haley:). she/they. bisexual. fanfic reblogs/recommendations. 20s writing account
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(Chapter 1) A Spin on an Enchanted Tale
ALTCharacters: Miguel O’Hara, fem!reader, Gabriella O’Hara
Chapter 1 summary: My Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader AU inspired by Disney’s Enchanted (2007). Reader (a princess cosplayer in their late 20s) meets Miguel O’Hara (a 31-year-old single dad who doesn’t believe in fairy tales) and his adorable five-year-old daughter Gabriella O’Hara on a night in Nueva York
Warnings: A fluff story with just a sprinkle of Miguel angst
Spanish used (I used SpanishDict): Papá (Dad); Por el amor de Dios (For the love of God); Dulce sueños, mi solecita (Sweet dreams, my lovely sunshine); Tres leches cake (Sponge cake soaked in three different types of milk)
ALT“And they lived happily ever after.”
That was the phrase you could always count on at the end of each and every one of your favorite fairy tales.
That was the ending phrase that marked new beginnings, and so far, your “new beginning” seemed like it had already ended.
You let out a sigh, shifting against the metal bench you sat on. It was only about an hour or two since you were kicked out of your apartment; your landlady was tired of you being behind on rent.
To be fair, it wasn’t really your fault (as you tried to justify to yourself). An aspiring fantasy cosplay designer in their late 20s who wanted to create princess gowns, you moved to Nueva York to learn from the best of fashion houses that specialized in haute couture.
As with moving to any major city with bright optimism would go, you found yourself rejected by every fashion house you could find and turned to part-time work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties.
Even though you loved your work as a princess cosplayer for children’s parties, the lack of pay from the job led you to this exact moment: sitting on a bench in full princess wedding cosplay and a suitcase carrying all of your belongings (a few day outfits in dire need of a good wash, your sewing machine, and a bundle of fabric scraps and accessories you kept with you at all times) parked next to you.
Ok, maybe it was your fault for thinking you could “make it” in a big city, as if you were in a movie or something.
At least no one was gawking at you. Nueva Yorkers were far too busy rushing into the many restaurants and shops around you or too busy looking at their phones to notice a “princess” in their midst.
Endless layers of ivory tulle pooled around you, shifting against each other as you lifted your feet a bit in front of you to make sure the dirt on the Nueva York streets didn’t soil your gown.
Your fingers picked up one puff sleeve larger than the size of your head that began to droop down your shoulder. If you weren’t kicked out of your apartment, you would have admired your handiwork on the gown—a white puff-sleeved wedding dress with a bustier corset and full floor-length skirt outlined with ruby lines.
You found the dress at a thrift store the day you moved to Nueva York and brought home to spruce it up, and had finally gotten the chance to wear the gown earlier today for a job at a child’s birthday party where you were requested to be the child’s favorite princess in a wedding gown. Your coworker, who was supposed to show up as the prince in his wedding attire, didn’t even come.
Despite that, you made sure the child had a fun party by putting on your best impression of the princess character and singing the character’s songs to the best of your ability along with the child.
A sad smile graced your lips for the first time tonight. You always believed that magic could be found in situations of the unexpected, but right now it was hard to find even a speck of magic to make you feel better.
A groan escaped from your lips as your tiara began to slip, too. The gold tiara nestled on top of your head, gleaming against the Nueva York moonlight with beaded ivory flowers you hot-glued onto the tiara, weighed on your head—heavy with all the questions that began to swirl in your mind.
I’ll have to call my boss tomorrow. How do I tell her I’m basically homeless now?
What do I do now? Where do I go?
You didn’t have any friends in Nueva York you could call about your current situation. Sure, you were friendly with your party princess coworkers, but you all didn’t contact each other much outside of work. Thus, staying with a friend wasn’t an option for you.
Your hands made their way up to your head, plucking off the tiara. You held it in your hands, gliding your fingers over the beaded flowers of the tiara.
The irony of being dressed like a princess in a wedding gown about to ride off into the sunset—or in your case, moonlight—to “happily ever after”—
“Are you a princess?” A voice so small, yet filled with such curiosity and wonder, interrupted your thoughts.
Your eyes flew up from your tiara to the owner of the voice. The voice matched its owner—a little girl who stared at you with awe.
She didn’t look older than six, and seemed to be into soccer, as you saw from her lavender soccer uniform, waves of dark-brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and black-and-white soccer cleats. She also had the same look most children from the parties you worked at did—her warm brown eyes widened and her mouth on the brim of beaming the sunniest of smiles at seeing you like you were a dream come true.
You couldn’t help but offer her a smile; even if your day wasn’t going great, you could at least make someone else’s day great.
“I suppose you could call me that,” you let out a twinkling laughter—one that you learned to perfect for your princess performances. “I’m Princess Y/N.”
“I knew it!” The little girl’s eyes shined like stars—something you’ve never seen in your time in Nueva York. “You’re so pretty, and your tiara is really pretty, too!”
Your lips broke into the most genuine smile you’ve had all day. “You think so?” You held the tiara out so that the little girl could see it better. “Wanna know a secret?”
The little girl nodded, her ponytail swishing behind her.
“I made it myself,” you revealed in a loud whisper, the back of your hand to the side of your lips.
“How?!” The girl’s eyes brimmed with even more curiosity. “I didn’t know princesses could make their own tiaras!”
“Princesses can do or make anything they want,” you winked, making the little girl giggle. “Whether that’s wearing a tiara from the castle’s treasury or sprucing up a $5 one with some paint and a hot-glue gun.”
As the child marveled at your tiara, you scanned your surroundings for any parent or guardian that the girl might’ve belonged to. To your slightly-frantic dismay, the people around you and the little girl just keep walking.
“Little one, could you please tell me your name? And if you have a mom or dad or guardian nearby?” you offered the child a kind smile. If you didn’t find the girl’s parent or guardian and the girl was lost, you decided that you would help the girl and call the police.
