lover of all things sparkly and pink, also lover of miguel o’hara and his phat ass. pls check my req guidelines before following / requesting ! — if you’re under 18, pls don’t interact with any nsfw contents .
check out the alt → @mwahsquared 𓆩♡𓆪
CURRENTLY INACTIVE.
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masterlist. request guidelines. get to know cici !
p.s : if there are ever any issues with anything — links, request, etc — feel free to msg me !
[ triple photo divider credit : me ♡ - bunny & ribbon divider credit : idk who owns it sorry :( - bottom divider credit : @mewryn ]
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you wake up to your boyfriend leon leaving in the middle of the night for the 3rd time that week.
a/n: this is my first time writing leon! i’ve watched many gameplays but i’ve never played, so i tried my best to keep it character accurate. respectful feedback is appreciated. i hope you like it! slightly inspired by back to me by the marias. ⊹ ࣪ ˖
angst (but with a tinge of fluff?)
you wake up to the sound. the bed is still warm where leon should be, and the sheets are faintly rumpled like he hesitated before leaving. somewhere in your apartment you hear a careful whisper of movement—sounds you’ve memorized by now; the sound of leon’s jacket being slowly pulled onto his shoulders; a zipper guided shut with practiced restraint; he’s trying not to wake you, but he always does.
you turn onto your side and let your cheek sink into the pillow. you keep listening and hear another familiar sound; the muted clink of his holster being lifted from the dining room chair. he lets out a soft exhale, the kind he does when thinks he’s alone. for a moment, you consider calling out his name, letting him know you’re awake, asking him to stay just a little longer. you never end up doing it.
he steps back into the bedroom, pausing at the doorway. it’s so dark that you can only see his silhouette, but even if it were just the shape of his ears, you’d know it’s your leon. you can feel his eyes on you, heavy with something unsaid. he walks closer, trying his best to step softly even though he already knows you’re awake. the mattress dips as he sits beside you, and you see him reach out. his fingers brush hair out of your face, then your shoulder—his hand is rough yet warm, familiar, grounding. a silent promise. a thank you. an apology all wrapped into one. his hand rises back to your face and it’s almost big enough to hold it in its entirety. he softly grazes the skin under your eyes and rubs your cheek with his thumb a few times.
“i’ll be back before sunrise.” is all he says, then he gets up and leaves.
by the time the door clicks shut behind him, you’re staring at the ceiling, heart steady despite the hollow ache. you know where he’s going. you know why he can hardly stay one full night. so, you let sleep take you again, trusting that the space he leaves behind is only temporary.
you let him go because you understand, and you always did. that alone is one reason why he always comes back—because you’re the only person who never asked for more.
Summary: James is older than you so he thinks he knows better.
Prompt: friends to lovers - "No one has made me smile like you do."
Warnings: steamy ❤️🔥
JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST
BLURB MASTERLIST
~ hope you like this! @alz14 ~
You know James Potter through your older brother, and you like him. You've always liked him, and you've never done much to hide your affections. Even in school, when you were just a naïve second year and James was a "mature" sixth year, you harbored the most obvious of infatuations that your brother teased you about incessantly.
Now that you've just turned twenty and James is almost twenty-five, your feelings have grown, and for your late birthday present, you want a kiss.
Luckily for you, your birthday falls around Christmas—meaning no one bats an eyelash when someone kisses under mistletoe.
"Jamsie—" you sing-song, padding across your brother's apartment in your slipper socks as he hosts a small, early Christmas gathering with his friends. Naturally, you invited yourself, because really, this was a marvelous opportunity.
James, who's known of your feelings since he was a boy, brings his mug of hot chocolate to his lips, grinning to himself when he hears you. He turns around, raising an eyebrow as he sees you standing in front of him in your sparkly red dress, the contrast jarring against your fuzzy pink socks. You're holding mistletoe over both of your heads and fake a shocked expression.
"Oops," you say, jingling the little bell attached to the mistletoe.
James sighs. He thought he knew all your tricks by now, but this one was new. "Hello, bunny," he whispers, lowering your arm. You pout at him, and he shakes his head, tapping your nose condescendingly with his index finger.
"I am not that stupid."
"It's tradition," you argue, crossing your arms. You look around the room. "C'mon, no one is watching us. One kiss."
