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Commander Wolffe
With the Commander(GenderNeutral! Officer!Reader)
Keeping a relationship hidden from the GAR doesn’t come with special treatment
Some of us want to see what we are protecting(Female Handmaiden!Reader)
Maybe after this mission the commander will want to keep you around.
What happens in Canto Bight (Fake Marriage AU w/F!Reader)
What’s life without love?
You did this to me(GenderNeutral! Jedi!Reader)
How is your relationship post-Order 66 between your Commander?
Wolffe Blurb #1 (w/F!Reader)
Wolffe has to ask you a question...
Wolffe Blurb#2 (w/F!Reader)
Just a small timeline between you and your Commander
Your Highness Masterlist (Royalty!Reader Series w/F!Reader)
No damsel in distress, but certainly one with not a lot of choices.
“Five credits the commander finally asks her out tonight”(w/F!Reader)
Is Commander Wolffe all bark and no bite?
“Good night Commander Wolffe” (w/F!Reader)
Just a regular clone, just a regular Senatorial Gala.
Captain Rex
One attachment left in the galaxy Masterlist (Soulmate!AU Series w/F!Reader)
Rex has always been a little different, it’s not just the blond hair
You should’ve been happy Masterlist (F!Reader w/Force Sensitive!Child Series)
Leading up to your decision- let your child train or keep them with you. You can’t have both.
Choosing Baby Names (w/Pregnant F!Reader)
Rex really hasn’t thought about baby names... but for a really good reason.
Waiting for the right time (w/Gender Neutral!Reader)
Rex hasn’t forgotten, he is just waiting for the right time
“I Promise One Day, We’ll Do This Forever”(w/Gender Neutral!Reader)
Waking up with Rex by your side is always nice; until he has to leave.
Medic Kix
Up So Early(Medic!Reader w/Gender Neutral! Reader)
Waking up early isn’t so bad
Arc Trooper/The Bad Batch Echo
Just one date(w/F! Reader)
Echo Blurb #1(w/F! Reader)
“More in Common than we thought we did” (w/Former Separatist! F!Reader)
Sergeant Hunter
I just want to make sure both of my girls are safe mini-series masterlist (Pregnant F!Reader)
Hunter Blurb #1(w/ F!Jedi!Reader)
The Mandalorian
Always Hiding(Former Padawan! F!Reader)
Hiding kept you alive. How long until you are found though?
Always Hiding Pt.2
Can a jedi and a mandalorian really get along?
Peter Parker
Waking Up, Next to Peter(w/F!Reader)
Waking up is hard, leave Peter is even Harder.
Miguel O’hara
Not My Miguel(W/F!Mother!Readeer)
Spiderman 2099 saved you from your universe as it crumbled with everyone else being destroyed. He took you to his headquarters for safety. Only it wasn't your Miguel.
Requests
Hi! do you think you could do a platonic fluffy one about commander cody and obi wan kenobis padawan reader? kinda showing their big brother and little sister (or vod’ika lol) relationship that they have! (ya know similar to rex and ahsoka) X
Could I please request a flirty drabble using:6. “your kisses mean the world to me.”7. “just one more kiss.” “i can’t. i’ll be late for work.”23. “Is that a threat?” “Its a promise.”With commander cody x f troublemaker reader. Thank youu😊<3 X
Hi, hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you could do a Wrecker X reader (or any bad batch characters i just love him lol) where the reader is very insecure about their body. Thanks :) X
contents: angst w no comfort, longing (is anyone rly surprised by this point), and some suggestiveness (nuffin tew crazy)
synopsis: you were booked for a wedding shoot, not expecting to see your ex boyfriend there.
author’s note: inspired by this :3 anyways i incorporated one of the themes from the movie hehe >w<
word count: 7k (i may have gone overboard on the yapping, sorry)
"Can I open my eyes now?"
"No. Ten un poquito de paciencia que ya mero acabo," Miguel tuts from a distance, the sound of wrapping paper scuffling together following. Despite the fact that you'd told him he didn't need to get anything for your birthday, that just spending time with him would be enough, he still insisted on doing so. Even after taking you out to a restaurant of your choosing, not even batting an eye when the waiter brought the check over. (have a little patience that i'm almost done)
"I know you said you didn't want anything but I stopped by that antique store in Queens and found the thing you've been wanting," he told you, stepping close to remove your hands from your eyes. You blinked a couple times to get used to the light in the room, looking down at the gift bag in his hands. Well, at least it wasn't anything too extravagant by the size of it. Or at least you hoped that it wasn't.
"Thank you, but you didn't have to do this. Your comp-"
"Before you say that my company would've been enough, you see me almost every day. Allow me to indulge in you a bit," he cut you off before you had the chance to finish speaking, giving you an innocent enough smile. "Just open it."
You took the gift bag from him, placing it down on your dinner table before starting to take out the sheets of wrapping paper. Even with that, you were trying to be meticulous enough not to rip it. At the bottom of the bag, you could see a white box peeking through. You took the box out with care, your eyes widening when you caught a glimpse of the words printed by the side. It was a vintage black Polaroid camera and a sleek leather photo album.
"Do you like it?" All you could do was nod, going over and wrapping your arms around him. You'd mentioned wanting this camera in passing a couple times, but you weren't expecting to actually get it. It should've been a nearly impossible task given that polaroids had ceased to have any usage with attachable phone printers, the quality of those unmatched. And yet you found yourself wanting this one after watching a movie, imagining all the different scenarios you wanted to use the camera for.
You basically opened the camera in record time, holding into in your hands for a couple seconds just to make sure you weren't dreaming. After the initial excitement passed, you examined the camera to see the different functions that it had and where you could put the film cartridge. You messed around with a couple of the buttons before the back of the camera eventually opened up, an illustration of how to set the cartridge etched inside.
As much as you didn't want to admit it, you'd been so focused on even just trying to acquire the camera that you didn't bother to research exactly just how it is that it worked. You reached over for the box, the manual falling down on the table. You'd barely managed to open it before Miguel grabbed it from your hands, putting it to the side. "We can figure this out by ourselves. It can't possibly be that difficult," he stated, sitting down at the table next to you.
He'd almost wished he hadn't said those words so soon.
The two of you sat there for a couple minutes, trying to figure out how exactly it was that the camera functions worked. You were grateful enough that you had boxes of cartridges to go through, considering that you'd almost went through one in testing this whole thing out. "Go see if that one worked," Miguel pointed over to the one processing on the table, his focus on the camera almost admirable. "This would go by a whole lot easier if you weren't so reluctant to use the manual."
"I refuse. I promise it'll work this time."
"It's almost like manuals were included in the box for situations like this," you muttered under your breath, noticing the subtle scoff he let out.
If the two of you were in any other situation, you might've found this a bit humorous. The two of you struggling with a simple enough camera while he dealt with complicated tech at a super fancy genetics facility and you dealt with cameras that had much more to them. "It did not work," you grumbled, only seeing your reflection peering back at you through the black photograph. If you squinted enough, at least you could see the silhouette of both of your figures. That counted as progress, right?
"Maybe it might be time to reconsider using the manual?" You suggested, your voice raising up a couple octaves as you tried to coax him into the idea.
"We don't need a manual. I'm a genius and you're an expert in cameras. We should be able to figure this out."
He twisted the lens of the camera onto the symbol with the home on it, deciding to test it out since it was the only one left. Miguel pointed at the fruit bowl that the two of you had been using as a practice model, clicking on the button. The whirr of the camera followed, the photograph coming out almost immediately. You slipped it out when it was halfway through, setting it down on the table to wait for it to process. "How's it going at the photography studio? Is your boss still being stingy?"
"It's gotten absurd. I had a client come in this last Monday and he immediately swept in to tell him that I don't have any experience," you couldn't help but feel annoyance when thinking back to the scenario, knowing pretty well that your portfolio was just as good as any of the other interns'. If not, even better.
"How are you supposed to get any experience if he's not giving it to you?"
You gave a small shrug in response, that being the same question that you asked yourself repeatedly. Every opportunity to advance at the studio had been ripped away from you, yet you couldn't bring yourself to quit. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was just that you'd gotten complacent staying in the same position for a couple years now. "Obviously you didn't ask for my opinion, but I think you should quit if he continues like this," Miguel offered quietly, his hand coming up to your shoulder.
"I'll think about it," you told him after a couple seconds of silence, contemplating his words. You knew he was right, deep down you did know. But what if other companies saw you as the mediocre photographer that this company did? The thought was just too much to handle. You looked over at the photograph once it was finished processing, noticing that the fruit bowl had been perfectly captured. "It worked!" You sounded a little too excited, handing over the photograph for him to examine his work.
"Now, let's take one together," is what you said about two minutes ago.
He ended up sitting down on a chair, one of your arms wrapped around him as the two of you looked into the camera. "How much longer? My cheeks are starting to hurt," you asked him through the smile you were trying so hard to maintain. "Hold on, I'm just trying to find the button," he muttered, the subtle scratch of his nail hitting the camera as he searched for the button. You'd barely heard the click from the button, immediately blinded by the flash shooting directly at the both of you.
Was this how your clients felt? Maybe you'd stop getting on their ass for capturing a majority of their photos with their eyes closed. Realistically you knew you wouldn't though. Seriously, how hard was it for them to keep their eyes open for four seconds? Miguel blinked slowly, putting the camera down on the table. "Pretty sure I just burned my retinas with that one," he muttered, taking the photo out and setting it on a placemat for it to develop. "Ditto."
"Hey, can I keep the photo? I'm thinking of putting it in my wallet," he asked once you were done adorning the blank space with stars and little hearts. You handed the photo over to him when he was done pulling out his wallet, noticing how gentle he was at handling the photo so it wouldn't bend. An array of photos were inside of his wallet, most of them Gabriella. One from when she was a baby to one where she was holding up a diploma for her kinder graduation.
"Te ves tan hermosa. I swear, that camera doesn't do you enough justice," he mused, looking down at the photograph that adorned the back of his wallet. Though he wouldn't be able to deny that the way you smiled in the picture was an image that would stay engrained in his brain for as long as he lived. "Thank you for getting it for me regardless. I know it wasn't much of an easy task," you responded, watching as he went over to fridge. (you look so beautiful)
"Gabriella and I baked you a cake. Well, more like she put the ingredients and mixed it and I just did the heavy work," he told you, bringing the plate with the cake over. You looked over, seeing the cake sprinkled with an ungodly amount of sprinkles and the writing on the frosting a bit crooked. Yet the fact that they'd both taken the time made you heart swell. "It's the prettiest cake I've ever seen. Tell her I said thank you," you gave him a smile, stepping up so he could lean over and light the candles up on the cake.
"Don't smush my head into the cake," you warned him, hovering slightly above the cake. His laughter echoed throughout the apartment, standing across from you with the camera pointed towards you. "Not sure how I would manage that but noted," he responded, putting the camera up to his eye and angling it. "You'd find a way," you muttered, blowing out the candles. You wafted the smoke fumes coming up, starting to take out the candles. "Que lo parta, que lo parta," Miguel chanted in the background when you went to cut the cake.
"Thank you. You've just left me with dessert for the rest of the week," you called out from the kitchen, setting the remaining cake in the fridge. You grabbed your plate from the table, going over to the couch where he'd sat down. "What movie did you end up picking out?" You asked, already expecting it to be some kind of sci-fi movie. Maybe thriller if you were lucky. "Some old romance movie, supposed to be good. La La Land," he answered, taking a bite from his cake. You wiped some of the frosting with your thumb, licking it off afterwards.
"No new movies out in theaters?"
"Well, it's not that. They're just hard to enjoy with all the AI writing and all the CGI. It just doesn't feel like I'm actually watching a movie with real actors, y'know?" If you had to guess, you'd probably say that he was right. Majority of the behind the scenes shots that you've seen for recent movies have just shown robots on set, only around two people actually present. It all just felt so.. emotionless. A repeat of the same movie over and over again just with different characters.
His thumb drew lazy circles on your thigh while Sebastian and Mia were seated at the movie theatre. "I wanted to run something by you, see what you thought about it," he started off, already looking at you when you turned to face him. You really hoped this wasn't the start of a break up speech. "Gabriella's really important to me, as I'm sure you're aware. And now that we're starting to get serious, I'd like for you to meet her," were not the words you were expecting from that sentence, but you weren't upset at them.
The thought of meeting his little girl was something that intrigued you and scared you shitless at the same time. What if she thought you were making some futile attempt to replace her mom? What if she ran you out of the house throwing eggs at you? You took a deep breath, trying to think of the positives. Miguel had done nothing but describe her as well-behaved, there would be no reason for her to act up. You'd just have to reassure her that you wanted to love her, not replace her mother in any form. "I'd love to meet her."
"This defeats the purpose of the movie, y'know?" He pointed out when you sat on his lap, your legs on either sides of his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your nails gently raking against the curls on the nape of his neck. "Is that a complaint that I'm hearing, Mr. O'Hara?" You whispered against his lips, his chest rumbling as he laughed. "Not at all," he sounded breathless as he spoke, his hands coming down to rest on your hips. He let out a small groan when you leaned in, the taste of frosting lingering on his lips.
You'd barely registered the sound of his phone buzzing in the background, only breaking away from the kiss when he did. He pulled it out of his pocket, letting out a small groan. "It's my ex wife. Just give me a second," he whispered, placing the phone up to his ear. You could make out a couple words from her frantic yelling, nothing that would give you a clue to what was going on though. "I'm not processing the information any better with you yelling in my ear," Miguel sounded much different with his ex wife, a tone he'd never used with you.
