug in response, that being the same question that you asked yourself repeatedly. Every opportunity to advance at the studio had been ripped away from you, yet you couldn't bring yourself to quit. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was just that you'd gotten complacent staying in the same position for a couple years now. "Obviously you didn't ask for my opinion, but I think you should quit if he continues like this," Miguel offered quietly, his hand coming up to your shoulder.

"I'll think about it," you told him after a couple seconds of silence, contemplating his words. You knew he was right, deep down you did know. But what if other companies saw you as the mediocre photographer that this company did? The thought was just too much to handle. You looked over at the photograph once it was finished processing, noticing that the fruit bowl had been perfectly captured. "It worked!" You sounded a little too excited, handing over the photograph for him to examine his work.

"Now, let's take one together," is what you said about two minutes ago.

He ended up sitting down on a chair, one of your arms wrapped around him as the two of you looked into the camera. "How much longer? My cheeks are starting to hurt," you asked him through the smile you were trying so hard to maintain. "Hold on, I'm just trying to find the button," he muttered, the subtle scratch of his nail hitting the camera as he searched for the button. You'd barely heard the click from the button, immediately blinded by the flash shooting directly at the both of you.

Was this how your clients felt? Maybe you'd stop getting on their ass for capturing a majority of their photos with their eyes closed. Realistically you knew you wouldn't though. Seriously, how hard was it for them to keep their eyes open for four seconds? Miguel blinked slowly, putting the camera down on the table. "Pretty sure I just burned my retinas with that one," he muttered, taking the photo out and setting it on a placemat for it to develop. "Ditto."

"Hey, can I keep the photo? I'm thinking of putting it in my wallet," he asked once you were done adorning the blank space with stars and little hearts. You handed the photo over to him when he was done pulling out his wallet, noticing how gentle he was at handling the photo so it wouldn't bend. An array of photos were inside of his wallet, most of them Gabriella. One from when she was a baby to one where she was holding up a diploma for her kinder graduation.

"Te ves tan hermosa. I swear, that camera doesn't do you enough justice," he mused, looking down at the photograph that adorned the back of his wallet. Though he wouldn't be able to deny that the way you smiled in the picture was an image that would stay engrained in his brain for as long as he lived. "Thank you for getting it for me regardless. I know it wasn't much of an easy task," you responded, watching as he went over to fridge. (you look so beautiful)

"Gabriella and I baked you a cake. Well, more like she put the ingredients and mixed it and I just did the heavy work," he told you, bringing the plate with the cake over. You looked over, seeing the cake sprinkled with an ungodly amount of sprinkles and the writing on the frosting a bit crooked. Yet the fact that they'd both taken the time made you heart swell. "It's the prettiest cake I've ever seen. Tell her I said thank you," you gave him a smile, stepping up so he could lean over and light the candles up on the cake.

"Don't smush my head into the cake," you warned him, hovering slightly above the cake. His laughter echoed throughout the apartment, standing across from you with the camera pointed towards you. "Not sure how I would manage that but noted," he responded, putting the camera up to his eye and angling it. "You'd find a way," you muttered, blowing out the candles. You wafted the smoke fumes coming up, starting to take out the candles. "Que lo parta, que lo parta," Miguel chanted in the background when you went to cut the cake.

"Thank you. You've just left me with dessert for the rest of the week," you called out from the kitchen, setting the remaining cake in the fridge. You grabbed  your plate from the table, going over to the couch where he'd sat down. "What movie did you end up picking out?" You asked, already expecting it to be some kind of sci-fi movie. Maybe thriller if you were lucky. "Some old romance movie, supposed to be good. La La Land," he answered, taking a bite from his cake. You wiped some of the frosting with your thumb, licking it off afterwards.

"No new movies out in theaters?"

"Well, it's not that. They're just hard to enjoy with all the AI writing and all the CGI. It just doesn't feel like I'm actually watching a movie with real actors, y'know?" If you had to guess, you'd probably say that he was right. Majority of the behind the scenes shots that you've seen for recent movies have just shown robots on set, only around two people actually present. It all just felt so.. emotionless. A repeat of the same movie over and over again just with different characters.

His thumb drew lazy circles on your thigh while Sebastian and Mia were seated at the movie theatre. "I wanted to run something by you, see what you thought about it," he started off, already looking at you when you turned to face him. You really hoped this wasn't the start of a break up speech. "Gabriella's really important to me, as I'm sure you're aware. And now that we're starting to get serious, I'd like for you to meet her," were not the words you were expecting from that sentence, but you weren't upset at them.

The thought of meeting his little girl was something that intrigued you and scared you shitless at the same time. What if she thought you were making some futile attempt to replace her mom? What if she ran you out of the house throwing eggs at you? You took a deep breath, trying to think of the positives. Miguel had done nothing but describe her as well-behaved, there would be no reason for her to act up. You'd just have to reassure her that you wanted to love her, not replace her mother in any form. "I'd love to meet her."

"This defeats the purpose of the movie, y'know?" He pointed out when you sat on his lap, your legs on either sides of his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails gently raking against the curls on the nape of his neck. "Is that a complaint that I'm hearing, Mr. O'Hara?" You whispered against his lips, his chest rumbling as he laughed. "Not at all," he sounded breathless as he spoke, his hands coming down to rest on your hips. He let out a small groan when you leaned in, the taste of frosting lingering on his lips.

You'd barely registered the sound of his phone buzzing in the background, only breaking away from the kiss when he did. He pulled it out of his pocket, letting out a small groan. "It's my ex wife. Just give me a second," he whispered, placing the phone up to his ear. You could make out a couple words from her frantic yelling, nothing that would give you a clue to what was going on though. "I'm not processing the information any better with you yelling in my ear," Miguel sounded much different with his ex wife, a tone he'd never used with you.

After receiving a couple more pieces of context based on what Miguel was telling Dana to do, you were able to decipher that Gabriella was currently running a fever along with a cold. "I'll come by to pick her up along with some medicine, okay?" He'd simply stated after Dana spent around two minutes talking to him. "Yes and groceries too," he added, albeit a bit reluctantly before hanging up the phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a small resigned sigh. He'd even called off work tomorrow to spend a lazy morning with you.

"I have to go," he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, tapping on the side of your thigh. You got off him, standing up to walk him out the door. "Stay safe. Call me when you get home," you told him before he left, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I will, I promise. I'll text you the details for next week, okay?" He called out, starting to head down the sidewalk. You waited until he wasn't visible anymore to go back inside, starting to clean up a couple smudges of frosting on the table.

You ended up watching the rest of the movie in the comfort of your couch, lying to yourself about the tears in your eyes. He'd mentioned the movie being somewhat of a romance but he'd forgotten to disclose the important detail- that it was a tragic romance. Just the fact that they had everything that they could've wanted except for each other just made it all the more painful to watch. In order to distract yourself, you pulled your phone out to see if Miguel had texted you. After all, it'd been about thirty minutes since he left.

Maybe he'd forgotten. You tried to assure yourself that maybe it was the last thing on mind given that Gabriella was sick, that he was capable of taking care of himself. There wasn't any way he'd willingly break the promise that he made to you, right? You even tried turning off your phone and toggling with the data button on it to see if was just that your phone hadn't received the message. But upon turning your phone on, you only saw the same three notifications on your screen from a couple hours back.

You'd call him tomorrow. Check up on Gabriella and him on the process. The thought of him ghosting you came to mind, though it didn't last for very long. He'd been very upfront when it came to telling you the things that displeased him in the relationship. He wouldn't just up and leave without an explanation. Plus, the two of you were doing great and he wouldn't have suggested meeting Gabriella if he wanted to break up. Things were good. You just had to keep repeating that until all the worries in your head disappeared.

Things were good.

So why is it that a week later every single one of your phone calls was getting straight to voicemail?

"Hey Miguel, I know that you're busy with work and whatnot but can you just call me back so I know you're not dead?" You were pacing in the middle of your living room, feeling yourself slowly start to unravel with every automated response that you received. "Okay, well I love you. Please just call me back whenever you have the time," you ended the call, staring at the blank screen before testing your luck again for what seemed to be the 70th time.

"This is Miguel O'Hara speaking. Please state your reason for calling and I'll try to get back to you," you practically spoke with the machine, having memorized it after the nth time of hearing it. It was pointless to leave another message, the deep part of your subconscious was aware of that. And yet, you couldn't help yourself. "Hey, Miguel. I'm sorry about all the calls. Can you just tell me if I did something wrong or something instead of ignoring me? Please," you sounded pathetic to your own ears.

You waited until the designated two days passed by until you called the police department in your precinct, inquiring about any missing reports for Miguel. "Look I don't know how many times you want me to check the damn system but for the fourth time, there's no missing persons report filed for a Miguel O'Hara," the officer sounded agitated on the line, though rightfully so. You'd asked him for the fourth time before he snapped. You hung up, trying other PD's and hospitals. Only to get no results.

Maybe it was a stupid way to cope with the fact that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. But you couldn't help but call him just to be able to hear his voice on the ringtone, even if he did sound apathetic when speaking. That was until a couple weeks passed by, "Number is disconnected or no longer in service," was the response that you'd received instead of the voicemail that you'd gotten so used to. "No, come on," you muttered to yourself, trying to assure yourself it was a mistake. But upon calling again, you quickly realized that it was not.

Even as the years passed by, you found yourself unable to move on from him. It'd gotten to the point where your friends had to step in, staging an emergency intervention under the pretense of going out for drinks one night. As much as you understood their point and their reasons for believing that you were slightly delusional, you still refused to let him go. His clothes still lingered in the back of your closet, the fresh scent of his cologne still present when you pressed your face against it.

You had no idea what happened to him, and that was partially what kept you from moving on. There was no type of closure, no logical reason for him to leave you or any problems in between the two of you. So you stuck to your selfish, hopeless dream. The dream that one day you'd wake up for work and he'd be knocking on the other side of the door, cup of coffee in hand with a croissant bag in the other. Maybe it was the fact that he'd made you feel loved in a relationship. The person that understood you just by your tics and facial expressions.

"Maybe he just.. doesn't want to make this harder for you," your friend hesitated when you'd picked up a newspaper on your way out the subway. Miguel's face had been on the front of the cover, looking as stoic as ever. Even as he was getting an award for a groundbreaking experiment. As a photographer, you could tell that the lighting wasn't flattering on his skin, the color palette washing him out. But still, you tried to push that thought to the side as the reminder that he was still living out there peacefully without you lingered.

"He'll come back," you muttered, though the words didn't sound believable anymore. You could tell your friend wanted to say something else by the skeptical look on their face, but they simply just offered a hug. "Look, when you're ready to move on, I'll be here to help you," they whispered, rubbing your back. The two of you got a couple sideway glances from the others walking down the street, but you couldn't help but want this hug to last longer. You needed some kind of warmth in your life.

The one good thing that had come out of this situation though was that you finally decided to take his advice and quit your job. You'd spent weeks going from studio to studio, rejection getting thrown in your face a couple times. Each rejection started stinging less and less, simply becoming another name on your list. Though a majority of the studios that rejected you was due to a lack of space, giving you plenty of connections to reach out to though. After a while of submitting job applications, a couple of them managed to land.

Which is how you came to work at the studio you're working at now. While it was slightly painful to do, the copious amounts of ass kissing that you did to your superiors helped you move up the ranks rather quickly. Well that and the diversity in your portfolio, the main point that your employer made sure to highlight. The way that you were able to capture objects and people, capturing them in a way that made the subject interesting no matter what it was. It was nothing mediocre. You knew that now.

Along with the job, the studio offered a couple refresher courses that you took full advantage of. While your skill wasn't bad by any means, you were still determined to get better at it. The courses went over from a range of subjects such as color contrasts, the rule of thirds, and different editing programs that didn't mess with the quality of the photos.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your gaze immediately going to the necklace adorning your neck. You've been trying to talk yourself into finally taking it off for the last couple months, trying to convince yourself that it was necessary to move on. Your alarm clock blared in the background as a reminder that you were about to late for work, but you stayed still. But taking the necklace off would mean that you'd accepted he wouldn't be coming back. Is that something you'd be willing to do?

You brought your hands to the nape of your neck, reaching for the clasp. Just take it off. It would be simple. Stuffing it in the back of your bathroom drawer, never having to look at it again. Never having to be reminded of the nice memories associated with it. You dropped your hand from the clasp, letting out a small groan. "I'll do it tomorrow," it was the same thing you told yourself in the mirror every day, knowing pretty damn well that you weren't going to actually do it.

Even the meaningless distractions and the amount of clothing that you'd bought for yourself after acquiring an actual paying position at the studio did nothing to fix the empty void. Everything just felt so gray, so static. You'd found yourself missing the most minute things of your routine with Miguel, from brushing your teeth together at the sink after he'd just spent the night to the subtle scratch of his stubble after a couple days of not shaving. You missed having someone to talk to about whatever crossed your mind with little fear of judgement. You missed him.