"No. You're just a kid." James stops you from leaning in by resting his hands on your hips to keep you still. He looks at you, his eyes shining as he takes in how grown-up you look. Damn, you're certainly not a kid anymore, he thinks.
"I'm twenty," you tell him sternly. "We aren't that far apart in age. You just make it a big deal."
James chuckles. "It is a big deal. I'm older, and I'm your brother's best friend. It's wrong."
You huff, staring at him through your eyelashes as you slowly raise your arm again, rustling the mistletoe, and smile at him. "One kiss," you whisper, your nose nuzzling his as you stand on your tiptoes, your free hand holding his strong, muscular arm.
James's chest heaves as he takes you in. You're stunning, and he wants you, but he knows he can't have you.
He begins to shake his head and in your hurry, you go to kiss his cheek. The movement of James's head messes up your calculations, and you kiss the side of his mouth, your soft lips touching his, and a coil suddenly snaps inside him.
His eyes widen, and just as you move to pull away, his hands leave your hips and he's cupping your cheeks, pulling you back in.
You're still holding up the mistletoe as he kisses you back, and after a moment, you finally lower your arm and wrap it around James's neck. James is quick to push you into your brother's small bathroom, knocking stuff over as he sits you on the sink, his hands continuing to explore you as he devours you.
"Jamie," you whisper as he pulls away, his breathing harsh. James's eyes are dark with lust.
"Bloody hell," he mutters, pushing himself away, reality sinking in as he sees the strap of your dress hanging over your shoulder and the flushed expression on your face.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thinks.
"Your brother is going to murder me."
"He doesn’t have to know," you say, hooking your heel behind James's leg, pulling him back in as you keep your leg hooked around his hip. You groan when he's close and look up at him. "More," you say. "I've wanted you for so long, James. Please."
You're begging, and James is losing his mind. How can he resist your begging?
He doesn't. He crashes his lips onto yours, and this time, his hands slip up under your pretty dress, feeling the wetness of your panties. "Shit," he smirks, playing with you for a while, his fingers experienced. His lips trail down your neck, careful not to leave any marks your brother might see.
"So needy for me," his voice sounds breathless.
You nod, holding him closer, feeling yourself lower your defenses and let him in. "Y-yes," you whisper. "No one has ever made me feel like this, James."
"And no one has ever made me smile like you have," he says in your ear, kissing your cheek as he lowers your dress back to cover you. It's a secret confession, a declaration of love, you realize, when he presses his forehead against yours and tells you, "Not now. Not like this. You deserve so much better than this."
You slide down from the sink, and James's hands find your hips as your dress rides up a little, but he ignores it. He just looks at you fondly.
"I promised myself I wouldn't fall for you," he says, tucking some hair behind your ear. "That it was stupid, considering who your brother is, but you made it so damn hard not to. All those years of you following me around like a lost puppy, that pretty smile and those shining eyes. I was doomed from the beginning, love."
"More like fated," you say automatically, your eyes locked onto his.
James laughs, then nods. "Yeah. Fated. That's the word," he says honestly, leaning down to kiss your lips, ignoring how his mind is screaming at him to stop and think of your brother and how wrong this all is—because his heart doesn't have anyone else on its mind but you.
summary: miguel o’hara found the face of the woman he had loved (and lost) in his office, donning a spider suit with a warm cup of coffee in hand for him. he knew there were no second chances, not for the both of you. still, he couldn’t help longing.
warning: a shit ton of angst… i just cannot let this man be happy, can i? death of loved ones (an alternate you and gabi).
note: fun fact! i wrote this feverishly under my covers at 1 am. enjoy while we wait for me to finish ripping my hair out over chapter two of my miguel series <3
miguel o’hara masterlist. | gif credit. | ao3 mirror.
You were dead. Miguel knew this.
When he looked up and saw you, smiling with a warm cup of coffee in your outstretched hand, he thought he had been hallucinating.
He thought that maybe Lyla had been right— his lack of sleep and refusal to take care of himself for the sake of work finally caught up to him, but no.
You were real.
Standing there, donning the same spider emblem so many others did. His weary eyes traced over your face, taking in every detail his worn out state allowed for him to. He felt almost selfish for the first thought that came to mind.