After receiving a couple more pieces of context based on what Miguel was telling Dana to do, you were able to decipher that Gabriella was currently running a fever along with a cold. "I'll come by to pick her up along with some medicine, okay?" He'd simply stated after Dana spent around two minutes talking to him. "Yes and groceries too," he added, albeit a bit reluctantly before hanging up the phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a small resigned sigh. He'd even called off work tomorrow to spend a lazy morning with you.
"I have to go," he pressed a quick kiss to your lips, tapping on the side of your thigh. You got off him, standing up to walk him out the door. "Stay safe. Call me when you get home," you told him before he left, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I will, I promise. I'll text you the details for next week, okay?" He called out, starting to head down the sidewalk. You waited until he wasn't visible anymore to go back inside, starting to clean up a couple smudges of frosting on the table.
You ended up watching the rest of the movie in the comfort of your couch, lying to yourself about the tears in your eyes. He'd mentioned the movie being somewhat of a romance but he'd forgotten to disclose the important detail- that it was a tragic romance. Just the fact that they had everything that they could've wanted except for each other just made it all the more painful to watch. In order to distract yourself, you pulled your phone out to see if Miguel had texted you. After all, it'd been about thirty minutes since he left.
Maybe he'd forgotten. You tried to assure yourself that maybe it was the last thing on mind given that Gabriella was sick, that he was capable of taking care of himself. There wasn't any way he'd willingly break the promise that he made to you, right? You even tried turning off your phone and toggling with the data button on it to see if was just that your phone hadn't received the message. But upon turning your phone on, you only saw the same three notifications on your screen from a couple hours back.
You'd call him tomorrow. Check up on Gabriella and him on the process. The thought of him ghosting you came to mind, though it didn't last for very long. He'd been very upfront when it came to telling you the things that displeased him in the relationship. He wouldn't just up and leave without an explanation. Plus, the two of you were doing great and he wouldn't have suggested meeting Gabriella if he wanted to break up. Things were good. You just had to keep repeating that until all the worries in your head disappeared.
Things were good.
So why is it that a week later every single one of your phone calls was getting straight to voicemail?
"Hey Miguel, I know that you're busy with work and whatnot but can you just call me back so I know you're not dead?" You were pacing in the middle of your living room, feeling yourself slowly start to unravel with every automated response that you received. "Okay, well I love you. Please just call me back whenever you have the time," you ended the call, staring at the blank screen before testing your luck again for what seemed to be the 70th time.
"This is Miguel O'Hara speaking. Please state your reason for calling and I'll try to get back to you," you practically spoke with the machine, having memorized it after the nth time of hearing it. It was pointless to leave another message, the deep part of your subconscious was aware of that. And yet, you couldn't help yourself. "Hey, Miguel. I'm sorry about all the calls. Can you just tell me if I did something wrong or something instead of ignoring me? Please," you sounded pathetic to your own ears.
You waited until the designated two days passed by until you called the police department in your precinct, inquiring about any missing reports for Miguel. "Look I don't know how many times you want me to check the damn system but for the fourth time, there's no missing persons report filed for a Miguel O'Hara," the officer sounded agitated on the line, though rightfully so. You'd asked him for the fourth time before he snapped. You hung up, trying other PD's and hospitals. Only to get no results.
Maybe it was a stupid way to cope with the fact that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. But you couldn't help but call him just to be able to hear his voice on the ringtone, even if he did sound apathetic when speaking. That was until a couple weeks passed by, "Number is disconnected or no longer in service," was the response that you'd received instead of the voicemail that you'd gotten so used to. "No, come on," you muttered to yourself, trying to assure yourself it was a mistake. But upon calling again, you quickly realized that it was not.
Even as the years passed by, you found yourself unable to move on from him. It'd gotten to the point where your friends had to step in, staging an emergency intervention under the pretense of going out for drinks one night. As much as you understood their point and their reasons for believing that you were slightly delusional, you still refused to let him go. His clothes still lingered in the back of your closet, the fresh scent of his cologne still present when you pressed your face against it.
You had no idea what happened to him, and that was partially what kept you from moving on. There was no type of closure, no logical reason for him to leave you or any problems in between the two of you. So you stuck to your selfish, hopeless dream. The dream that one day you'd wake up for work and he'd be knocking on the other side of the door, cup of coffee in hand with a croissant bag in the other. Maybe it was the fact that he'd made you feel loved in a relationship. The person that understood you just by your tics and facial expressions.
"Maybe he just.. doesn't want to make this harder for you," your friend hesitated when you'd picked up a newspaper on your way out the subway. Miguel's face had been on the front of the cover, looking as stoic as ever. Even as he was getting an award for a groundbreaking experiment. As a photographer, you could tell that the lighting wasn't flattering on his skin, the color palette washing him out. But still, you tried to push that thought to the side as the reminder that he was still living out there peacefully without you lingered.
"He'll come back," you muttered, though the words didn't sound believable anymore. You could tell your friend wanted to say something else by the skeptical look on their face, but they simply just offered a hug. "Look, when you're ready to move on, I'll be here to help you," they whispered, rubbing your back. The two of you got a couple sideway glances from the others walking down the street, but you couldn't help but want this hug to last longer. You needed some kind of warmth in your life.
The one good thing that had come out of this situation though was that you finally decided to take his advice and quit your job. You'd spent weeks going from studio to studio, rejection getting thrown in your face a couple times. Each rejection started stinging less and less, simply becoming another name on your list. Though a majority of the studios that rejected you was due to a lack of space, giving you plenty of connections to reach out to though. After a while of submitting job applications, a couple of them managed to land.
Which is how you came to work at the studio you're working at now. While it was slightly painful to do, the copious amounts of ass kissing that you did to your superiors helped you move up the ranks rather quickly. Well that and the diversity in your portfolio, the main point that your employer made sure to highlight. The way that you were able to capture objects and people, capturing them in a way that made the subject interesting no matter what it was. It was nothing mediocre. You knew that now.
Along with the job, the studio offered a couple refresher courses that you took full advantage of. While your skill wasn't bad by any means, you were still determined to get better at it. The courses went over from a range of subjects such as color contrasts, the rule of thirds, and different editing programs that didn't mess with the quality of the photos.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, your gaze immediately going to the necklace adorning your neck. You've been trying to talk yourself into finally taking it off for the last couple months, trying to convince yourself that it was necessary to move on. Your alarm clock blared in the background as a reminder that you were about to late for work, but you stayed still. But taking the necklace off would mean that you'd accepted he wouldn't be coming back. Is that something you'd be willing to do?
You brought your hands to the nape of your neck, reaching for the clasp. Just take it off. It would be simple. Stuffing it in the back of your bathroom drawer, never having to look at it again. Never having to be reminded of the nice memories associated with it. You dropped your hand from the clasp, letting out a small groan. "I'll do it tomorrow," it was the same thing you told yourself in the mirror every day, knowing pretty damn well that you weren't going to actually do it.
Even the meaningless distractions and the amount of clothing that you'd bought for yourself after acquiring an actual paying position at the studio did nothing to fix the empty void. Everything just felt so gray, so static. You'd found yourself missing the most minute things of your routine with Miguel, from brushing your teeth together at the sink after he'd just spent the night to the subtle scratch of his stubble after a couple days of not shaving. You missed having someone to talk to about whatever crossed your mind with little fear of judgement. You missed him.
No number of heels or jewelry that you'd splurge on would heal that.
You checked your watch on your way up the elevator, practically hearing the ticking of it as you were reminded you were late. Probably shouldn't have stopped at that new café that just opened up on the corner of your house. Though the taste of the buttery croissant melting in your mouth almost made any complaints coming your way worth it. You stuffed the last piece in your mouth before approaching your office, wiping away any crumbs that lingered on your shirt.
"I have a meeting scheduled here for... Xina?" You read off the calendar on your tablet, looking up for some kind of confirmation. What you hadn't expected to see was Miguel standing there by her side, his hands stuffed in his pockets. A ticked off expression on his face to top off the cake that this morning was turning out to be.
"You're late," the same tone that he'd used with Dana all those years ago, one of agitation and frustration was now the one that he'd used with you. For the amount of times that you spent criticizing the woman over her decisions, you wouldn't have expected for you to get treated the same way.
You really wanted to be annoyed, demand for an explanation. You'd planned out this moment in your head for years, after all. But upon standing in front of him once more, you felt your mouth dry up. It didn't help that he looked more devastatingly handsome than the last time you saw him. His hair had grown a bit, slight curls forming at the nape of his neck. While he wasn't weak by any means when the two of you were together, his muscles were practically close to ripping the stitching in his black button down top.
The gold Virgencita necklace he had did nothing to help out your case. It was only accentuated by the dark fabric. On his wrist, you could notice a couple beaded bracelets. Each with their own sentence in them, ranging from 'best dad' to 'te quiero mucho.' Well that was if you weren't misreading them while they were upside down. Surely the work of his daughter. Though the thing that had caught your attention the most was the gold band around his ring finger, a sign of his commitment to the woman next to him.
You really needed to stop staring before they got any weird vibes from you. You could do that. You could separate your personal feelings from your work.
"It's just a few minutes, Miguel," the woman next to him spoke, the harshness in his glare losing all intensity when she reached over to hold his hand. He let out a small sigh, almost forcing himself to calm down before nodding slightly. You shook both of their hands, willing yourself not to clasp Miguel's fingers within your own. To feel the slight roughness of his calluses that you'd grown used to. That wasn't something you could do anymore.
"Before we started, would any of you all like something to drink? We have tea, water, and some coffee. Though I wouldn't recommend the coffee," you could play the role of a stranger too, a forced smile making its way onto your face. You felt it falter a couple times but you were quick to school your expression back to normal before anyone could notice.
"No, thank you," Xina responded, placing her hands on the table to scoot her chair in. You caught a glimpse of the diamond ring adorning her finger, if that was even a proper name for it. You had an idea Miguel was rich, but you'd never expect him to be THAT rich. The lights reflected off the diamond, a rainbow hue present on the table.
"I'm alright, thanks," Miguel didn't even bother to look at you while he spoke, his attention solely on the woman next to him. His hand reached out to where hers sat, holding it tenderly. His thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. The same way that he used to do to you.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you happen to have any snacks?" The little girl by his side chimed in, the same little girl you'd seen on those photographs from long ago. Well, now she wasn't exactly too little. She did, however, resemble every bit of Miguel. Even more so now than in the photos you had the pleasure of seeing before.
"Mija, if you eat snacks now you won't be hungry for when we go out to eat later."
"I'll still be hungry, I promise!" Even you knew that it was false, but Miguel found himself being unable to deny the little girl anything. He pulled his wallet out, glimpses of those photos from years ago still visible. Tinted yellow from the time that'd passed by. You couldn't help but peer inside as discreetly as you could, hoping to catch a glimpse of the polaroid in the back. He hastily shut his wallet when he caught you staring at it, shoving it deep into the pocket of his jeans.
Something to confirm that you hadn't just imagined the time that you spent together with him all those years ago. The only photos you saw in his wallet though were those of Gabriella and one of him with his fiancée, surely celebrating their engagement by the pose in the picture. Xina sticking her hand out to the camera, a flashing smile on her face as she looked over at the camera. You couldn't help but feel a pang in your chest when you glanced over at Miguel in that photo, his eyes only locked on her.
A look of adoration that you'd only imagined in fairytales. The way that he looked at her like she was the only woman that mattered in the world. You were snapped out of your trance when you heard his wallet thud shut, looking over at Gabriella when she walked over to Miguel instead. He had a five dollar bill sticking out of his hand, keeping it in his grasp while he finished speaking, "Alright, go get yourself a light snack. And get the nice lady something if she wants."
Nice lady.
That's what you were reduced to now? Just as the lady that treated him with basic manners?
"I will, thank you!" Gabriella yelled out from the hall, practically dashing out the door the second he handed her the money. You pushed any lingering thoughts aside, excusing yourself from the table before going after Gabriella. You found her skipping in the hallway on the way to the vending machine, humming a song to herself on the way.
"I didn't actually have to get anything. I just wanted to talk to you," now that came as a surprise. As far as you knew, Gabriella only knew that Miguel was dating someone in the past.
"Me? Why me?"
She reached for the pocket on the front of her overall, taking out a polaroid. You didn't have to look at it to know what it was. And yet you did, a small smile present on your face at the sight of how happy you and Miguel looked once. The words at the bottom had faded away, leaving grey markings in their wake. "I found it in the trash. I thought I should keep it," she told you, your eyes widening slightly. He wouldn't do that, not after he said he'd value it. But what reason would Gabriella have to lie?
"My dad acted strange for a while. He stopped reading me bedtime stories and putting smiley faces on my food," the little girl sounded melancholy as she spoke, reaching up to put the bill in the machine. Now that sounded more like the Miguel that you were accustomed to, not the man that was currently in your office. "But he used to talk nicely about you. How I'd love to spend time with you and get to know you. I'm sorry that we didn't get to that."
"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes things just happen, y'know?" Even if you yourself knew nothing of what exactly happened, you decided to test that out to reassure her. She gave a small nod in response, pressing a button on the machine before a bag of chips dropped down.
"Thought you weren't hungry."
"Well, I lied to him and it'd be pretty obvious if I showed up empty handed." Smart kid.