She nodded, her eyes moving up from your tiara to you. “I’m Gabriella, but you can call me Gabi. I don’t have a mom, but I have a—”
“Gabriella!” A man’s voice, ringing with worry, called out to the little girl. The thuds of his footsteps grew in volume as he ran towards the two of you and cut through some pedestrians who shot him annoyed glares before resuming their walks.
“Papá!” Gabriella ran towards the man, who immediately scooped her up in a hug.
“I was so worried I lost you,” the man’s voice was only filled with immense relief. He towered over most of the pedestrians around the three of you. While he was tall (probably over 6 ft tall), you couldn’t see his face clearly as he buried his face in the crook of Gabriella’s neck.
Gabriella managed to wiggle her way out of her father’s tight grasp. “I wasn’t lost, I was talking to Princess Y/N!” Gabriella turned around in her father’s arms to smile and point at you.
At the mention of your name, the man’s head snapped up. Your breath hitched; from the way his dark-brown hair swept back and curled at the nape of his neck to highlight his chiseled cheekbones and jaw to the biceps that bulged under his cerulean blazer and white dress shirt, he was nothing short of handsome. The warmth in his hickory orbs at the sight of Gabriella only made him more handsome in your eyes. Truly, he put every prince cosplayer you’ve ever worked with to shame.
Despite the sharp lines under his eyes, Gabriella’s father looked like he was in his early 30s. Before you could introduce yourself or assure him that his child was safe all along, his thick, dark brows furrowed and his eyes narrowed at you. The warmth in his eyes grew cold with suspicion as he scanned you from head-to-toe. You didn’t seem like a threat, but as a father, he had to ensure his child’s safety.
“I was going to call the police if I couldn’t find her parents or guardians,” you couldn’t help but let out in a rush, feeling the need to explain yourself as he continued to eye you.
After what felt like an eternity of his eyes on you, and after him coming to the silent conclusion that you were telling the truth, Gabriella’s father set her down and took her hand in his. He stepped forward, extending his free hand to you.
“Thank you for looking after my daughter,” he gazed down at you, his frown lines softening as he offered you a half-smile. “I’m Miguel O’Hara.”
“Of course,” you brought your hand toward his. He didn’t hesitate to give you a firm handshake. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. I’m a princess cosplayer for children’s birthday parties, so before you think I’m some criminal trying to kidnap children or something here, I just got kicked out of my apartment right after coming back from a job in this getup.”
Gabriella’s father’s–Miguel’s–smile vanished, his brows knitting together. “Why’d you get kicked out?” His accusatory tone indicated that he wondered if you got kicked out of your apartment for any suspicious reasons on your part.
You fought the urge to let out a sigh of frustration. You had a long day, and you didn’t appreciate being interrogated by this frustratingly-handsome man, but you also understood his concern since he almost lost his daughter.
“I got kicked out because I was behind on rent,” you turned your face away from him in an effort to hide any hint of embarrassment on your face. “Being a princess cosplayer for children’s parties doesn’t exactly help pay bills. After I got kicked out, I ended up sitting here and Gabriella came up to me.”
“Ah,” Miguel paused and pursed his lips, not really sure what to say to make a stranger (a stranger he now deemed as a harmless stranger) feel better. “I’m…sorry you got kicked out.”
“Thanks,” you turn your face back towards him, now being the one to give him a half-smile. Your eyes then flitted down to your and his hands, realizing he didn’t let go of your hand till now. Miguel’s eyes followed yours before retracting his hand with an awkward chuckle. In a poor effort to make things less awkward, you echoed with an awkward laugh of your own.
You were both too preoccupied with this interaction of pure awkwardness to notice Gabriella’s movements. The top of her head barely reached Miguel’s knees as she switched her gaze from her father, to you, and then to your hand in his. A grin a mile wide lit up on her face at the two of you, the wheels in her five-year-old brain turning.
“Papá,” she began. At his daughter’s voice, Miguel instantly turned his attention back to her and kneeled down to face her at eye level.
“I’m glad you’re safe, but what did I say about running off by yourself and talking to strangers?” You noticed that Miguel’s voice was nothing but soft and gentle every time he talked with Gabriella.
Gabriella clasped her hands behind her back. “That I shouldn’t. I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk to the princess. But I won’t go away by myself anymore, pinky promise.”
She held out her right pinky in front of her, making her all the more adorable. Miguel only had a soft smile as he linked his own right pinky with Gabriella’s.
You eased down on the bench in silence, your half-smile growing as you watched the way Miguel gently swiped away a stray eyelash from Gabriella’s cheek with the back of his thumb.
You could tell he was having a hard time kneeling down with his tall stature and all by the way he shifted his feet behind him. But you also noticed that he kept kneeling down to appear somewhat at eye and height level with Gabriella so that he could foster healthy discussions between the two of them as parent and child. Even though you just met him, you could tell Miguel was a great dad and that he loved Gabriella more than anything.
“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Warmth flooded Miguel’s eyes, pooling gold flecks of honey into his hickory irises. “Let’s go home, say ‘goodbye’ to the princess.”
To your and his surprise, Gabriella shook her head furiously, her ponytail swishing from side-to-side. “No!”
“‘No’?” Miguel raised his eyebrows.
“Princess Y/N doesn’t have anywhere to go,” Gabi pointed at your suitcase, jutting her bottom lip forward to convey a pout. You were shocked she even noticed your suitcase; kids were more perceptive than you thought.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, little one,” you waved your hand, mustering the best and brightest princess smile you could put on. “I’m just waiting for my prince to arrive on his horse. Should be aaaany minute now.”
Miguel’s gaze moved from Gabriella, to your suitcase, to you. He didn’t know whether to stare at you to wonder if you were being serious about the prince and horse (and considering that this was Nueva York, he shouldn’t be too surprised), or whether to smile at the fact that you were trying to keep up your princess act for his daughter.