You looked as beautiful as the day he lost you.
His heart lodged up in his throat and his eyes stung with tears as he heard the sound of a slight laugh fall from your lips.
“Well, are you gonna take the coffee or what?”
He swallowed quickly, picking his head up off of the desk he had fallen asleep on in a flash. Instinctively, he stood up straighter and brushed back his hair, some part of him still wanting to look good for you.
Miguel grabbed the coffee from you with a tentative hand, almost afraid that if he touched you, you would fade to nothing.
(Just as you had a year ago.)
He had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of his office. If it had been any brighter, he was sure you would be able to see the way his eyes glassed over, as you spoke, filling to the very brim with solemn pain.
“I’m Y/n,” You smiled, tilting your head to the side.
He almost flinched. He knew that.
“Y/n L/n.”
His chest squeezed. It had been O’Hara, once.
“Peter B. recruited me this morning and I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Of course he did. Miguel made a mental note to have a chat with his least favorite Peter Parker.
At his lack of a response, you fiddled nervously with your hands. “Um, anyway, I’ve heard that you’re a huge workaholic. I mean, you’re the one who started this whole thing, right? I just… thought you could use a little pick me up.”
You gave him a smile so warm it burned.
His face shifted with an expression that was unreadable. Too many feelings were festering inside of him. Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too many unspoken words.
His voice came out gruff. “Thanks.”
(He didn’t mean for it to.)
The smile didn’t leave your face as you nodded, taking backwards steps out of his office. “Of course, anytime. Take care of yourself, Miguel. It was nice meeting you.”
His door clicked shut and Miguel fell to his knees.
You were lying. Probably. Most likely.
The only word he said to you was thanks, that too in the least thankful voice he could have ever mustered. (God, he was an idiot, wasn’t he?)
Still, your answer was typical of your character.
You were a kind person. Someone that always sought to see below what met the eye.
You had also always been a caring figure. One that doted, poured love onto whomever you could, even in the smallest of ways.
You had been that way with Gabi— gentle hands, a guiding voice. And you had been that way with him in a way, too.
Slipping him snacks in his work bag, knowing his habit of forgetting meals. Pulling blankets over his slumped form if he ever fell asleep at his desk, knowing his tendency to drown himself in work. Giving him all the kindness you could offer, reminding him of how much you loved him, knowing his self-doubtful ways.
You were being that way now, bringing him coffee at even hearing that he overworked himself. You didn’t even know him… and yet…
Miguel’s heart felt like it was being crushed and he swallowed back a sob, eyes squeezing shut.
Seeing you alive and well was all he wished for, but he hadn’t thought about the pain that came with knowing that he could never show up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness for what he had done to you. To Gabi. To your world.
Because you weren’t his. This version of you didn’t love him, didn’t even know him.
(He supposed the other version of you didn’t exactly love him, either.)
“Lyla,”
His voice came out choked. He placed himself in front of his monitors almost robotically, hands moving absentmindedly to pull up and replay the same old home videos he tortured himself with for hours on end.
“Send out a message that I am not to be disturbed.”
𓂅
It had been an odd few months.
Miguel had spent more time with this… alternate you than he wanted, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was partially his fault.
He had made himself promise after promise, swearing to stay away from you— but you…
You were magnetic.
He was drawn to you the way planets and moons were drawn into their orbits — by a force so fundamental there was nothing that could be done to help it.
In the many missions he went on with you and in the small moments he had spent with you back at the society’s Headquarters, he had observed that you were different.
This version of you had a body that was littered with small scars, eyes that carried the certain pain that every version of Spiderman knew.
You were different, but so eerily the same.
You still laughed the way he remembered, with your whole heart, nose crinkling and eyes screwing shut. You still worried the same, always rounding into his office some way to another to check up on him. You made the same jokes, seemed to love the same things.
If anything, the small changes this new version of you possessed made him fall even more in love with you.
(He hadn’t thought that was even possible.)
Miguel had always known you were strong. But seeing that this version of you had remained softhearted — despite the many, many hardships that could have turned anyone bitter — attested to that trait even further. You were more resilient and kind than he had thought you were, and he adored you even more for it.
With the you that he had loved, he had known every nook. Every cranny. He had memorized every curve, every dip, every single part of you.
