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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

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Herschel Has Discovered Tool Use. Again.

In january of 2021, deep in the throes of pandemic psychosis, we acquired a Corgi Puppy.

I would like to go on the record that we did not get a Corgi because they're cute. We got a Corgi because they're criminally brilliant and enthusiastic working dogs that were bred to bully cattle, which is the exact temperment a dog living in a house with three ADHD adults should have. Herschel does commit a lot of crime, but he also does his appinted service-dog job of "make everyone wake up, eat meals and go to bed at a reasonable and consistent time" extremely well, as well as his bonus jobs of "Keep the squirrels the hell out of the garden" and "Yell every time the cat does something". I didn't actually ask him to do that last job but it has helped in the "teach the cat to stay the hell off the stove" area.

But even with having a whole pack of humans another dog, and a cat to manage, this pales in comparison to his genetic capacity to manage several hundred sheep or cattle across the fields of Wales, and thus, Herschel has decided on further intellectual pursuits to occupy himself, namely, speedrunning the early phases of human tool use and terraforming.

I realized he has the brains of an entire hunter-gatherer tribe shortly after he got fixed, and within 24 hours and still dpey from anesthesia, he'd figured out that his plastic cone could be used to monopolize the water bowl and his favorite chew toys, and within a week, had learned how to carry three toys at once while leaving his mouth open by tucking the toys behind his enormous ears and under his chin. He also figured out that he could wiggle the cone to rest against his shoulders, and started using it as a shovel by literally running the bottom edge into the ground. But that wasn't making holes effeicently enough, apparently, and I ended up watching him figure out how to rotate the cone around so the two pieces of overlapping plastic were under his chin, then use his chin and the stairs to the deck to pinch both ends into a much more efficient V-Shape that let him gouge huge strips of dirt up in seconds. The anthropologists and animal behaviorists in the audience may recognize this as Tool Creation, a behavior normally only seen in higher primates, crows, and some parrots. Once a hole of suitable length, depth and temperature had been achieved, he very carefully rolled the cone around so the digging side was over his head and the smooth side under his chin, and splooted into his hole to cool his little tummy and stitches off. It was at that point that I realized that I was going to have to teach him how to garden, or he was going to teach himself.

He no longer has the cone (He was beginning to experiment with it as a battering ram), but his morning ritual is now "Wake everyone up at 8AM by screaming, locate everyone in house and jam my nose up theirs to make sure they're alive, go outside and scream at the squirrels. Now that Yard is Secure, go get Fun Parent who has hopefully taken their meds by now, and supervise them while they rifle through the plants (this is apparently KEY to their mental health), eating any pest animals Fun Parent points out, chase squirrel AGAIN, go inside and get Breakfast cookie." and BY GOD if we deviate from it there will be much screaming and destruction. If I am not home, it has been reported that he walks round the garden beds and sniffs the plants in the order I usually check them in before he will agree to come in. He doesn't quite know what the deal with the melons is, just that they need to be checked.

But we're out of the labor-intensive parts of gardening and now into Harvesting Season, and this is a bit boring except when I give him snap peas right off the vine, and he has decided to work on the complex physics problem that is Doorknobs.

And last week, he had a breakthrough.

Sometime in 2020, my mom sort-of taught her horrible crime herding dog Arwen how to open the back door so she could let herself out as she pleased during the day and stop interrupting Mom's Zoom calls. Arwen is a Kelpie, which means she's about 60lbs with full-length legs and horrible monkey paws that are one joint away from being hands, so when Arwen wants to open the back door, she sits up, leans on the door for purchase/to push it, and uses her terrible crime hands to *push* on the knob until it turns. She can pull the knob open by pawing and catching it on her toes, but she's 11-13 years old now and has mild arthritis, so she prefers to catch it on her central pad instead. She taught Charlie, the other equally brilliant but less criminally inclined dog, to do this but he doesn't like to go outside alone, so he rarely does this.

Herschel, ever the observant student, immediately tried copying them, but even though he is actually tall enough to reach the knob, his toes are just too stubby to get a decent grip on the knob, pushing or pulling, and the first few times, gave up and sat down to scream until one of the fullsize dogs or humans came to open the door for him.

Last week, we were up at my parent's again, and I watched him hunt around the living room until he found his slightly-sticky orange rubber ball (It's clean, it's just a kind of rubber that's always a bit tacky), carry it across the house, stand up on his hind legs at the back door, put the rubber ball on top of the gap between the knob and the wall, and then push down on the ball, which caught the doorknob and turned it for him, thus opening the door. He let himself out, had a merry time yelling at the squirrels, came back in, stopped a few feet inside the door, went back out, grabbed his ball, and brought it back into his kennel, a place he can leave toys if he doesn't want the other dogs playing with them.

This means he somehow worked out how doorknobs work, how fucking levers work, and that his orange rubber ball specifically was the one that would work (none of his other toys are the correct size/texture), that he'd need that ball specifically to open the door again, and yesterday he did the same trick with the bedroom door, so he knows that the rubber ball/skeleton key can be used on all doorknobs, not just that one.

I wonder if I can teach him to sweep.

