just so you guys know, im currently doing an account switch to @seratopia on tumblr!!! please follow me there i will be moving my shit there rn!!!! (my og blog got shadowbanned??)
modern ceo au!
thinking about how miguel touches you so often around the office that a random guy decides to do something about it
You and Miguel don’t share a workplace. He’d end up being your boss anyway, and as much as you love spending time with him, it’s not good to have a partner that also gives you your paycheck. (Plus, distance can equal longing.)
Miguel constantly insist that you stay at home, and that he’d provide you with everything you could ask for but... feminism???( /j ) You have your own job conveniently down the street from Miguel’s office; it’s more of a hobby than it really is a job, but it gets you money.
The whole building knows you as “Miguel’s Wife”; you visit often. Sometimes your visits are a surprise, others it’s when you have nothing to do so you just hang by Miguel all day. You’re blessed with free food from the cafeteria, plus the gym. It’s fun to watch Miguel work out.
Though, today was... funny.
Whenever Miguel thinks you guys are alone, he’s touchy. However, to Miguel, “alone” is just being in a room with less than 6 people in it. So, needless to say, his employees have seen things.
You’re just so pretty, so cute to him, he can’t help but just worm his way over to you whenever in sight.
Things along the lines of kisses, waist grabbing, thigh grabbing, hugs, back hugs, and even ass-slapping are a common sight to see when you’re around the office. Miguel truly, genuinely believes that he’s being sly, but that’s probably because everyone’s too scared/nice to say anything about it. Perks of being a CEO.
No one really tells the new recruits about it though, it’s just a you-see-it-and-get-used-to-it type of thing.
So imagine your surprise when someone in the office pulls you aside one day and asks if Miguel is sexually assaulting you.
Miguel’s been lingering his hands all over you today in particular, boldly sliding his big hand down towards your ass. You elbow him a little when he gets too close though, especially around a few people.
“¿Por favor, querida?“ He whines, slithering his hand back onto you.
“Oh my gosh, Miguel, no. Wait until we’re out of work.“
All is well, but Miguel has to tend to a few things, so you take it upon yourself to take a break at the cafeteria. Might as well bring him a drink while you’re at it.
Halfway through your walk there, some guy you’ve seen around taps on your shoulder and pulls you aside. He’s relatively young, has this assertive look to him. Among the quirky pins on his shirt pocket, you find an ID card labeled “INTERN.”
The worry on his own face makes you a little anxious.
“Ma’am, are you okay?“ He asks, meeting his eyes with yours. He looks serious, peering from left to right as if a secret was being exchanged.
“Uh- yeah, what do you mean?“
His voice is low, almost a whisper. “Girl, I’ve seen Miguel grope you... do you want me to call the police? I have a video right here as pr-“
A gust of relief washes over you, and you almost start to laugh. You watch as the guy starts to pull up his phone, before you stop him.
“Oh, no no no, it’s okay!“ You exclaim. “Miguel’s my husband, he’s just clingy!“
The man raises an eyebrow, concern lacing his voice. “You aren’t just saying that, right? Like, you’re really okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry. If he was actually bothering me, then I’d tell him.“ You chuckle, just to ease up the serious air a little bit.
“Ah, well if you say so... If anything happens, just let me know.“ He says.
“Yeah, thank you for the concern, though.“ You smile, and he smiles back, walking away around the corner where you assume he came from.
With a little laugh, you continue your walk towards the cafeteria, thinking deeply about the interaction. It might be time for you to tell Miguel to stop touching you often around the office, as much as you enjoy it. He’d hate despise it though.
If it weren’t for you being around so often, work life might not be as pleasant for his employees. You don’t think Miguel truly notices, but he starts getting huffy and puffy when you aren’t around to see him; people get a little more scared of him when he has this scowl on his face.
“Who was that?“
You violently flinch, yelping out loud. In one swift motion, you swerve around, your heartbeat only easing down when you realize it’s just Miguel.
“Miguel, honey, you gotta stop scaring me.“
“...Sorry. Who was that?“ He asks, obvious curiosity in his voice. Almost like it was muscle memory, he slips both hands onto your sides, reminding you of the topic at hand. (literally lmao)
“Just some guy... you know what he asked me, though?“
“If it was on a date he’s getting fired.“ Miguel promises darkly, squeezing at the fat of your sides.
“No, Miguel. He asked if you were assaulting me. Even asked me if he wanted me to call the police.“
“Assaulting?“
“Yeah, because you keep on doing things like this-“ You place your hands on his. “- to me every time I visit!“
Like a guilty puppy, Miguel pouts to the side, reluctantly slipping his hands away from you. It takes you everything not to laugh at him as he grumbles to himself, that signature scowl building onto his face.
“It’s fine, Miguel. You can still touch me. Just tone it down a bit when we’re around people, yeah?“
Miguel nods, slowly inching his fingers towards your hands. “Yeah. M’sorry.”
“Miguel, it’s fine. It’s not like I hate it, it might just be uncomfortable for your employees.“
Miguel sighs, dipping down his head to rest on your shoulder. He catches a whiff of your body wash, sweet and comforting. You giggle, a sound that Miguel would kill to hear for everyday of his life. You slide your own hands over onto his broad back, tracing your fingers against the muscle through his shirt.
“I just... I think I love you too much.“ He mumbles, and your ears almost strain to hear it.
“Awh, you know I love you too.“ You sweetly reply, squeezing him into a tight hug. He’s so darling, compressing you tight against him.
“Just let me have this, and I’ll leave you be for a bit, hm?“ Miguel mutters into your ear, indulgently smoothing his big hands over your little back. Chills run up your spine when he presses a smooch to your ear.