No number of heels or jewelry that you'd splurge on would heal that.

You checked your watch on your way up the elevator, practically hearing the ticking of it as you were reminded you were late. Probably shouldn't have stopped at that new café that just opened up on the corner of your house. Though the taste of the buttery croissant melting in your mouth almost made any complaints coming your way worth it. You stuffed the last piece in your mouth before approaching your office, wiping away any crumbs that lingered on your shirt.

"I have a meeting scheduled here for... Xina?" You read off the calendar on your tablet, looking up for some kind of confirmation. What you hadn't expected to see was Miguel standing there by her side, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A ticked off expression on his face to top off the cake that this morning was turning out to be.

"You're late," the same tone that he'd used with Dana all those years ago, one of agitation and frustration was now the one that he'd used with you. For the amount of times that you spent criticizing the woman over her decisions, you wouldn't have expected for you to get treated the same way.

You really wanted to be annoyed, demand for an explanation. You'd planned out this moment in your head for years, after all. But upon standing in front of him once more, you felt your mouth dry up. It didn't help that he looked more devastatingly handsome than the last time you saw him. His hair had grown a bit, slight curls forming at the nape of his neck. While he wasn't weak by any means when the two of you were together, his muscles were practically close to ripping the stitching in his black button down top.

The gold Virgencita necklace he had did nothing to help out your case. It was only accentuated by the dark fabric. On his wrist, you could notice a couple beaded bracelets. Each with their own sentence in them, ranging from 'best dad' to 'te quiero mucho.' Well that was if you weren't misreading them while they were upside down. Surely the work of his daughter. Though the thing that had caught your attention the most was the gold band around his ring finger, a sign of his commitment to the woman next to him.

You really needed to stop staring before they got any weird vibes from you. You could do that. You could separate your personal feelings from your work.

"It's just a few minutes, Miguel," the woman next to him spoke, the harshness in his glare losing all intensity when she reached over to hold his hand. He let out a small sigh, almost forcing himself to calm down before nodding slightly. You shook both of their hands, willing yourself not to clasp Miguel's fingers within your own. To feel the slight roughness of his calluses that you'd grown used to. That wasn't something you could do anymore.

"Before we started, would any of you all like something to drink? We have tea, water, and some coffee. Though I wouldn't recommend the coffee," you could play the role of a stranger too, a forced smile making its way onto your face. You felt it falter a couple times but you were quick to school your expression back to normal before anyone could notice.

"No, thank you," Xina responded, placing her hands on the table to scoot her chair in. You caught a glimpse of the diamond ring adorning her finger, if that was even a proper name for it. You had an idea Miguel was rich, but you'd never expect him to be THAT rich. The lights reflected off the diamond, a rainbow hue present on the table.

"I'm alright, thanks," Miguel didn't even bother to look at you while he spoke, his attention solely on the woman next to him. His hand reached out to where hers sat, holding it tenderly. His thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. The same way that he used to do to you.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you happen to have any snacks?" The little girl by his side chimed in, the same little girl you'd seen on those photographs from long ago. Well, now she wasn't exactly too little. She did, however, resemble every bit of Miguel. Even more so now than in the photos you had the pleasure of seeing before.

"Mija, if you eat snacks now you won't be hungry for when we go out to eat later."

"I'll still be hungry, I promise!" Even you knew that it was false, but Miguel found himself being unable to deny the little girl anything. He pulled his wallet out, glimpses of those photos from years ago still visible. Tinted yellow from the time that'd passed by. You couldn't help but peer inside as discreetly as you could, hoping to catch a glimpse of the polaroid in the back. He hastily shut his wallet when he caught you staring at it, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans.

Something to confirm that you hadn't just imagined the time that you spent together with him all those years ago. The only photos you saw in his wallet though were those of Gabriella and one of him with his fiancée, surely celebrating their engagement by the pose in the picture. Xina sticking her hand out to the camera, a flashing smile on her face as she looked over at the camera. You couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest when you glanced over at Miguel in that photo, his eyes only locked on her.

A look of adoration that you'd only imagined in fairytales. The way that he looked at her like she was the only woman that mattered in the world. You were snapped out of your trance when you heard his wallet thud shut, looking over at Gabriella when she walked over to Miguel instead. He had a five dollar bill sticking out of his hand, keeping it in his grasp while he finished speaking, "Alright, go get yourself a light snack. And get the nice lady something if she wants."

Nice lady.

That's what you were reduced to now? Just as the lady that treated him with basic manners?

"I will, thank you!" Gabriella yelled out from the hall, practically dashing out the door the second he handed her the money. You pushed any lingering thoughts aside, excusing yourself from the table before going after Gabriella. You found her skipping in the hallway on the way to the vending machine, humming a song to herself on the way.

"I didn't actually have to get anything. I just wanted to talk to you," now that came as a surprise. As far as you knew, Gabriella only knew that Miguel was dating someone in the past.

"Me? Why me?"

She reached for the pocket on the front of her overall, taking out a polaroid. You didn't have to look at it to know what it was. And yet you did, a small smile present on your face at the sight of how happy you and Miguel looked once. The words at the bottom had faded away, leaving grey markings in their wake. "I found it in the trash. I thought I should keep it," she told you, your eyes widening slightly. He wouldn't do that, not after he said he'd value it. But what reason would Gabriella have to lie?

"My dad acted strange for a while. He stopped reading me bedtime stories and putting smiley faces on my food," the little girl sounded melancholy as she spoke, reaching up to put the bill in the machine.  Now that sounded more like the Miguel that you were accustomed to, not the man that was currently in your office. "But he used to talk nicely about you. How I'd love to spend time with you and get to know you. I'm sorry that we didn't get to that."

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes things just happen, y'know?" Even if you yourself knew nothing of what exactly happened, you decided to test that out to reassure her. She gave a small nod in response, pressing a button on the machine before a bag of chips dropped down.

"Thought you weren't hungry."

"Well, I lied to him and it'd be pretty obvious if I showed up empty handed." Smart kid.

"I don't know if we should stick with this photographer. I caught her staring at my wallet a couple seconds too long," you heard Miguel through the thin walls complain to his wife, that same tone of annoyance lingering in his voice. He really couldn't tolerate you, huh.

"She was probably just looking at the photos you have in there, don't stress out about it too much. She's the best we'll find with this time crunch."

The conversation came to a halt when you and Gabriella stepped into the room, the crinkling of chips a stark comparison to the quietness. You went over to your bookcase, grabbing your planning binder before going back to your seat across from them. You flipped over to a clean page, playing with the end of your pen as you tried to distract yourself from the reality of the situation. The same ex who'd practically disappeared from the face of the earth was now facing you. Requiring your services.

"We were wondering if we could establish something like a photo booth where the guests could go to take photos rather than it just being a quinceañera situation," Miguel spoke up, looking directly at you. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of something, just the slightest bit of something that would tell you that you weren't just a stranger to him. Maybe not longing but some sort of recognition? But you received nothing. Not even a form of silent acknowledgment that you were still wearing the damn necklace.

"Alright, we can do that," you scribbled down the notes, just the request making you recall the countless complaints that you've had to deal with about a couple of your interns. That the guests couldn't even get a spoonful in without having some fear that a camera would instantly flash in their eyes. "And how would you like the arrangement to be for the both of you? Photos straight out of the chapel and throughout the ceremony or just the photo booth?"

"Well for the two of us, we'd like some photos of us outside of the chapel." Alright, all you had to do was arrange the photo booth before you made your way over to the church to take their photographs. That sounded manageable. You annotated the time that the ceremony and reception would start, writing down a couple possibilities for the time required. You were getting paid by the hour, after all.

"I'd prefer if you could make it something low light. My eyes get sensitive with bright lights," Miguel spoke up, waiting for you to write down the notes before leaning back in his chair. You'd never heard him complain about something like that when you used him as the muse for your photos, but a lot of things were different about him now. You didn't know him anymore. A fact that you had to resign to yourself to.

"How'd the two of you meet, if you don't mind me asking?" It was clear that they mind the question. Silence lingered in the room, both of their stares equally judging. Think. Think. Think. What would be a reasonable excuse for letting your nosiness get in the way of remaining professional?

"I was just wondering since we could set up the booth with something reminiscent of that moment. A couple coffee shaped figures if it was a coffee shop. Books if it was a library. Like a cute little easter egg," you almost had to commend yourself for coming up with that lie so fast. You looked over at Gabriella, seeing her give you a thumbs up on the middle of her trying to watch a YouTube video. Okay, maybe the situation had been salvaged.

"We used to be friends, though we hadn't contacted each other in a while. Before she came into my life as my fiancée, my life just felt very empty. She brought me purpose and a reason to come back home every night," you gripped the pen in your hands as he spoke, almost surprised that the glass didn't shatter. Empty? Empty? Were you just a piece of chopped liver? Maybe you'd gone crazy for real this time around and just imagined yourself dating him. Yeah.

Just coincidentally dated someone who looked exactly like him. You'd be lucky if you didn't go mad by the end of this meeting if your thoughts continued to stray in this direction. You could've sworn you heard a slight crack in the pen you were holding, forcibly loosening your grip on it even though it was the only thing anchoring you down. Just take a couple deep breaths. Go to your happy place. Wait no. That wouldn't work if your happy place was in a beach in the Bahamas with Miguel, right?

Nope. Definitely not.

"Well he comes home most of the time, but y'know how it is with geneticists," Xina remarked, her gaze going over to the pen in your hand before going back up to your face.

"You have no idea," you found yourself muttering, unable to stop the words from coming out. You didn't even have to look over at Gabriella this time to know that she was subtly giving you a thumbs down.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forget it, just a stupid comment." Though she seemed skeptical towards the comment, she decided to leave it be for now.

The rest of the meeting flowed very smoothly, a majority of the conversation staying on work related topics. The other portions had been Xina talking about just how lucky she was to get you as a photographer, how thankful she was for Miguel. "He's just been so supportive throughout this whole process, letting me take reigns of the planning," she'd told you, her face gleaming as she spoke of him. An expression similar to contentment washed over Miguel's face as he watched speak, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Alright, that'll be all. Thank you for coming to meet with me today," you told the both of them once the plans had been set into stone. You rose up from your seat, the three of them following suit.

"Thank you, it was very nice to meet you," Xina extended her hand out towards you, a polite smile on her face. You shook her hand, returning the pleasantries with as much cheerfulness as you could muster. Which wasn't that much, now that you think about it. But she hadn't noticed anything too strange about your expression so that was slightly reassuring. She and Gabriella left the room, leaving you and Miguel together.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. O'Hara. My apologies for being late," to which he simply gave a curt nod before making his way to the exit. You went to fix your binder and pens, looking up only when you hadn't heard the click of the door.

Before he had the chance to step out, he stopped and stood by the doorstep to turn around and look at you. You were stuck in between wanting to bask in his presence for just a little bit longer and wanting him to leave. Why couldn't he just leave with the new family he was forming and leave you out of it? He looked like he was trying to see if he recognized you, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. "I'm sorry if this comes off as a weird question, but have we met before? You seem familiar."

You almost wanted to laugh at the situation. How funny it was that the man you'd swore was the one you were probably gonna end up getting married to was the same one who didn't recognize you now? The same one that spent hours on his knees, devoting himself to worshipping and memorizing every feature of your body. That loved every aspect of yourself, even the aspects that you once thought were unlovable.

While seeing him now was the epitome of painful, knowing that he hadn't even bothered to consider you while he'd gone off to start a new life, this was what you needed to move on. The hope that you once had of him coming home, holding you close to his chest with countless apologies slowly dwindled down throughout this meet before extinguishing completely. You had slowly come to accept how stupid it was to wait for him.

It would've been easy to say yes, to tell him that you were his ex-girlfriend. But the image of the small smiles that he shot at Xina throughout the meeting still stuck in your head, making you consider that decision longer than you should've. You looked up from your notes, realizing that he was still waiting for your answer. After some hesitation, you eventually decided on, "No, I don't believe we've met before. You have me confused with someone else."

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @hardlystrictlystarwars @1dk-anym0r3

RUNNIN’ OUT OF TIME!