___

If you want to fund Herschel's research into Tool Use and/or get me therapy for the ensuing chaos, please feel free to donate to my Ko-Fi, or get further Dog Content by subscribing to my Patreon.

#Family Lore #Dogs #Herschel the Haunkkah Goblin #Charleston Chew

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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

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Mom and Dad Are Fighting On Valentine's Day 💌

Miguel O'Hara x Fem wife reader

Synopsis: same universe as Mom and Dad Are Fighting On Christmas. You and Miguel are married with three kids: Gabi(his), Marcus(yours), and Anthony(you two had him together). He falls back into his workaholic patterns and you two have a big fight that nearly ruins your big Valentine's Day plans. Word count 5.2k

A/N: My last piece for my Valentine's Day special! I just love this man so much lol. Enjoy! Here's the first one I posted for V Day (this fic is completely unrelated to this one)

TW: MINORS DNI, SMUT AT THE END (P IN V, FINGERING, CREAMPIE, ORAL F RECEIVING BUT DOESN'T GO INTO TOO MUCH DETAIL, BREEDING,) FAMILY PLANNING, TALKS OF DEPRESSION, TALK OF ABUSE, ANGST, MARRIAGE TROUBLES, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, MAYBE ALLUDES TO POSTPARTUM DEPRESSION, MENTION OF TRADITIONAL GENDER ROLES, OC SIBLINGS TO GABI, OC OF YOUR (READER'S) MOTHER. The OCS HAVE PRETTY MUCH LITTLE TO NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION, READER'S MOTHER HAS NONE WHATSOEVER. ANTHONY FAVORS MIGUEL MORE IN TERMS OF LOOKS, THIS IS MORE DISCUSSED IN THE CHRISTMAS FIC BEFORE THIS.

-----

It was February 1st and one of the first nights you and your husband actually went to bed at the same time in weeks.

"Let's make a baby this Valentine's Day..." Miguel whispered as his large hand snaked under your arm to cup your breast. Your eyes fluttered, your phone slipped onto the ground, the spicy fanfic you were reading temporarily forgotten. You rolled your hips forward at his touch and panted softly.

"What...?"

"Hmmm....? ¿Quieres un otro niño conmigo, mi amor? (You want another child with me, my love?) He started laying hungry kisses on your neck, his breathing becoming more heavy and hot against your ear, which made you bite your lip. "We can have someone watch the kids...I'll take the day after off so we can have all night and everything..."

"Honey... the baby would be born in November?"

"Mhmmm..." Miguel was too busy caressing your now erect nipples and moving a hand to your crotch to really focus on your conversation.

"They'd be a Scorpio."

Miguel pulls back with an amused look on his face

"Baby...be serious. That's what you're worried about?"

You shrug. "I mean..."

Miguel scoffed and grabbed your breasts again. "I don't care when they're born...just want another little one running around...has your cute nose and everything..." His lips graze upwards on your neck until they come to rest on your jaw. "¿Qué dices?" (What do you say) he murmurs against your skin.

Your mind rushes with all kinds of thoughts. Anthony was quickly approaching his third birthday. You and Miguel had discussed adding just one more O'Hara to the family multiple times. It seemed like good timing. You missed the tender joy and even the sleep deprivation that a little baby brought with them.

You and Miguel had occasional quarrels over dividing housework here and there, but when it came to caring for the kids he was such a hands on father (when he wasn't going through one of his workaholic phases), that you didn't mind the extra labor a newborn demanded.

When people (rudely) asked you if you were done having kids, you couldn't give a firm no. One more child seemed like the perfect way to complete the family you and him built together. You were ready.

You look up at your husband, that irritatingly sexy smirk on his face as he gazes back down at you.

"Buy me dinner first?" You smirk back.

Miguel lets out a hearty chuckle, "I can handle that...I am a gentleman after all. Wouldn't want my pretty little wife thinking I have any ulterior motives..."

He leans down and you release more giggles as he blazes another trail of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach.

"You're impossible, O'Hara..."

----

The next morning, you two start your usual routine. You throw on your signature leggings and hoodie since you have three kids to wrangle, along with the morning carpool.

Miguel is rolling up his sleeves on his sweater as he leans over to plant a kiss on Gabi's and Marcus's heads as they scarf down their Fruit Loops cereal. He has to chase down little Anthony for a minute, and Anthony squeals as Miguel plants a goodbye kiss on his small chubby cheeks that are smeared with banana puree.

"Bye, baby..." Miguel gives your booty what he thought was a discreet love squeeze along with a peck on the lips, much to Gabi's chagrin.

"Gross!"

Miguel grins and opens the door to the garage.

"Mmm- don't forget! Gabi has her book report presentation at 2 pm today!" You call after him.

Shit... Miguel remembers. That's going to be a tough one to squeeze in his already stuffed schedule. "Okay, I'll see what I can do!"

You groan silently to yourself. You knew him well enough to know there was a 99% chance he wasn't coming based on that response alone. You plaster on a fake smile and try to shrug off your worry for the kids' sake. "Alright munchkins, the magic school express is leaving for school, pronto!"