He had seen and touched and loved it all wholly, and now, some sick part of him was itching to do the same once again.
Miguel wanted to trace your scars, hear where they came from. He wanted to see every new part of you that was unfamiliar to him now, wanted to know if you still like being held the same, if your hair still smelled of lingering jasmine shampoo.
He shouldn’t be thinking about this. It was wrong. He knew it. You weren’t for him, not in this universe or any universe.
Because even the you that he had grown to love wasn’t meant to be his. He wasn’t the man that had raised your daughter, the man that had married you.
Still, what was more human than longing for what you cannot have? He had to remind himself over and over that he had tried that once.
He had reached for a happiness that was not written out for him. And the consequences…
His mind drifted to you. To Gabi.
To the way you had been close enough to touch, the way his beloved daughter had been in his arms. To the way you had both been so close and then gone like you were never there in the first place.
…The consequences had been devastating.
He would not make the same selfish mistake again. No, he wouldn’t. Happiness wasn’t for everyone, and he would force himself to live with that.
(Even if it hurt. Even if he longed for nothing more than you, you, you.)
𓂅
The mission had gone spectacularly downhill, and Miguel was in worse shape than he had ever been.
His body ached, but he bit back the pain.
He clumsily patched himself up and forced himself to carry on.
Miguel was in his office as he usually was, hunched over his monitors when you barged into the room.
“Miguel!” your voice was panicked as you made your way up to him. “Shit, shit, shit, I heard what happened. Are you okay?”
Your eyes were wide, swimming with worry, and Miguel had to force his gaze back to his screens.
“I am alive, aren’t I?”
“That’s not what I meant, I-” You let out a frustrated breath. “God, Jess told me you were almost killed and now you’re just… on your computer again!?”
“I have to file a mission report.”
“Nope. Not now.”
Before Miguel would even process your words, your hands were already looping around his arm, pulling him away from his work with all the strength your smaller frame could muster.
“You are going to rest. Now. Where is your room, do you have a bed here? Take me there, now.”
Being a man of his size and strength, Miguel could have easily resisted your pulling, but some small part of him wanted this.
(He missed being cared for. He missed your hands on his skin. He missed you and he hated himself for it.)
“Why are you doing this, Y/n. It’s the middle of the night, you should be at home.”
“And you shouldn’t?”
Fair point. That silenced him.
You stopped in your tracks, heaving in small breaths before turning to him. “C’mon now. Open a portal into your room. You need a bed and a good night’s sleep for once.”
If this were anyone else, he would have told them to get lost. Go home. Crawl back to whatever universe they had come from, but it was you.
Miguel swallowed thickly and did as you asked.
He could almost hear Lyla’s snickering. Hear the teasing remarks she would always pester him with about how down bad he was.
(You made a comment once about how the cafeteria should serve Spiderman themed burgers, so he discreetly made it happen. You said something about how you liked his webbed cape, so he made sure to always put it to use if you were around. You could probably ask for the sun as a joke one day and he just might be lovesick enough to give the impossible task a try.)
He could also hear her reminder that it was incredibly unhealthy for him to let this version of you be a temporary filler for the hole left in his heart after he lost the woman he had loved.
(The woman he was never meant to have.)
Still. He had opened the portal. Betrayed his promises to himself yet again and let you take him by the hand into his room.
His bedroom looked untouched. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep here, so it made sense.
You walked over to his bed, pulling Miguel with a small hand around his wrist, and stopped to point to the bed with a stern finger. “Change into some pajamas. Then get yourself here.”
The man grumbled, face flushing as he trudged over to his closet to grab a snug fitting cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He flicked the light on in his small bedroom bathroom and went in to change.
When he came back, pajamas and all, you were sitting on his bed, having drawn his covers back.
You caught sight of him and bolted up with a smile.
“You look nice! Er, comfortable, I mean.”
Miguel felt his heart flutter. (Was it stupid that you still had that effect on him? Probably.)
You cleared your throat and laughed nervously before giving his bed a small pat. “Sleepy time.”
Miguel didn’t know why the action felt embarrassing, why he suddenly felt shy.
He laid his head down on the soft expanse of his pillow stiffly, body rigid as he heard you shuffling around to pull up his covers.