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: angst (lol), mentions of divorce, smut, oral (f receiving), ‘just the tip’, unprotected p in v (wrap it 🫵🏼), doggy, ass spanking (like once), orgasm denial, use of toy (m receiving), switch reader + miguel

synopsis: countless missed dates. hundreds of text messages gone unanswered. you’d grown okay with the negligence from miguel towards your marriage, coming to your breaking point after he missed your daughter’s birthday. (based off this request)

author’s note: hi pookie, i hope i did your request justice and i hope you enjoy (will try to get to a couple others soon) 😄

word count: 11k (all this to yap ab cock and balls is crazyy)

There wasn't a big A-Ha! moment when you came to the realization that you loved Miguel O'Hara. The words just slipped out naturally the moment he'd said them to you, like they belonged to him alone. Because in all actuality, they only did belong to him. There was no one else you could see yourself waking up to next in the morning. No one else you wanted to spend time with for the foreseeable future. Maybe it was the memories between the two of you that helped you come to the conclusion that you loved him.

From the time that he carried you back to your shared apartment

Your legs wobbled with every step you took on the concrete, the heels you had on digging into the back of your ankle and the sides of your toes. You didn't have to take the heels off to know that you were mostly likely bleeding. "Wait, Miguel. Just wait up a bit," you were trying to catch up to his long strides, failing miserably with each new sting of pain that shot up your foot. You made a mental note not to wear heels whenever Miguel suggested a 'brisk walk' as a date idea.

He looked back to see you leaning against a pole, taking off your heels for some kind of temporary relief before you continued the rest of the walk. Not that you looked too enthusiastic about that either. Though he couldn't have his pretty girlfriend standing on a dirty sidewalk, could he? With what seemed to be no effort, he took you in his arms and resumed the walk. "How bad's the pain?" He looked down at you once he was sure he wouldn't bump into anyone in a three block radius.

You opened up your mouth to speak, about to tell him that it was bearable enough to the point you could still walk, but he interrupted you by saying, "Don't lie to me because you think you're inconveniencing me. Just tell me the truth." The truth was that you were debating on staying on that sidewalk and calling an Uber at this time of night. Not that he needed to know that, though. "It's not so bad now that you're carrying me," you reluctantly admitted, looking away from him.

If at any point during the night he struggled with the task, he didn't seem to show it. He hadn't even cracked a sweat. Somehow he'd managed to maneuver the front door open, setting you down on the couch with the utmost care necessary. "I'm gonna go get you the first aid kit. Is there something else you need?" You shook your head, laying back onto the couch cushion while you waited for him to come back.

He came back, raising your feet before taking a seat down next to you. He put your feet down on his lap, getting an ointment from the box. You wondered just how many things he had in there for these types of occasions. Throughout the couple months of dating, you'd seen him pull out an ointment for ant bites, scratches, and now blisters. "Try to stay still for me, will you?" He murmured, starting to rub the ointment over the exposed skin. His touch was the gentlest you'd ever felt, barely feeling the subtle brush of his fingers.

"Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana," he hummed as he finished applying the bandages, making sure that they were well wrapped before standing up. You made no attempt to stand up from your spot on the couch just yet, letting your feet recover from wearing those heels for five hours straight. "You need some help getting into the bedroom?" He questioned, scooping you into his arms with that same ease as before when you nodded.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, my lady."

To the time that he begrudgingly agreed to dance with you in the rain

"Come on, just indulge me a bit," you stood in the middle of the empty road, extending your hand out to him while the rain poured down relentlessly. "I'll indulge you inside where we don't have any chance of catching a cold," he grumbled from his spot on the sidewalk, trying to appear menacing. He really did just look like a sopping wet cat, especially with the way that his brows furrowed slightly. "Mami, let's go. I'll let you dance with me inside, please. Any song you want, too."

You kept your arm extended to him, waiting. You knew that he was bound to fall for your whims any second. He let out a small groan, pushing himself off the sidewalk before walking over to where you were standing. "If you get sick, I won't hesitate to tell you that I told you so," he intertwined his hand with yours, the warmth from his body a nice contrast to the chill air surrounding the two of you. "Do you know how rare it is for Nueva York streets to be this empty?"

Usually, there was at least a mad man that would be running around the streets. Even in these conditions. But the two of you were alone, streetlights illuminating your 'dance floor.' His reluctance seemed to fade away as the two of you swayed on the street, with seemingly no rhythm whatsoever. "If you wanted to sway with me, we could've done that inside," he pointed out, letting out a small snort. "Just because I said I wanted to dance didn't mean that I promised to be good at it."

He guided you through a slow rhythm, his coordination slightly better than what you would've given him credit for. His feet moving to a silent melody in his head. "I was a chambelán at this quince, they had us practice the routine until we ended up crying or collapsing from exhaustion," he spoke up before you had the chance to ask, "But at least it's given me some pretty gnarly dance moves."

"Hey, Miguel?"

"¿Qué paso?"

"Never say 'gnarly' again. You sound older than what you are," you burst out into little giggles at the scoff that left his lips. "I'll let you know that all the scientific studies I've participated on have shown that gnarly's making a comeback."

"Hey, Miguel?" You were debating on if this was the right time to admit what had been threatening to escape your lips for a while now. All you could do was hope that he didn't think that this admission was too soon.

"If you're gonna ask me about the resources that I have for those studies, I don't have them on me now. I'll get them later, though," you could only roll your eyes at his persistence, a laugh bubbling from your chest. Even as the laugh echoed through the empty street, you weren't exactly too concerned with how loud you were being. It wasn't like it compared to the way your heart was beating against your rib cage, your hands starting to clam up in his grasp.

"No, it's not about that. Not that gnarly's making a comeback either way."

"Mark my words. Gnarly. Will. Be. Making. A. Comeback," he accentuated his words carefully, giving you a mock glare before he continued to speak, "But if it's not about that, then what's up?"

The moment of truth. Maybe this was a mistake. You could feel your throat close up, your movements starting to get a little sloppy. Just tell him. His reaction can't be that bad, right? You knew he had no reason to react negatively but every single worst-case scenario started to run through your head relentlessly. "I love you."

"I love you too," while it was the response that you were expecting, it still caught you off-guard. He held your gaze, showing no signs of regret or hesitation as he whispered those words to you. "I don't think that I've loved someone the same way that I love you," and even now, he had to top off your admission. You weren't sure how much time had passed by while the two of you danced away, all that you knew was that the cold tomorrow was probably worth it. If only to say that you got the chance at this experience.

He didn't say anything the next morning when you woke up with a cough, your skin on your nose starting to get raw from how many times you'd gotten up to wipe it. Even though you could tell that he was itching to tell you, the words practically on the top of his tongue if you had to guess. "I got you some chicken soup," he spoke up after you woke up from what seemed to be your 50th nap on the day, the faint aroma from the soup wafting up your stuffy nose.

Definitely worth it.

And even the time that he'd gone up to receive his award with your lipstick all over his face

"I need my good luck kiss, c'mon," he gently pinched your side, a small laugh escaping from your lips as you attempted to push his hand away. "You'll get my lipstick all over you," you pointed out, remembering that the Chanel lipstick you had on was in fact, not transfer-proof. Miguel didn't seem to care too much though, a grin on his face as he leaned in to kiss you. "At least they'll know that my lady loves me."

You'd imprinted the mark of your lips on his cheeks and the tip of his nose, satisfied by the work you'd done when you looked at it. Perhaps you'd gotten a little carried away. Not that he looked bad covered in your red lipstick, by any means. He was no longer Miguel O'Hara, the world-renowned geneticist with more awards under his belt than he could count. He was simply just a love struck idiot with a grin on his face. A love struck idiot for you.

"What time do the awards start again?" You wiped away the lipstick on the side of your mouth and under your lips, grabbing the tube from your purse to fix it. The last thing that the two of you needed was to hear Aaron's snide remarks about how Miguel was incompetent. You went to hand him a clean makeup wipe, but he rejected the advance. "I believe they started about five minutes ago," he responded, pulling his jacket sleeve to look at the watch adorning his wrist.

"Why are you not freaking out about this more?" You questioned him, panic evident on your voice as you pushed everything inside your purse and moved to get out the car. He put his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing it through the material of the silk dress you'd worn for tonight. "Why are you freaking so much about it?" For someone who valued punctuality, he seemed to be oddly calm in this situation. Well, you supposed there was nothing you could do now that you both were late. You took a couple deep breaths, grabbing the stuff you'd missed when you were in a rush.

While you were busy gathering your bearings, he went around the car and opened the door for you. Extending a hand out to you. He grasped your fingers in between his own, helping you with getting out of the car before he even thought of stepping into the building. "They're about to announce your name, O'Hara. Get in there," Delgato hissed as the two of you walked past him, his head craning up to look up at Miguel. "Maybe if you stopped standing in my way, I might be able to."

You could practically see the sheer anger in Delgato's face as he muttered to himself, moving out of the way nonetheless. "Now I know why you end up so stressed," you muttered, making your way down the stairs to take a seat. The room was a bit packed but the two of you managed to find some good seats in the middle. A couple people turned to look at the two of you but their attention was captured once more by the person speaking up on stage. Something about a drug slowing the speed in which some disease grew.

"And now for our next award of the night, please give a hand to Dr. Miguel O'Hara from Alchemax."

The cameras started clicking immediately as soon as he stepped onto the stage, a couple whispers of how unprofessional he was being being shared around in the audience. A couple thank you's were shared, to his lab colleagues and assistants who all simply just nodded upon being acknowledged, before he delved into what the topic of his research had been about. Well, just enough to keep the audience and you entertained. Even though only a couple of the words coming out his mouth actually managed to stick, you couldn't help but listen intently.

To the way that he described his work, with such passion and dedication. The way that he visibly lightened up whenever he got to speak about something that was fascinating to him. Even with all the talk circulating through the audience, you just couldn't help but be so proud of him. His eyes met yours through the sea of people, a smile on his face as he finished with the summary he'd gone over time and time again in front of the bathroom mirror. "Are there any questions?"

He was starting to get agitated, even you could tell from a distance. Well, it's not like you could exactly blame either parties here. The audience wanted to know why he'd shown up with lipstick adorning almost every corner of his face and he wanted to get asked questions about his research. "Any questions that aren't related to my current appearance?" He decided to ask, and it was almost comical how many hands went down. He answered the questions of those who remained, about five. But all he seemed to care about was having your attention in the audience as he spoke.

And while you'd expected him to win tonight, you hadn't expected this. Having him on one knee while you two were supposed to be celebrating his achievement. "So I didn't really prepare a speech before this or anything. But I was just wondering if you'd give me the second win of the night and agree to marry me," As corny as it was, you found yourself nodding to his proposal. "You mean to tell me that worked?" He asked, hesitatingly reaching over to grab your hand to slide the ring on.

"Yes, you idiot. You're acting like I expected anything more from you," you answered, watching as he slid the band on. It was fairly simple, a small stone perched on the middle of it. Your birth stone. "I promise to make you the happiest woman alive," he murmured against your lips, gently tilting your chin so you'd be looking at him. "You already are," it was your turn to be smooth. He let out a small chuckle, his lips gently pressing against yours.

So how did it get to this point?

To the point of having dozens of your calls and messages ignored, and if there was a response, it'd be a simple one-worded response. Enough for you to want to drop the subject all together. Dates between the two of you were a common occurrence, or at least often enough to the point where you didn't have to spend five minutes wondering when the last one had been. Promises left unfulfilled, accumulating only to be left discarded in the dust.

As much as you tried to resist it at first, you started to grow.. okay with it. It felt almost selfish to ask more of him, knowing how much effort he put into making sure that the three of you had a roof over your head. You were able to get a part-time job, giving you more time to spend with Gabriella. A nagging thought kept bugging you though. You married him for the purpose of having him as a husband, not solely a provider. Maybe you weren't as okay with it as you thought.

Your eye twitched when the last balloon was being filled up. How was it that almost every member of his family was capable of showing up and he wasn't? Even some of them came from Mexico for the week. For all the events that he'd missed, you at least would've thought that he would make some attempt to show up for Gabriella's party. You could see her looking around, with the hope of catching a glimpse of her father. It wouldn't hurt to call his work to see what was so important that he couldn't get off, right?

"Alchemax Industries. What can I help you with today?" The receptionist's bored tone came through the other end of the line after spending a couple minutes on hold, your foot irritably tapping against the hardwood floor. All you could do was hope that they wouldn't send you to another line like the previous five times.

"Hi, I'm calling about one of your employees. Miguel O'Hara. I was wondering until what time he was scheduled to work today," you answered quietly, in attempts that no one would overhear. The last thing you needed were any additional comments from his family about how you couldn't keep him around. You listened as the receptionist on the other side started typing out on their computer, silently thanking them.

"¡Te voy agarrar!" You heard yelling behind you, moving to the side before you ended up getting trampled by a bunch of five year olds. "Okay, sorry about taking a while. So about the employee that you're calling, there's a mistake. Miguel hasn't-" The rest of it fell onto deaf ears, your grip on the phone tightening as you struggled to keep up your composure. "Ma'am?" You heard the receptionist ask after a couple moments of silence. The fact that the call had ended hadn't even registered until a while later.