----

After dropping off Gabi, Marcus and two of the neighbors' kids at school, you drop Anthony off at your mother's for some quality time while you catch up on housework. Or at least some of the housework because you end up showering and taking a 3 hour nap. The demands of the past week finally caught up to you. You groggily shut off the alarm on your phone. The clock said noon.

You text your husband, "Are you going to make it to Gabi's presentation?"

No answer.

But, that was typical. Miguel could get quite busy at HQ and not respond for hours. Still, you kept your hopes up that this time he'd make an honest effort to be there to support Gabi.

After lunch, you go back to your mother's and visit for a bit, then you and little Anthony head over to the school for Gabi's presentation promptly at 2 pm.

Gabi breaks out into a smile when she sees you and her baby brother enter the classroom. "Sissyyy!" Anthony babbles, waving his chunky arm.

Gabi runs to the back of the class and picks up little Anthony to give him a squeeze hello, he giggles furiously, kicking his dangling feet as she spins him around. You give both kids a warm smile then take Anthony in your lap as Gabi walks to the front of the classroom.

She hesitates for a moment and her eyes dart from you and Anthony to the door, as though she was expecting someone else to walk through. You get a sinking feeling in your gut when you realize she's looking for her papa. Her face falls a little bit when the door remains closed and the class goes silent, waiting for her to begin. You look at Gabi and give her an encouraging nod, not letting any of the disappointment you're feeling make itself known on your face.

Gabi takes a deep breath and starts to give her book report presentation. You hug Anthony a little closer to your chest as you both sit and watch, silently vowing to "accidentally" forget to cook Miguel dinner tonight.

Unfortunately, that night you didn't even get the opportunity to bitch him out because he came home some time around 3 am the next morning only to have to roll out of bed 3 hours later to beat the morning rush hour.

All of the excitement and positive momentum you thought you and Miguel were building after his suggestion to spend Valentine's Day together starts to chip away, day after day. He comes home in the wee hours of the night, missing dinner, homework, and bedtime. The kids seem to notice. Marcus snaps at you as you struggle to help him with his science homework. "Daddy knows how to do this stuff! I want him to help me, not you!"

You try to act like that comment didn't sting and answer in a calm but shaky voice. "Daddy's at work. I'm doing my best to help you and I need you to speak to me in a kinder tone, please."

Marcus grunts in frustration, stomping upstairs and slamming his door.

And, to make things worse, he begins picking more fights with Gabi than usual. Doors get slammed and toys get thrown as early as 8 am when a dispute arises over who gets to pick which cartoon is playing on the TV.

In the evenings, you have to scream at the top of your lungs and separate them after they start kicking each other under the table while little Anthony wails because he hates what's being served for dinner. The night ends with everyone in tears and all three kids eventually sleeping in your bed because they're too upset to stay in their rooms.

Miguel winds up on the couch or doesn't even come home at all, leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach with a painful side of resentment.

On Valentine's Day, you wake up and look over. Gabi, Marcus, and Anthony are all in a pile lying against each other on Miguel's side of the bed. It's 5 am. You slide out of bed, taking care not to disrupt your sleeping babies.

You walk quietly downstairs, a storm brewing in your chest, a seething monologue you plan to unleash on your careless husband asleep on the couch again. You had his favorite bourbon, new cologne, his favorite snacks, and some new socks that you were going to set out for him to wake up to. He could forget about all of that now. He didn't even bother to get you anything, or even climb into bed with all of you at least when he got home.

You were preparing to hold his feet to the fire and ask where the hell he's been, if he's remembered he even has a family, and, if his sorry ass doesn't start coming home at a reasonable time or even issue a nearly two weeks overdue apology to Gabi for letting her down, that he can scrap your Valentine's Day plans, cancel the hotel, and you'll return all his gifts back to the store. Things haven't been this bad since Christmas when you nearly got divorced.

But, he's not there. The couch is bare. He spent another complete day and night at work. Didn't even come home so he could be there for you on fucking Valentine's Day. At this point, you just feel like crying. Frustration reached its boiling point and threatens to bubble over. You check your phone, the last text you sent to him was last night at 5 pm.

"Making dinner. Marcus is struggling with his science homework again and got upset with me. Will you please come home at a reasonable time tonight so you can talk to him about it? Are we still on for tomorrow and letting my mom watch the kids?"

The message was opened and read at 7:45 pm with no response. You walk outside onto your porch and call him, pacing back and forth restlessly as the phone rings.

----

Miguel walks through a portal back into his office at HQ, Felicia Hardy and Ben Reilly in tow. Felicia and Ben are bantering back and forth as Miguel notices an incoming call from you. Miguel's eyes are bloodshot, not having had a blink of sleep in nearly 18 hours

"Someone's in troubleee," Felicia teases. Miguel tries to brush off the comment as he nervously answers and utters a loud "FUCK!" when he realizes what today is.

Deep down, Miguel knew he had been getting worse lately. Diving head first into his work, so adamant on protecting the multiverse that he made himself blind to your needs and the needs of his children, seemingly a purposeful self-sabatoge. It was something you both unpacked early on in your relationship for you to eventually discover he had a form of depression.