“My dad’s better than any prince,” Gabi took Miguel’s large hand in an effort to drag him closer to you before turning her head to gaze up at Miguel. “Papá, can the princess please stay with us? We have a ton of rooms at home.”
“No, no, it’s ok—,” you began, shaking your head as furiously as Gabriella earlier.
“—Gabi,” Miguel interrupted you, his tone a bit more firm this time. His gaze set on your gown. “We can’t just take in a stranger.”
Miguel’s hands rested on his hips. He couldn’t help but eye you from head-to-toe again, as if he was trying to detect any threats you might have kept hidden from him.
You met him with a raised brow and crossed your arms in front of your torso, trying to appear nonchalant and ignore the heat growing on your cheeks at the fact that his eyes were on you again.
“But you always tell me that it’s important to help others,” Gabriella put her hands on her hips, comically trying to mimic her father. “And I wanna help my best friend Princess Y/N.”
Miguel’s gaze dropped from yours as he turned to his daughter faster than lightning. “What? I thought I was your best friend,” he mumbled. You let out a snort of amusement as you heard Miguel sound genuinely hurt.
“You can be my best friend again if you let Princess Y/N stay with us,” Gabriella ran over to your side, sitting next to you on the bench.
She wrapped her hands around your arm and clung to your side despite the layers of tulle from your gown that tried to push her away. “I don’t want Princess Y/N to be cold and outside by herself,” Gabriella whispered as she nuzzled her face against your arm, making you want to shed tears right then and there.
“Gabi, I’ll be ok,” you tried your best to muster a smile and appear brave for Gabriella. However, you knew you weren’t being too convincing, and the subtle crack in your voice stemming from your fear of the unknown was something you didn’t miss.
Miguel didn’t miss it either as he let out a huff mixed with annoyance at the situation and sympathy for you. His daughter was just as stubborn as he could be, but she also had a point.
As a gentleman through and through, Miguel didn’t feel right with the thought of leaving a lady like you out alone on the streets of Nueva York in the middle of the night (even if he didn’t question that you could defend yourself). What kind of example would he be setting for Gabriella if he just took her home and left you here?
“…Alright, you can stay with us if you’d like,” Miguel let out with a sigh. “And you can stay with us while we help you find another place in Nueva York to live.”
Your eyes widened at his decision, and your mouth opened instinctively to say “No, thank you,” but before you could do so, Gabi ran back to her father and into his arms.
“You’re the best, Papá!” Gabi’s statement made Miguel beam brighter than the Nueva York moon as he scooped her up. If you weren’t so shocked by his proposal, you would’ve laughed at how endearing he was with his daughter.
The two O’Haras then looked at you while you tried to weigh your options, but you only had two:
1. Stay with this little family you knew nothing about
Or
2. Stay out on the streets until you could contact your boss (which would be tomorrow because you felt unprofessional at the thought of calling your boss after work hours).
“…If it’s not a bother, I would love to take you up on that offer,” you shot Miguel a smile that no doubt displayed all your nerves at the thought of staying at a stranger’s place, even though he was the one who just offered a stranger to stay at his place.
“You’re coming home with us!” Gabriella raised her hands in the hair before scrambling down from Miguel’s arms. Before you could blink, she took your right hand and tugged on it so you could stand up.
“I suppose I am,” you chuckled, letting yourself be led by the child. As you stood up, you used your left hand to smooth the front of your gown’s skirt. You then turned to your suitcase, only to see Miguel approaching it.
“I got it, if that’s ok with you,” Miguel tipped his head to the direction of your suitcase.
You nodded, letting yourself be led forward by Gabriella to the direction of wherever you assumed would be her and Miguel’s home.
“Thank you. Not just for that, but for letting me stay at your place,” you turned to Miguel as he held your suitcase’s handle with his right hand. “I haven’t met many kind people in Nueva York since I moved here.”
“It’s Nueva York, not exactly the place for fairy tales,” Miguel’s sarcasm slipped out with ease without thinking. He then turned his face away from you when he realized that he forgot you were literally dressed as a princess. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re right,” you shot him a rueful smile as the two of you fell into the rhythm of walking next to each other with Gabriella skipping between you two. With one of her hands in your right hand, Gabriella took Miguel’s left hand in her free hand. “I learned that the hard way.”
“Happens to the best of us,” Miguel replied with more sincerity this time. He didn’t follow up with anything more to say, and the two of you walked past a few streets in awkward silence, the beeps! of Nueva York taxis and Gabriella’s upbeat humming filling the silence.
“We don’t need to take a taxi?” You spoke up, trying to start a light conversation with Miguel.
“Our place is just a few minutes from here,” Miguel answered, his gaze set straight ahead. “I was actually taking Gabi to get ice cream not too far from our place after we came home from her game.”
“Yeah! We were gonna get ice cream!” Gabriella’s eyes lit up even more at the mention of ice cream. “‘Cuz I scored a goal today! Wait, Papá, where’s my ice cream?”
“I didn’t know I was in the presence of a soccer star,” you grinned down at Gabriella, who smiled toothily up at you at being called a “soccer star.”
Despite fatigue from a long day of work seeping into Miguel’s bones, his lips couldn’t help but falter from their default straight line into a small smile at seeing Gabriella be so happy—more so than usual—in your presence.
“Well, you ran off, so I had to find you and didn’t get us any ice cream,” Miguel raised an eyebrow down at Gabriella, but his smile and tone indicated his light teasing. “We can get ice cream tomorrow.”
“Yay!” Gabriella raised her hands in the air, swinging your and Miguel’s hands that held hers forward. She then spotted what you assumed to be her and Miguel’s building, and broke away from the two of you to run up ahead.