"I don't know if we should stick with this photographer. I caught her staring at my wallet a couple seconds too long," you heard Miguel through the thin walls complain to his wife, that same tone of annoyance lingering in his voice. He really couldn't tolerate you, huh.
"She was probably just looking at the photos you have in there, don't stress out about it too much. She's the best we'll find with this time crunch."
The conversation came to a halt when you and Gabriella stepped into the room, the crinkling of chips a stark comparison to the quietness. You went over to your bookcase, grabbing your planning binder before going back to your seat across from them. You flipped over to a clean page, playing with the end of your pen as you tried to distract yourself from the reality of the situation. The same ex who'd practically disappeared from the face of the earth was now facing you. Requiring your services.
"We were wondering if we could establish something like a photo booth where the guests could go to take photos rather than it just being a quinceañera situation," Miguel spoke up, looking directly at you. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of something, just the slightest bit of something that would tell you that you weren't just a stranger to him. Maybe not longing but some sort of recognition? But you received nothing. Not even a form of silent acknowledgment that you were still wearing the damn necklace.
"Alright, we can do that," you scribbled down the notes, just the request making you recall the countless complaints that you've had to deal with about a couple of your interns. That the guests couldn't even get a spoonful in without having some fear that a camera would instantly flash in their eyes. "And how would you like the arrangement to be for the both of you? Photos straight out of the chapel and throughout the ceremony or just the photo booth?"
"Well for the two of us, we'd like some photos of us outside of the chapel." Alright, all you had to do was arrange the photo booth before you made your way over to the church to take their photographs. That sounded manageable. You annotated the time that the ceremony and reception would start, writing down a couple possibilities for the time required. You were getting paid by the hour, after all.
"I'd prefer if you could make it something low light. My eyes get sensitive with bright lights," Miguel spoke up, waiting for you to write down the notes before leaning back in his chair. You'd never heard him complain about something like that when you used him as the muse for your photos, but a lot of things were different about him now. You didn't know him anymore. A fact that you had to resign to yourself to.
"How'd the two of you meet, if you don't mind me asking?" It was clear that they mind the question. Silence lingered in the room, both of their stares equally judging. Think. Think. Think. What would be a reasonable excuse for letting your nosiness get in the way of remaining professional?
"I was just wondering since we could set up the booth with something reminiscent of that moment. A couple coffee shaped figures if it was a coffee shop. Books if it was a library. Like a cute little easter egg," you almost had to commend yourself for coming up with that lie so fast. You looked over at Gabriella, seeing her give you a thumbs up on the middle of her trying to watch a YouTube video. Okay, maybe the situation had been salvaged.
"We used to be friends, though we hadn't contacted each other in a while. Before she came into my life as my fiancée, my life just felt very empty. She brought me purpose and a reason to come back home every night," you gripped the pen in your hands as he spoke, almost surprised that the glass didn't shatter. Empty? Empty? Were you just a piece of chopped liver? Maybe you'd gone crazy for real this time around and just imagined yourself dating him. Yeah.
Just coincidentally dated someone who looked exactly like him. You'd be lucky if you didn't go mad by the end of this meeting if your thoughts continued to stray in this direction. You could've sworn you heard a slight crack in the pen you were holding, forcibly loosening your grip on it even though it was the only thing anchoring you down. Just take a couple deep breaths. Go to your happy place. Wait no. That wouldn't work if your happy place was in a beach in the Bahamas with Miguel, right?
Nope. Definitely not.
"Well he comes home most of the time, but y'know how it is with geneticists," Xina remarked, her gaze going over to the pen in your hand before going back up to your face.
"You have no idea," you found yourself muttering, unable to stop the words from coming out. You didn't even have to look over at Gabriella this time to know that she was subtly giving you a thumbs down.
"I'm sorry?"
"Forget it, just a stupid comment." Though she seemed skeptical towards the comment, she decided to leave it be for now.
The rest of the meeting flowed very smoothly, a majority of the conversation staying on work related topics. The other portions had been Xina talking about just how lucky she was to get you as a photographer, how thankful she was for Miguel. "He's just been so supportive throughout this whole process, letting me take reigns of the planning," she'd told you, her face gleaming as she spoke of him. An expression similar to contentment washed over Miguel's face as he watched speak, a hint of a smile on his lips.
"Alright, that'll be all. Thank you for coming to meet with me today," you told the both of them once the plans had been set into stone. You rose up from your seat, the three of them following suit.
"Thank you, it was very nice to meet you," Xina extended her hand out towards you, a polite smile on her face. You shook her hand, returning the pleasantries with as much cheerfulness as you could muster. Which wasn't that much, now that you think about it. But she hadn't noticed anything too strange about your expression so that was slightly reassuring. She and Gabriella left the room, leaving you and Miguel together.
"It was nice meeting you, Mr. O'Hara. My apologies for being late," to which he simply gave a curt nod before making his way to the exit. You went to fix your binder and pens, looking up only when you hadn't heard the click of the door.
Before he had the chance to step out, he stopped and stood by the doorstep to turn around and look at you. You were stuck in between wanting to bask in his presence for just a little bit longer and wanting him to leave. Why couldn't he just leave with the new family he was forming and leave you out of it? He looked like he was trying to see if he recognized you, his brows furrowed slightly in concentration. "I'm sorry if this comes off as a weird question, but have we met before? You seem familiar."
You almost wanted to laugh at the situation. How funny it was that the man you'd swore was the one you were probably gonna end up getting married to was the same one who didn't recognize you now? The same one that spent hours on his knees, devoting himself to worshipping and memorizing every feature of your body. That loved every aspect of yourself, even the aspects that you once thought were unlovable.
While seeing him now was the epitome of painful, knowing that he hadn't even bothered to consider you while he'd gone off to start a new life, this was what you needed to move on. The hope that you once had of him coming home, holding you close to his chest with countless apologies slowly dwindled down throughout this meet before extinguishing completely. You had slowly come to accept how stupid it was to wait for him.
It would've been easy to say yes, to tell him that you were his ex-girlfriend. But the image of the small smiles that he shot at Xina throughout the meeting still stuck in your head, making you consider that decision longer than you should've. You looked up from your notes, realizing that he was still waiting for your answer. After some hesitation, you eventually decided on, "No, I don't believe we've met before. You have me confused with someone else."
tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop @1800-get-alife @cl3stevu @hardlystrictlystarwars @1dk-anym0r3
WARNINGS: Power abuse, class divisions, slur use, assault, forced medical procedures, no proofread, Victorian Era customs, Angst, slow burn, No use of Y/N.
Synopsis: Pretty Woman but Victorian Era Inspired with Miguel.
Summary: Although a deal is born, the aftermath is something you'd never forget.
A/N: There was a time when venereal diseases were an actual problem and prostitutes were to blame. As a countermeasure, authorities started to do checkups to the courtesans, however even regular work women were involved. Sometimes authorities forced checkups to women that allegedly were sick and they strapped them down. This was seen as dehumanizing by some people. If the woman was sick, she was treated until supposedly cured. If she wasn't, she was let go.
Previous
If one thing Peter had always present in his thoughts was Miguel's stubbornness. Sometimes it proved to be successful other times annoying.
Successful cause of it, he had his empire of machinery sprawled through the city. Companies bought from the richmen that refused to properly treat their employees and the complains flooding his mail had been way too great to ignore or postpone any further .
But this time, his mulishness proved to be everything but good.
Peter was tired, slightly perturbed by the many gruesome things he had to witness in the search of this Violet woman, and he was definitely giving his friend a piece of mind once the search had concluded. If that ever came to happen.
For someone to escape Lyla's radar, meant whoever this woman was, didn't want to be found, or the name was just a ruse to confuse anyone curious enough to dig up about her. Scurrying away from one of the best investigators in the city wasn't an easy feat, he had to give the mysterious woman that.
He had seen the ugly side of the city, a place he often kept in his prayers and helped whenever his job and fortune allowed it.
For the umpteenth time, Peter sighed and rubbed his face, awash with tiredness. Lyla could only chuckle at the parade of emotions wafting through Peter's countenance.
"We'll find her." The short haired woman spoke as she walked through the stony and neverending streets, that blasted their senses with an array of smells their brain could barely name and classify. Peter tailed after her, looking through the mass of people he swum against, watching for his pockets from the invading kid's gangs.
"From all the people he chooses to go with, he picks one that doesn't want to be found. How do we even know if she's real?"
"Cause she's a different kind of worker."
Lyla mumbled as she turned deeper into an alley to finally reach for Tevinter's district. The middle class world.
Both had forgotten that specific clue Miguel had given them, that had them ransacking through the city for almost a week. Finally, all those trying and tiresome days paid off. They had gone through a couple of Violets in the upper district, the name wasn't that common as they originally thought.
But that just added even more difficulty to the guessing game Miguel had bestowed upon them. Were they looking for a noblewoman? A shop owner? A famous seamstress or singer?
None of that.
It took a moment for Peter to finally understand the kind of woman they were looking for. And it became even clearer as they approached Brasswood Avenue. The preferred street for people that always were up to something, people that lived their lives in the many joyful and licentious ways available. Courtesans included.
Be it the view and the shops around, made Brasswood's streets a centric and well made place for living, during the day. But in the night, it was as dangerous as any other poor district. Safety was a luxury even middle class struggled to get sometimes.
Lyla and Peter asked around. Some outright ignored them, others acted like they didn't know anything at all, courtesans specially. Ladies of the night that refused to disclose information about the mysterious woman and dodged the questions effortlessly.
Peter noticed the protectiveness the women had on eachother, with Violet however the secretiveness was tenfold.
Except for a couple of whistle-blowers that thrived on gossips and watching the world burn for the hell of it.
They gave him your address, just to tip the balance in their favor. But Peter's nature simply thanked them with a polite smile and returned at once with Lyla.
As soon as the investigator and his friend crossed his office doors, Miguel's stilted position relaxed slightly with a deep sigh.
"Any news?" The Duke mumbled expecting yet another dead end.
His job and the noblesse oblige often nicked his patience away, and whenever Lyla or Peter returned empty handed, his stress shot heavenwards.
The getaway with nobility approached ominously within each day, and the letters from Prince Harry made sure to keep the vexing vacation in the front core of his brain. Disrupting his train of thoughts often. It didn't help the woman he had set his eyes on, the perfect subject, refused to be found.
The possibilities of you deceiving him, were undeniable. If it took this long it meant the name you gave him was fake. His mind recalled the way you had left oh so hastily out of his manor and the remembrance alone reinforced that thought.
But Lyla's words made his mind to have a bit of peace.
"We've found her."
But Peter's skepticism placed his jumbled mind in the juggler again, "It's a lead. We didn't see her per say."
"Pete, don't be a wet blanket on this, please. I say we've found her. Didn't you notice the way those women clammed up as soon as we mentioned Violet's name?"
"Of course I did, but still, they gave me her address, remember? She lives in an apartment in Brasswood Avenue."
"Now that's a lead, not an address! They didn't specify where! There's a shit ton of apartments in Brasswood, you dumb bread." Lyla quipped with a roll of her eyes.
"Ya, basta." Miguel grumbled and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Brasswood you said?"
Peter nodded and Miguel picked up his things after downing his cold and forsaken morning coffee in a go.
"Let's go, then."
"Wait! You're going right now? What about the evening meetings?"
"The last thing I want is to be assigned one of Harry's companions." Explained the Duke as he approached the door, "You're coming or what?"
Peter had no idea what to expect, but he followed anyway. His street smarts could come in handy.
The perfume was not only heavenly, but sure attracted looks from men and women alike. Curiosity and outrage from the women, to see such thing as a working class woman coming out of the perfume parlor with a package in hand.
Some women stared too long and you were brave and bold enough to face their derogatory looks with a careless smirk.
How dare you?
They'd say. Even worst when you had just purchased a popular item and flaunted them right in their noses way before they could get it. Poking at their rich and better-than-thou ego. Their companions were forced to look away.
The layout slowly changed into a less fancy and dainty milieu, but a less produced copy cat version of Manhattan's district. Pretty but bustling with merchants, families, vendors and a bit of working class rust around the edges.
You had taken a carriage and dropped you off a few blocks away from your apartment. The city noise was something it always woke you up in your evening naps. And hopefully this time you'd get a much longer sleep with a new purchase. Ear lids for the noise.
The comfy and self indulgent thoughts were sapped away as soon as your eyes took in a very familiar carriage, parked a street down your apartment.
Swallowing a thick lump, forming in your throat, you entered the threshold of your home and went up the stairs. Ears perked up at the known voice. Rich, foreign and beautiful, yet annoyingly lordly.
To your surprise none other than the Duke and his companion were there.
What is this?
Your mind swirled with so many different questions and emotions.
Would the Duke want revenge? No certainly not, but it was too late to hide as he had spotted you.
Beautiful brown eyes stared your way, finally acknowledging your presence with a surprised blink. As if convincing himself that following his instincts had paid off.
"Violet." He called and his companion immediately set his eyes on you. Scrutinizing and taking in each of your features. Peter blinked a couple of times before removing his hat in sign of respect to a lady.
"What is this?" Alarmed you looked around, and to your little luck, a couple of neighbors were peeping in your apartment's wooden corridor.
Shit.
With a haste you grabbed your keys and opened the locked door nervously, urging both men inside, away from prying and nosy stares.
"What is this? Why are you here?" Suspicion beyond obvious in your voice.
Peter chuckled nervously and cleared his throat at your bewilderment and harsh words.