A lot of it could be traced back to all those times where he was a boy who grew up way too fast as he shielded Gabriel from the obvious abuse his step dad inflicted on their family. He would take his responsibilities almost a little too seriously, always needing to be the solution to every problem, even if it meant setting himself on fire, and to the detriment of anyone close to him.

You two also battled over the age old argument the majority of married couples faced: the disproportionate division of visible and invisible labor. This was no doubt something that was ingrained in both of you growing up as a pattern that you two were fighting to try and break: the woman handles everything related to the home and kids, the permanent project manager of the family with little to no emotional assistance from the man. Meanwhile , the man works full time and makes such a healthy living that he can sustain her and multiple kids on it at once. The only domestic tasks he should be concerned with are the lawn and any random repairs around the house.

You were very supportive of his mental health of course, but it was times like these where you just needed him home, needed to feel like you didn't have to weather this storm on your own. A very distinct part of the vows you made to each other on your wedding day.

Sometimes you found yourself crying at night or when a love song came on, asking yourself if marriage was really this hard, or if love and the ideas of it that got planted in your head from an early age were just things of fiction. Something you clearly weren't meant to experience. Hell, none of the women on your side of the family did. Your grandma had a shitty marriage but stayed, your mom and dad divorced, and your aunt couldn't make any of her three marriages work.

You hear Miguel answer and you exhale with relief. "Did you get my text?..."

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded, "Yeah...Happy Valentine's Day... Lo siento, mi alma..."

(I'm sorry, my soul)

You cross your arms, his greeting and weak apology completely going over your head. "So, where the hell have you been? What have you been up to? I've said maybe 10 words to you in the past nearly two weeks. I've been doing this all by myself..." Your voice thickens and you begin to cry at last, "If you're hurting again you need to tell me..."

Miguel starts to interrupt you but you bulldoze over him, not letting him put out the fire that was lit underneath you. "I need you home. The kids need you home. I am not celebrating Valentine's Day with you in a hotel room tonight if you do not come home at a reasonable time this afternoon to see the kids before we need to drop them off at my mom's."

At that point, Ben makes Felicia giggle loudly in the background. The tone is flirtatious and breathy. The sound is awfully incriminating as it comes through on the other line. Miguel shoots a frantic, pissed off look in their direction.

Your heart does a death drop from your chest to your stomach as you hear it. The deep seated insecurity that always hung in the very back of your mind that liked to make unwelcome appearances, usually at the worst of times in your marriage. An unpleasant symptom of having a husband who was exceedingly physically attractive to practically anyone who laid eyes on him.

The fear he would eventually tire of you and leave you high and dry for someone else. Someone prettier. Someone younger. Someone who wasn't bogged down by responsibilities. Someone who hadn't shown him the worst of who they could be. Someone whose personality was more contagious than yours. Someone more intelligent and successful. Someone who was everything you weren't.

"Who the hell is that...?" you ask through clenched teeth.

Miguel's hand comes up, covering nearly his entire face as he weakly tries to defend himself. "That was....Felicia..."

Felicia. Of fucking course. Here we go again...You hadn't worried about her since the last argument you two had over Christmas when Miguel foolishly decided to throw it in your face that she was more pleasant to be around as a mindless way to hurt you in that moment.

The tiniest seed of insecurity planted that would cause you to spiral with overthinking whenever her name was mentioned, even when you knew she really had a thing for Ben and Miguel put in work to reassure you of the fact that you were still the sole apple of his eye. Miguel had probably just reset whatever progress you two made since then ten steps backwards.

He frantically tries to save himself on the phone but you're already checking out as we speak. "But Ben's here too! Ben's here, too! Babe! We were on Earth-5129, we've been stuck on missions that take all day. Their Sinister Six has been causing all sorts of problems. I'm not alone with anyone, baby, I swear to God. I just got carried away with work-"

"Oh, oh you got carried away alright..." Your tears are hot and salty streaks on your cheeks. "The kids and I will be staying at my mom's. Have fun on your little mission."

"Baby don't hang up I swear to God-..."

You hang up and set your phone down on the ground, crouching down so your head is in your hands and you're squatting in a near fetal position, not moving much except your shoulders gently shaking, causing you to try and rock in a soothing motion as you sob uncontrollably.

You cry and cry. You cry for yourself. You cry at the fact that you feel like a single married mother. You cry because you're frustrated you're not good enough at math to help Marcus with his homework. You cry at the memory of Gabi's disappointed, sad face when she had to give her presentation without her favorite person there to watch. You cry about your body and how you haven't felt beautiful lately, that unkind, irrational thought that perhaps if you were prettier, then Miguel would pay more attention.

You cry about not having enough time in the day to do the things you want to do and how motherhood literally has no breaks to just let you breathe. You cry about Miguel and how this marriage at times feels harder than it should be, wondering what happened to the man you married and just wanting him back.

After several minutes, you just sit and stare at the slightly overcast morning, the cold slowly announcing its presence, your emotions and stress had rendered you insensitive to its chill for most of the time you were out there. You tug your fingers into the sleeves of your pajamas and waddle back inside, pausing at the main floor bathroom. You make sure there is no evidence of tears before you get your kids ready for another day, determined to at least make their Valentine's Day magical even if yours was already off to a shit start. Emotions can wait, motherhood doesn't stop.