“Por el amor de Dios,” Miguel muttered under his breath, stopping in his tracks and leaving your suitcase next to you. “Why does she have to run so fast?”
Without another word, he sprinted after Gabriella. You were surprised Miguel could run fast, but you figured that it made sense since he was so built.
Your gaze then panned from Miguel catching up with Gabriella and scooping her up with ease to the building before the three of you.
The building was easily the tallest apartment complex in Nueva York—a cylindrical tower with state-of-the-art glass architecture.
“Wait…,” your voice trailed off, your chin tipped up as your eyes could barely find the tip of the tower. You walked toward Gabriella and Miguel while hauling your suitcase behind you. “Where are we?”
“We’re home!” Gabriella answered in Miguel’s arms as he stood at the glass door entrance. “Papá and I live at the very top!”
Your eyes couldn’t help but bug. “Miguel, is it ok if I ask what you do for a living?”
“I work in research,” Miguel chose not to elaborate, making him sound like a secretive spy in a movie without meaning to. His broad back was to you as he used his free hand to place a card against the building’s recognition panel. It beeped green, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were breaking into a top secret government building.
“Papá’s the king of his job!” Gabriella chimed with adorable pride for her father as the building’s double doors swished open.
You could only assume “king of his job” meant Miguel was either the CEO of his workplace or he held an equally (if not more) high position, but you decided it wiser to not ask any more questions for the time being as you followed Miguel and Gabriella to the elevator.
The elevator, like the rest of the building, was cylindrical, and spacious enough that you guessed it could probably hold 300 people at a time.
Once inside, Miguel tapped a code into a panel, which you assumed was for accessing his and Gabriella’s home. Your shock at everything only increased when the elevator ascended past 50 floors.
50…60…90…
Gabriella yawned when the elevator passed 90 floors, prompting Miguel to rub her back as she snuggled her face against his shoulder. It wasn’t long before she was out like a light, snoozing in her father’s arms.
“Dulce sueños, mi solecita,” Miguel pressed a kiss on the side of Gabriella’s head. A yawn unleashed from him after he pulled back from Gabriella at the same time you let out your own yawn.
Your eyes met his, and this time Miguel gave you a kinder, more sincere smile as he found it funny that the two of you yawned at the same time.
Ding! The elevator chimed once it reached the 99th floor, the top floor of the building. You tried to brace yourself for whatever the 99th floor would reveal of Gabriella and Miguel’s home, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you.
Their penthouse gleamed in all its glory, from the marbled flooring to the ivory spiral staircase in the left corner. To the right of the penthouse was a massive kitchen with a sleek silver stove and a matching fridge, island, and cabinets.
The walls were a simple white which only added to the elegance of the entire penthouse. You noticed that instead of expensive paintings that usual penthouses would have, the walls of this penthouse were decorated with Gabriella’s various crayon drawings and framed pictures of Gabriella and Miguel from her birth till now.
Your eyes were captivated especially by those framed pictures, but before you could step into the penthouse, you turned to Miguel.
“Shoes off?” you whispered, not wanting to wake Gabriella. He answered you with a nod.
You shuffled off your [your favorite color] sneakers, placing them on a three-tiered shoe rack by the elevator door as Miguel did the same with his burgundy dress shoes and Gabriella’s soccer cleats.
“I didn’t know princesses wore sneakers,” Miguel’s voice was so quiet that you couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing.
“This princess does,” you straightened up, grinning as if you were revealing a corporate secret. “Especially if she has to run after children all day. Though I only wear sneakers when I get to wear long gowns like these that hide my shoes. Wouldn’t want to ruin the magic for the children.”
“We can’t have that, now, could we,” Miguel flashed you a tiny grin, revealing his pearly whites. “If children realized princesses wore sneakers and not glass slippers, that could mean the end of the multiverse.”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise at Miguel’s attempt to engage with you in light teasing and chatter. “Multiverse, huh? Are you into comic books or superheroes or something?”
He merely shrugged his free shoulder as if to appear cool and not “nerdy.” “I like science.” Before you could ask Miguel more about what comic books he liked, Gabriella stirred in his arms.
Miguel wheeled your suitcase to you with his free hand. “I’m going to set Gabriella down in her room,” he whispered in an even more hushed tone. You had to stop yourself from chuckling; he just didn’t seem like the type of person who whispered often. “Make yourself at home in the meantime.”
He made a beeline for the spiral staircase, going up to where you assumed were all the penthouse’s bedrooms.
You knew he said “make yourself at home” out of customary politeness as a host, but you found it difficult to instantly “make yourself at home” in such a grand place.
Not knowing where to sit or where you could sit, you took a step toward a wall lined with framed pictures of Gabriella as a baby.
Some photos were in black and white, some were in full color. A smile bloomed on your face at how cute Gabriella looked as a baby, her smile in the pictures just as infectious then as it was now.
You also noticed, however, that Gabriella’s biological mother wasn’t in the picture—in any picture on the walls, to be exact. There didn’t seem to be a partner in Miguel’s life either, from the way all the family pictures on the walls—whether they were selfies taken by Miguel or pictures taken by someone else—only had him and Gabriella in them.
Your nosy mind couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Gabriella was adopted or conceived via surrogate. The first theory, you crossed out of your mind since Gabriella looked too much like Miguel to be adopted.
Before you could come up with other theories, Miguel descended the spiral staircase and made his way over to you with a neatly-folded bundle of clothes in his hands. He stopped next to you and followed your gaze to one of the pictures.
“I took that one on Gabi’s first birthday,” a soft smile on his face as he nodded to a framed picture of a baby Gabriella laughing at the camera despite having globs of cake and frosting on her face and on the teeny swirls of her wavy brown hair. “That was the first time I ever made tres leches cake, and I’d say she loved it.”