“Yeah, we’ll see how long that’ll last...“ You chuckle, letting him do what he wants for the time being.
It takes Miguel longer than he really should to let you go, adoration clearly written on his face as he detaches his arms from you.
“You wanna grab coffee with me before you have to go back?“ You ask, beaming at Miguel with a natural smile.
Miguel doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
You break off into a walk through the hallway, and Miguel has to remind himself every minute or so to keep his hands off.
. . .
It didn’t work.
Already in line for coffee, Miguel’s chin rests on top of your head, acting as if the previous conversation was entirely wiped clean from his memory.
You sigh, knowingly speaking to the barista as if you didn’t have a 6′9 CEO strapped to your back like a koala.
“Baby, what did we say?“
“Sorry...“
miguel is 6′9 because i said so and because of this tiktok
you just can’t sleep without your husband next to you
(i hope my spanish was okay)
Maybe it’s your cycle, maybe its just the fact that you’ve been literally working all day for the past 3 weeks, but you’re tired as shit. The bags under your eyes are almost purple, your entire body hunches over like a zombie when you walk, you barely have time to think nor speak to anyone else besides your husband. The entire building is lowkey worried you’ll snap one day.
Even Miguel is worried. Much how you like to do to him, Miguel’s been constantly ushering you to rest a little, borderline bribing you with nice takeout or some kisses to get you to sleep. But, to no avail. your sleep schedule is genuinely fucked.
You’re cranky, hungry, and sleep deprived.
At the moment, Miguel doesn’t really know where you are. Considering your current state, he thinks you’re out on a mission, or at least somewhere in the office.
He’s already tried walking through the entire office just looking for you. He checked the cafeteria, gym, hallway, etc. muttering, “Where th’fuck are they?” But, you were nowhere to be found.
So, Miguel tries something different. He pulls up his watch, scrolling down to a button that he really only should be using for emergencies, but to Miguel, this is an emergency on its’ own.
He presses the button, and suddenly his entire face is broadcasted to every single watch in the building. Dramatically, the emergency siren turns on, and all the spider-people are on their feet.
“If anyone sees my wife, please report back to me asap. Tell her to come see me, I can’t find her anywhere.“
The whole office can see Miguel rub a hand over his face, visibly both annoyed and tired. Everyone starts looking back and forth, tilting heads and making sure that you didn’t just happen to be around somewhere. Once the camera turns off, though, nearly the entire building starts chuckling.
It’s crazy how much Miguel’s face utterly lights up when he sees his watch ringing without your contact photo. Literally in a split second, he presses the button, opening up a microphone icon.
“Miguel?“
Ugh, he just loves the sound of your voice.
“¿Si querida?“
He hears you groan, possibly the sound of bedsheets shuffling, and it pulls at his heart. You’ve been so miserable lately, he just wants to see you back to your happy self again.
“Come home, now.“
Just the tone of your voice alone put a worried frown on Miguel’s face. (He never likes to admit how much of an impact your emotions have on him.) An ugly, anxious swarm starts to build at the back of his head, making him impossibly nervous.
Luckily, Miguel knows what to do.
“Of course, hun. I’ll be there in 10.“
And he turns the watch off, sighing to himself after. He’s a little bit nervous now, fearing as though he did something to upset you, or that you had something serious to talk about when he came home.
Every step Miguel takes to your shared home brought him closer and closer on edge, worry and theory swirling through his mind. His brain ping-ponged through every single possible reason why you’d want him to come home, especially in such a cranky matter. Maybe you were just tired? Maybe it was because he accidentally gave you a raisin bagel instead of a everything bagel?
By the time Miguel was at the door, his heart was beating erratically in his chest, hands the slightest bit shaky. Stepping inside, Miguel instantly beelined for your shared bedroom, gently opening the door.
He sees you shuffle around in the covers, his heart secretly swooning. You’re just so cute when you’re half asleep; needy and cuddlier than usual. Already at the bedroom door, Miguel practically rips his shirt off, kicking off his pants and making his way over to where you lay. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, gingerly swiping strands of hair off your face.
“What is it, hun?“ He coos.
You toss and turn, barely mustering a frown onto your face. Your eyes are half-lidded, tank top almost falling off your shoulder until Miguel readjusts it for you.
“Can’t sleep without you.“ You mumble, slowly scooting yourself over and draping your arms towards him. Miguel practically swoons, cooing and leaning into your touch. How could he resist such an offer?
“Awh, baby.“
He tangles himself into bed with you, breathing the biggest sigh of relief. It wasn’t what he thought it was. You just wanted snuggles. Miguel takes it upon himself to spoil you extra, ghosting his touch over your back and kissing the darling skin of your temple.
Like the thousands of times he has before, Miguel tangles his legs into yours, kneading his fingers into the skin of your raised leg.
Within a few minutes or so, Miguel feels you knock out like a light, tiny puffs of air escaping your mouth while you fist the sheets like a baby. He sighs, staring at you for a few moments while you sleep. Affectionately, he rubs his knuckles against your cheek, smooching your forehead.