----

Later that night, Gabi and Marcus are passed out in the guest bedroom at your mom's, sugar high worn off once again, and little Anthony is snoozing peacefully in your mom's lap. She quietly rocks him in the recliner in her living room, her nose buried in a book.

She hears Miguel enter quietly, and she looks up. Disapproval obvious in her expression as she bookmarks her spot.

You didn't tell her you and Miguel were fighting, but she knows her daughter well enough to know something was wrong, and he was the cause.

Miguel greets her in a hushed tone so as to not wake Anthony. "Thank you for watching the kids tonight..."

Your mom acknowledges with a curt nod of her head. Miguel sits down. Before he can speak, your mom interrupts. "She's at the hotel..." She pauses, letting Miguel absorb the information. "She wouldn't tell me the truth, but I know my daughter well enough to know she's hurt."

Miguel takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah... I messed up big time."

Your mom continues, "All the kids are asleep. If I were you, I'd go fix it..." She takes a deep breath of her own, Anthony stirs a little. "I love you like a son, Miguel. But, I'm gonna say this nicely: you work too much. One day, before you know it, these sweet kids are gonna be all grown up, and you and your wife won't even know what to talk about anymore because you never made your marriage a priority."

Miguel nods slowly, taking in her words.

"Don't become strangers in your marriage like I did." Your mom says, looking sincerely into Miguel's eyes. It clicks for Miguel at last, and he knows what he needs to do. He just prays that you'll even let him get close enough to let you hear him out.

Miguel gives your mom a warm smile of appreciation and a stroke to Anthony's hair before he ventures out into the February air, off to go win your heart back once again.

----

You're curled up in the king sized bed in the executive suite of one of the fanciest hotels nearby. You and Miguel stayed there the night before you eloped, and it was your first time staying there since. You would have cancelled the room altogether, but it was too late by the time Miguel messed up, so you figured you'd enjoy it, even if you had to do it alone, dammit. If you were going to cry, then at least you'd be doing it while wearing the hotel's fancy bathrobe on the top floor with chocolate covered strawberries and champagne.

You popped one in your mouth to try and distract from your tears that threatened to leak once again as you watched Letters to Juliet on the flat screen TV. You sniffed loudly, and there was a loud booming knock at the door.

You stayed right where you were, having a hunch it was your husband crawling back, biting another chocolate covered strawberry, this time chasing it with a longer sip of champagne.

The knocks get louder and you mutter a "shit" when you hear Miguel start calling your name, his fist relentless against the heavy oak door. You get up cautiously, creeping towards the knocking.

"Abre la puerta, cariño, por favor!!!" (Open the door, dear, please!) Miguel yells. "Stop doing this shit baby, I'M YOUR HUSBAND! TALK TO ME!"

The neighbors across the hall open up their door and start chastising him. Something about "keep it down people are trying to sleep", "this is the first night we've had away in MONTHS", "take your relationship problems outside", to which Miguel loudly hisses it's none of their goddamn business.

You open the door, yank your disheveled, tall ass husband into your room, and slam it in the face of the Karens. Problem solved. You huff and turn around, making your way back to your champagne throne, not saying a word.

Miguel makes a loud sigh, trying to settle from 100 back to 0. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry..." His brown locks are unkempt, a little bit of stubble peppers his chin. His crimson eyes are surrounded by little bloodshot lines. In his hands he has a slightly wilted bouquet of pink roses, one of the last bundles they had available at the grocery store, and in the other, a little pack of caramel Ghirdadellis being held by a tiny stuffed gray hippo.

You take the stuffed animal from Miguel with a neutral expression on your face. "He can stay," you wiggle the hippo in your hand. "But you can't. "

Miguel groans. "Baby, NOTHING happened. I swear on our children."

You raise an eyebrow at the bold statement. "On our children?"

Miguel sits on the edge of the bed, pulling at the hem of your bathrobe. "If I'm lying, let God Himself strike me down where I stand."

"You're sitting," you murmur, unable to resist. Miguel gives an exhausted gasp of laughter.

"You know what I mean..." He says, trying to steer the conversation back on target. "I would NEVER do that to you in a million years. I was an ass, I know. I've been taking too much time at work and I neglected you. I neglected the kids..." He sighs and leans into your chest. You silently wrap your hands around his head, pressing him into you.

Miguel closes his eyes, taking a deep smell of your scent. All of his stress seemingly being tugged out of his head with every moment he stays squished against your heart. He tries to explain, "Ben and Felicia were laughing, that's what you heard on the phone..."

You take a steady intake of breath. "Miguel..."

"Te lo prometo...." (I promise you) He says earnestly, looking up into your eyes from where he's still sitting on the edge of the bed. "Te lo prometo" (I promise you) he repeats for emphasis this time, his voice reducing to a whisper, crimson eyes wide as though his pupils could pull you in and make you see the truth.

