𝓰irl 𝓭ad 01 ✩ miguel o'hara
♡┆ summary: miguel comes to his daughter's school to pick her up but seeing you was an unexpected and nice meeting. ♡┆ pairing: single dad! miguel o'hara x teacher! reader ♡┆ themes/tropes: father/teacher relationship, friends to lovers, family fluff, smut / romance
miguel remembers why he avoids driving around the city in the late afternoon.
he stares out the front window with a frown, boredom settling over his features. one hand rests on the steering wheel while the other props his elbow against the door, supporting his face. it’s typical nueva york traffic—horns blaring, drivers weaving and ignoring every regulation imaginable, pedestrians wandering into the street without a care.
miguel sighs in frustration. he still can’t believe his friend jess deals with this every weekday just to pick up the kids. he resists the urge to smack his palm against the wheel and yell at the cars ahead to move. instead, he endures. minutes crawl by like hours as the line inches forward. when he checks the time, it’s ten minutes to four. the only thing keeping him sane is reminding himself why he’s doing this in the first place.
gabriella’s school is just a few blocks ahead—beyond the mess of cars.
a smile crosses his face at the thought of her. his daughter. his light. his joy. as much as he loves her, he rarely picks her up after three in the afternoon. being a geneticist sounds flexible, but it’s really a strict nine-to-six job, monday through friday. even so, he squeezes in every moment he can with her—before work, after work, on weekends.
but today, he breaks routine. today, he’s picking her up. and gabriella has no idea he’s coming.
traffic finally loosens. cars begin to move, and miguel presses forward, weaving carefully through queens until he reaches the familiar streets surrounding her school. he parks, gets out, and locks the car behind him. it’s already four-thirty—definitely late. he glances at his reflection in the window: blue jeans, a white shirt under a black leather jacket, black sunglasses. he looks like any other dad picking his kid up, not a man who just left work.
it’s been a while since miguel last stepped foot on campus—probably the parent-teacher conference. inside, the building feels quiet and strangely vast, the halls empty of students and staff. he doesn’t remember the layout well and isn’t sure where to go, so he wanders, hoping to stumble across someone who can point him in the right direction.
the hallways grow eerily silent as he continues. everything looks unfamiliar. he considers calling gabriella, but he decides against it. he wants to surprise her after soccer practice.
maybe a teacher is still around.
he looks down the hallway and chooses the farthest door on the right, unsure why but following a hunch. he knocks twice, then turns the knob and peeks inside. empty. he frowns and starts to close the door—
“hi, can i help you with anything?”
he steps further in and finally sees her—you—behind a desk he hadn’t noticed. the locker behind you sits open, full of papers and boxes. he must’ve interrupted your organizing.
“hi,” he says.
“hello,” you reply with a small smile, setting a box on the desk. miguel removes his sunglasses out of courtesy, taking you in. you’re dressed casually—a polo shirt and white jeans. definitely a staff member. “is there something i can help you with?”
“i…” his voice trails off. you seem young, probably in your twenties—several years younger than him. likely a teacher. he clears his throat. “sorry, i think i got myself lost. i’m looking for the sports field. i’m picking up my daughter. she has soccer practice today.”
“oh, right,” you say, smiling apologetically. “you’re pretty far from it. the field’s on the other side of the building.”
he nods. of course. schools are always mazes. “thank you. i hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon, señorita.”
he turns to leave, but you stop him. “i can show you, if you want. so you don’t get lost again.”
he hesitates, studying you. you don’t know him, yet you’re willing to help without hesitation. you shut the cupboard, lock it, and turn to him with another warm smile. he nods. “i’d appreciate it.”
“sure thing,” you reply, grabbing your keys. you circle around the desk, and miguel immediately notices the height difference—you stand around his chest. “shall we?”
he opens the door for you, and you lead the way. he follows, observing your stride—confident, elegant, unhurried. he wonders if you might be one of gabriella’s teachers. something about you draws his attention, a quiet pull he doesn’t try to explain.
“so, what’s your daughter’s name?” you ask as you walk.
“gabriella o’hara,” he answers. “seventh grade, brown hair, purple backpack—about this tall?” he gestures.
your face lights up. “oh! gabi o’hara. she’s one of my students,” you say. “i’m her homeroom teacher. she talks about you a lot.”
miguel blinks, surprised. “she has?”
“she sometimes stays to help me tidy up when she doesn’t have practice,” you say. “usually while waiting for jessica to pick her up.”
before he can say more, you speak again, a bit hesitant. “sorry if this sounds assumptive, but… is jess gabriella’s mother?”
“no,” miguel says with a small laugh. “jessica’s a close friend. i usually work late, so she picks gabi up. but today’s different.” he smiles faintly. “it’s a surprise.”
“i think she’ll be thrilled,” you say gently. “she told me you haven’t seen her new kicks yet. she’s a star on the girls’ team.”