Miguel pulls a blanket over the both of you, knowing very well that by the time you’re awake, it’ll be completely on the floor. Readjusting his position, Miguel doses off to sleep, allowing himself to completely let go of all the stresses he holds.
he asks you to do his eyeliner for him; pulls you in real close and you hold his cheek with your hand, drawing on a quick smudgey look for him. he likes staring at you while you do it too.
you're his cute little rockstar gf <333, he loves taking you to his shows, sometimes drags you up on stage with him
he has this kind of adrenaline rush when he performs on stage, heartbeat thundering, sweat beading down his forehead, a somewhat proud smile on his face. you like seeing him in his element
i envision him slinging a lanky arm around you often, like he's always pulling you close by your shoulders
very attentive, he starts noticing the smallest details about you. knows where you like to be held, how you love to be kissed. he's a decent gift-giver, likes picking something up at a store if it reminds him of you.
i knowww he doesn't like labels and all that, but i cant get over hobie calling you "luv" or "sweets" like UGH got me kicking my feet fr fr
mischievous, loves to tease and poke fun at you, pinching your side with a smirk, nipping at your liip while you kiss, barges into your house without invitation, that kinda stuff
likes experimenting with fashion; somewhat genderfluid presentation of himself? i'm talking sheer tops, fishnets under distressed jeans, crop tops, maybe even a skirt or two.
never did well at school, possibly a dropout
he'll wear cute kandy bracelets that you make him along with his spiked cuffs, ones with the letter beads.
he'd help you get dressed, like tying your top into a cute little ribbon or maybeeee tying your shoes for you?
he likes putting lipstick on you!! holds you by your chin and starts dabbing makeup onto your lips. when he's done, he kisses you to seal the deal.
has a idgaf-type attitude towards pda. like if hobie wants to kiss you then he will? if hobie feels like keeping a hand on you, he will, regardless of location or circumstance
isn't the type to shop at hot-topic; instead opts for alternative thrift stores, ones that specialize//specifically sell punk-type clothing
when you sleep together, sometimes he stays up a little too late, thinking about your relationship. when it's late night, his feelings are raw and he gets a lil sappy, hugging you just a little bit tighter or pressing a kiss to your forehead.
its fun to think that hobie likes to ask you distress his clothing with him, whether it'd be utterly tearing into a t-shirt or fraying away at jeans with a pair of scissors. "that's it, yeah, maybe a li'l more?" he says, holding up the shirt with pinched fingers. "y'did a good job, though."
one day hobie shows up with a pair of platform boots, asking about your opinion on them. they're very hobie, studded with spikes, leather fraying at the creases. "whad'you think, sweets? pretty cool, right?" now he's 6'1 (pretty sure he's 5'11 at normal height)
has a prince albert piercing
handles jealousy by being like "alright, mate i'mma have to stop you right there-" casually slinging an arm over you, lightly pushing a guy away by his chest. "let's stay at least 5 feet away from my girl, yeah?" all with a slight smirk on his face
lets you wear his millions of band tees around the house
if you haven't already, hobie's music taste will start to rub off on you. he shares cute little playlists with you or starts playing with tunes on his guitar.
You’re in the zone, notebooks and textbooks laid out, pens scattered everywhere, music from your headphones blasting in your headphones. You’re studying in your dorm, nodding your head to the music while you scratch down a few notes on paper.
Midterms are coming up, and you’re studying hard. Students have been clawing their way through classes like zombies, grunting and sighing to themselves like half-dead corpses.
It’s already dark outside, the only source of light in your room being the technicolor laptop screen in front of you. You hear a beeping and occasional crash outside, but that’s just New York.
At first, you don’t hear the knocking on your window, too endorsed in your music to notice. It’s only when the knocking gets louder and faster that you pause your study session.
Hesitantly pulling down your headphones, you look towards your glass window. You recognize that black suit anywhere, the one that looks like he’s bleeding from his armpits.
It’s Miles.
You get up from your desk chair, flipping the lock on the window and pushing the glass pane all the way up. Like the thousands of times he’s done before, Miles crawls through your window, stepping onto the soft carpet of your dorm.
He’s been getting bigger, stronger, lately. Only shame of that is the fact that it’s harder for him to fit through your window.
Miles dusts himself off, and you spread your arms wide for a hug with a smile on your face. He practically lands into you, squeezing you tight and forcing the air out of your lungs. He’s so happy to see you.
He sighs into your hair.
“M’ glad you’ve been keeping your window locked.“
“You said you hated it yesterday.“
“Shhh....“
The two of you unclasp, and Miles tugs his mask off his face. He presses a kiss to your temple, shifting his gaze towards the array of study materials on your desk.
“Midterms?“
“Yep.“ You say, popping the “p.“
Miles ponders for a moment, peering from the bags under your eyes to the impossibly large stack of papers on your study space. Subconsciously, he kneads a hand into your side.
“Hey, you wanna go somewhere?“
“Miles, it’s 10 at night.“
“How bout’ the 7-Eleven down the street?“
“Mmmm....“
“I’ll keep you safe. You’re lookin’ at the one and only Spiderman.“ Miles says, gesturing to himself with a smirk.
You playfully roll your eyes. “Alright. I think I need a break anyway.”
“For real.“ Miles mutters.
Miles scouts your dorm room for a jacket, maybe some sweatpants. He usually leaves clothes at your dorm anyway. You throw a pair of grey sweatpants at his head, but he catches them in his fist. Over his suit, Miles throws on a jacket, slotting his legs through the sweatpants.
It’s cold out, so you throw on a jacket, putting on slippers over your fuzzy socks. Miles shoves his mask back on just so his identity is concealed. If anyone asks, Spiderman was just saving a person who got lost
“C’mere.“ Miles says, his arms already out near your window.
You gingerly rise up on your tip-toes, wrapping your arms around Miles’s neck. He slots one hand onto the lower curve of your back, and the other where your thighs and calves meet, carrying you in a somewhat twisted princess carry.
Miles carefully inches through your tiny apartment window, and you duck your head down to make sure you don’t hit it on the way out.
Your heart already pumping in your veins, Miles jumps out into the open air, one hand slinging the both of you through Brooklyn, the other slotted underneath your upper thighs to keep you from plummeting to the ground.