The words kept sounding through your head as the party continued, despite how much you'd tried to drown them out. With water balloon fights in the backyard with some of the kids, karaoke with Gabriella, and the breaking of the piñata. But you couldn't. Your eyes kept darting over to the door, almost expecting to find Miguel walking in at any given moment now. Though you weren't exactly surprised when it remained shut after the first five times that you'd checked. Everyone was having a good time and all you could do was miss him.

Chatter and laughter filled the atmosphere as you made your way through the penthouse, trying to find Gabriella. She'd disappeared right after the cake was cut with the pretense that she needed to use the bathroom about half an hour ago. And while she did spend up to that in the bathroom, it was only really whenever you gave her your cellphone to play around with. And you knew that none of the kids were playing hide and seek. "Gabi!" You called out, searching for her in the guest room.

The last time you'd seen her, she was busy talking with her tías. Nice women, really. Just too involved in finding out whatever chisme they could get out of Gabriella without any regards towards her feelings or the setting they were currently in. You wouldn't be surprised if they brought up the topic of separation to the poor girl. "Hey, have you seen Gabi around?" You didn't even question why Gabriel was exiting one of the rooms with one of your friends, too concerned about Gabi.

Gabriel wiped some spit from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head. "I'll let you know if we find her," he assured you, trying to hide your friend with his body. Like that'd erase the suspicion. Though you guessed it wasn't the right time to go over the whole 'don't hurt them' spiel. You'd do that when you knew your daughter was safe. "Okay, thank you," you told him, going to look for her in the secret spots you knew she liked to hide. In the laundry room. The library. Out in the balcony.

You stepped inside your shared closet with Miguel, not expecting to find her inside. You only really bothered to check as a last resort. But there she was. Her knees pulled up to her chest with her head buried deep in them, sniffling that was almost enough to bring you down to your knees. You walked over to her, sitting down in front of her before gently pulling her hands away from her face.

Only then could you see the extent of her pain. Her cheeks were tear-streaked and her nose was starting to turn pink at the tip from how much she'd been rubbing at it. "What's wrong, mija?" You wiped away the tears that brimmed at the edge of her waterline with your thumb, drying it on your jeans. All you'd been trying to do was make sure she was having a good time at the party and your efforts had all but flopped.

"Why didn't he show up?" With every little crack of her voice, you could feel a piece of your heart shatter. You knew perfectly well who she was referring to her. Just like you'd been waiting for him to arrive, you caught small glimpses of Gabriella searching hopelessly around for her father. "I don't know. I wish I knew what could've been so important but I don't," you whispered, holding her close to your chest. There wasn't any use lying to her, not when you knew she'd look through it.

"Mami, me duele la cabeza," Gabriella spoke up after a couple seconds, looking up at you. You could only guess. From what you could gather, you figured that she must've been crying at least for the previous half hour. "I can't give you any pills.. but I'll read you a story once you lay down for bed," you told her, helping her stand up from her spot on the floor. Gabriella left the closet to go brush her teeth and get ready for bed, leaving you in the deafening silence of the closet.

"Party's over," you announced on your way downstairs, already imagining the flurry of complaints that would come your way. You knew that if it was up to everyone else, they would find a way to keep the party going until two in the morning. After thanking everyone for coming and sending them home with leftovers that would last them through the weekend, you cleaned up the house a bit. Picking up a couple candy wrappers from the floor and sweeping off the multitude of streamers on the floor.

You'd spent the next hour tidying up the house, cleaning up juice stains from your once pristine white floors. Well, at least Gabriella managed to have a good time. Mostly. You'd almost expected her to fall asleep by the time you went back upstairs, but you saw her peering over at you when you opened up the door. "Alright, what story did you want me to read?" You questioned, stepping over to the library she had in the corner of her room. Naming off the first suggestions that appeared in your field of vision. "Can we do The Little Prince?"

Gabriella scooted over on the bed to let you sit down next to her, listening intently as you begin to read the story. Almost like she hadn't been listening to this story for the previous two weeks. At some point, she'd learned some of the passages from memory and began to recite them from the top of her head. You finished the book, half expecting her to still be awake and wanting another book. But no. Her eyes were shut, her arms tightly wrapped around one of her plushies while her breathing slowed down.

"Que sueñes con los angelitos," you whispered, pushing a couple loose strands of her hair back before kissing her forehead. She stirred in her sleep, her grip on the blankets tightening slightly. You moved when she finally managed to still, putting the book back on the shelf where it belonged. Prepping it for tomorrow. You made your way out the room, making sure to leave her night lamp on before shutting the door behind you. At least her headache hadn't bothered her too badly.

You poured yourself a glass of wine from a trip you'd taken with Miguel to Italy, swirling the burgundy liquid around. Much how your own thoughts were currently swirling around without any clear direction. Not your usual drink of choice, you had to admit. But it was a nice distraction. The subtle glow from the moonlight illuminated the otherwise empty room, the quietness almost too much to bear. There was nothing to distract you from the thoughts running rampant inside your head, each one of them leading to what seemed to be the same conclusion.

A divorce.

Even thinking about it felt wrong, though. You and Miguel made a pact upon getting married—stating that no matter how mad the two of you got at one another, that word would never be mentioned. Not even as a joke. But you supposed that was made during a different time. A time where Miguel wouldn't put his family on the back burner simply because of work affairs. A time where you didn't have to come up with excuses for his behavior.

It wasn't just for yourself that you were considering this solution. But also for Gabriella. His absence was starting to affect her in more ways than you could possibly fathom. Not just today for her birthday, but also throughout the last couple months. You could see the different attempts that Gabriella had made to talk to her dad, most of them ending up unsuccessful. Only leaving her more and more confused. Leaving her wondering what she'd done wrong.

"¡Mami!" Gabriella called out from the other room while you were busy finishing up dinner in the kitchen, setting a separate plate for Miguel to put in the microwave. A nudging feeling that you would find the plate the same way you'd left it running through your head. You walked over to Gabi, spotting her in the kitchen table with a coloring book set in front of her. You were almost impressed by how precise she was at such a young age.

She'd managed to color in the photos without going through the lines once. She was always a bit of a perfectionist though, much like her father. It felt like staring at a reflection of a mini Miguel at times. If only he would try to maintain that relationship you knew Gabriella needed in her life.

"Yeah, what's up?" You wiped your hands on a napkin before taking a seat next to her. Looking over at the design on her book, you decided to commit the sight to memory. It wouldn't hurt to search it up later and use it as a form of gift inspiration for her birthday party coming up. "There's this parent career day tomorrow and I was hoping that you could come."

You wouldn't have expected her to ask you for help first. Given that your job mostly consisted of logistics and paperwork most of the day. The last interesting thing that had happened in the office was an affair between one of the CEO's and an intern. "You sure you don't want your dad to go instead?" Even if it wasn't by much, you figured that genetics would be more interesting than how graph analysis works. Gabriella played with her pens, avoiding looking at you.

"What's the point of asking if he's not gonna show up?" She spoke up after a couple moments, a small sigh escaping from your lips. You couldn't lie to her any better than you could lie to yourself, you knew that much. But you at least had to try. If only to stop that frown from forming on her face. "How about I present what your dad does for work? So it's almost like he's there," Except he wouldn't be. You figured it was a good enough compromise for her though. "But why can't he show up? Do we not matter to him anymore?"

The same question that clouded your thoughts while you laid in bed, arms wrapped around one of his pillows so it wouldn't feel so empty. So you wouldn't be reminded that the stupid California King was too big just for you to lay on it. "We do matter, he's just busy with work. It's how we're able to live the way we do," you answered, trying to keep your answer simple without dumbing it down. She was smart enough to understand. Smarter than you sometimes gave her credit for. "Okay. Your option sounds good."

You'd stayed up well past midnight that night, reading through a couple of Miguel's research papers in some attempt to figure out what you needed to describe. So far, all you had was talking about flasks and the basics of chemistry that you'd learned. Adorning a poster board with glitter also proved to be more work than you would've imagined, the clean-up taking longer than you would've expected. At least it didn't look too bad. Well, just enough to impress a classroom full of ten year olds.

Just the fact that Gabriella wasn't even making the effort anymore was enough to reassure the decision that maybe a divorce was necessary. Even if the thought was still painful to think about. At some level, you still loved Miguel just as much as the first day that you'd uttered those words to him. Just as much as the day you showed up on the aisle to officially intertwine your life with his. But you knew that neither you or Gabriella could be content just expecting the minimum from him.

The front door swung open, a loud groan escaping from Miguel's lips as he stepped into the threshold. His work shoes squeaked against the floors you'd just cleaned as he trudged over to the living room. "Hey, where's Gabi?" His lips barely grazed your cheek when he bent down to greet you, his voice riddled with exhaustion. He took a seat on the couch, his back slouched against the cushions. "She's asleep. Given that it's currently midnight."

You heard shuffling from his side, the bright phone screen illuminating his face. From this angle, you could see the dark circles underneath his eyes. It almost made you regret wanting to even bring this topic up. He squinted, tapping at the screen with his pointer finger to turn down the brightness. "Ah shock, you're right. I missed her birthday," Normally you would've been okay with the fact that he'd even bothered to remember the event he'd missed.

"Where were you?" You questioned, reaching over to turn on the lamp. You felt like one of those detectives in the old movies you'd watched with Miguel, the light dim enough to create an ominous shadow over yourself. "What do you mean? I was at work all day," he responded, rubbing a hand through his face. He was committed to making the lie work, you had to give him that. He even had the Alchemax lab coat and badge on. And under normal circumstances, you might've just let that slide. Like all the other previous instances.

You calmly took a sip from your drink, letting the suspense marinate for just a little while longer. "I called Alchemax. It's funny that you say that, given that their system shows that you quit months ago. So, I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth," you told him, his eyes widening almost comedically. The silence was enough of a tell for you to realize that you had him cornered now. He managed to meet your gaze after a couple seconds, speaking almost begrudgingly, "You called my job?"

You gave him a dirty look, almost surprised that it was what he was choosing to focus on. "Right, right. Not the point," he muttered, rubbing his temples. The silence was almost deafening, the two of you trying to keep things quiet for the sake of keeping some normalcy in front of Gabriella. "She kept asking about you, you know?" You started off, setting the wine glass with a thump before speaking again, "I kept lying to her. Telling her that something at work was more important than you being able to show up to her party."

"I want a divorce." It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, and you could almost see the different wheels in his head work. The wedding ring around your finger suddenly felt too heavy, the life that the two of you built together threatening to crash down in a mere matter of seconds just by that single sentence. "The least that you could do now is tell me the truth. Because what I'm imagining right now is that you have some kind of secret family on the down low."

In your defense, what more were you supposed to think? Especially when he's made no effort to tell you anything up to this point? You picked up the wine glass, glancing over at him to see what he'd do now. You'd be lying if you said that you fully expected him to start telling you the truth. But you hoped he did. If only to make you reconsider the idea of getting a divorce. If only to let you sleep better at night.

"Okay. Fine, I'll tell you. Just please.. consider the divorce one more time. Please. And believe me when I say there is no other family," he stood up from his spot, his hands clasped together as he stood in front of you. This was starting to sound dangerously similar to the number of excuses that he'd given you before but you decided on giving him the benefit of the doubt. You stayed silent and he took that as a cue to continue, "I haven't been around because... I'm Spider-Man."

The wine in your mouth poured down your nose, the liquid have gone down the wrong pipe. You coughed, attempting to clear your throat as the words settled in. There was no way that he was being serious. But the way that he was looking at you made it seem like he was. "And I know that it doesn't justify putting the two of you on the back burner but there's a lot of crime in Nueva York and throughout the universes in case you haven't realized." Universes?

Now you were certain he'd either lost it or he was just pulling excuses out of his ass. Probably a combination of both if you had to guess. "You're kidding," you deadpanned, waiting for some kind of indication that this was all just a joke. He flicked his wrist, a string of what seemed to be a web sticking onto the lamp next to you. You reached over, tentatively scooping the substance onto your pointer finger to examine what it was. It was indeed.. a web. You were starting to wonder if you'd drunk too much wine.

Nope. Still half a glass left. You punched the side of your arm, waiting for some kind of indication that you were dreaming. All you received was a sharp shot of pain though. Now all you had left to do was actually acknowledge the situation. Accept the fact that your husband was the self-proclaimed vigilante of Nueva York.

"Why didn't you tell me in the first place?" You managed to ask after the initial shock had died down, clearing your throat. He shifted his feet awkwardly, sitting down next to you once more. "Because I've seen too many instances of this play out. I didn't want any danger to come to you after you found out," he responded, his hands reaching out to hold your own. "But please, trust me. I only have eyes for you. Every single of my absences has been for the better of Nueva York."