"You don't need to explain yourself..." You say, bringing your hands to cup his face. His eyes fluttered closed and he leans into them. When he reopens them, a thin layer of tears is evident.

When Miguel cries, you can't help but cry also. You press your tongue against the back of your teeth, and go back to playing with his hair instead to hold them at bay. "How'd we get like this, baby?..."

That sentence utterly breaks his heart because he's all too aware of his role he's played in being a strain on your marriage by now. This was unlike you two. He's unable to speak but a million thoughts sprint through his head. Life happened. We stopped making each other the priority. Yes, the kids' needs would ultimately trump everything else while they were still very young, but when was it going to be your time again? Instead of going back to the way things were, you'd have to get to know each other again.

Meeting yourselves again as the new people you evolved into, reunited over those tender words you promised each other on wrinkled paper you stole from a printer in a cramped city office building nearly 5 years ago. Your lovely face bore a jittery smile underneath your department store veil, Miguel's expression tender as though he could power a city from the affection on his face alone.

Now, on this late Valentine's Day night , he beckons you to sit next to him, which you do. He lays you backwards, following you and propping himself on his elbow. The shift causes one tear to escape, creeping into your hair. You sniffle, and Miguel looks at you with concern. "Life got in the way again...it's not your fault. It's mine..." He admits shamefully.

You stare at the ceiling, more tears trickling into your hair before you look at Miguel. "Why'd you marry me?"

Miguel gives you a soft smile and answers in a hushed tone. "I decided one day that I didn't want to be without you." He pauses and his smile disappears momentarily, then creeps back up again. "Do you still wanna be without me right now?"

You shake your head. "No...I was mad. But that doesn't mean I really want you to go. I've just missed you, baby... *sigh*.....can we end the night together?"

Miguel's expression liquefies, "Course we can...and tomorrow too, right?" He scoops you even closer. We'll take our time, maybe get breakfast at that diner you love? Take you shopping?...I got a lot to make up for," he chuckles.

You hum, bringing your fingertips against his broad back. "Yes please." You let yourself drown in his hug for several moments, then you say, "We really need to stop fighting and making up on all the major holidays. Hallmark is going to catch wind of it and make a film adaptation, just watch."

Miguel beams, a light snicker from his chest vibrates against your body. "Haha...you're right, baby. Can't keep letting them get away with it..." His hand moves to grip your ass. "I'll wait til St. Patrick's Day to act up instead..."

"Babe. No."

"I'm kidding!"

"No, just, no," you shake your head, trying to wiggle out of his grasp but he holds you firmly down, both hands moving under your robe.

"You're right, my apologies, Mrs...." he croons.

"O'Hara. That's Mrs. O'Hara to you." You prod the tip of his nose.

"Mmm..."

Miguel kisses the sides of your neck, his lips still contain the tiniest bit of chill from the outside. You sigh into it, your sweet sounds of surrender tickling his ears, evolving into a wave of warmth that covers every inch of him, making him tremble for what's happening next.

"Mrs.... O'Hara..." At the sound of his name, he slides two fingers into your pussy. Your lips fall open at the intrusion, a whine bouncing off the walls.

"Shh...." Miguel soothes, his fingers start moving in a circular pattern.

"Fffuck...," your back arches, encouraging him to go deeper. You've reached the point where you're completely vulnerable. Falling apart to your husband's sweet thick fingers.

Miguel kisses the top of your breasts, still coaxing the walls of your pussy. "There she is..."

"I love you so much..." you whine, almost desperate.

His eyes are completely intoxicated by the utter desire leaking out of your body and into his hand. "I love you, sweetheart..." his voice barely above a whisper, as though any noise that escaped him threatened to rip you out of the haze of pleasure you both were currently drowning in.

You lift your chin, capturing his lips in yours. Soft and wet, they move seamlessly as they had nearly thousands of times before. A familiar song and dance you two engaged in, yet seemed to take you to a place that felt brand new each time you did.

"Make love to me..." your murmur buzzes softly against his lips, leaving his breath hanging hot and heavy.

Miguel answers by making his kisses a little harder. Lingering for a second longer, his tongue weaving a little deeper, leaving yours burning for more contact. A steady stream that turned into a faucet. Every bit of you yearns for him. This man you loved so much. And he yearns for the same in return. He'd happily give into you any time.

He praises you as you take his cock. Your eyes closing momentarily to accommodate his size. He traces your lips, letting the bottom one drag down just a little, leaving an opening for his thumb. You suck it greedily, the callouses of his thumb massaging against the ridges of your tongue. You moan as you taste his skin, earning a low grunt from him in return.

"Mi luz(My light).....so, so gorgeous..."

The corners of your lips curve into a smirk as you continue, but you release it when Miguel begins thrusting harder.

"Shit...." Your head presses back against the pillows and Miguel leans closer to you, his soft breaths fanning you, his fingers combing over your hairline as he holds you in place.

"Swear your pussy drives me insane no matter how many times we've fucked..." Miguel groans in a low voice.

You wind your thighs tighter around him, your body on the verge of overstimulation. "Cum in me ... remember? Wanna give you another baby..."