You never really admit it, but you love when Miles slings you both places. The wind in your face, Miles holding you close, the sounds of New York. You adore it.
It’s not very long before the ride ends, and Miles pulls lands in a very suspicious alleyway.
“I knew you were plotting against me all along.“ You joke, and he sets you down onto the concrete. He yanks his mask off, shoving it into his jacket pocket.
The florescent lights of the 7-Eleven glow a bright white, as if it were it’s own sun. Miles pulls the door open for you, such a gentleman. You step inside, and Miles gives a nod to the cashier.
“Ooh! Slushies.“ You say, staring at the almost hypnotizing swirl of neon colors in the tank. It’s so inviting, the perfect thing to have at 10pm.
Miles already helps himself, grabbing a cup and handing one to you. As you suspect, Miles gets the blue flavor, while you get the red cherry cola. You can hear the light pop and sizzle of the slush as it pours, making you all the more thirsty.
You take a sip, and you sigh in enjoyment.
“You want anything else?“ Miles asks, and you shake your head no. He guides you with a hand on your back to the cashier counter, and the man already starts typing in the order.
Miles reaches into both jacket pockets, but no avail.
“Shit, forgot my wallet.“
A.K.A, Miles doesn’t keep his wallet on him during patrol.
“All good man, on the house.“
“Thanks, man.“
You nod, and Miles reaches his arm past your head, pushing the door open in front you. The cold air of Brooklyn engulfs you, and you can nearly see your breath cloud up.
Slowly, the both of you talk, inching back towards the dark alleyway from before. On your tip-toes again, you press a chilled kiss to Miles’s chin.
“Thanks, Miles.“
“I didn’t even buy it.“ He chuckles, shamelessly pulling you into him after taking another sip of his slush.
One thing leads to another, and Miles starts kissing you, starting from your cheeks but eventually leading down to your lips. Simultaneously, he draws you in and holds his slush with the same hand, using the other to bury it in your hair.
Miles chuckles into your mouth; it’s fun to kiss when you taste like cherry cola. Miles is taken by surprise when you boldly prod your tongue into his mouth, a blush rising high onto his face. With the slight privacy of the alleyway, Miles feels brave enough prod and poke your lips with his teeth.
When you finally let go, Miles’s face is warm in contrast to the cold air, almost hot to the touch. It’s rare when you two ever truly swap spit, but Miles thinks its special when you do.
Its a bit silent for a moment after, but neither of you can stop smiling. Miles in particular can’t stop touching you all over.
A thought pops into your head.
You rummage through your pockets for your phone, switching it on and pressing the button to activate your flashlight.
“Miles, open your mouth.“
“Woah, babe, didn’t know you were into th-“ He jokes.
“Oh my gosh Miles, it’s not that.“
Miles chuckles. He loves poking at you. As he was told, he opens his mouth, and you point the flashlight at it. You start laughing to yourself, the light of the flash flickering everywhere.
“What? Is it my face?“
“No, look!“ You pull up the selfie mode on your phone, using the brightness of your phone to the best of it’s ability. You press your cheek to Miles, sticking your tongue out for the camera.
“It’s purple!“ You cackle, and Miles starts chuckling along with you.
There’s spots on Miles’s tongue that are deeper in blue, but still nonetheless a lavender color. You giggle, snapping a few photos.
“We should try again but with different colors.” Miles smirks, slyly resting his head against your temple.
You smirk. “Just tell me you wanna make out more, Miles.”
He shrugs, dropping an arm around your shoulders. “Hmm. Maybe.“
miguel o’hara x reader (crack) - "where’s my super suit?”
this is very self-explanatory
slight nsfw mention?? nothing smutty lmao
Brooding in his impossibly dark office, Miguel gazes at the various orange telegram screens around him. One of them catches his eye; Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie all being absolutely demolished by an anomaly.
Each one of them is being thrown in the opposite direction, thwacking against each other or accidentally webbing the wrong person.
Miguel’s supposed to be off duty right now, though it’s hard to believe that Miguel gets any free time at all. Giving into Lyla’s pestering, he wears normal clothes today, opting for a simple zip-up sports jacket and pants.
But, Miguel knew he’d regret it.
He gazes at the live footage of the kids being completely totaled by the anomaly. Something similar to sympathy growing in his chest. (He doesn’t like to admit he has a soft spot for the kids, but he does.)
Miguel closes his eyes, hunching down and pinching between his eyes. “No puedo más-” He mumbles to himself. Pressing a button on the screen, Miguel quickly finds which universe the kids are in, opting to jump in and deal with it himself.
He’s already got his watch on, ready to step into action when he realizes...
He doesn’t have his suit on.
“Fuck.“ He mutters, breaking into a run out of his office, and down the equally dim hallway towards his living quarters. If you’re so invested in your job, why not live there as well?
The automatic doors slide open, revealing a lifeless, bland bedroom. You bug him to make it more homey, but he hasn’t got the chance to yet. Miguel quickly rummages through his drawers in the dark, filing through another closet in search of his suit, or at least one of a duplicate. Nothing.
“Lyla!“
Miguel starts rummaging through more clothes, and she instantly flickers by his shoulder.
“What?“
“Do you know where my suit is?“ Miguel asks.
“I dunno.“ Lyla shrugs. “I think y/n has it. Said she wanted to keep it to make sure you wouldn’t go work today.“
Miguel sighs in annoyance, swatting Lyla away like a fly until she blinks off. He taps a few buttons on his smartwatch, hastily pressing the call button for your favorited contact.
(it reads ”babyboo💕💞” after you changed it in his sleep lmaoo)
You answer as per usual. Miguel’s surprised you weren’t busy.