"The Duke was looking for you, Miss... Violet."
"Why?" your brows puckered in a frown as your arms crossed against your chest, defensively. Peter faked a brief cough as Miguel gave him the silent order to leave. He put on his hat again and headed for the entrance.
"I'll wait for you downstairs." Miguel on the other hand, removed his hightop hat and sighed.
"You're quite difficult to reach."
"What are you doing here?! Never mind. You'll get me in trouble, you must leave."
Miguel took in the insides of your home for a brief second. Both were in the little reception. Wooden boards that creaked under the weight, from the sparse view he peeked inside, he could tell there wasn't many furnishings inside. Just enough to make it hospitable. The delicious smell of vanilla wafted through his lungs, inhaling the scent of fresh bread. After all, you lived above a known bakery.
Your fingers put the package away in one of the nearby tables and sighed, exasperated when he didn't obey your request.
"I'd like you to spend a week with me." Said Miguel with the most casuals of tones as he sat in one of the many seats available. His analytical gaze pinned you on the spot, ignoring your initial protests.
Your brows furrowed impossibly deeper and your eyes widened. Horrified at the petition alone.
Has he gone mad?
If your mind could slap itself, you'd be beating it for breaking your own rules. This was precisely why you didn't overstay the night in a client's house, unless it was absolutely necessary or way too late to go home on your own.
Growing attached wasn't in your repertoire. Much less when royalty or noble folk were involved. It was a world that although gave you enough to live unbothered by a couple of months, you always procured to keep it at arms length. As it all screamed danger.
"I beg your pardon, but... what did you just say?"
"A week, with me."
You had to take a couple of breaths and think of a polite way to dismiss his request, after all, you never knew with men. Your mind was already formulating the right way to deject his advances or any sort of possibility before it was able to ground it's roots, but Miguel's next words put an abrupt halt to those thoughts.
"I'll pay you, of course."
Oh.
Relief washed over your countenance, and you exhaled. He had almost gotten you for a second. Mind drifted off into working mode.
"It doesn't work like that. First, Why do you want such thing? Second, how did you find me? And third, what makes you think I'd accept a job like that so easily?"
Miguel contemplated your words for a second and put his hands up in defense.
"I've got a little holiday celebration with some... people, and as much as I'd love to skip it and tell them no, my invitation has already arrived. And I need a companion for that." His fingers tweaked the ribbon around the neck, "And let's say I have contacts around, it wasn't an easy feat, but here we are."
Your brow quirked and he stood.
"And out of all the courtesans and ladies you could chose, why me?"
"I need a professional. What do you say?"
"How much are we talking about?"
He smirked softly and shrugged, hands crossing against his well dressed chest.
"Name the price." His hand gestured.
Since he took the first bait, you still wanted to test how much he could give away before getting nitpicky.
"Eight thousand crowns."
"Six" He rebutted and you frowned.
"Six and a half."
He smirked and shook his head, "Wouldn't it be five thousand crowns enough?."
Your eyes rolled at his continuous lowering rebuttal.
"I need money to leave Nueva York, your grace, the more for me, the better. Make it six and we've got a deal."
He stretched his hands towards you and enveloped one around yours without much contemplation, "Deal."
He smirked with a nod and your eyes rolled.
"The funny thing is, I would've stayed for five thousand."
He chuckled and slicked his hair back, "And it's even funnier, because I would've paid you eight." His words like butter. And that did the trick to shut you up, with a pout.
"Now, you've got to prepare, Prince Harry and his court-"
"Wait, what? The prince invited you?"
"He's the one sponsoring the vacation as usual. Yes. Why?" it was his brow's turn to quirk.
"No... No. I cant." your head shook firmly, "I can't do this."
One thing was private getaways, but this was something completely different. Mingling with royalty, sure was in your plans, but not like this. Nor this soon.
"You already said yes. Can't go back now." He deadpanned.
"Your grace," You breathed, "in case you haven't noticed, I'm the least appropriate of person to be mingling with people like you."
"I swear, if you keep saying absurdity like that-"
"What? It's nothing but the truth. I know my place. Some royalty like their peasants to know where they belong."
This made his anger and patience to slowly crumble. But the Duke was running out of options and time.
"You want to leave, right?"
And he wasn't afraid to use everything in his disposition for you to accept such endeavor.
"Oh, lord. You're really trying to get me in it."
"I need someone that people don't recognize." His hand explained, "Someone that's a complete stranger and has no background in the scene."
"I'm pretty sure some of your friends could recognize me. And wouldn't that attract more attention towards me? Your lot is quite nosy."
His eyes narrowed slightly at the implications behind, "Enough. Look. It's a week. You get money, I keep annoying people at bay. After that, we part ways."
"I... I can't."
But God, you were stubborn as a mule.
"Jesus. Why the hell not?!"
"Cause I don't have what you like to call respectable clothes, nor the etiquette for such things!." You admitted.
Sure you knew how to read and write and your clients always made sure to be updated in politics and the like, a knowledge that had gained your well earned reputation as a wonderful courtesan. But that didn't mean you were well versed in etiquette and whatever codes royalty were ruled by.
"Haberlo dicho antes. I'll buy them for you, and will give you some lessons." (Should've said that sooner.)
And still, the Duke himself didn't cease to amaze you.
"Why?"
"Why what?" His lip twitched in a mild scowl. Tired of so many questions.
"Why are you going to these extents of doing this just to keep people at bay? Like... You are the Duke! A royal. You can do whatever you want! Literally, There's a shit ton of women that would die to have a-"
"You really think I'd spend my time talking about the latest trend of fashions or how improper the wife of a Baron was after a long day, hearing and reading people complains in my office?" Miguel rolled his eyes, irked. "Dios mio. Look, I just need a yes or no."
"It's not about clothes or fancy things..."
"Then what is it now? I swear if you say something regarding your status again-"
"How can I know I'll be safe?"
"Safe?" That question wasn't something he was expecting.
"Yeah, I mean, imagine the scandal if people knew-"
"Funny you think I care of what people think of me." He mumbled with a flat tinge of voice.
"You must do, to an extent, your grace."
"Your point is?"
"If it happens that I get discovered-"
"You won't." He promised.
"I wouldn't underestimate people in the royalty, specially those around you. What I'm trying to say is that, If I get discovered, someone might attempt something against me, your kind of people love to show off power, or they might try to find out about me."
"You'll be with me at all times if that's what you're worried about." He explained. Trying to get this over with.
"It's not you I worry. It's the people around you that I worry. You have no idea on what I've seen... wives sending to kill their husband's mistresses for less than that. And I certainly don't wanna end up in a ditch cause someone hasn't gotten over you."
A heavy sigh escaped his lips,"And that's why I rather be single."
"Oh?" Another little surprise from him, "I thought you were a married man?"
"I've got no time for that. Let's just stop turning this around too much. Are you in or not?"
"Okay" you nodded, "Okay. Fine. I'm in."
"Great. Good. Will pick you up tomorrow at 9 am so we can start the etiquette lessons."
"No, no. No. If I agree will be with one condition."
"Bendito, dame paciencia. ¿Ahora qué?" (Good lord, give me patience. Now what?)
"Don't ever come here again." He frowns, struck by your words, "At least not dressed like that. Or ever actually. I don't wanna get myself killed."
"Why would someone do that?" His brows pucker, confused, "Are you... on drugs? I can't do this if you're hooked-"
"Now you're offending me. Do I look like a junkie to you?" you huffed while your hands placed themselves on your hips, to anchor down a very upset self, however the importance of appearances in royalty were something you couldn't ignore, as they were everything for the kin.
"I say so, because if you keep coming people will start thinking I have money, I'll start getting the wrong sort of attention and I could get assaulted, or worse. It's for my safety. Things are turning sour for... street workers."
"Ok. Then let's meet in a place-"
"No. I'll go to you, not backwards."
He stared, amused and equally irked at your stubbornness with a chuckle, but he had no other choice but to to nod, your throat clears, "So, in summary, I'll be your personal scort for a week, I tend to your needs, treat you good and no strings attached."
"Basically. Do we have a deal?"
Your lips pursed, triumphant, "Deal."
Once again your hands shook in a gentle bur firm embrace. Miguel however pulled a couple of bills to give them to you.
"Get what you need. Something-"
"Classy, I know."
He nodded and put on his hat, with a quick goodbye, he left your place, leaving your spirits confused, yet high.
The idea of leaving Nueva York towards a better future, had been rounding your mind more times than you actually wanted to admit. But now that you had the chance in a silver platter, you'd size every moment of it.
With the money well hidden in your skirt, and a last look in the mirror, you went out the door.
Shopping day had arrived, and the woman within you felt the excitement through every pore of your citrus perfume smelling skin. You didn't overdress, given the amount of packagings you'd carry around that day.
With a goal set, you ventured through the streets of Manhattan, the boutiques you had seen so many times, didn't feel unapproachable and impossible to afford now that you had a sponsor.
The Duke had given you enough money to buy at least a couple of fancy dresses for the week, accessories included. You'd go for earth-toned colors, leaving the exuberant bright shades for special occasions.
Cause in truth, ever since you started on the world's most antique labor, everything was a new opportunity to learn something. And the royals had been your preferred study subject .
The way they spoke and acted was not only ridiculously entertaining, but it gave you a glimpse of their true selves. Being attuned with people's emotions was something you had perfected over the years, thanks to your profession.
Miguel, The Duke, had taken you by surprise with his petition. And his willingness to pay you for company said allt about how much a recluse or a nitpicky man he was, regarding female companionship.
And now that he had given you a glimpse of what laid ahead, you were both thrilled and scared. He might be the exception of royals having some basic human decency, but by all means it meant he was the rule.
With a guarded heart, but an open and willing mind to learn, you arrived at the first store. Sadly this one didn't have what you needed. Last season's dresses remained almost too rigid in the showcase. And may heavens forbid you wearing those scraps, so you moved to the second one.
Marivaldi's. One of the most exclusive and gorgeous boutiques in Manhattan.
The lovely ribbons adorned sumptuously the front display of the latest trends in the colors you wanted. They had exactly what you were looking for.
With an excited beam and a quick fix of your skirt, you entered the place, the tiny and melodic bell announced your presence to those inside.
A couple of eyes stared your way and quickly resumed their activities. Your feet took you directly to the gorgeous silk and tafetta dress you saw before.
Breathtaking.
Not only the confection was done exquisitely, but the materials were top notch. The kid in you ran rampant in this fancy store. And when your fingertips grazed at the fabric, you could feel the buttery and soft finish of the silk, making your heart shimmy.
You were definitely buying it, as soon as your hand ceased to admire it.
"Excuse me Are you looking for something?"
You turned and saw a dainty woman, a bit gaunt around the eyes with a hardened and somewhat hostile aura, dressed up like she could be part of the exposition.
"Oh! you work here? You have exquisite things in here. I'm interested in this dress. How much does it cost?"
Her next words however sapped all that excitement away.
"It won't fit you, ma'am."
Which clearly confused you since the size tag was in plain sight. The woman's tone however made it all clear.
It wasn't in sale for you. with a frown you spoke.
"Right. I didn't ask if it would fit me. I asked how much does it cost?"
And that only made the woman's attitude to sour completely.
"All you have to know, is that this dress is something extremely valuable and exclusive, and I won't allow such thing to decrease by selling it to anyone."
Snappy and impolite as she was, you tried your best to remain calm.
"Right." A deep sigh, "Is there any other dress you're willing to let me purchase?"
"Not in this stablishment I'm afraid. You see, we're a respectable shop, ma'am."
"Respectable?"
How dare she?
"Yes. Our suits are not made for those for a penchant of a night life or licentious attitudes. This is not the shop for you. You may leave this moment."
The other women around stared your way, some weren't that subtle and hushed words to eachother as their eyes remained glued to your form. Was it the little lipstick you were wearing? It definitely left a stain on your lips and the walking around had made your cheeks take a deep shade of red, and the sun high in the sky hadn't helped at all.
"I do have the money for-"
"Didn't you hear? Leave! And don't you dare touch anything with those filthy hands, you whore. Lord knows where they have been." The other woman on charge spoke intentionally loudly.
All eyes were set on you, your throat bobbed and swallowed angrily.
"Maybe ask your husband about it." With nothing else to say your feet turned around and headed for the entrance. Your words had left a couple of women aghast, but nothing had you prepared for what would unfold next.
"She's sick! Stop her!"
The offended and petty woman shouted, then her helper. None of the other femmes glanced your way, neither stepped in. But why would they? You were a peasant out of place.
You left the store before trouble could actually happen, but it was too late to stop the madness.
"Help! That woman is sick!" you heard behind you, and your heart was now beating so fast it could only match a rabbit's.
"That's not true!" You glared as you looked through your hidden compartments but the woman kept insisting and taking everything out of context.
"She's itching! She's sick!"
People around you started to gather to see what the ruckus was about. Some sneered with disgusted faces, others murmured to eachother as they raked their eyes on your body. Others, still had the audacity to smirk your way.
Your body drained in color when a couple of police officers approached.
"Stop her! She's spreading diseases!"
Liar
Your breathings turned labored, erratic at the sudden fear rising up in your spine.
"That's not true! I was only asking for a dress!"
"Liar!" the women accused and soon the murmurs and voices of people rose, demanding you to get detained.
One officer grabbed you by the arm, but you shook him away, earning the other officer to quickly apprehend you.
"No! Let me go! I'm clean!"