Miguel lets out a moan louder in volume than any of the previous ones. "¿En serio, amor?" (Seriously, love?)

"Please....."

Your bodies intertwined in a knot of passion as he fills you completely with his cum. You hold him tight, intimate moments like these that only the two people occupying the bed would remember. The raw, dirty memory of the night you hopefully conceived your last child with him.

He stays buried inside you, not ready to separate just yet. Letting the afterglow of the passion wash over you both for several more moments.

Soon after, you're enjoying the steam of the shower as you and Miguel take turns washing another, the smacks of your lips together echoing off the tile leading to a wet slap as your hand comes up to steady yourself against the wall as Miguel dives between your thighs once again.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. O'Hara..."

----

🥰🥺

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spotify #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #Spotify

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ktgoodmorning · 2 months

Text

"Your opinion of me won't change, right?"

Alexia Putellas x reader

Masterlist

You've been hiding your poor family relationships from your girlfriend, sending you into a downward spiral

Wasn't gonna make this two parts but apparent I'm not capable of making anything short enough to not split it up so a second part will be coming. I've got a little road trip this weekend so it'll be a minute before it's done, just wanted to get something out before I left.

Your relationship with your family had never been great. The four of you were constantly fighting and arguing, usually over things that weren’t all that serious. Your parents were the worst of it, always trying to keep you in their control. Although you had never gotten along well, your relationship worsened when you decided to make your move from the United States to Spain more permanent than you had originally planned.

You first moved to Spain about three years ago. It had been temporary, for your job. You were only supposed to be there for a year. Over the course of that year however, you had no idea how much you would fall in love with everything that Spain offered you. Your company had settled you in Barcelona and you fell in love with the city instantly. The weather was far better than you were used to back home, every meal you had was significantly tastier than anything you could find there. You truly found no negatives to your new life you had started establishing in Barcelona. Best of all, you met your girlfriend, Alexia.

The night you met, she ran into you at a club. You were out partying with some of the new people from work so they could show you the city. When you were at the bar waiting to order another drink, someone basically fell into your side. It had appeared one of her friends had pushed her in your direction in an attempt to force her to talk to you. The blonde woman apologized (and blushed) profusely, insisting on buying your drink for you. From there, the two of you got to talking and never really stopped. You weren’t one for random hookups and didn’t feel comfortable leaving with some stranger in a city that was brand new to you so you gave Alexia your number and told her to text you.

To your surprise, Alexia texted you the next morning, asking if you’d want to get lunch. It was an obvious answer to you as you got ready to meet her at a local cafe she recommended. From that day on, the two of you fell fast. You had clicked instantly. Conversation always flowed easily between you and time flew by. As cliche as it was, it felt like the two of you were meant to be together. Your lunch date led to a series of other dates, often built around the idea of her showing you new spots around the city she loved so much. After about a month of seeing each other casually, Alexia finally asked you to be her girlfriend.

It was important to both of you to keep your relationship private, especially in the early phase of it all. You each valued how easy it was being just the two of you, not having to worry about the media, fans, or in your case- your family. You knew they wouldn’t be happy with you falling in love with a “random girl” in Spain. They wouldn’t be able to understand your love for her or how happy you were here. All they wanted was for you to come home. The further your relationship with Alexia developed, the more the chances of you coming home shrunk.

After about 2 months officially dating, you each told your close family and friends about your relationship. Your parents met her over FaceTime and it went about as well as could be expected. They were (surprisingly) nice to your girlfriend during your call, being polite and going through all the formalities. However, later that night on the phone they expressed their disapproval to you. Your mom told you all about how you didn’t need a relationship distracting you from your job and how it was a waste of time anyways since you’d only be in Barcelona for about nine more months. You didn’t take much of this to heart as this was exactly what you expected from them. To you, you just smiled and nodded and spent as little time on the phone with them as possible. Alexia didn’t know the extent of the conflict within your family. Knowing she was close with her’s, you didn’t want her to judge the way your family treated each other. It wasn’t that big of a deal anyways. She knew the four of you weren’t all that close but you never let her into how bad it really was. Why did your girlfriend need to know that anyways? They were an ocean away, you just needed to get over it. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you just tended to sugar-coat it some when the two of you brought up your families.

Alexia’s family had the exact opposite reaction upon meeting you. You knew your girlfriend’s family was extremely close, especially her and her sister. The pair of you had gone for dinner with them to officially meet and they were absolutely amazing to you. They greeted you with hugs and wanted to know all about you. Your dinner with them could not have gone better. Alexia’s mother had already made you feel like a true member of the family. They made you feel valued and important, something you often missed from your own parents. Sometimes you tended to bond closer with other people’s parents due to the lack of relationship with your own, so you appreciated how welcoming they had been to you. You were incredibly grateful not only to Alexia but to her entire family. During that dinner, you realized just how much you were falling in love with her. You loved everything about her and her life.