“Honey?“ Miguel asks, double checking the clothes he threw on the floor.
“Whaat?”
“Where’s my suit?”
“What? Sorry, you spazzed out a little.“
Miguel sighs, taking a deep breath on behalf of healthy marriages.
“Where. Is. My. Spider. Suit?“ He asks, slower this time.
“I uh- put it away.“
“Where?“ He asks, his voice hushed.
You raise your eyebrow. Miguel is supposed to be off duty?
“Why do you need to know?“
“I need it!“
“Nuh uh! Don’t you dare think about zipping off to whatever fucking Earth-199 you’ve got going on! You haven’t had a break in literally 4 years!“
“The kids are in danger!“
“Your mental health is in danger!“
“Tell me where my goddamn suit is! We’re talking about the future generation!“
“The only future generation you should be worrying about are the kids you put in me last ni-“
“Oh my fucking god, just tell me! Hon-“
You hang up on him, and Miguel sighs for the 10th time today, hanging his head low in frustration. He’s surrounded by clothes he never wears, the room utterly cluttered.
You know what, maybe someone else will deal with it? There’s thousands of spider-people in the building, it’s safe to say that they could take down at least one anomaly.
miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit
modern au!
an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office
Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks.
You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway.
With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you.
The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator...
Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk.
She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer.
Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such.
But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“
Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined.
“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different.
“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her.
You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment.
“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)
“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“
She holds up a single manicured finger.
“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“
Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face.
Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails.
And finally, he answers.
“Hm? You need something, honey?“
“Miguel.“
Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat.
“What is it, sweetie?“
You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”
Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning.
“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“
“Thank you, Miguel.“
The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder.
Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary.
But, you don’t.
“Ah, Miguel, this p-“
“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“
The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile.
“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms.
“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting.
“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“
Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk.
“Tiffany.“
Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever.
“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“
“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“
“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“
Miguel: 1
Tiffany: 0
Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth.
“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“
Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp.
Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.
“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest.
“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“
Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead.
“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief.
“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla.
“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“
“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”
“No. You called Lyla annoying.”
these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!
how miguel o’hara slowly makes you fall for him
check out my miguel o’hara masterlist here!
Miguel O’Hara doesn’t fall in love with just anyone.
But... every time he sees you around the office, his hands almost inch towards you like a moth would a light. Something ignites in him that he can’t explain, but he can’t help but want so much more of you.
He likes to give you bagels and coffee during your breaks. (haha) Your work almost seems to magically disappear, and you’re a lot of the time left to finish up the easy stuff. Somehow, he’s even managed to sit with you for lunch, the rest of the spider-people in the cafeteria staring at the two of you while you eat.
The entire building, all of the spider-people seem to know the happenings between you and Miguel, and they love it. It’s become somewhat a staple gossip within the workplace.
Anyone bold enough would pass by Miguel in the hallways and say, “We’re rootin for you, boss!” In which Miguel wouldn’t know how to feel, whether it’d be angry or happy.
As of now, the two of you have been flirting around, evidently more than just coworkers. He’s yours, and you are his. To you, though, he’s the absolute sweetest. He takes work off your plate, he’s kind, and he adores you.
You’ve noticed Miguel getting a bit touchy lately, which you aren’t necessarily complaining about. Whether it’d be on your arm, a gentle hand on your neck to guide you through a crowd, or just being generally close to you, Miguel has been making his advances on you after Lyla spilled how it should be fine to do.
His touch makes you shiver a little; he’s extra warm and so very gentle. You almost always lean into his touch, and Miguel loves it too, he just doesn’t admit it upfront.
“You did great today, Miguel.“ You say.
Both you and Miguel just headed back to Nueva York from a mission, taking out another stray anomaly that wouldn’t come without a fight.
Miguel’s stomach flutters a little. Rarely, he ever gets praised by anyone. He’s the boss, the CEO; most of the time, he feels like it’s expected of him to do the best job. But, praise tastes much more sweeter when it comes from you.
“You did well yourself, sweetie.“
Miguel’s mask dissolves away, leaving behind his pretty face. You don’t think you’d ever get tired of it. He gives you this look of adoration, one that the rest of the office has never, ever seen in person.
You’re in Miguel’s office, well, more like your shared office. Miguel insisted that you’d move into his office, claiming, “I don’t want to go through the entire building just to find you for something.” which is code for, “I can’t live a day without being near you.”
So now, you have your own desk and work area. You’re both alone, no one to bother, (except maybe Lyla, but she knows better.)
You’re at your desk, and Miguel steps up behind you. His big hand slithers to your lower back, running his fingers against the curve of your spine. He’s warm, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him from the previous mission.
You feel him lean in, discreetly nosing his face into the top of your head. You lean in back, bumping your upper back into his chest.
“Is this okay?“ Miguel mumbles, serious heat trailing up to his neck and ears.
You nod. “Yes.”
And it was sealed from there.
Now, Miguel rubs your back too often. His hand fits into place with your back like a puzzle piece, Miguel always finding some kind of way to lay his hand where it belongs. You love it.
In the office? Yes.
During lunch? Yes.
Even on missions, he pulls you by your lower back to usher you away from a hit, and you both play around with that. He’s all fun and games when on missions, flirting, teasing, kissing.
Now, it almost feels wrong when he isn’t touching you.
. . .
“Hey, girl, look at this!“
Lyla pops in, automatically pulling up an internet article on your desk screen. It’s a web article; “The Science Behind Courtship in Male Spiders”
“Lyla, what does this have to do with anything?“ You ask.
Instead, she just scrolls into the article, highlighting a quote; male spiders give “back rubs” to seduce their mates.
You raise your eyebrow.