You just about pulled them up to his shoulders when you took notice of how uncomfortable he looked.
“You look uneasy, is something the matter?”
“No.”
“Would you like a blanket instead? Or, or, a blanket with your covers?”
“No.”
“Is it too warm in here? Too cold?”
“No.”
“Did you clean yourself up right? Did you take meds for the pain?”
“No.”
“Aha! I knew it was something. You really have to start taking care of yourself, Miguel. Where do you keep your medicine? Oh! And do you have a nighttime version? It could help you sleep.”
Miguel let out a sigh, sitting himself up. He made a vague gesture towards a desk, one he hadn’t touched or used in months.
“There’s a drawer in that desk…”
“Perfect.”
You walked over, pulling the drawer out to rummage through the contents of it. “Shoot, looks like you’re out of pills. Guess you’ll have to settle for the liquid kind. Do you have a spoon?”
“Kitchen.”
“Which is… where?”
He forgot. You didn’t live with him, you didn’t know this home.
“If you open the door here and, uh, walk right.”
“Okay,” You nodded, giving him a soft smile before walking out. “be back in a sec.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quietly to himself as soon as you were out of earshot. Dios, he felt stupid. How could he forget?
Maybe you were right, maybe he did need to start taking care of himself. His head felt foggy. His back was tight, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.
You returned with a spoon in hand, clicking his bedroom door shut as you walked towards him.
“I don’t want to spill any, so I’m just gonna…”
You were in front of him, pouring the medicine into the spoon, and then your hand was on his shoulder, steadying yourself so you don’t let it spill.
He was sure he’d scold himself in the morning for what he was doing, but just for now… just this once… he let himself melt into your touch.
His muscles visibly relaxed as he downed the tart tasting liquid. He let out a sigh as you pulled the spoon back from his lips. (Hand still on his shoulder, he noted.)
You bit your lip, brows knitting together as your eyes traced over his face. “I’m serious, Miguel, you need to start letting yourself rest.” You gave his shoulder a small squeeze and his heart was beating so hard he could hear it thumping in his ears. “Work is important, but so are you, okay?”
In that moment, Miguel almost felt like you loved him, like you were the woman who had been his wife.
Maybe if you stayed one night, if you curled up beside him and let him hug you from behind just this once, you could love him again, you could be his the way he would always be yours and the two of you could be happy.
Stay,
He wanted to say.
Please, stay.
But he wouldn’t allow himself to.
There were no second chances, not for the both of you.
Instead, he let himself say the things he so badly wanted you to hear in a way you wouldn’t understand.
“Perdóname, querida.” His voice was a mumble, barely above a whisper. “Te decepcioné, lo siento mucho, cariño.”
“S-Sorry, I don’t know much Spanish.” Your voice was almost self-conscious.
He gave you a small, tired smile. Eyes fond as they met yours. “Thank you.”
His voice was soft, almost gentle. He said it in a way that actually sounded thankful, this time.
You smiled and retracted your hand from his shoulder, assuming that those two words were what he had said to you in his native tongue.
“I said anytime, remember? You don’t have to thank me.”
You walked over to his desk and set down both the spoon and medicine bottle on its surface, sparing him one last look up and down before fiddling with the device around your wrist, opening up a portal. You looked at him one last time before swinging back into your dimension.
“Good night, Miguel.”
And just like that, you were gone. His room was once again cold, devoid of your warmth, and he was once again alone.
Miguel let himself fall back onto his bed. Limbs heavy, heart heavier.
He shut his eyes, and just as he always did whenever he let himself drift off into a rare slumber, he dreamt of Gabi.