It all started to make sense, though. The amount of files scattered on his desk, information on previous villains. A couple comic books from the previous Spider-Man on his bedside table. The awkward disappearances when the two of you were out on the street.

"Please say something," he urged after a couple seconds of your silence, his calloused thumb rubbing small circles on your hand. What could you really say, though? It felt wrong to still be pissed off at him while he went off to save the city, and yet.. you still couldn't find it in yourself to forgive him just yet. "I know that the city of Nueva York needs you. But so does Gabriella. She doesn't deserve to be questioning what she's doing wrong as a child."

He was about to speak up but you quickly interrupted him, "She thinks she's not doing enough. That all those trophies in her room aren't enough for you to be proud of her. I beg of you to find some kind of balance before you end up losing the both of us for good." With that, you downed the rest of your wine before retreating to the kitchen to clean up the glass. You expected him to come back to bed, though you hadn't heard him come in after half an hour of tossing and turning. All you heard was the guest room door being opened.

You were awoken to the sweet scent of buttermilk, all kinds of different alarms going off in your head. The thought of Gabriella burning herself in the kitchen was starting to imprint itself in your brain. It certainly wasn't Miguel. Despite how groggy you were, you quickly rubbed your eyes and made your way over to the kitchen. Niña Bonita welcomed you as soon as you stepped inside, noticing Miguel stirring some batter with Gabriella by his side. At least she wasn't too close to the stove.

"Mi niña bonita, my dulce princesa," he hummed along to the song, gently ruffling Gabriella's hair. You stood at the doorway in silence, a small smile making itself known on your face despite how mad you were at Miguel. Gabriella attempted to push off his hands, but even she couldn't hide how much she was enjoying this time with him. "Mami, you finally got up!" Gabriella called you over once she noticed you.

"When'd you take the time to learn how to make these?" Usually it was you that took care of the cooking. "I'm not completely useless in the kitchen, I'll have you know," Miguel retorted, flipping a pancake with practiced ease. Though you knew better. You could see a couple pancake pieces sticking up to the ceiling. Just how long had he been up to try to perfect this skill for Gabriella? "Take a seat, they'll almost be done. The sous chef's been doing an excellent job helping."

"Papi promised we'd go to the aquarium today, to make up for missing my birthday," Gabriella announced as you were in the middle of pouring syrup onto your pancakes. You had to forcibly stop yourself from reacting, trying to ensure that you wouldn't be having syrup with a side of pancakes. "You sure you can handle it?" You gritted under your teeth when Gabriella went to retrieve her tablet in the living room. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I couldn't. Haven't given you any reason to but have some faith in me."

You raised your brows, waiting for him to realize just how contradictory that statement was. Not that it ever came, though. "Can I stay the night over at my friend's house?" Gabriella piped once she finished her pancakes, all too eager to grab your plate along with Miguel's. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing the resistance on his expression. "Which friend is it?" You questioned, trying to rack your brain if it was something that she mentioned before. "The one from soccer practice, Candice."

After making some calls to Candice's mom to make sure that sleepover was actually something that she was aware of, you gave Gabriella the go-ahead. She practically rushed into her bedroom after the three of you had finished with breakfast, picking out a pair of pajamas and clothes before stuffing them into her backpack. Triple checking it so there would be no reason for room to doubt her preparation. While she was in the shower, you snuck in her stuffed animal. Just as a safety precaution.

The trip to the aquarium was honestly more trouble than it was worth, in your opinion. Parking was nearly impossible, the vein on Miguel's forehead threatening to pop with each turn that he made around the lot. Waiting patiently for whatever spot would open up for half an hour before realizing that no one was leaving. Even Gabriella had started to get fidgety in the back seat, asking Miguel if you all were there yet over and over again. "Just get the valet, I'm sure it won't be that expensive," you suggested, hoping that it wouldn't add on to the frustration Miguel was feeling.

"Wait, hold on," like a beacon of hope, one of the spots opened up just as soon as you said that. Before he had the chance to park the car though, one of the newly arriving guests immediately seized the opportunity and took it before he had the chance. With one slam to the steering wheel, he relented and went over to get in line for the valet parking. "Here, you can watch a documentary on turtles," you pulled it up on your phone before leaving, not that you thought you would have to use it. And just like that, Gabriella immersed herself on what was on the screen.

Seeing the price of valet parking almost made you want to regret ever suggesting at all. Seriously, who charged $50 just for a parking spot? Gabriella let her grip on your phone slip when she was handing it to you, your brows furrowing as you already started to imagine the crack on screen just from the sound it made hitting the concrete. You quickly picked up, pocketing it up before Gabriella started to feel guilty. "Don't worry about it. I was due for a new one anyways," you assured her, holding to her hand while Miguel held her other one.

The three of you were visibly annoyed as soon as you stepped foot into the aquarium, the excitement towards this trip dying down with every single thing that kept going wrong. Not only had it taken half an hour and $50 to even enter, but now, none of the shows were even available? Even the dolphins had gone down with some kind of fish flu. Why it was even so full was beyond you. "Come on, we'll still have a good time," Miguel sounded like he was trying to collectively convince all three of you, offering Gabriella a piggy back ride as compensation.

Gabriella didn't seem to mind it too much, her head raised like she was royalty while perched on Miguel's shoulders. His grip on her legs was tight, assuring she wouldn't fall down. Given that she had a tendency to test herself and lean as forward as she could when one of the fish approached. You'd never seen her this excited about a trip before. You quickly realized the reason for her excitement. Miguel kept giving her subtle facts about each of the different species that you approached, whether from his own brain or the information board put up.

And she held on to every single word that escaped from his mouth, listening to him like he was the most interesting man in the world.

After seeing how full the gift shop was at the end of the tour, you decided to wait outside with a couple other guests. All you could hope was that Miguel would talk to her while the two of them were inside, give her some of that connection that she longed for. She came back bouncing back with a shark plushie— one identical to the one Miguel had gotten you on a prior date. Just the sight make your resolve melt a bit. You glanced over at Miguel, seeing him give you a shrug. "It's what the princess wanted."

Exiting the aquarium was almost as troublesome as entering, a line of cars parked at the exit. Gabriella didn't seem to mind it as much, plotting a story line with her as a mermaid with the shark. It'd been a while since you got the chance to see her be so animated. Throughout the car ride, she couldn't stop talking about how the trip at the aquarium and explaining the exhibits to you in explicit detail. Well, that was until you got to Candice's house. She was quick to leave as soon as she saw her friend waiting outside, her two feet almost too slow to match her energy.

The tension in the air was thick from the moment Gabriella had departed the car but it was much more obvious now that the two of you were stuck in a room together. After making a beeline to go change into a pair of shorts and a shirt—calling it a night, you were surprised to find Miguel still laying on the bed. Idly tapping at his phone with one finger, the faint sound of a Candy Crush!reaching your ears. You figured that he would've left to go monitor the city after spending the day with Gabriella. Maybe he was determined to make it work this time around.

No.

You couldn't start thinking that way just because he bothered to stick around for one evening.

He settled in between your legs, continuing to tap away at the screen. As much as you wanted to protest, you decided not to. From this angle, you could see him struggling with solving level 3976. How much time had he seriously dedicated to this game? Time that he hadn't spent dedicating towards you. Great. Just the thought was enough to piss you off once more. You grabbed your own phone from the bed stand, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes every time one of those stupid family channels showed up. If you had to bet, you'd guess their marriage wasn't that good either.

Miguel looked up at you from his spot in between your legs, with furrowed brows and brown irises practically boring into you. He looked so needy.. so desperate. "Please mamita, I need you. I need to touch you again," he pleaded, his lips leaving a searing sensation as he kissed up your leg. It'd been too long since you'd received any form of intimacy from anything other than your fingers and your vibrator. And while they did get the job done, they didn't exactly offer this kind of foreplay.

He moved the flimsy material of your pajama shorts to the side, kissing the innermost part of your thighs. Your fingers tugged at the strands, trying to pull him to your cunt. With every single teasing breath against the thin material, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing and dripping onto your panties. "Not yet," and the bastard had the nerve to laugh. It was the last sound you heard before you felt a small sting on your thigh, your eyes almost popping out of your skull. When he said he was Spider-Man, you'd been expecting the whole swinging around.

What you hadn't been expecting, however, was a pair of fangs that were almost the same length as your head. Just how far did the extent of these spider powers go? You were thinking of every possibility, unaware that you'd even spaced out. He regained your attention by pulling the waistband of your shorts, the elastic snapping against your skin. "Only thing you have to be focused is on me," he spoke up before you had the chance to say anything, moving to take off your shorts off. You raised your hips, your panties and shorts falling off in one swift motion.

He'd been nothing but desperate earlier, but his touch almost seemed reverent this time around. Kissing up your legs as if you were something to worship, drinking up your gasps as if they were the finest tunes he'd ever listened to. His hands pried your thighs open, leaving you completely exposed to him. Only before he got the chance to lean in was that you got the chance to see just how desperate for this he truly was. His pointer finger ran through your folds, collecting whatever slick had started to accumulate.

"You say you want a divorce but this pretty cunt's telling me a different thing," almost like he was timing it—which he was, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt. A loud squelch echoed through the otherwise silent room, a small groan escaping from your lips. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of letting him hear your moans. "Let me hear you mamita. Let me hear good I'm making you feel," he prodded, his fingers moving in a scissoring motions. You bit on your bottom lip, a muffled moan escaping your lips.

"Eso, no me nieges. Te lo ruego."

He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, his eyes boring into yours as he licked the glistening slick off them. Practically feining to get every single drop. He leaned in to be face-level with your cunt, licking a stripe up your folds before parting them apart with his tongue. "Oh fuck," the moan slipped out of your lips before you had a chance to think better of it, the small chuckle he let out against your cunt vibrating throughout your body. His head moved from side to side, practically engulfing himself in between your legs with his nose pressing against your clit.

Your legs trembled in his grasp, struggling to keep them open when all you wanted to do was close them around his head. You wanted him to stop. You wanted him to keep going. The constant whiplash was enough to make you into a whining mess underneath him, despite your better judgement. "Please," you didn't even make sense to yourself. You weren't exactly sure what it is that you were even begging for. "Shh, it's okay. I'll give you what you need," and yet, he seemed to understand your pleas perfectly.

His mouth closed around your clit, his eyes boring into yours as he sucked on the neglected nub. Your nails dug into his scalp, a groan escaping from his lips. Like a domino effect, that small groan vibrated against your clit which caused you to only tighten your grip on his hair. You bucked your hips to meet his lips, his grip on your legs tightening. "I got you mamita, just let me take my time pleasing you," he murmured, kissing a trail from your inner thigh to your folds once more. His tongue fell flat, licking a stripe up your glistening folds.

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance before the wet muscle pushed inside, your juices leaking down to his mouth almost instantaneously. If anything, he didn't seem to mind it. He almost looked like he was in complete bliss. Miguel made no attempt to continue the ploy he'd started with the eye contact earlier, his eyes shut as he got lost in the taste of your essence. "Oh, Mig, Mig, Mig-" Broken fragments of his name escaped from your lips as his pointer finger rubbed small circles on your clit, the dual stimulation enough to have your toes curling.

You reached down to play with your erect nipples, rolling them in between your fingers. The orgasm you were chasing was so close, so attainable. "Gonna cum, gonna cum," every single word from your vocabulary seemed limited. All you could do was repeat yourself and hope that he would get the picture. "That's it, you got it," he coaxed you into an orgasm, your toes curling and your grip on his hair tightening. If anything, he seemed to revel in how you were gripping him.

Every word at the tip of your tongue failed you as you came with a shudder, your release coating his mouth and chin in the process. Miguel eagerly took every drop that you had to give, even going back into your cunt to get anything that he might've missed. You practically had to push him off before he started to eat you out again. While you knew that he could handle it, you weren't too sure that you could. You let your back hit the mattress, basking in the afterglow from your orgasm.

Before Miguel had the chance to finish with unbuttoning his pants, you took the chance to clear your throat. His hands halted their movements, his eyes shooting up to you like a deer caught in headlights. "With the way you've been acting, do you seriously think you've earned the right to fuck me?" You questioned, seeing his expression visibly deflate as he removed his hands from the buttons. "Please. I'll do anything, mi vida. Es tortura tenerte tan cerca y no poder tocarte," it was a rare sight to see.

Miguel prided himself in being above begging. And yet, here he was.

"Go on and lay on the bed for me," your tone offered no room for protests, his steps quick as he went to lay down on the bed. You trailed your hand from his knee to his crotch, cupping his heavy balls in your palm. "Look at me and tell me you have the right to fuck me, if that's the case," you spoke up, looking over at him as your hand switched from one ball to the other. Giving each the same amount of attention. You watched as he opened his mouth, closed it back up again, and repeated the process until he eventually gave up.