“You wanna know why Miguel’s been rubbing you so much? It’s cause of that!“ Lyla exclaims, as if she’s discovered this new scientific theory.
“I guess you’re kinda right on that.“ You mutter. But, the more you start to think about it, the more it makes sense.
Now every time Miguel palms your back, you think about the article.
miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you
this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!
Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much.
Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later.
For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes.
Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)
Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy.
“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.
“No.“
“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask.
“Jess.“
“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“
“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter.
You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go.
“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes.
Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place.
Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head.
“Whipped.“
“Shut the fuck up.“
. . .
Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core.
Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.
“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area.
“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“
Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman.
“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit.
“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips.
Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face.
“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is.
“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“
Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...
Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you.
Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms.
“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream.
And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem.
“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out.
“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars.
“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“
Miguel then leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time.
Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close.
“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy.
You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.
And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”
“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“
He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out.
“Aw, crap.“
“Finally.“
You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”
“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever.
“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“
“One of literally thousands!“
“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“
“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“
Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.
“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters.
“When?“ You ask.
“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster.
“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.
“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.
“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief.
He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head.
Lyla scoffs, flickering in and out in a flash of cream and pink. Miguel rolls his eyes, watching as a module is pulled up in front of him.
Lyla flickers in, pressing the obnoxiously green “call” button on the screen as Miguel subconsciously fixes his hair. The screen starts to dial, and Lyla chuckles to herself.
“What?“ Miguel asks, crossing his arms together.
Lyla’s hand runs up to her mouth. “Pfft. Nothing.“
And with that, she disappears.
The screen dials for a few more seconds, and finally, you answer the call. A video calling of you, looking down at at the camera on your watch. You’ve got your spider suit on, chaos seeming to be crashing in the background as you zip through a metropolitan city with your webbing.
“Miguel, baby, you know I’m busy.“ You say, the man watching on his screen as you simultaneously glace down the watch and look back up to swing your webbing against random architecture.
“I know. Sorry.“ He says, and you look expectantly down at your watch.
“Did you need something?” You ask, and your watch suddenly drifts over towards behind you, an anomaly chasing behind you.
“How long will it take for you to be back?“ He asks, hand slithering to the back of his neck. Even from the shitty camera quality, you can see the slightest tinge of blush on his cheek.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes, sighing to yourself as you bustle through skyscrapers and towers galore. “Is this really was this was about?“
“Yeah, I wanna see you.“ He states. You watch as he starts tapping on the holographic screen, seemingly zooming in on a particular picture.
You watch as Miguel already goes to grab his spider mask, clutching it in his hand while he taps at his own watch. “Where are you, honey? I can take them off your hands.“
“It’s fine, Miguel. I got it.“
“But I wanna see you.“
“You can wait a little longer, right? Jessica sent me out on this mission.“
“No. I’m going out there, where are you?“
You sigh. “Fine, I’m at Earth-681, Queens.”
“See you in a sec, hun. Love you, bye.“
“Love you. Bet I can finish this guy off before you can even make it down here-“
You hang up, and the call screen flickers dark. Miguel yanks on his spider mask, leaping off his office until...
“Wow.“
Lyla sputters in front of Miguel, laughing to herself in a doubled over position. She flashes in a few more times, each one a different frame of her laughing. Miguel tries to ignore her, speeding up into a run whilst tapping at his watch.
“You’re really that whipped!“ She exclaims.
“What does whipped even mean?“ Miguel asks, obviously annoyed.
“You’ll find out later.“
“Hm.“
“Oh and, just so you know. That entire convo was recorded. Thanks!“
Miguel groans, and Lyla vanishes as soon as she came in.
. . .
Miguel dives headfirst into the inter-dimensional juncture, leaping directly into the skies of Earth-681. There’s millions of skyscrapers below, all of them almost identical to any other Earth he’s been on.
He webs a nearby building, slinging himself through Queens in search of you. His spidey-sense picks up, detecting you to be in his far right. Faster than ever, he slingshots himself through buildings, his heart quickening in his chest at the thought of seeing you.
Unexpectedly, you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.
Miguel pauses himself onto the head of a gargoyle, eyes flickering left and right to try and find you. You’re supposed to be hugging him, kissing him, teasing him about dates and what not.
“Boo.“
Miguel doesn’t even flinch, but he’s more excited than ever to see you. He misses you so much.
You laugh to yourself, taking a few steps forward to Miguel. He rolls his eyes, and you can even see it through his mask.
“Haha, very funny.“
“I know, I’m the funniest.“
“C’mere.“
Miguel wastes no time, hastily tugging you into him by your waist, until you’re close enough to hear his heartbeat. You tug your mask off, revealing the face that Miguel knows and loves.
Tenderly, the man presses you into a kiss, savoring the taste of your lips for a moment longer than he should’ve. You can feel the poke of his fangs on your bottom lip, and you yelp a little in his mouth.
“Ah, I’m sorry.“
“It’s fine-“
And he a presses a few more gingerly kisses to your cheek, stroking your other with his thumb. His big hand lingers on your lower back, threatening to ghost his fingers against your behind.
“See, told you I’d finish him off before you’d come.“ You say, indulgently resting your chin on his chest.
“Can’t believe Jess sent you out here, on your break day too.“ Miguel scowls, “Wanted to take you somewhere special.“
“Welp, now I’m free.“ You shrug, and Miguel leans the both of you against the concrete walls of the tower.
Something sparks in Miguel’s mind.
“Hun, what does whipped mean?“
“Whipped?“
“Mhm. Lyla mentioned it earlier.“
You chuckle a little.