And he dreamt of you.
translations. please note that i do not speak spanish! i found these translations and words using the internet. if there are any errors, please please let me know! <3
Dios (God) , Perdóname (Forgive me) , querida (beloved or darling) , Te decepcioné (I let you down) , lo siento mucho (I am so sorry) , cariño (darling, dear, or honey)
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Fem Reader giving Birth to Miguel's child and after a few minutes of Reader holding her he holds her and immediately does skin to skin contact with the baby (idk this just would be so sweet🥲)
♡ — love at first boop : miguel is head over heels for his two special girls.
husband!miguel x fem!reader
contents : husband miguel being the sweeeetest father ever, pure fluff tbh ♡
16 long hours of unadulterated, excruciating pain.
giving birth has always been what scared you the most about being pregnant — oh, and being a mother. but you’re not one for pain, so to have a loving husband who’s willing to whisper loving and encouraging nothings into your ears and with two strong hands to squeeze, that is privilege.
your mind was so fuzzy throughout the entire thing, though you could make out miguel’s voice muttering how much he loves you and how incredible you were doing. as if it really did much to alleviate the pain..
but by the time it was over, 1000 pounds was lifted off your shoulders, and all you could think of was being able to hold your new born baby girl in your arms.
“here she is mama, all cleaned up.” the nurse said, a bright smile spread from cheek to cheek. the sight took your breath away — the cutest baby with the sweetest little nose and gorgeous scarlet eyes, just like her dad’s. you held her to your chest as you sighed in relief.
“my angel,” you exhale, shutting your eyes as you smile.
“papi, look.” you say, gesturing for miguel, who’d been glued to your side for the last 16 hours.
“can i?” he asked sheepishly, holding his hands out desperately. you couldn’t say no.
just when you thought your birth-giving experience couldn’t get any better, what you saw next made your heart soar.
miguel held your baby with such caution, as if she were a doll made of fragile glass. he looked at her with stars in his eyes, a slight pinkness to his cheeks and the greatest smile you’ve ever seen, at least since your wedding day.
he had his eyes shut as he pressed his nose against hers, gently rubbing them together. “such a beautiful girl,” he whispered, bending his knees over and over and rocking her in his arms.
“my beautiful girls.” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead and looking at you. he slowly places her back into your hold, kneeling and grabbing one of your hands.
“i can’t wait to take care of her with you, cariño.” he smiled, brushing hair out of your forehead. his gaze quickly shifted to your baby’s face again.
“isn’t she beautiful?” you sigh, looking down at her too. “she even has your eyes.”
he grins. it was the first thing he noticed.
“you’re gonna be an amazing mother, y/n.”
“and you’re already the most amazing father, miguel. she’s already stolen your heart,” you kid.
miguel chuckles as he raises your hand and softly kisses it.
hii i just wanted to say that you write sooo well and like reading what you write just makes my day soooo better i really appreciate you<3 and I adore what you write soo much<3
oh my oh my. you are an angel 🥹💗
i’m so glad you enjoy my writing ! even tho i’m not very active at the moment…
i hope i continue to fill your imagination with love and joy and all things sweet ! 💗💗💗
miguel loves going to the farmers market. he believes in fresh, organic produce. he’s sick of the frozen processed shit.
but what he loves most about buying the best quality fruits is feeding them to you. preparing beautifully arranged bowls of cut fruits that resemble rainbows and a tall glass of lemon water, caressing your head as you joyously munch away on them all. he admires how carefree yet beautiful you are doing the most normal human things, like eating fruit.
he loves to kiss you when you’re finished, tasting all the sweet juices that linger on your lips. short kisses, but many. he loves these simple things with you.
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reader sleeps with a weighted teddy bear but it always falls off the bed.
miguel isn’t a heavy sleeper at all, so even the quietest thuds are enough to wake him up. he can’t even be mad at you and your loose grip, so he just picks it up and places it nice and snug between your arms and goes back to sleep.
what about talking to miguel but only with ur eyes like before he makes a decision he looks at his Fem Spidey S/o and is looking at Reader and is like "u agree with this honey?" And she nods and takes an extended blink to give her approval? And they don't say a thing it's just eye contact! I just think it'd be so cute!! Plis write some headcannons or a drabble I'd really appreciate it! 😭🙏
ଓ — shy and naïve miguel can’t think for himself when he’s overworked.
boyfriend!miguel x fem spidey!reader
contents : early days of spider society, like PRE gabi… miguel dealing with exhaustion + anxiety.
i’m not sure if this is exactly what anon wanted? but i hope you angels like this one as much as i do !!!
miguel always been one to work til he drops, that’s something that everyone knows. giving up never was and never will be an option for him, although it took him a while to gain such security within himself.