“i’m looking forward to it,” miguel replies.
you reach a large door at the end of the hall. “the girls’ soccer team is just outside.”
you push the door open, revealing the breeze, the field, the track, and clusters of students and teachers. miguel scans the field until he sees a familiar girl—brown hair, purple shirt, white shorts—darting across the grass. she kicks the ball straight into the goal. her teammates cheer. he can’t help but smile.
“oh, look, there’s gabi,” you say. “gabi!”
gabriella turns, spots you both, and her entire face lights up. “papa!”
“mija!” miguel calls back. she sprints toward him.
she greets you too, shouting across the field about her game. you laugh and tell her you saw everything. miguel smiles at the scene before she jogs back to finish practice. he gestures to a bench. “want to sit while we wait?”
“i don’t mind,” you say.
you sit together. miguel’s gaze stays on gabriella, pride softening his features. “she’s a great kid, isn’t she?”
“definitely.”
after a quiet moment, he turns to you. “so, how long have you been teaching?”
“two and a half years,” you say. “i started as a substitute after moving to the states.”
your accent and mannerisms suddenly make more sense to him. “and what do you teach?”
“mostly biology and chemistry,” you explain. “sometimes english and reading enrichment. english isn’t my first language, but i like helping kids feel confident in it.”
“you speak it very well,” miguel says. “gabi and i switch between spanish and english a lot. sometimes spanglish.”
you laugh softly. “some things just feel more natural in your mother tongue. although my family says i get a bit… expressive.”
miguel chuckles. “i always encourage gabriella to speak more spanish at home. it’s important not to lose your roots.”
“i agree,” you say. “your roots never leave you.”
“what made you move here?” miguel asks.
“i wanted adventure,” you say simply, smiling. “i moved on my own.”
“that takes courage,” he replies. “how old were you?”
“nineteen when i left home. i stayed in canada two years, then came to the states at twenty-one. i’ve been here three years now.”
he notes the age difference—just seven years. young, brave, independent. intriguing.
silence settles comfortably between you. the sky is bright, the sun warm. miguel feels oddly relaxed beside you, a rare sensation with someone he’s just met. you sense his gaze and glance over with a smile. he’s grateful for his sunglasses hiding the warmth creeping up his cheeks.
gabriella runs over, and you stand first. miguel follows.
“papa! i can’t believe you’re here!” she beams.
“i wanted to surprise you,” he says, lifting her into his arms. “you did great today. i’m proud of you.”
“gracias, papa.” she kisses his cheek, then turns to you. “did you see my moves?”
“they were impressive, gabs,” you say warmly. “you’ll be a star on sports day.”
miguel notices the sun dipping lower. “we should head home.”
“can we stop at wendy’s?” gabriella asks.
miguel considers. he forgot to prepare dinner. “we can do that, sweet girl.”
he turns to you. “thank you for your help.”
“no problem, mr. o’hara,” you reply. “i hope we meet again. it was nice getting to know you.”
he nods, ignoring the faint sting in his chest. gabriella gathers her things, then waves wildly. “bye, miss! see you tomorrow!”
“see you tomorrow, gabi! enjoy your dinner!” you call back. “see you again sometime, miguel!”
he waves and walks away with gabriella. but the farther he gets, the more he thinks about you. he glances back. you’re laughing with another teacher, sunlight catching your face. when you notice him looking, you offer the sweetest smile—one that lingers even after he turns away.
“papa, let’s go to wendy’s now!” gabriella urges.
he smiles down at her. “alright, princesa. let’s go.”
when he looks back, you’re gone. but your smile stays with him.
later, at wendy’s, gabriella happily digs into her kid’s meal, and miguel watches her with quiet joy. no matter how busy he gets, these moments matter most.
“your teacher is nice,” he says casually, though you’ve been on his mind since he met you—your kindness, your patience, the way you interacted with gabriella. refreshing. sincere. unlike the people who try to approach him at school just because he’s a single father with a reputation.
“miss [last name]?” gabriella says through a mouthful of ice cream. miguel rolls your name around in his mind—your first name with your surname. it fits. “she’s nice. and pretty too.”
miguel pretends not to react, though he agrees. “how come you never mentioned her when i asked about your day?”
gabriella gives him a look. “papa, i have. like, a lot.” she crosses her arms. “i told you she brought mr. oscar for show-and-tell, and that she likes to bake and brings treats every month. and she’s from england—remember?”
miguel presses his lips together. he vaguely remembers… something. gabriella talks about so many things that it’s hard to keep track. but still—he’s sure he’d remember someone like you.
gabriella giggles. “papa, are you getting old?”
he sighs dramatically. “it seems so, princesa. i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay! i forget things too.” then, just as quickly, she changes the subject. “i really like miss [last name]. she’s the best teacher ever.”
“tell her that tomorrow,” miguel says. “i’m sure she’d love to hear it.”
“i will!”
meeting you was unexpected. if he hadn’t picked gabriella up today, he wouldn’t have crossed paths with you at all.
a small part of him hopes he’ll see you again—maybe sooner than chance alone would allow.
© swaniette.