"I can't," he huffed out, almost in a whisper. You reached over in your bedside table, pulling out your trusty vibrator. "And why's that?" You asked him, your touch featherlight when you rubbed the vibrator against the outline of his cock. Just enough to give him a taste of what he could have. "Because I don't deserve to fuck you. I know. But I'm still selfish," he admitted after a while, his words barely above a whisper. Good enough of an answer for now.

A shaky groan escaped from his lips when you turned the vibrator on, the lowest intensity almost too painful to bear. Shudders ran across his body as you rubbed the vibrator on the tip of his cock, sliding it down to his frenulum. "Ngh, don't stop," his voice was practically a whimper by this point, his hips bucking to meet your touch. Not that you allowed for that continue for long though. You pushed your thighs down with one hand, his muscles flexing underneath your grasp.

You moved the vibrator to rest against the tip of his cock, precum leaking onto the tip of it. You tentatively brought it up to your lips, swirling your tongue around it as the familiar salty taste overwhelmed your senses. His eyes were locked on yours, his hips bucking up in some miserable attempt to gain some friction. You set the vibrator back on the tip of his cock, a hiss escaping from his lips. "Turn it up."

"What's the magic word?" You shifted to grab the remote, lowering the intensity despite the groans that escaped from his lips. He looked like he was on the verge of tears, if you had to be honest. Well, the closest he could get to that point anyways. "Pl.." he couldn't finish his sentence, a choked groan escaping from his lips. He looked over at you, like he was expecting you to understand. And while you did, you also wanted him to use his words. Hear how pretty he sounded begging.

"P-Ple-nghh."

“Plea-shockk."

"P-Ay mierda."

It was a cruel game you were playing, you were aware. You kept the vibrator at the same speed, raising a brow as you looked at him. "Sounds like you don't really want it," you taunted, deciding to put the vibrator to the highest level possible. Only for a fraction of a second, though. Just as quickly as relief had come for him, it was gone. He let out a groan, trying to will the word to slip out of his mouth. Just one word.

"Please," it seemed like your little show of motivation had finally paid off. You turned the intensity of the vibrator gradually this time around, allowing him to get used to the sensation. "See what you get when you ask nicely," you decided to taunt him even further despite knowing better. You knew your cunt would be paying the consequences for your relentless teasing later in the night. Not like the thought mattered now, though. Not when you had Miguel begging and at the verge of tears just for your touch.

His balls felt heavy to the touch, almost like he was at the point of cumming. You gave both of them equal attention, rolling them in your hand. Miguel's eyes could only clamp shut, his mouth parted. "Please let me cum, so close," he begged so nicely, a couple drops of precum leaking down to your thigh. You could always be generous and let him cum. Then again, the idea of prolonging his orgasm was just too enticing to resist. Each buck of his hips became more erratic, more needy. Before he got to that point of climax, you pulled the vibrator away from his cock.

"I asked nicely," he pointed out, his voice cracking slightly. He scrambled to sit up, almost searching your expression to see if he'd done something wrong. "I'm aware," you simply responded, wiping your vibrator before placing it on the nightstand to clean it throughly later. "I just didn't feel like letting you," you added, waiting to see if he'd offer more resistance. You could see he wanted to say something, but he was holding himself from saying anything. Smart man.

Miguel set a pillow underneath your stomach, your back set in a mean arch as you laid on it. He stepped behind you, his thumb rubbing against your folds before he dipped it inside. Your wetness immediately engulfed his finger, your walls stretching out as he pushed it deeper inside. "What happened to the attitude you had earlier, hm?" He used the same taunting tone that you had, mocking you. A protest died in your throat as the tip of his cock went inside your folds, your head craning back to look at him.

"Just the t-"

"Yes, yes, just the tip. I promise," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, rolling his eyes. You were already testing his patience by allowing just the tip. He retracted, the tip of his cock an angry shade of red as precum dripped down his shaft. Your walls clenched and unclenched rhythmically, your own body betraying your resolve. He pushed the tip inside once more, keeping it inside your wet cunt. "Please, let me fuck you properly. You're punishing both of us, not just me."

And here you would've figured that his negotiations were reserved just for the state of Nueva York. You shook your head, determined to see this through. "If it's not enough for you, we can just stop here," And how you wished your voice would've come out with more bite. Now you sounded just as needy as he did. Maybe even more. "No, no, it's fine," he was quick to respond, retracting. It was almost painful how slow he was going, almost making you want to give up on this whole argument. Getting stubborn wasn't getting you anywhere.

"Please let me fuck you properly," he pleaded after a couple thrusts, his hands on your hips. Well. At least you didn't have to give in first. "Fine," you tried to sound annoyed, though you weren't convincing him any better than you were yourself. A strangled gasp left your mouth as he bottomed out, your cunt stretched out to the brim. Your walls clenched against his shaft rhythmically, trying to get used to the intrusion. Your hands reached over for the pillow above you, your grip on it tightening as he pulled out.

His skin slapped against your own with each thrust that he made, his grip on your hips tightening. "Don't stop, Mig! So, so good," he'd turned you into a babbling mess within a matter of seconds. "Wasn't planning on it," he responded quickly, each word punctuated with a harsh thrust. You craned your head to look at him, the sight having a new wave of arousal coat his cock. His head was lolled back, his face contorted into one of pure pleasure. You rocked your hips to match his rhythm to the best of his ability, your ass smacking against his hips with every movement.

"Oh shock, slow down," he was mesmerized by the sight of your ass rippling with each move that you made, one of his hands reaching down to cup the flesh. "Not gonna last long if you keep at it," he added, raising his hand before giving your ass a slap. The mixture of pain and pleasure mixed together, your own release starting to approach. "Fill me up, Mig!" You could only whine that out, a groan escaping from his lips at your words. The hand on your ass moved down to your clit, his thumb rubbing on the nub in circles. Fervent circles to match the pace of his sloppy thrusts.

You clamped tightly around his cock, your arousal coming out of you in waves. Your stomach hit the pillow underneath you, your body giving out on you. As soon as you clamped around him, Miguel knew his own orgasm wasn't too far off. With one final thrust, he shot his cum up your cunt. Filling you up like you'd asked. He pulled his flaccid cock out of you a couple moments later, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers pushed back the cum threatening to drip down before he went over to get a wet towel to clean you up.

"It shouldn't take me threatening to divorce you for you to get your act together," you spoke up once you managed to catch your breath, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Not exactly the topic that you would've imagined talking about after sex. But you figured it was important for him to know that just a good lay wouldn't be enough to resolve this issue. He swiped his arm over his forehead, wiping away at nonexistent sweat beads. Something to do while he tried to figure out what to say.

"I know. And I'm sorry that it ever got to this point, I promise that I'll spend the rest of my life trying to prove to you how worthy I am to be next to you," he spoke up after a few moments, turning to face you. His hands itched to be wrapped around you, for some semblance of that intimacy that he'd neglected for so long. But he didn't make any effort to touch you. He knew it'd take a while for you to get to that point. The conflicted expression on your face was enough to tell him that you didn't believe him.

And it's not like you were looking forward to starting any issues between the two of you. But with the amount of empty promises and "I'm sorry's", you figured that you'd earned the right to doubt him. You got up, putting up your pajamas in an attempt to divert the conversation. You didn't want to voice that you were worried about him failing to fulfill his promise. "I know you don't believe me, but I promise I'll do my best to prove it to you," he whispered, pulling the blanket over the two of you before exhaustion overtook your body.

Instead of the usual emptiness that you'd grown used to waking up to, you found Miguel laying by your side with his arms tightly wrapped around your body. Like he didn't want to let you go. "I can feel you staring," he mumbled, half asleep as he begun to stir. He kept one arm wrapped around you, bringing the other hand up to his face to rub his eyes. "Just surprised you're not at work yet," you responded, pushing a couple stray hairs away from his forehead. "Well, I'm trying to prioritize my family a bit more."

His promises didn't feel as empty as the ones he'd spoken about before. He seemed determined to bring them into fruition this time around. Or at least you hoped that he would. For you and Gabriella. "I know it doesn't amount to much with how many times I've said it, but I really am sorry for neglecting you for so long. I got so carried away into maintaining the safety of Nueva York that I forgot to maintain my own marriage."

"I know you can't be everywhere at once. Me and Gabriella are aware you have responsibilities but still.. I don't want to have to feel like I'm being selfish for asking for some time with my husband," you spoke up after a couple seconds, looking over at him. Neither of you made any attempt to leave your bed just yet, too engulfed in the temporary state of bliss. "And you won't have to feel that way anymore, I promise."

Maybe things would work out for the better this time around.

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WOWH. OSCAR GRAMMY TONY JOW

tengo tu foto

pairing: photographer! fem reader x miguel o’hara

contents: angst w no comfort, longing (is anyone rly surprised by this point), and some suggestiveness (nuffin tew crazy)

synopsis: you were booked for an wedding shoot, not expecting to see your ex boyfriend there.

author’s note: inspired by this :3 anyways i incorporated one of the themes from the movie hehe >w<

word count: 7k (i may have gone overboard on the yapping, sorry)

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"No. Ten un poquito de paciencia que ya mero acabo," Miguel tuts from a distance, the sound of wrapping paper scuffling together following. Despite the fact that you'd told him he didn't need to get anything for your birthday, that just spending time with him would be enough, he still insisted on doing so. Even after taking you out to a restaurant of your choosing, not even batting an eye when the waiter brought the check over. (have a little patience that i'm almost done)

"I know you said you didn't want anything but I stopped by that antique store in Queens and found the thing you've been wanting," he told you, stepping close to remove your hands from your eyes. You blinked a couple times to get used to the light in the room, looking down at the gift bag in his hands. Well, at least it wasn't anything too extravagant by the size of it. Or at least you hoped that it wasn't.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to do this. Your comp-"

"Before you say that my company would've been enough, you see me almost every day. Allow me to indulge in you a bit," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, giving you an innocent enough smile. "Just open it."

You took the gift bag from him, placing it down on your dinner table before starting to take out the sheets of wrapping paper. Even with that, you were trying to be meticulous enough not to rip it. At the bottom of the bag, you could see a white box peeking through. You took the box out with care, your eyes widening when you caught a glimpse of the words printed by the side. It was a vintage black Polaroid camera and a sleek leather photo album.

"Do you like it?" All you could do was nod, going over and wrapping your arms around him. You'd mentioned wanting this camera in passing a couple times, but you weren't expecting to actually get it. It should've been a nearly impossible task given that polaroids had ceased to have any usage with attachable phone printers, the quality of those unmatched. And yet you found yourself wanting this one after watching a movie, imagining all the different scenarios you wanted to use the camera for.

You basically opened the camera in record time, holding into in your hands for a couple seconds just to make sure you weren't dreaming. After the initial excitement passed, you examined the camera to see the different functions that it had and where you could put the film cartridge. You messed around with a couple of the buttons before the back of the camera eventually opened up, an illustration of how to set the cartridge etched inside.

As much as you didn't want to admit it, you'd been so focused on even just trying to acquire the camera that you didn't bother to research exactly just how it is that it worked. You reached over for the box, the manual falling down on the table. You'd barely managed to open it before Miguel grabbed it from your hands, putting it to the side. "We can figure this out by ourselves. It can't possibly be that difficult," he stated, sitting down at the table next to you.

He'd almost wished he hadn't said those words so soon.

The two of you sat there for a couple minutes, trying to figure out how exactly it was that the camera functions worked. You were grateful enough that you had boxes of cartridges to go through, considering that you'd almost went through one in testing this whole thing out. "Go see if that one worked," Miguel pointed over to the one processing on the table, his focus on the camera almost admirable. "This would go by a whole lot easier if you weren't so reluctant to use the manual."

"I refuse. I promise it'll work this time."

"It's almost like manuals were included in the box for situations like this," you muttered under your breath, noticing the subtle scoff he let out.

If the two of you were in any other situation, you might've found this a bit humorous. The two of you struggling with a simple enough camera while he dealt with complicated tech at a super fancy genetics facility and you dealt with cameras that had much more to them. "It did not work," you grumbled, only seeing your reflection peering back at you through the black photograph. If you squinted enough, at least you could see the silhouette of both of your figures. That counted as progress, right?

"Maybe it might be time to reconsider using the manual?" You suggested, your voice raising up a couple octaves as you tried to coax him into the idea.

"We don't need a manual. I'm a genius and you're an expert in cameras. We should be able to figure this out."