“It’s what you are, Miguel.“
“And what, exactly, is that?“
“Absolutely in love with me. Like you’ll do anything, k’know?“
Miguel grumbles to himself, releasing you from his embrace.
The first time Tauro stumbled upon you was literally whilst you were draped across the dirty floor of a Zonai cave. Like a victorian maiden, you lay unconscious on the dark floors; Tauro nearly stepped on you if it weren’t for the lamp he carries on explorations. (Not that you’d mind him stepping on you.)
You were out cold, dust and dirt smeared onto your face, a journal mid-hand. You seemed to be doing some research of your own, a satchel by your side, and an unfortunately spilled bottle of water.
Quickly, Tauro checked for your heartbeat, pulling back the collar of your shirt to gently place his fingers on your pulse point. It was slow, but steady. You were breathing; he could hear your tiny puffs within the vast silence of the cave.
Tauro has heard of numerous adventures gone wrong, a few of his own fellow researchers falling victim to such emergencies. Lack of water, getting lost, or undernourishment were common. He took his voyage safety very seriously.
First, warmth. A cold cave like this would no doubt be miserable for someone your size. He unwraps the sky-blue jacket from his lower waist, carefully kneeling down and draping the cloth over your body. Hurriedly, he scoops you up into his arms, shuddering at the feeling of your ice-cold skin.
For a split second, he can’t help but stare a little at your face. You’re an explorer, just like him, no doubt. Pretty, too. He can’t wait to ask you of your studies once you’re safe and well. The man tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, further immersing himself in you.
After shoving your journal and pen into one of his spare pockets, and slinging your satchel over his shoulder, Tauro hurries out of the cave, jogging to retrace his steps back to sunlight. He sighs in relief when he steps out into the open sun, feeling warmth melt the chill of the cave away.
Your face is so pale, so ghastly it makes him wonder how long you were left in the cave. Any longer, and you could’ve been dead.
Through his shaggy locks, Tauro spots a tree rested by a cliff of rocks. Perfect; a nice place to rest and heal. He beelines towards the tree, cautiously peering around the area for any sign of a threat. Thankfully, there isn’t any, leaving Tauro to gingerly set you down on the ground once more. Kneeling down, he balls up the jacket, fixing it up to be a makeshift pillow for you to lay upon.
Thank Hylia for Tauro’s numerous pockets, fit to hold both water and rations. His friends tease him for having so many pockets, but he just thinks they won’t be as prepared when needed be. He pulls out a strip of jerky, re-buttoning his vest pocket closed. Gently, he reaches out to feel your hand, searching for any sign of warmth in you.
Your hand is so soft, small compared to himself. How did you manage to voyage so deep into the cave alone? Explorer’s determination, he supposes. Tauro almost seems to forget that he’s supposed to be searching for your recovery, and instead starts kneading the palm of your hand with his fingers.
With the feeling of your fingers being played with, Tauro spots your eyelids flutter. As if you’ve burned him, he retreats his hand from yours, pretending like he wasn’t even touching you in the first place.
He watches the color slowly return to your face, and takes it upon himself to try to wake you up. A big hand tenderly rubs the side of your arm, hoping to wake you for food and water.
Unexpectedly, your eyes instantly flutter open, similarly to a possessed doll. You see sunlight dimmed by trees, the blinding blue sky above you. You feel laid down, lightly feeling the grass beneath you with your fingers.
Your eyes stay shut, but you croak to speak. You hear faint shuffling beside you, a sign of a person.
“Where am I?“ You ask.
Surprisingly, you hear nothing. But you do feel another few rubs on the side of your arm. The hand is big, rough from what you assume to be some kind of work.
Finally, you decide to open your eyes. It takes you a moment to get fully adjusted to the light, but you do eventually.
You see no eyes, but you do see hair. You do see a vest, chestnut skin, comically large goggles. A man, no doubt. A handsome one too. With squinted eyes, you can see his deadpan expression, and you can feel his arm try to ease you to sit up. You obey, working with him to rest yourself against the rough bark of the tree behind you.
You watch as the man unscrews a cap from a flask, and you can hear the faint swish of water. It makes you unbelievably thirsty. In a blur, the man kneels further closer to you, tilting your jaw forward with the most caring of touches. He shows you the flask, and you open your mouth a little, allowing him to tilt the flask. Gradually, you paw and grab at the bottle, insistive that you could drink water independently. (You can’t even grasp the flask properly.)
After a few drinks, you take your fill of water, Tauro absentmindedly stroking the corner of your jaw with his thumb. It shouldn’t make you flush, especially in your condition, but he manages to somehow bring even more color to your cheeks.
You feel like the water has washed away some of your fatigue, and you allow yourself to further inspect your savior. He’s really big, you feel like, but the way he cares for you is cute. Maybe you should pass out in caves more often.
You almost frown when Tauro recoils his hand from your jaw, but you then realize he’s giving you food, which makes you happier. He (attractively, might I add,) tears a piece of jerky with his teeth, pressing it closer to your mouth. Weakly, you fumble the piece between your fingers, pressing it into your mouth to slowly chew on.
“Atta’ girl.“
His voice is exactly what you expected it to be, its embarrassing how much that motivated you alone to eat your food.
“It’s good.“ You added, feeling around for pieces stuck in your teeth with your tongue.
He tears you another, and you take it, chewing it up in slight hopes he’ll encourage you again.
“I found you passed out in the cave.“ He mutters, and you flush a little in embarrassment.
"Sorry-” you chuckle. “I just really wanted to log down the scripts. I’m trying to decode them.”
Intrigue sparks in Tauro, and before he can even think, words string out of his mouth like music.
“My team and I have been researching as well. As of now, we’ve been linking the scriptures to some of our own slabs that we’ve found.”