The men roughly pulled you away as you shrieked and tried with all your might to free yourself. Fear rose the closer you got to a nearby station, a doctor was called.
"Stop! I am not sick!"
"That's what they all say" the officer didn't budge and only dragged you in, your screams and pleas echoed through the walls, calling the attention of everyone inside. For them was just another regular day.
But for you, a nightmare came true. One of the reasons why you always carried your medical card with you at all times. A card that definitely fell off somewhere in the push and pull with the guards.
The man dragged you to a makeshift medical facility, but your reluctance only earned you his manhandling as he pinned you down to the bed.
"No! No! Stop!" you cried and even went so far as to scratch his hands away, "I'm not sick!" You begged with tears in your eyes.
But the man only secured your hands as your feet kicked and tossed. The officer went past your skirt, taunting fingers hooked in the hem of your undergarments, not surprised to find few layers and a missing decency skirt.
"A harlot in the daylight? You lot are turning bolder with your ways."
Although your eyes blurred with the fat tears that drowned them, you could feel the man's fingertips taking in as much skin as possible to then pull down the remaining clothing layers down.
"No!" You cried bitterly. And when the doctor showed up with gloved hands your legs were held back.
"Pretty sure you're used to it. Relax."
How dared he? How dared they to treat you like this over the petty comments of a resented woman? How messed up they have to be to believe blindly without a real proof?
Rich being rich.
Your mouth hissed and hiccuped as soon as you felt the doctor's hands exploring superficially your skin, like a routine check. Your jaw clenched, and your hands tightened in fists with such pressure your knuckles turned white.
The officer's leering look, only added a few solid weights to your already heavy luggage of shame and the resentment towards the rich to increase tenfold.
With a sigh the doctor stopped prodding and examining, "Let her go. She's clean."
The officer undid the strains around your wrist, and sighed.
You couldn't help but slap him as he blew a kiss your way.
"You bitch!" He returned the slap. A burning sensation spreaded through your left cheek. The past's echos rang through your brain.
"Enough! Bring in the other one!." the doctor yelled at the agitated man. Before leaving, the police officer threw your clothes at your face and left.
The doctor soon followed him, leaving you a shameful and nervous wreck. Tears rolled down your reddened face. Anger and distress came in hand as you dressed up again and left the place in a haste.
You couldn't bear to be retained against your will in a torture place like that, yet there was little you could do. Rich people's word was an absolute law in this side of town. They held all the power and if they wished so, they could send anyone to jail based off a lie.
Your hand held your injured cheek as the other, wiped your tears. Eyes racking over the streets to find what you were looking for, a postal office.
As soon as you entered, your fingers grabbed pen and paper and wrote down simple and pithy words.
I can't do this. I'm truly sorry.
And you folded the bills Miguel had given you, and ran back to his manor to deliver the money personally. This time you wouldn't leave time to replies.
The sooner you delivered everything, the sooner you could go home and take a bath to try and wipe away all those dirty traces that officer had left on your skin. Bitterness spreaded all over your mouth at the sour event just happened.
You grabbed a carriage and went straight to Babylon's Manor. Where to your surprise, Peter was there, giving some orders to people. But it was better since you didn't have to face Miguel alone.
In a few strides, you called him from the door and Peter approached confused, but it quickly turned into an alarmed face as he watched your cheek swollen and red.
"Are you okay, Miss?"
"Give this to the Duke. Tell him I'm sorry. But, I can't."
Peter gulped as you shoved the envelope with the money into his hands, ignoring his concern.
"Wait! Miss Violet!"
But you were running back to the carriage, and instructed the driver to go off before Peter could reach you.
Disgrace too much to bear on your own.
The servants removed the coat and hat off him, and quickly scrambled away. To his little surprise, Peter was there, working in his fair shares of reports.
The clinking from the whiskey bottles interrupted Peter as he stood. How would he explain that his day was about to get worst?
Miguel downed the glass of whiskey and let a pleased groan at the liqueur's taste.
"Tough day?"
The Duke rolled his eyes at Peter's question. "The world has gone mad, people keep complaining and apparently there was a robbery today on a boutique. The thief was taken away."
"Yeah, I heard about it too. You're trying your best in keeping the city together and sometimes you can only do so much, pal. Sadly I've got bad news."
Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose before serving himself a larger potion of whiskey, as if preparing his mind for the upcoming blow.
Instead of words, Peter handed him the envelope and his brown eyes quickly devoured it's contents only to let a growl rumble through his chest.
"Before you explode," Peter tried to reason, "She was scared. And one of her cheeks was swollen. Something must've happened."
"And why didn't you stop her, then?!"
"Cause she left before I could do anything!" Peter yelled back, "She literally came off a carriage, dumped that envelope and left!"
Miguel held his hips, burying his fingers on the clothed flesh of his hips, teeth clenched underneath his pair of plump lips. Screaming at eachother wouldn't help, but it definitely had added a new wave of stress on his mind. But it also left him with the same question. Something had to happen for you to act like that. Scared wasn't something that came to his mind to describe you.
"No puedo más. No sé que voy a hacer con esa mujer tan terca. No sé!" (I don't know what I'll do with that stubborn woman.)
He crumpled the paper eith the bills in it and threw it against the wall, "Tomorrow morning I want her here. In this office. Understood? Take a royal order if needed, in case she refuses."
Peter could only nod, worried of what might happen if he didn't find you, but even more worried about your looks. That cheek was definitely a slap, and by the level of swelling he could deduct it was recent.
Everything revolving around you offered more questions than answers, and Miguel was running out of time.
Ironic as it was, Miguel preferred a stranger's company than his own circle. But now he had seen you and your equally fiery temper, he understood why The Duke was reluctant to let you go so easily. He liked an equal challenge. Something that kept his brain sharp.
He'd look for you first thing in the morning. But first, he'd need to calm his friend's nerves.
"You'll be fine, pal." It was more a self reassurance than anything. Cause poor of him if you didn't show up with him next day.
Synopsis: After the big rose ceremony fight, your future in Paradise is uncertain. But one thing is for certain, a new storm is brewing... Word count 4.8k
Part 1(previous parts linked in the post)
A/N: EEEE, thank you for all the support and love this AU has gotten with all the recent asks as of late, just TY TY so much! 🖤 I think there will only be 3 chapters max after this then we will bid this series farewell 😢 going back to my Jersey Shore roots for this one as the inspiration mixed in!
DISCLAIMER: I have changed the name of the show for copyright purposes, I don't own or have rights to the TV show The Bachelor or Bachelor in Paradise and all credit goes to the rightful owners.
TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST(slightly less in this chapter), DRAMA, SUGGESTIVE-GETTING HANDSY ON THE DANCE FLOOR, MULTIPLE PEOPLE MAKING OUT MENTIONED, NO MAJOR SMUT YET(THAT'S FOR THE FAIRYTALE SUITES 🤭😏), BREAK UP, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CHEATING, BETRAYAL, RELATIONSHIP TROUBLES, GASLIGHTING
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Jason Donner speaks in a voiceover: "Tonight on Singles in Paradise...
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Jason takes a deep breath as he addresses the anxious group that are setting in various spots in the common room. You and Felicia are holding onto each other's knees cross legged on the floor. Miguel is watching Jason's face intently for any detection of the news he is about to share. George has an arm around MJ who is fiddling nervously with her necklace. Ben is locked in a dead stare at a spot on the floor. Peter B. is noticeably absent.
"Alright, y'all , I know there's been a lot of madness around here lately. Just a little update on Dana: she will not be returning to paradise."
You and Felicia do your best not to crack a smile as you slowly turn to look at each other.
"Now..." Jason warns. "I do not condone anything that took place at the rose ceremony tonight. Physical violence will not be tolerated on any show of the Eligible Suitor Nation. However..." He pauses, motioning towards you.
"I understand that some of it was provoked by some words that were exchanged between fellow cast mates..." He continues, putting it vaguely. “....and I want you to know that we do not condone that either. Due to Dana's departure, Miguel?"
Miguel slowly looks up at Jason, a hopeful look on his face.
"We will let you stay another week. However, if you do not have a rose by that time, you will be going home for good. Understood?"
Miguel nods silently and smiles, uttering a murmur of gratitude.
"Great." Jason says. "Well, everyone, it's been a long night. Why don't we call it here. We'll have some fun surprises to look forward to tomorrow as well as a group outing. With that, I'll bid you all goodnight. Everyone behave from here on out, got it?" He points a finger at the room with everyone nodding and mumbling in silent confirmation.
"Good. Goodnight everyone." He turns, fastening one of his buttons on his light tan suit jacket as he steps out, walking away into the night.
Everyone sighs and Felicia pops up, offering both of her arms to you and grunts in unison with you as you use her to stand up as well, your feet and legs like television static from sitting cross legged on the floor. Felicia turns to Ben and gives him a hug in silence, talking quietly amongst each other before it's time to separate for bedtime.
Miguel takes you by the hand, your cheeks growing a little warm as you look up at him.
"You good?" He murmurs lowly at you.
You yawn loudly, raising your free hand over your mouth, nodding your head as you release it. "M'fine..."
You let go of his hand for a moment as you place both hands on the small of your back, bending backwards a little bit as you stretch your spine, holding your breath for a moment then letting it out with a deep sigh. "Just need some sleep I guess."
Miguel nods with a hum. "Want me to walk you to your room?"
"Um..." You hesitate a little, looking around then squeezing past Miguel to get your blanket that's sitting behind him on the couch. "I'll be alright. I was gonna walk back with Felicia anyways since we're staying in the same villa."
"Right, right..." Miguel nods, trying to disguise his disappointment by looking at a spot over your shoulder.
"Well, thank you, you know for having my back with everything...and g'night." You sort of bend your knees in a little bow of farewell with your blanket and your sandal wedge heels in your arms as you turn around, Felicia skipping quickly to walk by your side as you both stroll down the moonlit path to your room. Miguel watches you leave with a bittersweet look on his face.
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The camera sits in front of an unoccupied bamboo chair in the confessional area, until Peter B. comes into the frame, sitting down with a grunt.
He blows air out of his cheeks, shaking his head as he runs his fingers through his hair, sitting back in the chair and letting his arms flop dead to the side, the rose you gave him knocked askew and holding on by just one pin to his white button down.
One of the producers talks to him from behind the camera, the voice a little muffled and so the question is broadcasted across the screen in subtitle captions.
"What's going through your mind right now, Peter?"
Peter laughs pathetically, shaking his head and sitting up, leaning forward a little with his elbows in his lap, fingertips touching, hanging his head a little as he thinks silently to himself before he looks at the camera. "There's a lot on my mind now...but I just... there's nothing. You know? You know that feeling where you have so much on your mind that you just end up staying frozen where you are? Yeah. That's what I'm feeling like right now."
"Are things over between you and y/n?"
Peter B. puffs air out of his cheeks again. "I don't know." He shrugs, a tired look in his eyes "I don't know. She wants nothing to do with me right now."
He stares into space for a moment. "I'm over the bullshit. Miguel and George. Those two are a problem. They need to watch themselves. And, Ben's my boy, you know? But I was not expecting him to turn, *he snaps his fingers* ...like that."
He pauses once more, fuming silently, until he presses his face to his palms, hanging his head. "Things are gonna get ugly. Just watch."
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The sun rises on another day in paradise. The group shuffles into the common area, grabbing smoothies from the bar and bowls of cereal and oatmeal, eating in quiet silence as you all slowly start to wake up.
You approach Ben and Felicia at their table with your wet suit half on, asking her for help zipping you up the rest of the way. She nods, sticking her spoon in her mouth as she scoots forward on the bench, zipping you up.
The resort's bartender, James calls over to you. "Morning, ladies. What's the plan today?"
"Um surfing lessons, apparently. Hence, the wet suits." You gesture to your torso.
James nods with a smile as he wipes down the bar. "Nice nice. I heard things were quite eventful last night."
You scoff. "That's putting it lightly..."
"Wanna catch me up?"
You and Felicia look at each other. "Girl you do it..."
"Okay so basicallyy..." Felicia sits on one of the bar stools, scooting in closer. "It was ladies choice this week right? It was me and Ben, y/n and Peter, MJ and George. Web-Slinger went home. And Dana offered Miguel a rose but he declined so he was gonna go home. Then out of nowhere, the man decides to drop a bomb that Dana and Peter were caught fooling around in some bushes. Everyone started freaking out. The guys started getting into it. Then Dana and I got into it. Then she and Dana fought and Dana got her ass laid out. So how she's in the hospital, they're giving Miguel a second chance, and I guess now we're going surfing." Felicia concludes, nearly out of breath.
James chuckles and shakes his head. "I regret asking for an update." He leans on the bar, addressing you this time. "So where do you and Peter stand as of right now?"
"Right now?" You ask, taking a deep sigh as you contemplate. "Honestly, I don't even know. I think I'm over it, to be honest."
"Speaking of..." James reduces to a murmur.
"Hey."
You cheeks get hot as you sense Peter standing behind you without turning around.
"Can I speak to you for a moment?" Peter asks, his face twisted into a slight plea.
You turn around, giving him a dry nod. Felicia cranes her neck as she watches you walk away with him.
You and Peter walk a short distance away, standing under the shade of a nearby palm tree. You raise one of your hands, cupping it in a visor over your eyes and squinting due to the sunlight as you look up at him with your other hand on your hip, waiting for his half ass apology with a slight aura of impatience wafting off of you.