You grinned at the picture, before biting your bottom lip in hesitation. “May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”
Miguel simply nodded, his eyes roaming the various pictures of Gabriella. “Has it always…been just you and Gabriella?” you kept your eyes forward. “Sorry, I know it’s a personal question.”
You turned your face towards Miguel, whose eyes set on a black-and-white picture of a sleeping newborn baby Gabriella, swaddled in a blanket and bald head covered with a cap.
Various emotions flickered in Miguel’s eyes which you could only guess to be sorrow, pain, confusion—not at Gabriella in the picture, but at whatever or whoever was related to that picture.
“It has,” Miguel answered simply and all-too-quickly, the edge in his tone indicating that he didn’t want to talk about the subject more.
He blinked, as if telling himself to forget whatever or whoever he was thinking about, and turned his attention back to the bundle of clothes in his hands.
“I wasn’t sure if you had any clothes to wear in the meantime, so I grabbed a couple of old shirts and pants from my closet,” Miguel’s voice sounded more normal now. “I don’t think we’re the same size, but you can keep these and use them as you see fit.”
“Thank you,” you took the bundle of t-shirts, dress shirts, and sweatpants from Miguel’s hands. You were sure they were a couple sizes larger than your own based on Miguel’s figure, but the gears were already turning in your brain on how you could sew and upcycle some of these.
“I’ll show you to your room,” Miguel began walking to the direction of the stairs once more, his long and fast strides making it difficult for you to keep up with him.
You followed him up the stairs to a spacious floor with around five rooms and more walls framed with Gabriella’s drawings and pictures of Miguel and Gabriella.
“That room is my office, and the other one is for storage,” Miguel pointed to two rooms to the right at the end of the hallway. “That’s Gabriella’s room and my room’s next to her’s.” He pointed to two rooms on the left at the other end of the hallway.
“And this will be your room for the time being,” he led you to the room in the middle next to his room. “It’s our guest room.”
He opened the door to reveal a neat room with a queen-sized bed with a bedside table, and desk near the window area. The entire room matched the sleek aesthetic of the penthouse, from the silver bedside table to the matching desk.
You rolled your suitcase onto the polished wood-tiled floor of the bedroom, noticing a private bathroom just a few feet away from the bed. The whole room felt more like a hotel room than any bedroom you’ve ever been in.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me,” Miguel stood at the door, his hands naturally resting on his hips. “Our laundry room is downstairs next to the kitchen if you need to use it tomorrow.”
“Thanks again,” you turned your attention away from the desk to Miguel, giving him a smile you hoped that conveyed your immense gratitude.
Miguel simply nodded and turned his back, ready to leave.
You couldn’t help but wonder and worry if he was mad or something at you asking him that question earlier. You also finally noticed the shadows of gray that filled the lines of stress and fatigue under his eyes.
Whether such stress and fatigue was from his mysterious job or from almost losing Gabriella tonight, you didn’t know. But what you did know was that you wanted to tell him the words on the tip of your tongue—maybe to prove to him you weren’t a bad person trying to take advantage of his and his daughter’s kindness, or maybe because you just wanted to say the following:
“Good night, Miguel. I hope you sleep well.”
Miguel stopped in his tracks before turning his face back towards you. “What?” Your statement shocked him; it had been a while since someone other than Gabriella wished him a good night’s rest, and it had been an even longer while since he actually had a good night’s rest.
“I said ‘good night’?” You cocked your head to the side, worrying if you said something wrong again. “And that I hope you sleep well?”
“…Night,” Miguel mumbled, turning his back to you once more, his hand resting on the door knob. “I hope you sleep well, too.”
The door knob clicked after Miguel ducked his head below the head of the doorframe and made his way out of the room.
You stared at the closed door for a few seconds before making your way over to the closet. It was roomy and empty, with only hangers in it. You carefully peeled your gown off your body and hung it on a hanger.
The gown took up a good quarter of the closet’s space from its sheer size alone, but you had a garment bag in your suitcase you could use.
Putting the gown in a garment bag and taking a bath will have to wait till tomorrow. You didn’t fight the urge to let out a yawn. Sleep. I need sleep.
You didn’t even think twice about putting on an old white t-shirt and gray sweatpants from Miguel—both oversized on you—until you stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom and glanced at your reflection in the mirror.
I sure don’t look like a princess now. You let out a chuckle before brushing your teeth.
It wasn’t until you set your tiara (you didn’t realize you were still wearing it) down on the bedside table and settled into your new bed that your mind wanted to keep you awake with various thoughts.
I’m wearing a stranger’s shirt and pants. A very handsome stranger. And I’m sleeping in his house.
Wait, that sounds wrong. You shook your head before turning to rest your head on the other side of the plush pillow.
I probably shouldn’t have asked him earlier about whether it was just him and Gabi.
I don’t want to bother Miguel any more than I already have.
Before you could let more intrusive thoughts swim in your mind, another yawn escaped from your lips.
I won’t stay here long.
I’ll figure my life out tomorrow and be out of here before we all know it…
— — — — —
The same time you drifted off into dreamland, Miguel stared up at the ceiling of his own bedroom next door.
It had been a long day for him, from almost losing Gabriella to taking in a woman who dressed up as a princess for a living.
Did I just let a stranger into my house?
Shock.
…
She won’t stay here long. We’ll be back to our own lives as soon as possible.
And with that, Miguel nodded to himself. Logically, or at least logically to him, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to find a new place for you to stay in Nueva York.
Miguel was someone who despised the unexpected—he was used to being in control so he could know what would happen next. So that his daughter could be safe. So that he could feel safe.
Gabriella randomly running away from him at the ice cream shop was unexpected. And you…you were definitely unexpected. While Gabriella liked you and you seemed like a nice enough person, a smidge of distrust for you gnawed at Miguel’s mind.
However, it was your words that bugged him more.
“I hope you sleep well.” Can’t she tell I barely get any sleep?