He twisted the lens of the camera onto the symbol with the home on it, deciding to test it out since it was the only one left. Miguel pointed at the fruit bowl that the two of you had been using as a practice model, clicking on the button. The whirr of the camera followed, the photograph coming out almost immediately. You slipped it out when it was halfway through, setting it down on the table to wait for it to process. "How's it going at the photography studio? Is your boss still being stingy?"

"It's gotten absurd. I had a client come in this last Monday and he immediately swept in to tell him that I don't have any experience," you couldn't help but feel annoyance when thinking back to the scenario, knowing pretty well that your portfolio was just as good as any of the other interns'. If not, even better.

"How are you supposed to get any experience if he's not giving it to you?"

You gave a small shrug in response, that being the same question that you asked yourself repeatedly. Every opportunity to advance at the studio had been ripped away from you, yet you couldn't bring yourself to quit. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was just that you'd gotten complacent staying in the same position for a couple years now. "Obviously you didn't ask for my opinion, but I think you should quit if he continues like this," Miguel offered quietly, his hand coming up to your shoulder.

"I'll think about it," you told him after a couple seconds of silence, contemplating his words. You knew he was right, deep down you did know. But what if other companies saw you as the mediocre photographer that this company did? The thought was just too much to handle. You looked over at the photograph once it was finished processing, noticing that the fruit bowl had been perfectly captured. "It worked!" You sounded a little too excited, handing over the photograph for him to examine his work.

"Now, let's take one together," is what you said about two minutes ago.

He ended up sitting down on a chair, one of your arms wrapped around him as the two of you looked into the camera. "How much longer? My cheeks are starting to hurt," you asked him through the smile you were trying so hard to maintain. "Hold on, I'm just trying to find the button," he muttered, the subtle scratch of his nail hitting the camera as he searched for the button. You'd barely heard the click from the button, immediately blinded by the flash shooting directly at the both of you.

Was this how your clients felt? Maybe you'd stop getting on their ass for capturing a majority of their photos with their eyes closed. Realistically you knew you wouldn't though. Seriously, how hard was it for them to keep their eyes open for four seconds? Miguel blinked slowly, putting the camera down on the table. "Pretty sure I just burned my retinas with that one," he muttered, taking the photo out and setting it on a placemat for it to develop. "Ditto."

"Hey, can I keep the photo? I'm thinking of putting it in my wallet," he asked once you were done adorning the blank space with stars and little hearts. You handed the photo over to him when he was done pulling out his wallet, noticing how gentle he was at handling the photo so it wouldn't bend. An array of photos were inside of his wallet, most of them Gabriella. One from when she was a baby to one where she was holding up a diploma for her kinder graduation.

"Te ves tan hermosa. I swear, that camera doesn't do you enough justice," he mused, looking down at the photograph that adorned the back of his wallet. Though he wouldn't be able to deny that the way you smiled in the picture was an image that would stay engrained in his brain for as long as he lived. "Thank you for getting it for me regardless. I know it wasn't much of an easy task," you responded, watching as he went over to fridge. (you look so beautiful)

"Gabriella and I baked you a cake. Well, more like she put the ingredients and mixed it and I just did the heavy work," he told you, bringing the plate with the cake over. You looked over, seeing the cake sprinkled with an ungodly amount of sprinkles and the writing on the frosting a bit crooked. Yet the fact that they'd both taken the time made you heart swell. "It's the prettiest cake I've ever seen. Tell her I said thank you," you gave him a smile, stepping up so he could lean over and light the candles up on the cake.

"Don't smush my head into the cake," you warned him, hovering slightly above the cake. His laughter echoed throughout the apartment, standing across from you with the camera pointed towards you. "Not sure how I would manage that but noted," he responded, putting the camera up to his eye and angling it. "You'd find a way," you muttered, blowing out the candles. You wafted the smoke fumes coming up, starting to take out the candles. "Que lo parta, que lo parta," Miguel chanted in the background when you went to cut the cake.

"Thank you. You've just left me with dessert for the rest of the week," you called out from the kitchen, setting the remaining cake in the fridge. You grabbed  your plate from the table, going over to the couch where he'd sat down. "What movie did you end up picking out?" You asked, already expecting it to be some kind of sci-fi movie. Maybe thriller if you were lucky. "Some old romance movie, supposed to be good. La La Land," he answered, taking a bite from his cake. You wiped some of the frosting with your thumb, licking it off afterwards.

"No new movies out in theaters?"

"Well, it's not that. They're just hard to enjoy with all the AI writing and all the CGI. It just doesn't feel like I'm actually watching a movie with real actors, y'know?" If you had to guess, you'd probably say that he was right. Majority of the behind the scenes shots that you've seen for recent movies have just shown robots on set, only around two people actually present. It all just felt so.. emotionless. A repeat of the same movie over and over again just with different characters.

His thumb drew lazy circles on your thigh while Sebastian and Mia were seated at the movie theatre. "I wanted to run something by you, see what you thought about it," he started off, already looking at you when you turned to face him. You really hoped this wasn't the start of a break up speech. "Gabriella's really important to me, as I'm sure you're aware. And now that we're starting to get serious, I'd like for you to meet her," were not the words you were expecting from that sentence, but you weren't upset at them.

The thought of meeting his little girl was something that intrigued you and scared you shitless at the same time. What if she thought you were making some futile attempt to replace her mom? What if she ran you out of the house throwing eggs at you? You took a deep breath, trying to think of the positives. Miguel had done nothing but describe her as well-behaved, there would be no reason for her to act up. You'd just have to reassure her that you wanted to love her, not replace her mother in any form. "I'd love to meet her."

"This defeats the purpose of the movie, y'know?" He pointed out when you sat on his lap, your legs on either sides of his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails gently raking against the curls on the nape of his neck. "Is that a complaint that I'm hearing, Mr. O'Hara?" You whispered against his lips, his chest rumbling as he laughed. "Not at all," he sounded breathless as he spoke, his hands coming down to rest on your hips. He let out a small groan when you leaned in, the taste of frosting lingering on his lips.

You'd barely registered the sound of his phone buzzing in the background, only breaking away from the kiss when he did. He pulled it out of his pocket, letting out a small groan. "It's my ex wife. Just give me a second," he whispered, placing the phone up to his ear. You could make out a couple words from her frantic yelling, nothing that would give you a clue to what was going on though. "I'm not processing the information any better with you yelling in my ear," Miguel sounded much different with his ex wife, a tone he'd never used with you.

After receiving a couple more pieces of context based on what Miguel was telling Dana to do, you were able to decipher that Gabriella was currently running a fever along with a cold. "I'll come by to pick her up along with some medicine, okay?" He'd simply stated after Dana spent around two minutes talking to him. "Yes and groceries too," he added, albeit a bit reluctantly before hanging up the phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a small resigned sigh. He'd even called off work tomorrow to spend a lazy morning with you.

"I have to go," he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, tapping on the side of your thigh. You got off him, standing up to walk him out the door. "Stay safe. Call me when you get home," you told him before he left, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I will, I promise. I'll text you the details for next week, okay?" He called out, starting to head down the sidewalk. You waited until he wasn't visible anymore to go back inside, starting to clean up a couple smudges of frosting on the table.

You ended up watching the rest of the movie in the comfort of your couch, lying to yourself about the tears in your eyes. He'd mentioned the movie being somewhat of a romance but he'd forgotten to disclose the important detail- that it was a tragic romance. Just the fact that they had everything that they could've wanted except for each other just made it all the more painful to watch. In order to distract yourself, you pulled your phone out to see if Miguel had texted you. After all, it'd been about thirty minutes since he left.

Maybe he'd forgotten. You tried to assure yourself that maybe it was the last thing on mind given that Gabriella was sick, that he was capable of taking care of himself. There wasn't any way he'd willingly break the promise that he made to you, right? You even tried turning off your phone and toggling with the data button on it to see if was just that your phone hadn't received the message. But upon turning your phone on, you only saw the same three notifications on your screen from a couple hours back.

You'd call him tomorrow. Check up on Gabriella and him on the process. The thought of him ghosting you came to mind, though it didn't last for very long. He'd been very upfront when it came to telling you the things that displeased him in the relationship. He wouldn't just up and leave without an explanation. Plus, the two of you were doing great and he wouldn't have suggested meeting Gabriella if he wanted to break up. Things were good. You just had to keep repeating that until all the worries in your head disappeared.

Things were good.

So why is it that a week later every single one of your phone calls was getting straight to voicemail?

"Hey Miguel, I know that you're busy with work and whatnot but can you just call me back so I know you're not dead?" You were pacing in the middle of your living room, feeling yourself slowly start to unravel with every automated response that you received. "Okay, well I love you. Please just call me back whenever you have the time," you ended the call, staring at the blank screen before testing your luck again for what seemed to be the 70th time.

"This is Miguel O'Hara speaking. Please state your reason for calling and I'll try to get back to you," you practically spoke with the machine, having memorized it after the nth time of hearing it. It was pointless to leave another message, the deep part of your subconscious was aware of that. And yet, you couldn't help yourself. "Hey, Miguel. I'm sorry about all the calls. Can you just tell me if I did something wrong or something instead of ignoring me? Please," you sounded pathetic to your own ears.

You waited until the designated two days passed by until you called the police department in your precinct, inquiring about any missing reports for Miguel. "Look I don't know how many times you want me to check the damn system but for the fourth time, there's no missing persons report filed for a Miguel O'Hara," the officer sounded agitated on the line, though rightfully so. You'd asked him for the fourth time before he snapped. You hung up, trying other PD's and hospitals. Only to get no results.

Maybe it was a stupid way to cope with the fact that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. But you couldn't help but call him just to be able to hear his voice on the ringtone, even if he did sound apathetic when speaking. That was until a couple weeks passed by, "Number is disconnected or no longer in service," was the response that you'd received instead of the voicemail that you'd gotten so used to. "No, come on," you muttered to yourself, trying to assure yourself it was a mistake. But upon calling again, you quickly realized that it was not.

Even as the years passed by, you found yourself unable to move on from him. It'd gotten to the point where your friends had to step in, staging an emergency intervention under the pretense of going out for drinks one night. As much as you understood their point and their reasons for believing that you were slightly delusional, you still refused to let him go. His clothes still lingered in the back of your closet, the fresh scent of his cologne still present when you pressed your face against it.

You had no idea what happened to him, and that was partially what kept you from moving on. There was no type of closure, no logical reason for him to leave you or any problems in between the two of you. So you stuck to your selfish, hopeless dream. The dream that one day you'd wake up for work and he'd be knocking on the other side of the door, cup of coffee in hand with a croissant bag in the other. Maybe it was the fact that he'd made you feel loved in a relationship. The person that understood you just by your tics and facial expressions.

"Maybe he just.. doesn't want to make this harder for you," your friend hesitated when you'd picked up a newspaper on your way out the subway. Miguel's face had been on the front of the cover, looking as stoic as ever. Even as he was getting an award for a groundbreaking experiment. As a photographer, you could tell that the lighting wasn't flattering on his skin, the color palette washing him out. But still, you tried to push that thought to the side as the reminder that he was still living out there peacefully without you lingered.

"He'll come back," you muttered, though the words didn't sound believable anymore. You could tell your friend wanted to say something else by the skeptical look on their face, but they simply just offered a hug. "Look, when you're ready to move on, I'll be here to help you," they whispered, rubbing your back. The two of you got a couple sideway glances from the others walking down the street, but you couldn't help but want this hug to last longer. You needed some kind of warmth in your life.

The one good thing that had come out of this situation though was that you finally decided to take his advice and quit your job. You'd spent weeks going from studio to studio, rejection getting thrown in your face a couple times. Each rejection started stinging less and less, simply becoming another name on your list. Though a majority of the studios that rejected you was due to a lack of space, giving you plenty of connections to reach out to though. After a while of submitting job applications, a couple of them managed to land.

Which is how you came to work at the studio you're working at now. While it was slightly painful to do, the copious amounts of ass kissing that you did to your superiors helped you move up the ranks rather quickly. Well that and the diversity in your portfolio, the main point that your employer made sure to highlight. The way that you were able to capture objects and people, capturing them in a way that made the subject interesting no matter what it was. It was nothing mediocre. You knew that now.

Along with the job, the studio offered a couple refresher courses that you took full advantage of. While your skill wasn't bad by any means, you were still determined to get better at it. The courses went over from a range of subjects such as color contrasts, the rule of thirds, and different editing programs that didn't mess with the quality of the photos.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your gaze immediately going to the necklace adorning your neck. You've been trying to talk yourself into finally taking it off for the last couple months, trying to convince yourself that it was necessary to move on. Your alarm clock blared in the background as a reminder that you were about to late for work, but you stayed still. But taking the necklace off would mean that you'd accepted he wouldn't be coming back. Is that something you'd be willing to do?