Peter takes a deep breath. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for my actions last night. I was unfair to you, and I just hope that we can walk away on civil terms if anything."
You twist your mouth a little in annoyance. "You lied straight to my face, Peter. I mean.....what do you want me to say to that?"
"Nothing." Peter answers. "Nothing really. Just uh...." He's silent shaking his head. "I don't know. I just wanted to apologize and it wouldn't have felt right if I didn't at least say sorry before we ended things."
You nod, staying quiet for a moment. "Well, I mean I appreciate you trying to do the right thing. But I agree, I think we should end things, you know. Clearly, you still have some unresolved things to work out. I really didn't deserve that though."
"You're totally right, you didn't." Peter agrees, shifting his stance a little.
"Right."
Peter blows air out slowly. "Well..." He holds his arms out but you shake your head.
"Um...not this time, you know? I'm just not feeling it..."
"Right right..." Peter stuffs his hands back in his pockets in mild embarrassment. "Sorry."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Alright." You nod in mutual conclusion and turn around, walking back to Felicia and Ben while Peter walks in a separate direction.
"Well?" Felicia, Ben and James await at the bar.
You shrug, having a seat next to Felicia, leaning forward with your forearms on the bar. "It's done. We're done."
"Just like that?" James asks.
"Just like that." You echo.
"I'm so sorry dude..." Felicia gives you a sad look of sympathy.
"No, you know? I'mI'm a little bummed, not going to lie. Yeah I liked him, but I really have no patience for it anymore, you know? You either want me, or you don't. And he can't decide what he wants. So to that I say: see ya."
"Amen." James says with an impressed hum.
"Girl, I'm so proud of you. Good for you." Felicia praises.
"So what does that mean for you now?" James asks. "Anyone else here you got your eye on?"
"Well..." You sigh, looking off. "Miguel still really wants another chance."
"You think you'll give it to him?" James inquires.
"I don't know..." You admit. "I mean, that's the thing. With Miguel, there's history there too, but you all saw how that ended and so now, I'm just feeling nervous about the whole thing. I would love nothing more than to just go up to him and say yes, yes let's do it, I'm all in. But are you gonna hurt me again and switch up the next day? I don't know."
James hums in agreement. "Can't say I blame you there. But, in Paradise, you gotta take risks. Who knows? Something about paradise: anything can happen. In fact..."
James bends down, retrieving a small wooden box with a slit in the top and setting on top of the bar. You and Felicia have looks on your faces that only say one thing: "oh shit", when you realize what it is.
"It's Truth Box Time."
Ben's eyes scrunch in curiosity. "How does this one work again?"
"Completely anonymous. But one hundred percent honest. Write down anything you wanna say to either a specific member of the group, or the group as a whole. Confessions, observations, complaints, truth bombs, dirty laundry. It all goes in here." James explains, patting that cursed box. "It's time to shake things up a bit. And the rule is: every single person needs to participate."
"That's the last thing this beach needs right now." Felicia groans.
Your mind buzzed with what drama and messy thoughts the box could bring forth, Miguel, and your future in Paradise as you made your way down the beach for your surfing lesson.
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Miguel gives you a smile as he comes walking down the beach to where you and the others are waiting, his floppy brown locks and sculpted ab muscles on full display with his half zipped up wet suit. "Good morning."
"Morning." You give him a little nod, grateful that you're wearing a pair of sunglasses to disguise your wandering eyes. Allowing yourself to indulge in staring at the man's behind as you help zip him up.
Throughout the surfing lesson, you're having a hard time paying attention to the instructor, things like the truth box and your future in Paradise and Miguel still plaguing your mind from earlier. Still, you manage to enjoy yourself, soaking up the healing rays of the sun and letting out a squeal and a wave to your friends on the shore when you finally manage to stand up on your board for longer than 2 seconds, shortly before the salty waves swallowed you up.
You and Felicia figure that's more than enough for one day, ordering a drink from the beach side attendants and applying a fresh layer of sunscreen while Miguel and Ben knock themselves out, surfing it up to their heart's content.
"We so needed this." You mutter to Felicia who gives a low hum in response as you both bask on your beach towels, eyes closed.
You can't help but become aware of some bickering coming from a short distance away, lowering your shades a little bit to make out who's starting off the drama fresh and early in the day this time.
"Fine, go lay down then. Oh my goddd, Mary Jane. First it's your hair doesn't look right, then it's your stomach hurting, why don't you be honest about what it really is?"
"George..."
"I didn't even wanna do this dumb hang ten, surf's up, shit anyway. Alls I said was thank you! What, you want me to say go fuck yourself?"
"It's not what you said, it's how you said it."
"Oh my God Mary Jane! Let me just run everything I say by you before I say it. Would you like that, would that make her royal Highness happy? Let me ask Queen Mary Jane before I call my mother and wish her a happy birthday how about that? Since she gets mad if I even breathe in the direction of another female!"
You don't make out the rest as you watch the pair wander a little further down the shore before you see MJ storm off and George throwing his hands in the air as he walks back towards the group.
"Damn. Poor MJ."
"I know the girl hates me but I can't help but feel bad for her. George is the biggest flirt. Everyone knows it." Felicia stretches out.
"You think I should go talk to her, just see if she's okay?"
"I mean, good luck if you do." Felicia retorts, reaching for her water bottle in her beach bag. "I could never get through to the girl."
"Hey!" Miguel and Ben come up, Miguel sitting himself down next to you.
"Stawwwp!" Felicia giggles when Ben wags his hair, spraying her like a wet dog.
Miguel grins at you, panting from his exertion earlier, looking heavenly with his wet mop of dark hair and wet droplets coating his sunkissed skin. "Having fun?"
"Yeah, I am. I'm gonna go do some damage control though."
Miguel's brow furrows. "Who?"
"MJ and George."
Miguel shakes his head with a sigh, running his hands through his hair. "George can be kind of a douche."
"That's what I keep hearing." You say, sitting up and standing up. "So I'm gonna go try and see if I can help MJ. You know? I feel bad for her. She doesn't have anyone else here in Paradise."
Miguel nods slowly, but can't help but be a little apprehensive about the situation. "Be careful. I'd hate for you to get mixed up in anything."
"I won't." You give him a reassuring smile. "Be right back."
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You find MJ talking with James at the bar. Her voice tapers off when she realizes someone is behind her. She raises an eyebrow in a mixture of surprise and suspicion when she sees that it's you of all people.
You don't say anything at first, just give her a kind smile as you take the bar stool next to her. You both sit in awkward silence for a moment, then you break it.
"I know we haven't talked a whole lot or anything. I know you're thinking this must be so weird since we both dated Peter and everything but I just noticed you over here by yourself and wanted to see if you were okay?" You start off carefully with an overly sweet tone to demonstrate you pose no threat, testing the waters.
MJ softens a little then lets out a deep sigh, figuring what is it going to hurt to be honest at this point.
"Thank you. Just needed to get away for a sec...But I'm okay...and no, it's fine. Pete is never gonna change who he is. And I am who I am so..." She huffs and sips her margarita, then wiping her eyes. "But with George, he's literally perfect. Like it's so good when it's good but when we're not..."
You look at her with sympathetic eyes, not saying anything.
"Lately we've been having disagreements because I don't know if he realizes it, but he flirts with other women all the time. And he says to me, babe I'm just being nice. And I tell him, like I understand that, but to those women and to me it comes across as flirting."
"Right, right. No, I get you." You nod, leaning on your elbow. "Like it's just a respect thing."
"Exactly!" MJ rests her head in her palm, twirling her margarita glass in circles on the bar. "All I was trying to say was it's not what you say, it's your tone and how you say it. But once again, I'm the bad guy."
You nod, picking at your cuticles while you listen, lost in thought and also relieved that she's willing to open up to you.
"I'm gonna go to the spa for a bit." She sighs, pushing her empty glass away from her. She thinks for a moment, then decides to take a chance. "Can I ask you to do something for me, though? Woman to woman?"
"Oh?" You perk up, a little surprised but willing to hear her out. "Sure, what is it?"
"Just, please tell me if he flirts with anyone again? If you see something, tell me. Fairytale Suites are next week, and I just don't have the time or patience to deal with anymore bullshit."
"Oh, of course." You nod profusely. "Absolutely. I'll keep my eyes open, girl. Don't worry."
MJ gives you a hint of a smile. "Thanks, girl. Good luck to you..." And leaves for the spa.
After she leaves, you sprint down towards the beach with your freshly poured cup of tea.
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"Jesus..." Your audience of Felicia, Ben, and Miguel sit with the news you just unloaded on them, puzzled but not surprised at the revelation of George and MJ's trouble in Paradise.
Miguel leans back on his towel. "I called it honestly. George has a wandering eye, we've known this ever since he was on Rio's season."
"It's a bunch of drama." Ben shakes his head. "I don't wanna see you, or you." He nods in your direction. "Get in another scrap like last night. Let's just chill, and end this last week or so that we've got on a good note."
"Amen." Miguel sits up, stretching.
"What are your guys' plans for tonight?" Felicia asks.
"Um..." You look up at Miguel. "Well, I'd like to just relax for a bit. You and I can hang out here for a bit, then Jason said the group is going clubbing tonight. Wanna meet at the common area for dinner at, say 5 ish?"
"Sounds good to me." Miguel nods, then looks at Ben. "You down to go golfing?"
Ben wraps his towel around his neck. "I'm down. Let's go," before he gives a goodbye to Felicia.
"Call me if you need anything. And stay out of trouble." Miguel gives you a playful smile and a grip to your thigh, then walks off with Ben towards the resort.
Some time later, you're fully zoned out, both you and Felicia laying out like two iguanas in your element, when she sits up with a gasp. "Dude...look."
You groggily sit up, then the sight in front of you delivers you immediately to full consciousness.
George is standing ankle deep in the water some distance away, chatting it up with Christine, the short, curvy, blonde surf instructor. He's laughing, looking like he's having the time of his life as she occasionally reaches out, touching his arm and chest as she speaks to him.
"Are you seeing this?!"
"Girl, I am definitely seeing this."
He leans in a little closer putting his hand on the small of her back, dangerously close to her ass.
"What...a...little....bitch...George Stacy...you...slimy dog you...." Felicia shakes her head.
The couple turn towards you and both you and Felicia immediately turn into mummies, laying back on your towels, holding your breaths, pretending like you weren't just honed in on the crime taking place, before George gives her a nervous nod and smile and walks away.
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Later that night, you and Felicia are all dolled up as queens of the night, wearing tight fitting cocktail dresses, showcasing both of your deadly curves and that carefree twinkle of paradise vacation on your skin making you both look even more alluring than you normally do, leaving Ben and Miguel with hearts in their eyes and warmth pooling in their chests.
You're all dancing at an outdoor bar, local music pounding your eardrums, margarita number three working its disarming magic in your veins, twirling and holding your hair in a sexy display of feminity on the dancefloor with Ben and Miguel close by. Peter B. sulking in the corner.
You bite your lip as you watch Miguel snap his fingers and move his hips with a smirk on his face, a little far off memory coming back to you of the night you shared together in a hotel room when you experienced those bewitching movements firsthand underneath him.
Your thong under your tight dress gets a little wet as your eyes rake across his figure, letting them linger on every faint line of muscle accentuated under entrancing disco lights, and the opening in his black button up shirt, with his chiseled chest on display. You spin around, letting your body press up against his a little longer than it should.
Miguel utterly groans, switching his glass to his left hand as he touches you with his right, continuing to move to the beat. You lay your head back against him and your pretty lips fall open as you feel his ring lightly graze your tits until his hand hugs low on your stomach, gently guiding and pressing your body to synchronize with his hips as his full lips brush against your ear, making your eyelashes flutter.
But, the song ends and you open your eyes, temporarily snapped out of your horny fantasy as the crowd claps and cheers, begging the DJ for one more song. Miguel joins in the applause, setting down his glass for a moment and giving you a bashful smile as though to apologize for letting himself get carried away as the new song starts.
The sight of an angry MJ pushing past people in the club makes itself known in your peripheral vision.
You grab Felicia, yelling "Look!" over the deafening noise of the crowd as you both watch her angrily leave and hail a taxi in tears.
"It's George." Felicia mouths to you.
"Where is he?" You try and communicate back.
"Let's go."
You and Felicia signal to Miguel and Ben that you're gonna "go to the bathroom". Miguel nods but hardly acknowledges, holding his sides and wheezing in a fit of laughter as he watches Ben valiantly face off with an older woman in a dance battle.
The scene you were expecting to find when you see George is even more juicy than you could have imagined. He has an entourage of four women grinding on him with his shirt unbuttoned, his face red and sweaty with the unmistakeable flush of intoxication, sipping a beer from a bottle as he watches a brunette in front of him bend over and shake her ass directly over his cock. He bites his lip and puts both hands on her ass, beckoning for her to turn around.
The camera zooms in as yours and Felicia's jaws damn near hit the floor when he starts sloppily kissing her, only for her drunk friend to start joining in in a three way nasty drunken makeout sesh.
It's a damn shame none of you are allowed to have your cell phones right now.
After the nasty kissing subsides, you notice him stand up, holding a new mystery woman with curly hair's hand and what appears to be a small piece of paper being slipped into his fingers as she whispers in his ear and he bites his lip.
You both have seen quite enough, darting back to Miguel and Ben in a fit of sweaty bodies as the night at the club wanes on.