He let out a puff of air through his nose, only to be surprised by a yawn that followed. It wasn’t long before his eyelids began to droop.
Despite everything that happened today, little did Miguel know that he was going to get better sleep tonight than he did in ages.
ALT🍓 Strawbetty’s notes: If you read all the way to here, Miguel gives you a 🍓 :D. I’m gonna make a separate post with more of my author’s notes on this fic later but for now I’m eepy :’)
🍓 Tag list: @allysunny, @charms-cat, @tymns, @tayleighuh, @moyo5653, @sizeablysized, @deputy-videogamer, @marvelofcourse, @flordelalunas, @thethirdyo, @sleepingghoule444, @eyes-stuff. If you would like to be added to the tag list for upcoming chapters, please comment or reblog below :)
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ALTthoughts no one asked for but my mind has no mouth and must scream
At the beach with Miguel and Spider Gang (Miles, Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter and MJ and Mayday)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1.2K
Tags: Spider dad vibes, beach, food, established relationship with Miguel, GN!Reader, mention of reader in swimwear but nothing specific
Notes: Wrote these up kinda quick!
Tentateur
Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader
WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.
Requested here
Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.
anakin skywalker x reader
falling asleep with anakin during a late night thunderstorm 💌
rating: G (general audiences) gn!reader
a/n: another super short imagine, unedited morning free write, enjoy ! 🫶🏼
Anonymous asked:
Hi I was jw if you could do a Loki x reader where they have a huge fight and then reader leaves for a mission to only come back injured. Loki is given a note from her apologizing to him and when she wakes up he takes care of her apologizing as well? Super duper fluffy ending?
vbecker10 answered:
Hey anon!! I have two asks that have very similar ideas so I’m doing them together. I’m sorry if it took me so long to get to it that you sent it again but I really do love this idea. I changed a little bit of it and kinda combined both asks. Hopefully it was worth the wait 💚
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Warnings: arguing, angst, injury, lots of fluff
Summary: You and Loki have an argument but before the two of you can resolve it, you are called away on a mission for a few days. You return from the mission injured and still hurt by what Loki said before you left but he is determined to show you how much you truly mean to him.
A/N: I threw in Halloween stuff cause it’s October so why not right 🎃 lol… also, as usual this got away from me and is way longer then I intended 🤷♀️
“Its October first!” you say as you flip the calendar on your kitchen wall excitedly. “Do you know what that means?” you turn towards Loki.
He looks up from the coffee maker, “I would say its Saturday but I imagine that’s not the answer you are looking for.”
“Its Halloween!” you answer with a wide smile. He rolls his eyes but you catch a glimpse of him smiling before he turns back to face the counter. You move to stand behind him and put your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back.
He shakes his head and chuckles softly while he pours the fresh coffee into two mugs. “I was under the impression that Halloween was on the last day of the month, not the first,” he says.
You groan, letting go of him so you can lean your back against the counter next to him. You look up at him, crossing your arms and say, “Technically yes but… we can do Halloween stuff all month.”
He takes a sip of his coffee, “A whole month seems a bit unnecessary. Surely one day is enough.”
“It absolutely is necessary!” you tell him, a bit louder than you expected to.
He raises an eyebrow then waves his hand for you to continue. “Very well. What did you have in mind, darling?” he asks.
“Everything… Some of the parks here do hayrides, corn mazes and apple picking. I’ve always wanted to go apple picking, maybe Wanda could teach me how she makes those mini apple crumbles,” you say and Loki smiles, you know how much he loves any type of dessert he can get his hands on. “There are tons of haunted houses we can visit of course,” you add.
“Of course,” he nods dramatically in agreement which causes you to laugh.
“Oh and I feel like you would like pumpkin carving,” you say and he tilts his head curiously. “Because you know…” you make a stabbing motion, “Knives and such.”
“That seems acceptable,” he laughs then leans forward to kiss you briefly. “Anything else, love?”
“Can’t forget watching horror movies with lots of junk food and cuddles or scaring everyone on the team,” you tell him.
“How could I say no to either of those?” he smiles as he puts his coffee mug on the counter and moves closer to you. He slips one arm around you and you lean against his chest, looking up at him. “It’ll be hard to pick a favorite activity but I don’t think you can beat scaring the others,” he says with a mischievous grin.
You hit his chest lightly, “Want to try picking a favorite again?”
He kisses the top of your head, “Pumpkin carving?”
“You’re the worst,” you giggle as you pull free. “The correct answer is horror movies and cuddles, obviously. Just for that, I’m picking out our costumes for Stark’s party.”
His mood shifts suddenly as the playful smile leaves his lips. He picks up his coffee mug and takes another sip. “There’s no need for you to do that,” he says in a serious tone, “I won’t be attending the party.” With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.
“You don’t want to go?” you ask as you follow him into the living room.
He sits on one end of the couch and sets his mug on the coffee table. “Y/N, you know I don’t go to Stark’s parties. I never have and I see no reason to start now,” he says without looking at you.
“I thought we could go together,” you say with a hopeful smile.
He picks up his book from the side table and open its, “Why would you think that?”
“Because it would be fun?” you ask, feeling more unsure of yourself with every passing moment.
He looks up at you briefly and then back to his book. “I doubt very much it would be,” he says.
You stand across from him in silence, hurt by the thought that Loki didn’t even want to consider going with you. Loki has never been one to socialize with the team voluntarily but you had been excited about the idea of finally having a date to one of Stark’s parties.
“I know we’ve only been dating a few months but… I guess I just assumed you would want to go with me,” you say quietly.
“Don’t Midgardians have a saying about assuming things?” he asks as he turns the page of his book.
“Well, yea…” you put your mug on the coffee table. “Can you not read while we’re talking?”