His outburst is passionate, and you’re surprised at the hearing of a full on team by his side. It’s like he’s trying to hold back excitement, but it’s bursting at the seams. He must be very dedicated, and you assume he may be possibly working with Kakariko researchers. They’re known to be passionate of their work.
Tauro doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. He’s radiating with impulse.
“Won’t you like to come take a visit at my lab later? I can show you our findings. There’s so much to uncover...“
You realize that he has a gentle hand on your forearm. There’s a faint smile on his mouth, and you can’t help but want to peek through his shaggy fringe. What color would his eyes be? Does he have just as much of a kind smile with his hair pushed away?
He’s cute... really cute.
“Name?“ You ask. He passes you another piece of jerky.
“Tauro. It’s Tauro.“
You finish chewing, and you can feel his gaze on you.
Eijirou thinks its just a normal day on the job; risking his own life and running headfirst into a fire to save others.
What Ei doesn’t expect is to save a super cute girl, and earn a date afterward.
. . .
No, fires aren’t that common in your neighborhood. But, when a pyromaniac just decides to frolic through your apartment complex, all you can really do is run or hide.
Sweat aggressively beads at your forehead and neck as a giant wall of blaze threatens to burn off your eyebrows. Just before you could surrender yourself to the arms of safety, a pathetic slab of wood feel from the ceiling, blocking your escape right before you could taste it.
It feels like the universe has done this to just get a laugh out, and now you’re in jeopardy, knocking on death’s door.
Dressed in cute fluffy pajamas and a scrunchie is not how you wanted to die, nor expected to die.
Panic starts to travel up your spine like water would on a paper towel, and you stand frozen by your front door, predicting your doom as it came closer.
It’s (obviously) hot, and too hot, and smoke began to rise quickly, bringing tears to your eyes. You stretch out the tank top you’re wearing, bringing part of it up to your nose in a poor attempt to cover up your nose from any smoke.
Just as your death was guaranteed, a fact, if you will, you hear a crashing; a crunching against your front door. Hope begins to burst in you like a new years sparkler, and you gaze anticipatively at the door, expecting some kind of miracle to save you.
And he does.
He crashes through the door of your apartment, scattering giant splinters and specks of rubble across the entire room. Wearing a hat, gas mask, and uniform, his size is what you notice first, by the way his head skims the very top of what used to be your door.
“Hey! I got you!“ He says, his voice muffled by his mask.
You can barely make out his face amidst the smoke and his mask as he urgently runs towards you, his head rapidly tilting at all directions to search for any sign of falling rubble or a threat.
Before you could even think, he hoists you up into his arms, big hands holding you bridal style as he presses you close to him. Yes, you should be worrying about your own life right now, but its simply unfair how closely he handles you.
He peers down at you, and you can catch the faintest of red within his gas mask.
“It’s gonna be okay.“
Without another word, he runs out with you in his grasp, ducking under the frame of your front door. You’re safe.
. . .
You’ve never been more thankful to breathe in the cold 2 am air, wrapped in a thermal foil blanket whilst sitting on the edge of a firetruck.
Apparently, everyone had gotten out completely fine except for you. Just your luck.
The fireman from earlier, your savior, currently lay on his knees, gently tending to a few scratches, burns, and bumps you received during your experience with near death.
“What your name? I’d love to hear the name of the man that saved my life.“ You ask, gazing into his still-on gas mask.
In reply, you can only hear a voweled muffle; a fault of the mask.
“Hm?“
The man just sighs, setting down the supplies he was using to patch you up. Surprise writes itself onto your face as you watch the fireman, his hands reaching up to pull on the secure band of the mask. He pulls it off, and lifts away his hat, revealing vibrant red hair among deep black roots just starting to peek in.
Attractively, he shakes his hair, and you get to see him for the first time.
He flashes you this shiny, movie-star quality of a smile, beaming his spikey pearly whites to you. He’s so cute, with a boyish smile and perfect skin to match. You smile, and he scratches the back of his neck.
“It’s Eijirou.“
“Wow- uh, you’re cute.“
You almost didn’t mean for that to tumble out of your mouth, but it does, and a flush blooms onto your cheeks.
“Thanks, sweets.“
You try your best not to seize at the nickname, keeping your composure to the best of your ability. He’s so smiley, so big, so handsome its utterly terrible. They should specifically hire average-looking people as firefighters, just to save girlies like you a bit of stuttering.
“Would it be bad to ask the savior of my life on a date?“ You ask, shuffling the foil blanket around you further.
Thinking about how Shouto would follow you into Victoria’s secret, completely unfazed at the large about of bras and lingerie the store has to offer.
"Excuse me, m’am? I’m trying to find a comfortable bra for my partner?” Shouto asks, eager to help you hunt down the perfect bra (for him to take off of you lmaoo)
The clerk nods, and hopefully she doesn’t take note of pro-hero Shouto just happening to be in a bra shop. She leads Shouto to a certain section of the store while you’re caught up staring at pretty bustier tops.
The store worker guides Shouto through the basics of bras, explaining wires, materials, and most importantly; size.
Shouto feels the material (guess how) of a certain minimalistic bra. It’s very simple, and a nude color similar to your skin tone.
“This might be perfect.“ He says, examining it closer off of the rack.
“Do you happen to know her size?“ The clerk asks, peering closer at the label of the bra.
Bluntly, Shouto raises two hands, cupping them to about the exact size of your boobs. He even looks around to see if you’re nearby, possibly to see if he can get the measurement any more accurate.
“About this big?“ He states, half-asking a question himself.
romaincrisis
ellievsbear
snowghoul
2087
dailybridgerton
jbbartram-illu