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Back at the resort, it's getting close to truth telling time. You and Felicia and James sit together in a somber meeting at the infamous bar which is soon to become the second most popular location for tea spilling once the dreaded truth box hits the fan.
You and Felicia are not quite at the level of sobriety you probably should be before you make this decision.
"She needs to know."
James nods in agreement, pushing the box towards you. "Let it all out."
"I feel bad about doing it anonymously though, like what if she finds out it was us? Or what if George finds out?" You shiver a little at the thought.
"Dude, MJ hates me." Felicia whispers. "I know you think she's chill, but trust me, she's not as reasonable as you think she is. She is crazier than me. And that's saying a lot."
You raise your eyebrows at the last statement.
"I'm serious! When Peter tried to hit on me after they broke up, no joke, all I did was send her a screenshot with 'hey girl, I'm coming to you as a woman right now, just wanted to let you know your man was in my inbox' and you wanna know what this girl did? She sends me a SEVEN MINUTE LONG voice note. Absolutely bitching me out about what a hoe I am, and how could you do this to me, you know what he and I have been through together, as one of the girls who was also on the show I would've expected you to be more considerate of my feelings and blah blah blah. I'm telling you dude. It's better this way."
You blow a long steam of air out of your cheeks. "Okay, okay, you know what? You're my bestie, I'll take your word for it. Let's just do this."
You take the pen in your hand, starting to draft the wretched confession. "Dear.....MJ..." you lick your lips in concentration.
"Today....at the beach, when you left upset, George put his hand on the surf instructor's ass. He was flirting with her and she was touching his arm and chest while they were talking...."
"Mhmm...okay go on." Felicia twirls a strand of hair in deep thought as you continue writing.
"When you left crying at the club, George made out with two girls. He was also dancing and grinding with multiple mystery women. He also held a girl's hand and took down her number."
"Yep." Felicia nods. "It's harsh but it's the truth."
"Ben and Miguel know." You bite your lip. "Should we add in here that multiple people know so it doesn't look like it's coming from us?"
"Yeah..." Felicia thinks for a moment then nods.
"Multiple.... people on this beach know. Therefore, you should know the truth. There, boom."
You and Felicia examine the note over and over, muttering silently as you reread it before you slip it in the box.
"It's done."
You both look at each other and clink your glasses together, your confession stowed away in what's surely going to turn into Pandora's box in just a few hours. Savoring a few seconds of quiet with your bestie before all hell breaks loose.
Jason Donner speaks in a voiceover: “Find out what happens next week in another drama packed episode of Singles in Paradise!”
Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X AFAB!civillainreader
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...
Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.
A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!
Word Count: 6,823
“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter.
“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.
“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?”
“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.”
At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself.
Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.
Is….that…his….yearbook…
It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…
“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture.
“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare.
Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.
Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?”
“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment.
Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation.
Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”
Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace.
“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.”
Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…)
Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”
The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!”
A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…
Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class…
“Miggy~”
The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.”
The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age.
“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements
Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…”
Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest.
“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic.
The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement.
“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them.
“Well…technically…I didn’t”
“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys
Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”
A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.”
Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man.
“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?”
Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…”
There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment.
“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”
“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions,
“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.
“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow.
“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides
Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…”
“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods
“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-”
“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.
Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…
“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.
Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…
Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him.
“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens
Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.
“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!”
Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!”
Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile,
“It’s like density!”
Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…
They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…
Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.
Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…
High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush.
Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same.
“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…”
A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips.
“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt.
“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye.
God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…
Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…
The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…
Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this…
The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…
As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.
“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?”
“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”
The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”
“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…”
“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.”
The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…
“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.
Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…”
Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you.
He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap.
The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.
Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain.
“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”
Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…
“Miggy!”
“Miggy!”
“Miguel?”
Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight.
Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.
“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?
Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do?
“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again.
“I can not believe how different you look!”
“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?
Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious.
“You think I look good?” you ask, playful, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat.
You could eat him alive…and he would let you…
“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…”
“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…
“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.”
“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly.
Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?”
“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr
Miguel feels a wave of electricity shakes through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again.
“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…”
“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain.
“Miguel, I like the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t have run away…”
Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, like when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now.
“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”
Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat.
“I thought you were sweet…”
Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you.
“Could I make it up to you somehow?”
“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”
Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.”
Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest.
“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”
Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect.
Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you.
The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want.
“Miggy, I always like you…just-”
Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more.
“Fuck, miggy~”
Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…”
His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver.
“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass.
A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you.
“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…”
Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…
It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…
Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your licks isn’t lost on him.
“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…
Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses.
“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~”
Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets.
As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly creases up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.
Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can.
Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and crease his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?”
Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine.
“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick.
Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~”
Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit.
His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more.
Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste.
You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop.
Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more.
With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length.
Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering.
Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch.
Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.
“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine.
Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper.
“So eager, Miggy~”
All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal in heat. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep herself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you catch his lips in a needy kiss, your lips guiding him, and your tongue pushes to taste his groans. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling.
Miguel's hands squeeze harder on your ass, making you release his lip and your cunt to clench on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your head drops and your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide back and forth, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub against your cervix.
“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths.
The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…
“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile,
“Good…”
You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him deeper and quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both your and his release. So deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce.
The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…
With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high.
With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his heavy cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down his cock mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess you can't help but side yourself on to more as it sticks to his skin.
Haze starting to clear you fall forward on his chest, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…
With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more.
“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…
Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…”
Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.”
He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you.
Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and groans and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt.
As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting.
Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently.
After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort.
Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question,
“Can-can I…take you out on a date?”
His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer.
“Miggy, about time you asked…”
You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…
Fem Reader x Miguel O'Hara who is your Uber Driver
Commissioned art by @ejpuki on Instagram, same as the one above, this is just a link to the original post. Please support the artist 🖤
Synopsis- in an AU where fem reader drinks too much and the bartender calls a random Uber for her which happens to be Miguel O'Hara himself. Her friends suck and ditch her. There's a lot of tension on the ride home...with a twist on the og Miguel O'Hara comic. Word Count 4.5k
Pt 2, Pt 3 1, Pt 3 2 , Pt 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8 , Part 9
T/W: 18+ only, minors DNI, alcohol, drunkeness, mature language, implied masturbation, some sexual content/fantasizing, some self-deprecating language (reader is insecure), age gap (reader 26, Miguel 34)
This is my first EVER fan fiction piece! If you have a crush on Miguel O'Hara from Across the Spider Verse, this is for you...
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"Next song is for all the bad bitches in here tonight, let's make some noise." As soon as the song starts you recognize that it's Agora Hills and a switch goes off in your brain as you yank your friend, Hailey by the arm to the dance floor while she struggles to get the last sip of tequila sunrise down the hatch as the ice cubes attack her face.
It was a Saturday night, now very early Sunday morning in mid-November. You and your two friends are in a slightly seedy club in Brooklyn. Right now, all three of you are trying to escape the first-world problems of modern day society, and common issues that would plague late-twenty year old adults like stagnant jobs, anxiety-inducing texts from distant family members about plans for the holidays, and a casual fling that started to sour about 3 days ago.
Right now, all you want to do is dance to this song. And go home for some relief because the tequila is making you horny and your situationship hasn't texted you back for going on 16 hours now.
You and Hailey giggle as you both throw your heads back in bliss to the music, holding each other's pinkies as you try and awkwardly spin on the dance floor.
"Wait!" Hailey calls out and stutters as she lets go of you and tries to squeeze through a sea of musk, 5- Gum, and Bath and Body Works perfume back towards your other friend, Brin, who's still at the bar.
"Fuckkk. Whatever girl." You drunkenly roll your eyes and close them again, throwing your arms in the air, moving to the beat. The song is making you feel even more electrified than before. You toss your head back and move your hands from your shoulders, to your chest, down to your thighs. It's one of those moments where you feel dangerous.
God I love being a woman! You picture going home with a stranger. A tall man's lips crashing down on yours in your dark bedroom in drunken passion, falling backwards onto your bed. You picture yourself pulling your clothes off slowly while his hungry eyes scan your curves…
Your fantasy is interrupted when you feel a clammy hand touch your hip, just below where your see-through top ends. Your eyes shoot what you hope is an annoyed look at the offender. A brown haired guy in a white t-shirt with a flannel who looks like his name is Tanner, smirks at you as he moves past you, but not before letting his eyes dart to your cleavage line under your black bralette. You groan and move the other direction and realize Hailey and Brin are nowhere to be found. Your drunkeness wears off for one second as you slowly jerk around, trying to make your way towards the bar.
A tall brunette with a half sleeve tattoo, glasses, and her straight brown hair in a claw clip is counting her drawer.
"H-have you seen my friends?" you ask her stupidly. The tall brunette looks at you, her small sticker name tag on her baseball tee shirt reads "Reagan."
"I can't hear you, hunny." Reagan has seen this a million times. "Last call just ended. Do you have a ride home? I said, do you have a ride HOME?"
Reagan leans over the bar, holding onto your wrist. Her breath smells good at least.
"Okay look, can you hand me your phone please? Let me help you order an Uber." You blow air out of your lips like a horse and sloppily hand her your phone. "Enter your passcode, please."
You type in your passcode and watch the glint from your phone reflect on her glasses as she orders an Uber for you. Luckily, your address is already saved to the app. "Okay, sweetheart, wait here with me. Miguel is coming for you in 4 minutes." She hands you back your phone and credit card. "Sign here please."
Fuck, did I transfer that 200 from my savings before I got here? You think as you sign the receipt she hands you. The total is $58.75. You scrape the tiny excuse for a pocket inside your skirt and hand Reagan a crumpled up 20 as a tip. Reagan takes it, eyes widen a little bit at the sight of the 20.
Did she mean to give me this much?... Fuck it. She gives you a small, concerned grin.
"Thanks... let me get you some water."
You nod and slump your head forward on the sticky bar.
Suddenly Reagan is shaking your shoulder.
"Hey! Your ride's here!"
You realize you might have fallen asleep temporarily. The room is still moving like you're trying to balance on a waterbed. She places a styrofoam to-go cup in your hand filled with ice water as she grips your left arm.
"Here, just take off your shoes, hunny." She bends over and pulls off your clunky heels and holds them in her free hand. You feel like you're 4 years old. You feel tears well up at the sudden kindness.
"Okay hunny it's okay, come on now." She pulls you outside and to the curb where a black Audi is waiting. The cold air assaults your bare legs and your teeth start to chatter. The driver recognizes his passenger is quite inebriated and gets out, walking towards the struggling pair.
You feel your bedroom eyes creep up when you see him. Oh no, he's hotttt!
You curse in your head silently for not checking your reflection before he got there. You're sure you're a hot mess though.
He's tall, huge, even. Definitely way over six feet. Dark tousled hair with dreamy brown eyes underneath sculpted brows are locked on you as he gets closer. You instinctually run a hand through your hair, trying to make it look more voluminous. Probably a lost cause at this point.
He's wearing black joggers with some worn Nikes. His black hoodie is baggy but you have a very good imagination. It covers a set of broad, wide shoulders and what you're sure are bold chest muscles underneath that lead to a delicious pair of V lines and an endearing happy trail of hair running down his belly button that lead directly to his-
"Can I carry something for you?" His rich voice pulls you out of your indecent thoughts for one second then sends you right back there again.
"Um, yes can you get her shoes please?" You hear Reagan's voice go up an octave.
Girlll me too. You think to yourself.
Miguel takes your heels in a pair of strong, large hands. As he does, he tugs his sleeve and checks a black Apple watch, veins running up a thick forearm. Called it. This guy was jacked. Probably a gym bro. Definitely has a girlfriend. You feel yourself get sucked back into reality. You were probably a 7/10 at best. And right now, probably a strong 4 after your shenanigans tonight.
Miguel opens the back door, allowing Reagan to tuck you in.
"Get home safe hunny," she says.
"Thank youuuu," you slur back to her as you sit, disheveled with your sippy cup of ice water in the backseat opposite of the driver's in front. Miguel gets in the driver's seat, the scent of Old Spice seeps in.
He smells good too?! You feel yourself wanting to sin. He sits in the front seat for a few moments in silence, fiddling with his phone.
"2949 Ocean Parkway?" he asks in his mesmerizing voice.
"Yeah, that's right." You feel yourself perk up. You're starting to sober up slightly but you still have enough liquid courage left to start asking him a lot more questions than you normally would.
"Your name's Miguel?"
"Yes," he answers. "Did you have a good night tonight?"
"I did! It was supposed to be girl's night, I'm not sure what happened to them, though."
"Your friends left you?" His dark eyes glance in the rearview mirror at you.
Sighhh "Yeah, I guess they did."
"You need better friends." One of his hands comes up and grips the shoulder of the passenger seat as he sits up and looks over his shoulder, his eyes meet yours for just a moment, then focus on the back window as he pulls out of the parallel parking spot. You can't help but stare at his chiseled jawline and his neck, imagining yourself planting a line of kisses on it while he groans and grits his teeth...
"You know what sounds amazing right now?" You ask in a flirty tone, interrupting your own dirty thoughts.
He cracked a small smile. "What's that?"
"Taco bellllll." You rest your cheek on the shoulder passengers seat, looking at him.
He glances at you, then keeps looking ahead as he drives.
"Well, if you want to update the route I'd be happy to stop anywhere you want."
You laugh.
"I don't know how to do thattt." The car comes up to a red light.
"Here, want help?" Miguel looks over at you as you hand him your phone which has the app still opened, courtesy of Reagan helping you from before. Miguel quickly types, his eyes going from the traffic light to your phone as he tries to enter the new address for the closest Taco Bell.