You brought your hands to the nape of your neck, reaching for the clasp. Just take it off. It would be simple. Stuffing it in the back of your bathroom drawer, never having to look at it again. Never having to be reminded of the nice memories associated with it. You dropped your hand from the clasp, letting out a small groan. "I'll do it tomorrow," it was the same thing you told yourself in the mirror every day, knowing pretty damn well that you weren't going to actually do it.

Even the meaningless distractions and the amount of clothing that you'd bought for yourself after acquiring an actual paying position at the studio did nothing to fix the empty void. Everything just felt so gray, so static. You'd found yourself missing the most minute things of your routine with Miguel, from brushing your teeth together at the sink after he'd just spent the night to the subtle scratch of his stubble after a couple days of not shaving. You missed having someone to talk to about whatever crossed your mind with little fear of judgement. You missed him.

No number of heels or jewelry that you'd splurge on would heal that.

You checked your watch on your way up the elevator, practically hearing the ticking of it as you were reminded you were late. Probably shouldn't have stopped at that new café that just opened up on the corner of your house. Though the taste of the buttery croissant melting in your mouth almost made any complaints coming your way worth it. You stuffed the last piece in your mouth before approaching your office, wiping away any crumbs that lingered on your shirt.

"I have a meeting scheduled here for... Xina?" You read off the calendar on your tablet, looking up for some kind of confirmation. What you hadn't expected to see was Miguel standing there by her side, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A ticked off expression on his face to top off the cake that this morning was turning out to be.

"You're late," the same tone that he'd used with Dana all those years ago, one of agitation and frustration was now the one that he'd used with you. For the amount of times that you spent criticizing the woman over her decisions, you wouldn't have expected for you to get treated the same way.

You really wanted to be annoyed, demand for an explanation. You'd planned out this moment in your head for years, after all. But upon standing in front of him once more, you felt your mouth dry up. It didn't help that he looked more devastatingly handsome than the last time you saw him. His hair had grown a bit, slight curls forming at the nape of his neck. While he wasn't weak by any means when the two of you were together, his muscles were practically close to ripping the stitching in his black button down top.

The gold Virgencita necklace he had did nothing to help out your case. It was only accentuated by the dark fabric. On his wrist, you could notice a couple beaded bracelets. Each with their own sentence in them, ranging from 'best dad' to 'te quiero mucho.' Well that was if you weren't misreading them while they were upside down. Surely the work of his daughter. Though the thing that had caught your attention the most was the gold band around his ring finger, a sign of his commitment to the woman next to him.

You really needed to stop staring before they got any weird vibes from you. You could do that. You could separate your personal feelings from your work.

"It's just a few minutes, Miguel," the woman next to him spoke, the harshness in his glare losing all intensity when she reached over to hold his hand. He let out a small sigh, almost forcing himself to calm down before nodding slightly. You shook both of their hands, willing yourself not to clasp Miguel's fingers within your own. To feel the slight roughness of his calluses that you'd grown used to. That wasn't something you could do anymore.

"Before we started, would any of you all like something to drink? We have tea, water, and some coffee. Though I wouldn't recommend the coffee," you could play the role of a stranger too, a forced smile making its way onto your face. You felt it falter a couple times but you were quick to school your expression back to normal before anyone could notice.

"No, thank you," Xina responded, placing her hands on the table to scoot her chair in. You caught a glimpse of the diamond ring adorning her finger, if that was even a proper name for it. You had an idea Miguel was rich, but you'd never expect him to be THAT rich. The lights reflected off the diamond, a rainbow hue present on the table.

"I'm alright, thanks," Miguel didn't even bother to look at you while he spoke, his attention solely on the woman next to him. His hand reached out to where hers sat, holding it tenderly. His thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. The same way that he used to do to you.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you happen to have any snacks?" The little girl by his side chimed in, the same little girl you'd seen on those photographs from long ago. Well, now she wasn't exactly too little. She did, however, resemble every bit of Miguel. Even more so now than in the photos you had the pleasure of seeing before.

"Mija, if you eat snacks now you won't be hungry for when we go out to eat later."

"I'll still be hungry, I promise!" Even you knew that it was false, but Miguel found himself being unable to deny the little girl anything. He pulled his wallet out, glimpses of those photos from years ago still visible. Tinted yellow from the time that'd passed by. You couldn't help but peer inside as discreetly as you could, hoping to catch a glimpse of the polaroid in the back. He hastily shut his wallet when he caught you staring at it, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans.

Something to confirm that you hadn't just imagined the time that you spent together with him all those years ago. The only photos you saw in his wallet though were those of Gabriella and one of him with his fiancée, surely celebrating their engagement by the pose in the picture. Xina sticking her hand out to the camera, a flashing smile on her face as she looked over at the camera. You couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest when you glanced over at Miguel in that photo, his eyes only locked on her.

A look of adoration that you'd only imagined in fairytales. The way that he looked at her like she was the only woman that mattered in the world. You were snapped out of your trance when you heard his wallet thud shut, looking over at Gabriella when she walked over to Miguel instead. He had a five dollar bill sticking out of his hand, keeping it in his grasp while he finished speaking, "Alright, go get yourself a light snack. And get the nice lady something if she wants."

Nice lady.

That's what you were reduced to now? Just as the lady that treated him with basic manners?

"I will, thank you!" Gabriella yelled out from the hall, practically dashing out the door the second he handed her the money. You pushed any lingering thoughts aside, excusing yourself from the table before going after Gabriella. You found her skipping in the hallway on the way to the vending machine, humming a song to herself on the way.

"I didn't actually have to get anything. I just wanted to talk to you," now that came as a surprise. As far as you knew, Gabriella only knew that Miguel was dating someone in the past.

"Me? Why me?"

She reached for the pocket on the front of her overall, taking out a polaroid. You didn't have to look at it to know what it was. And yet you did, a small smile present on your face at the sight of how happy you and Miguel looked once. The words at the bottom had faded away, leaving grey markings in their wake. "I found it in the trash. I thought I should keep it," she told you, your eyes widening slightly. He wouldn't do that, not after he said he'd value it. But what reason would Gabriella have to lie?

"My dad acted strange for a while. He stopped reading me bedtime stories and putting smiley faces on my food," the little girl sounded melancholy as she spoke, reaching up to put the bill in the machine.  Now that sounded more like the Miguel that you were accustomed to, not the man that was currently in your office. "But he used to talk nicely about you. How I'd love to spend time with you and get to know you. I'm sorry that we didn't get to that."

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes things just happen, y'know?" Even if you yourself knew nothing of what exactly happened, you decided to test that out to reassure her. She gave a small nod in response, pressing a button on the machine before a bag of chips dropped down.

"Thought you weren't hungry."

"Well, I lied to him and it'd be pretty obvious if I showed up empty handed." Smart kid.

"I don't know if we should stick with this photographer. I caught her staring at my wallet a couple seconds too long," you heard Miguel through the thin walls complain to his wife, that same tone of annoyance lingering in his voice. He really couldn't tolerate you, huh.

"She was probably just looking at the photos you have in there, don't stress out about it too much. She's the best we'll find with this time crunch."

The conversation came to a halt when you and Gabriella stepped into the room, the crinkling of chips a stark comparison to the quietness. You went over to your bookcase, grabbing your planning binder before going back to your seat across from them. You flipped over to a clean page, playing with the end of your pen as you tried to distract yourself from the reality of the situation. The same ex who'd practically disappeared from the face of the earth was now facing you. Requiring your services.

"We were wondering if we could establish something like a photo booth where the guests could go to take photos rather than it just being a quinceañera situation," Miguel spoke up, looking directly at you. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of something, just the slightest bit of something that would tell you that you weren't just a stranger to him. Maybe not longing but some sort of recognition? But you received nothing. Not even a form of silent acknowledgment that you were still wearing the damn necklace.

"Alright, we can do that," you scribbled down the notes, just the request making you recall the countless complaints that you've had to deal with about a couple of your interns. That the guests couldn't even get a spoonful in without having some fear that a camera would instantly flash in their eyes. "And how would you like the arrangement to be for the both of you? Photos straight out of the chapel and throughout the ceremony or just the photo booth?"

"Well for the two of us, we'd like some photos of us outside of the chapel." Alright, all you had to do was arrange the photo booth before you made your way over to the church to take their photographs. That sounded manageable. You annotated the time that the ceremony and reception would start, writing down a couple possibilities for the time required. You were getting paid by the hour, after all.

"I'd prefer if you could make it something low light. My eyes get sensitive with bright lights," Miguel spoke up, waiting for you to write down the notes before leaning back in his chair. You'd never heard him complain about something like that when you used him as the muse for your photos, but a lot of things were different about him now. You didn't know him anymore. A fact that you had to resign to yourself to.

"How'd the two of you meet, if you don't mind me asking?" It was clear that they mind the question. Silence lingered in the room, both of their stares equally judging. Think. Think. Think. What would be a reasonable excuse for letting your nosiness get in the way of remaining professional?

"I was just wondering since we could set up the booth with something reminiscent of that moment. A couple coffee shaped figures if it was a coffee shop. Books if it was a library. Like a cute little easter egg," you almost had to commend yourself for coming up with that lie so fast. You looked over at Gabriella, seeing her give you a thumbs up on the middle of her trying to watch a YouTube video. Okay, maybe the situation had been salvaged.

"We used to be friends, though we hadn't contacted each other in a while. Before she came into my life as my fiancée, my life just felt very empty. She brought me purpose and a reason to come back home every night," you gripped the pen in your hands as he spoke, almost surprised that the glass didn't shatter. Empty? Empty? Were you just a piece of chopped liver? Maybe you'd gone crazy for real this time around and just imagined yourself dating him. Yeah.

Just coincidentally dated someone who looked exactly like him. You'd be lucky if you didn't go mad by the end of this meeting if your thoughts continued to stray in this direction. You could've sworn you heard a slight crack in the pen you were holding, forcibly loosening your grip on it even though it was the only thing anchoring you down. Just take a couple deep breaths. Go to your happy place. Wait no. That wouldn't work if your happy place was in a beach in the Bahamas with Miguel, right?

Nope. Definitely not.

"Well he comes home most of the time, but y'know how it is with geneticists," Xina remarked, her gaze going over to the pen in your hand before going back up to your face.

"You have no idea," you found yourself muttering, unable to stop the words from coming out. You didn't even have to look over at Gabriella this time to know that she was subtly giving you a thumbs down.

"I'm sorry?"

"Forget it, just a stupid comment." Though she seemed skeptical towards the comment, she decided to leave it be for now.

The rest of the meeting flowed very smoothly, a majority of the conversation staying on work related topics. The other portions had been Xina talking about just how lucky she was to get you as a photographer, how thankful she was for Miguel. "He's just been so supportive throughout this whole process, letting me take reigns of the planning," she'd told you, her face gleaming as she spoke of him. An expression similar to contentment washed over Miguel's face as he watched speak, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Alright, that'll be all. Thank you for coming to meet with me today," you told the both of them once the plans had been set into stone. You rose up from your seat, the three of them following suit.

"Thank you, it was very nice to meet you," Xina extended her hand out towards you, a polite smile on her face. You shook her hand, returning the pleasantries with as much cheerfulness as you could muster. Which wasn't that much, now that you think about it. But she hadn't noticed anything too strange about your expression so that was slightly reassuring. She and Gabriella left the room, leaving you and Miguel together.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. O'Hara. My apologies for being late," to which he simply gave a curt nod before making his way to the exit. You went to fix your binder and pens, looking up only when you hadn't heard the click of the door.

Before he had the chance to step out, he stopped and stood by the doorstep to turn around and look at you. You were stuck in between wanting to bask in his presence for just a little bit longer and wanting him to leave. Why couldn't he just leave with the new family he was forming and leave you out of it? He looked like he was trying to see if he recognized you, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. "I'm sorry if this comes off as a weird question, but have we met before? You seem familiar."

You almost wanted to laugh at the situation. How funny it was that the man you'd swore was the one you were probably gonna end up getting married to was the same one who didn't recognize you now? The same one that spent hours on his knees, devoting himself to worshipping and memorizing every feature of your body. That loved every aspect of yourself, even the aspects that you once thought were unlovable.

While seeing him now was the epitome of painful, knowing that he hadn't even bothered to consider you while he'd gone off to start a new life, this was what you needed to move on. The hope that you once had of him coming home, holding you close to his chest with countless apologies slowly dwindled down throughout this meet before extinguishing completely. You had slowly come to accept how stupid it was to wait for him.

It would've been easy to say yes, to tell him that you were his ex-girlfriend. But the image of the small smiles that he shot at Xina throughout the meeting still stuck in your head, making you consider that decision longer than you should've. You looked up from your notes, realizing that he was still waiting for your answer. After some hesitation, you eventually decided on, "No, I don't believe we've met before. You have me confused with someone else."

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