if there’s one person who miguel isn’t ashamed of asking for help from, it’s you, his long term girlfriend. you were dating long before you both became spider.. people. he doesn’t just love you. he trusts your judgement, and trust is a big thing for him. he’s never relied on somebody else’s opinion so much to the point where he’d found himself glancing at them for approval during meetings, yet there you were. sitting cutely in your self designed spidersuit with your legs criss-cross-applesauce as your head tilted while listening to miguel among your other spider-colleagues.
he was extra uncoordinated this morning, feeling a bit nervous as he proposed an idea that had never been attempted before. he was even more unable to concentrate with the lack of sleep and all. this didn’t go unnoticed either, practically everyone in the room looked at him with knitted brows as he placed ums and erms between every sentence. he felt himself growing insecure. his hesitance and exhaustion was showing and it made him feel weak, afraid of never having anyone’s respect. nothing felt right except for looking at you.
you being the only person who wasn’t throwing him a weird stare, sitting comfortably on the chair closest to his.
you who’s lips were pursed together into a flat little smile, one that miguel finds comfort in whenever he comes back from a particularly tiring fight. and your eyes, they were so kind, relaxed. you were listening patiently.
he stuttered the last sentence of his plans, but with a clearing of his throat he concluded his presentation and waited for feedback. well.. mostly your feedback.
his eyes saw nothing else but you, waiting for you to throw him one of your sweet little nods. you weren’t stupid, you knew this. you knew he was feeling a bit stumped that day. and to ensure he wasn’t embarrassed any further, you didn’t say anything. all you did was shut your eyes for a little over a second, slightly scrunching your nose and keeping that smile plastered on your face.
and to top it off, he felt your fingertip gently tapping on his knee before your whole hand was cupped around it, softly squeezing it but just tight enough for him to feel the warmth it emitted.
suddenly the man before you was back to his old self. growing confident in his words, confident that his ideas were logical, ethical. the tired and unsure miguel regained security of himself once again.
##
bonus bit : ♡
by the end of the meeting, everyone else had left the room, immediately forgetting everything miguel said and chatting away with each other. you remained planted in your seat as your eyes fixated on his shoulders. he was standing in front of a whiteboard with his arms crossed and one knee bent, the adjacent foot tapping a steady beat.
“i thought your idea was great, papi.” you said, finally getting up from your seat to place a hand on his shoulder. you could tell he was tense, still a bit upset about the outcome of the meeting.
“i’m not very good at expressing myself.” he said softly.
“you are,” you replied, rubbing up and down on his biceps, “you just need to be more confident miguel. you’re incredible and you know it, they just have to be able to hear it from the back of the room.” you said.
all he could do was turn his head slightly to look at you, and copy paste your signature pursed lip smile. he furrowed his brows tenderly, appreciating your comfort but unable to say it out loud. you knew, though, so you just smiled back.
head empty just boyfriend!miguel giving you scary dog privileges.
let’s face it, he’s a big guy. take away all his muscle and his gorgeous hair, he’s still 6’9”. he’s hella scary. and with those fangs? oh honey, don’t worry. no one is even trying to look your way.
you need to grab some laundry detergent as well as a new pack of pantyhose (because miguel had gotten carried away the previous 4 nights) but you have no time for the market until 8pm, when it’s already dark.
i like to think that miguel is the kind of man to sleep in a king sized bed; white linen sheets and pillow cases, all except for one — yours. your pink 100% silk pillow case that you had once mentioned to him when venting about your hair being ruined by cotton. he knew how much you cared about your body, head to toe, and him having wavy hair allows him to resonate with you on a different level.
it does look silly, for all his bedroom to be simple and neutral except for a small pop of pink, but it never bothered him. he knows deep down that the silky pillow case can show you how much he loves you way better than he ever could.
and not to mention, the fuzzy pink throw blanket that you continuously brought over for staying the night that eventually just became one with his bed. it’s charming, and miguel wouldn’t have his bedroom any other way.
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the problem with miguel is that he’d rather die than admit he’s in love with you but then he’s looking for a tie because he’s got an event to attend and his top drawer is now disorganised and unrecognisable. it is a mess of things that aren’t his: your bras and your socks and the missing mascara you’ve been looking for and a miscellaneous bottle of lavender-vanilla hand cream and packet sheet face masks and he thinks, oh fuck. i am absolutely smitten.
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