"Got it," he hands you back your phone, another whiff of his cologne coming off the fabric of his hoodie as he moves his arm back to rest on the center console while he drives with his left hand.
You glance down at your phone and then back at him, still leaning forward with your cheek pressed against the back of the passenger seat.
Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was curious about his new passenger, probably the last ride he'll do tonight. He didn't get a good look at you when the bartender was putting you in his car. He glanced over at you again when he thought you weren't looking, but quickly moved his eyes back to the road when he saw you were staring at him already with your cheek pressed against the passenger seat.
"You tired?"
"Kind of," you fake a small yawn while still holding your position.
Miguel laughed. He thought that was kind of amusing, how you were clearly faking being tired and shamelessly staring at him while he drove. He knew he was a good looking guy. Once you got into his car, he felt like he needed to take care of you and make sure you got home safe since your shitty friends wouldn't.
Your eyes wander to the space between his chest and the steering wheel, trying to imagine yourself in it, his strong arms wrapped around you as your hot, frantic, breaths fogged the windows as your bodies pressed together...
"So, y/n , right?" He asks.
Fuuuuck he said my name...
"Yeah..how did you know?! Oh right, the app, the app..."
Miguel smiles.
"So, Miguel, how is it being an Uber driver?" you ask. Feeling brave, you touch his elbow resting on the center console. Miguel's fist clenches tighter around the steering wheel at your touch.
"It's...not bad. It's been pretty busy tonight, actually. I went to the gym earlier then just have been taking a few folks like yourself around town who were going out as well. "
"That's nice. You know, we're gonna be best friends by the end of this drive," you grin, taking another sip of ice water.
"Really?" Miguel smirks. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Your heart flutters at this question. Why is he asking me that?!
"Uhm, no.. I was talking to a guy but I think he ghosted me."
"Heh, I'm sorry to hear that." Miguel replied, not sorry at all.
"Do girls ghost you? Or-uh, I mean- do you, do you have a girlfriend?" you manage to spit out.
Miguel smiles at your stutters.
"Nah, I'm single. I do have a daughter though."
Your smile disappears for a moment. A daughter? "Awhhh, what's her name? How old is she?"
"Her name's Gabriella. She's 6."
"That's sweet...." Miguel's handsomeness mixed with the liquor is enough to cause all rational thinking to exit your brain. I could be a step-mom, easy! I love kids, what the hell?
"So, how old are you?" You ask.
Miguel chuckles. "Isn't it rude to ask a stranger's age?" He glances over at you and the corner of his mouth raises at your slightly mortified expression. "I'm just messing with you- I'm 34."
"Dang, I'm 26," you answer as you look out the window.
"You're still pretty young," Miguel remarks as he turns down a new street.
"I definitely don't feel that way," you answer as you slump in your seat. You decide to check your email. Once you open it, a message that you don't want to see is at the very top. It's a random Yahoo email address you don't recognize which means only one thing: your asshole, estranged dad. You click on it quickly to clear the bold lettering indicating it's unread, and catch a quick glimpse of its contents which is a novel with no spacing. You quickly delete it with a loud sigh.
"Everything okay?" Miguel asks.
"Just my dad. Somehow he made another email address and tried to contact me again. It's a long story though we don't have to get into it..." your voice cracks slightly.
The skin around Miguel's eyes softens when you mention your tense relationship with your father. He himself knew that pain as well. His father, George O'Hara, wasn't a model parent, either.
"I'm sorry you're going through that," Miguel says emphatically. "I don't have the best relationship with my dad, either."
Once you hear this, the last bit of liquid courage in your system inspires you to spill the tea.
"He and my mom are divorced, and, well he's just a narcissist, right? Growing up, I didn't see it, but his whole family is full of them. My grandma never wanted him to marry my mom and so ever since their wedding day, she treated her like shit and when I came along, it was no different. I used to wonder why at Christmases she got bigger presents for the other grandkids and ask why she didn't show up for my birthday parties. My dad never did anything about it and always took their side. I finally realized it when I was about 16 when they divorced, and that's when I said fuck it. If you're not gonna stick up for my mom or me, I don't really want anything to do with you or your family."
Miguel nodded, just listening to you speak, glancing at you in the rearview mirror so you knew he was paying attention.
"Wow, I must say, that sounds horrible. Good on you for sticking up for yourself and your mother. As a parent myself, I can't ever imagine treating my own child or their family that way..."
You sigh.
"Yeah, shit's fucked. But there's nothing I can do about it, you know? I just don't have the strength to talk to him right now. But he never fails to try to reach out about this time every year. Since it's the holidays."
The car arrives at another red light. This time, Miguel turns around to face you while you're stopped, his eyes directly looking into yours.
"Don't feel guilty for doing what's best for you. No matter how hard it is. I know that most people think that family is everything, but, truth is sometimes they can hurt you the most." Miguel then turns back to the wheel.
You feel a flutter in your stomach as though an invisible spark appeared. You were strongly physically attracted to your handsome Uber driver, no doubt about it, but after hearing him speak, you realize there's more behind his captivating features. You feel the very beginning of a connection starting to form and suddenly you wish you had all night to talk to him. Miguel felt the same way, too. In fact, he was going 5 miles under the speed limit and riding the slow lane to try and prolong the encounter. Luckily, you were still too tipsy to notice.
"Well, this should cheer you up..." Miguel pulls the car into the Taco Bell parking lot. You groan internally when you realize you're going to have to go inside. You step out of the car, the cold air assaulting your bare skin again. Miguel notices you shivering.
"Here." Without hesitation, he peels off his hoodie and hands it to you. You want to die as soon as you put it on, and once you see him standing there without it on. He's even more toned than you realize. He's wearing a grey athletic shirt that hugs his broad shoulders just right, his defined chest and ab muscles tapering off into a narrow waist. His hoodie is still warm and smells intoxicating. You feel your hormones going crazy when you bring the collar of the hoodie to your mouth and nose, shamelessly getting drunk on the scent he left behind...
You do a mini sprint to catch up to him as he's already making his way towards the restaurant.
Miguel looks at you from the corner of his eye and his heart skips a beat. He adores the way his oversized clothes drown you. The hoodie is big enough to be a dress on you. He imagines this would be how you two would look together getting a bite to eat, only after making you scream his name 30 minutes before....
You and Miguel enter the Taco Bell and he gives an awkward grin as he holds the door open for you.
"Why don't you sit down or use the restroom if you need, let me order for you," Miguel says.
Your heart melts, but you decide you better seem modest with your order.
"Umm just a gordita crunch, small Baja blast, and a 2 pack of Cinnabon delights please."
Miguel smiles. "You got it." Suddenly, he feels close to you. You trusting him to order food for you and take you home after a rough night out while letting you wear his clothes.
While you go into the bathroom, he approaches the counter.
"Hello, I need two gordita crunches, a large Baja Blast, and a 12 pack of Cinnabon delights, please" He takes out his card and pays for the food without a second thought.
Meanwhile, you come out of the bathroom after cleaning up a bit, still wrapped in his warm hug of a hoodie and wait near the door. Miguel strolls over with your food and grins at you.
"Are you ready to go?" You nod and grin back and you two make your way back to his car. Suddenly, you realize.
"Do you have Venmo? Let me know how much I owe you."
"Absolutely not." Miguel answers firmly. "Here, why don't you sit up front this time?" He opens the passenger door for you. You beam at him.
Is this real? Is this guy really doing all this for me and I just met him? You've never had a man treat you this well. Not even your last relationship could be bothered to hold a door open for you or pull out a chair. You get in and Miguel hands you your bag of food, the delicious aroma making your stomach growl. Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion when you realize there's a lot more food in the bag than you told him to order originally. Miguel gets in the car and starts to drive again.
"Did, did you order extra food for me?" You laugh as you turn to him. Miguel gives you a small half smile but says nothing. You take a bite of the gordita crunch and let out a loud, "Mmmmmmm!" Just what you've been craving all night.
"Thank you, thank you so much you have no idea..." Your sentence tapers off as you stuff one of the piping hot Cinnabons into your mouth.
"You're very welcome." Miguel answers as you arrive at another red light. You realize Miguel didn't get himself anything.
"Do you want a Cinnabon bite?" You hold the box and give it a little shake.
Miguel offers a polite smile. "No thanks, those are all for you."
"Whaat, you can't turn down one of these. Have you even had these before?" You say playfully.
He chuckles at your playful tone. "I haven't, actually. But I trust your judgement."
"Come onnn...it's the LEAST I can do after everything you've done for me tonight. You're seriously gonna make me feel SO bad if you don't take at LEAST one." You give the box a couple shakes as if it's going to entice him more.
Miguel sighs. "Alright, you got me. I'll try one."
You smile wide as he takes one of the Cinnabon bites from the box you're holding in an outstretched hand. Your smile almost breaks your face as you see his reaction to his first bite.
"Jesus.." he mutters as his brows furrow in disbelief. He looks down at the remaining bite in his fingers as though he can't comprehend its existence. "That's spectacular, actually."
"Have another one!" You beam.
"Don't mind if I do." Miguel pops another one in his mouth and he brakes again at another red light.
He glances over at you and notices a little bit of taco sauce on the corner of your lip. "You got something..."
Suddenly, your heart stops as he raises his hand to your face, cupping your cheek between his thumb and pointer finger, while his middle finger cradles your chin. His lips part in concentration as he gently presses his thumb against the corner of your mouth, retrieving the smudge of taco sauce. Your mouth falls open a little bit too. He gives you a little smile as he brings his thumb to his own mouth, cleaning the sauce from his finger.
That might have been the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. At this point, all you want to do is grab his face and make out with it. Traffic be damned, your runny mascara be damned, your deflated hair be damned, you don't care anymore about any of that. He could ask you to do anything and you'd give it to him without hesitation.
Miguel is thinking the same thing. He did that on purpose. If it wasn't anymore obvious he wanted you right now then he wasn't sure what was. His gaze falls back to your lips. He suddenly realizes you've begun to lean in closer to him. Your noses are inches away from each other. God, he wanted you. To lick passionately into your mouth with his tongue. Being able to hold you and grip your ass as though he was a starved man who couldn't get closer to you even if he tried. Watching your brow furrow with pleasure, hearing your voice and watching your breath fog his windows and the heat rising in his body knowing he was the cause...
Reality busts in like the Kool-Aid man.
She was drinking tonight. You just met her. She's your passenger. Technically, you're still working right now...No, it's not right...
Miguel pulls away suddenly, and, as if the universe has his back, the traffic light turns green and he presses the gas, driving once more. Your breath catches in your throat and your heart starts to pound again.
Doesn't he like me? What happened....? What did I do....? Did I misread the signs? I wanna hide in my room for the rest of my fucking life now.
You clear your throat and take a long sip of Baja Blast. The uncomfortable silence and tension becomes a thick fog. You recognize your apartment building coming into view and your heart sinks.
"Home sweet home..." Miguel pulls into the parking lot. "Is here a good place to drop you off?"
"Yeah..." You try to make your tone sound like it's back to business. Miguel nods and grips the steering wheel with both fists in the 12 o' clock position as he watches you gather your things.
Ask for her number, you fucking pussy... Truth is, when it came to matters of the heart, Miguel's heart was glass.
"Thank you for the ride and the food, and, and just everything..." you step out of his car, defeated. You really didn't want to be the one to make the first move. If he really wanted to he would...
Miguel looks back at you with a neutral expression.
"Of course. You have a safe night, now." He starts to pull away.
"Miguel!" You realize you're still wearing his hoodie and you go to take it off.
He looks at you through the rolled down window, still driving away and shoots you a gorgeous smile and shakes his head at you in refusal, giving you one last wink that nearly knocks you over.
You sigh with frustration and watch his car disappear into the night, trying to memorize his license plate but your brain is hazy and the numbers on it escape your mind as soon as they enter. Your heart leaps in your chest when you realize you might be able to contact him through the Uber app...
No no, you let him talk to you first. Did your last situationship teach you nothing, you dumb hoe?! Don't be that desperate girl...
You wrap the droopy arms of his hoodie around yourself as you walk up the stairs and take a deep sniff...burying yourself in his scent so you never ever forget it. Even if he didn't want to spend the night holding you, you could go to bed with a huge smile on your face knowing you walked away with a piece of his clothing, the essence of what he left behind wrapped around your body all night long. An intangible connection that bound you two together...
Miguel sighed as he drove away. He just didn't have the bravery tonight. He didn't want to come across as creepy. The reality is, you were a slightly intoxicated stranger, a vulnerable woman younger than him, and he didn't want to abuse his power over you in that way. He looked at the empty passenger seat next to him and laid one of his hands on it, feeling the warmth you left behind. Trying to remember the way your thighs pillowed on it...the way your soft lips opened in shock when he wiped the sauce from your mouth, the small line of saliva from you that he caught on his thumb and licked into his own mouth..
He inhaled deeply, his jaw tensing and speed on the road increasing as he felt his body getting hot... He tried to lock your perfume in his nose for as long as he could, imagining himself inhaling it directly from your soft neck... holding onto the remainder of your presence, just...just until he could get home and relieve himself of his dire wants...
You, the perfect stranger who found herself in the passenger seat of his car tonight, and unknowingly wound up in the back of his mind for good...
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Hope you liked it! Thank you SO much for reading. ❤️ Part 2 is coming soon!