“You know I’m perfectly capable of holding a conversation and reading at the same time,” he says without looking up, you wrap your arms around yourself and don’t respond. He finally looks up and slides his bookmark between the pages before setting it on the table. “Better?” he asks in a sarcastic tone.
“Oh, is it rude of me to want you to pay attention to me when I’m talking?” you ask, unable to hide your growing annoyance.
“There is nothing to talk about. I have told you I’m not going,” he says. “You’re more then welcome to go to that ridiculous event alone.” He sits back and opens his book again.
“Its not ridiculous,” you argue back but he doesn’t acknowledge you as he turns the page.
“And I don’t… I don’t want to go alone. I want to go with my boyfriend. What’s wrong with that?” you ask.
“Are you really going to just ignore me now?” you ask when he continues to read silently.
“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just done with this conversation,” he says as he flips the page.
“That’s not how conversations work-” you say, rolling your eye sarcastically.
“I don’t want to be with you Y/N,” Loki says in a harsh tone as he slams the book closed.
You instantly take a step back as his words hit you. He stands up quickly, dropping his book as moves towards you. “Go, I meant I don’t want to go with you,” he tries to correct himself but your mind has already latched onto those words.
“You… don’t…” you whisper as you stand in front of him in disbelief, shaking your head slowly.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant,” he repeats. “Y/N, I didn’t mean that.”
He reaches for your arm and you pull away from him. “But you said it,” you say, you feel as if you’re heart is physically breaking. “Why would you say that?” you ask, close to tears.
“Y/N, I-” Loki starts to explain but is cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from the other room.
You turn from him and walk back to the kitchen to answer it. Loki follows you and tries to take your hand but you turn from him. You purposefully stare at your feet while on the phone to avoid looking at Loki who is growing increasingly upset and nervous.
When you hang up from your call with Agent Hill you ask, “Can you please leave? I have to be ready to take off for a mission in twenty minutes and I-”
“Y/N, I’m not leaving until we talk,” he shakes his head. He attempts to close the distance between the two of you again and this time you don’t move away. You keep your eyes fixed on the ground as tears begin to surface. He touches your cheek lightly but you still don’t look up.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says again and you nod slowly, your heart believes him but your mind won’t let go of this words so easily. “Please look at me,” he pleads but you can’t.
“I have to get ready,” you tell him again in a hushed voice.
“Can we talk when you get back?” he asks and you mumble ok in response. He kisses the top of your head lightly and says, “Be safe, Y/N.”
(Three days later)
You limp slowly down the long corridor and find yourself standing in front of Loki’s door. You can tell he’s awake, most likely reading, when you see the light creeping out from under the door even though it’s just past one in the morning.
You stand there frozen for a moment. All you want to do is feel his arms wrap around you but every time you picture him, you hear his voice echo. He said he didn’t want to be with you and although he quickly took it back you just couldn’t shake it. His words had burned themselves into your thoughts and refused to leave.
You try to take a deep breath and feel a searing pain spread through your left side. You look down at the brace on your left knee and rub your left arm, just above where the cast was set. Shaking your head, you turn to drag yourself the rest of the way down the hall to your room to sleep.
You get a few feet away when you hear Loki’s door open and you stop but don’t turn. “Y/N, welcome back,” he says quietly.
You can feel your heartbeat picking up at the sound of his voice and you can’t help but smile a bit. “I’ve missed you, love,” he says, you can hear he’s stepped out into the hall.
“I missed you too,” you tell him as you turn to face him. You watch as his eyes move up and down your body, filling with concern.
“Y/N, are you alright? What happened?” he asks, standing close to you. You shrug and tell him that the mission was ultimately successful but you were thrown during an explosion at the Hydra base. You had broken your arm and sprained your knee, in addition to being covered in bruises. You tell him you’re exhausted and just want to lay down.
He reaches out and takes your hand, “I know you’re tired darling, but come with me.” You look up at him quietly, he gently strokes your cheek. “Let me take care of you,” he says in a soothing voice.
You smile sleepily and nod, absolutely nothing could sound better then letting Loki look after you right now. No matter what he said before you left, you were still completely in love with him, although you had never been brave enough to say it. You squeeze his hand lightly and he leads you back to his room.
Once inside, he closes the door quietly and picks you up careful not to hurt your side or leg. You let out a small laugh in surprise as he carries you bridal style into the living room. “I can walk,” you tell him but you make no attempt to be put down.
“Not without being in pain it seems,” he answers in a caring tone.
You wrap your good arm around his neck a bit tighter and kiss his cheek lightly without thinking. He smiles when he looks down at you but you can see it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His eyes are red and glassy, his normally silky smooth hair appears slightly tangled and you’ve never seen his clothing wrinkled before.
You look around as he carries you through his apartment. His space is usually meticulously neat but there are books messily piled on the end table and floor. You notice a pillow and blanket from his bed have been moved to the couch and there are several empty mugs on the coffee table. He walks through the living room and into his bedroom where the bed you’ve shared is made perfectly, expect for the missing pillow. You realize its the pillow from your side of the bed that’s been moved to the couch.
As if he is reading your thoughts he says, “I haven’t been able to sleep without you.”
You close your eyes, hold him tighter and whisper, “I’m sorry, Loki.” You knew how hard the last few days had been for you but you are quickly seeing how badly it had affected Loki as well.
He kisses your forehead as he gently opens the bathroom door with his foot. He sets you down on the countertop next to the sink.
“I understand you’re tired but… I just need you to know I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean what I said before you left, you know that right? I was frustrated about the party and it just came out wrong. I-” he tells you and you pull him closer to you. You put your good arm around his waist and move your legs to be on either side of him as they dangle over the edge.
You had spent the last three days replaying what Loki said and you can tell he had been too. “I know Loki,” you interrupt him. “I know you didn’t mean it,” you tell him and he breaths a sigh of relief. He strokes your cheek lightly then leans down to kiss you.
When he breaks the kiss, you hide your face against his chest. “Y/N…?” he asks, running his hand up and down your back lightly.
“I’m sorry I pushed you about going to the party. I know you don’t enjoy going to them and it wasn’t fair that I got upset instead of listening to you,” you tell him.
He puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head so you are looking up at him again. “I will go to the party, I just want to make you happy Y/N,” he offers but you shake your head no and he looks confused.
“I don’t want to go anymore,” you tell him.
“You should go. I know how much fun you thought his last party was,” he says.
You smile at him and run your fingers through his hair gently, “I would rather spend time with you, doing something we both like.”
He cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. You kiss him back as his hand slides down your back, holding you close to his chest. You giggle when you pull away to breath, “I meant something like going to a museum… but that works too.”
He laughs at your response than says, “Well we still have all the things on your Halloween list to get through.”
You nod happily as you yawn then groan in pain when your stretching aggravates your sore muscles. His smile fades and he looks concerned again.
“Let’s get you more comfortable, darling,” he says and you agree.
You rest against Loki with your eyes closed as you listen to the tub full with water. After a few minutes, Loki carefully helps you out of your dirty, bloodied uniform and places you into the warm water. You let out a sigh as your muscles begin to relax from the oils Loki had added. Resting your broken arm on the edge of the tub, you let yourself sink completely under the bubbles.
Loki’s kneels behind you and begins to gently unbraid your hair. He runs his long fingers through your hair and then down your neck to your shoulders, massaging all the tension from your muscles. When he finishes, he kisses you softly. “Just rest now, I’ll be back in a moment,” he says as he gets up.
You nod with a smile, struggling to keep your eyes open. Just as you are about to drift off completely, Loki returns to being you to bed. After drying off, Loki conjures you a soft pair of green shorts and a black tank top to sleep in.
You giggle, half asleep when he picks you up again and carries you into the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and then gets in next to you. At soon as he pulls the covers over the two of you, you curl up against his side.
Loki wraps his arms tightly around you and whispers, “I love you, Y/N.”
For a moment, you aren’t sure if you dreamed hearing this words or if he actually said he loved you for the first time. You look up at him and when you see his smile, you know you weren’t dreaming.
“I love you too, Loki,” you confess happily, right before you slip into a sound sleep.
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Prompts - I am not the kind of girl who should be rudely barging in on a white-veil occasion, but you are not the kind of boy who should be marrying the wrong girl
Synopsis - When Loki is forced to marry a Princess you only have two options speak now or forever hold your peace.
Falling in love with a Prince of Asgard had never been you plan, of course it was a dream many around you had but no one was foolish enough to believe it could happen and yet here you were, head over heels for the Prince who made you feel like you were something more than just a servant, a helper to the palace, made you feel like you were the most important person in all the realms.
It wasn’t easy to pinpoint the exact moment your relationship had shifted so drastically, had changed from just a way to blow off steam into what it had become, the two of you falling hard for each other. Not that it got acknowledged, how could it? You knew no matter how much you and Loki cared for one another, no matter how much love was between the two of you, nothing could ever come from it, it was something you thought about more often than you’d like because no matter how hard you tried to push it away it always lingered.
Despite the consequences, despite how forbidden your relationship was, despite how nothing could ever come from it, you and Loki were determined to make every moment count. Now it wasn’t just about sex, it wasn’t about sharing a bottle of something to forget your troubles, instead it was about sneaking off to a quiet corner of Asgard, far, far away from anybody else and stealing magical moments together.
Loki x plus size reader
Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Loki serenades the object of his affections
Warnings: this is legit all fluff
WC: 2.2k
Minors DNI
It was a well-known fact that Tony Stark loved to give people nicknames. It was where his true genius lay. His go to was ‘capsicle’ purely because of the exasperated eye roll he received from Steve Rogers every time he said it. But his newest nickname was quickly becoming a favourite.
lokiandbuckysdoll asked:
CONGRATULATIONS LOU!! You deserve every like and follow. Congrats on 1,000!! 🥳 expect two requests from :)
Here’s my first request loves.
Plus-size read x Loki And Bucky/ Sugar Daddy AU 😉
Prompt 38 & 6 and trope 10 please:)
Once again congratulations Lou! 💋✨
hannibals-favourite-meal answered:
Sugar Daddy!Loki x single mom!reader x Sugar Daddy!Bucky
Loki x plus size reader x Bucky
With one missed call, the whole world shifts
Warnings: references to teen pregnancy, age-gap (21 and mid to late 30s), sugar daddy/baby relationship, implied past BDSM, parental abandonment, little bit of angst, idiots in love
A/N: @lokiandbuckysdoll I love you so much!!!!!!!
WC: 2.4k
Minors DNI
6: “I want to have her babies.”
38: “I’m scared I can’t give you everything you want, everything you deserve.”
10: Single parent
6: Sugar daddy!au
She hadn’t texted today. And considering that in her rules, she was required to contact them at least once a day, it was certainly strange.
Bucky stepped into his partner’s office, still staring down at her contact name on his phone. “Everybody out.” He barked, sending the occupants scrambling to leave, none of them keen on incurring Bucky’s well known wrath. Loki sighed, dropping the butterfly knife he was playing with onto his marble desk.
Summary: After finding out that you were pregnant, your ex boyfriend left and wanted nothing to do with either of you. Scared to do this alone, you confided in your best friend, Loki; and being the amazing friend he is, he steps in to help you with your little one.
Pairing: Loki x Single Mum!Reader
Warning(s): domestic fluff, single mum!reader, subtle friends to lovers situation, baby cuteness, daddy!loki (get your mind out of the gutter!)
“Where’s my good little girl?”
Your baby girl, Violet, looked at you with her big e/c eyes and gave you that gummy smile. She was almost a year old now. It was crazy how fast time had flown. It felt like only yesterday when you found out you were pregnant.