About a month later, Alexia introduced you to her teammates. It was hard not to love them too. You could see clearly why they meant so much to your girlfriend and immediately started to form bonds with them as well. At this point you had both already confessed your love for each other and were becoming more and more serious. The more integrated your lives became, the harder it was to imagine going back to the US. You didn’t feel like there was much you were leaving behind there. As the months passed and your relationship continued to flourish, you decided to make your temporary work transfer into something more permanent. In less than a year, you had built more of a life for yourself in Barcelona than you ever had back home. It was impossible to imagine leaving the sunshine, your friends, the beaches, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

You didn’t realize your relationship with your family could get any worse until you told them about your decision to stay in Spain. It was the middle of the afternoon when you called them, intentionally picking a time when Alexia wouldn’t be home. You knew it wouldn’t go over well and you didn’t need her to see the reality of your life back home. It was hard to have prepared yourself for all the yelling and crying that was directed at you through the phone. Your mom told you that you were throwing your life away for “some girl,” while your dad told you about how you clearly couldn’t care about them if you were willing to move away. The insults didn’t seem to end. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, justify your decision, and communicate the feelings you had for everything (and everyone) in Barcelona, it just continued to worsen.

It didn’t take long to lose your patience with your parents. Your guard was already up so you were on the defensive before you even dialed their number, putting you even further on edge. The more they refused to listen to you, the more your frustration turned to anger. Pretty soon, the three of you were fully yelling back and forth at each other. It wasn’t uncommon in your family to end up arguing and yelling. You didn’t like it but it felt like it was often the only way to get your point across. When they got in these moods, they’d refuse to listen. Sometimes your heightened emotions were the only thing that got through to them. As usual, your yelling turned to hot, angry, tears. You were so frustrated and full of rage. You didn’t even bother wiping them away, knowing more would just continue to fall. None of this was new to you, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating as you continued to hurl insults back and forth through the phone..

The group of you went on like this for over an hour on the phone before you had had enough and finally hung up on them. It had felt like a turning point in your relationship, and not in a good way. It felt like a point where there would be no turning back. As much as you knew you were okay with this, it still made you sad. How could you have ended up like this? Why couldn’t you just have a normal family? One that loves each other?

You were far too distracted to notice your girlfriend come home from training while you were on the phone. When she walked in the door, she heard yelling and was immediately filled with concern. She knew you were planning on talking to your parents today about making your move permanent. You were nervous about it and had worried about it non-stop before she left for training. She didn’t quite understand the extent of your worries but supported you endlessly. The blonde had no idea how deeply this would hit. The volume of your voice both concerned and confused her as she further entered the house.

Following your voice, she ran to your bedroom where she finally spotted you. You were sitting on the floor, leaning up against your bed. Tears were running down your face and covering the front of the sweatshirt you had stolen from her. In the time you had dated, just under a year now, Alexia had never seen you looking anything like this. You were normally extremely smiley and happy. Now you were crumpled on the ground yelling rudely into your phone. It confused her. Normally you were nice to everybody, all the time, no matter what. How could you be saying things like this all of the sudden? And to your parents? As she stood frozen in the bedroom doorway, watching you, she was also overcome with sadness. You looked so broken, so helpless. For once, Alexia had no idea what to do. She had such a wide range of emotions, seeing you like this for the first time ever.

Alexia didn’t notice right away when you had hung up on your parents. As soon as you did so, you broke down fully sobbing. The sound of that was what had made your girlfriend snap out of her thoughts, running to you and immediately pulling you into her arms. It made you jump when she grabbed you, having no idea she had gotten home. You relaxed slightly upon seeing who it was but quickly tensed again, “Ale,” you choked through more sobs. “What are you doing here? How long have you been home?” you continued to gasp for air, more overwhelmed than ever both by your family as well as Alexia seeing how that had gone.

The blonde continued to hold you tightly and stroke a hand down your back, trying to calm you down. “Training finished up early, I got home a few minutes ago,” she tried to explain, however you didn’t seem to be taking in her words. “You’re okay, mi amor. It’s just me, breathe.”

You cut her off by shaking your head rapidly. Fully starting to panic, you pushed your girlfriend off of you and moved away from her slightly. The idea of Alexia seeing you like that, seeing how you and your parents treat each other, filled you with shame. Surely she would break up with you. Family was everything to her, and she just heard you yelling at yours. How could she possibly be okay with that? Somehow, you had managed to panic even worse, not even realizing it. At this point, you were fully struggling to breathe. All you could do was let out strained chokes and sobs, failing to catch your breath. “Mi amor, please let me help you,” Alexia started to plead with you as you still didn’t let her get closer to you. She was getting seriously concerned, not knowing how to calm you down.

The more you struggled to take in air, you started to feel light headed. The rational side of you, deep down, knew Alexia was your only way out of this at this point. You had hit a point where you needed her help. If you didn’t let her help you, you’d most certainly make yourself pass out. Finally, you reached one hand towards her, nodding rapidly, inviting her to help you. Your other hand grasped at your chest, almost pleading with yourself to allow you to breathe again. As soon as you welcomed her, Alexia immediately came close to you, placing your outstretched hand on her chest. “Try to match my breaths, amor,” she spoke calmly yet much quicker than usual, filled with concern for you. “You’re gonna be okay, I’ve got you, just try to breathe with me, you can do it.” The older girl was basically begging with you, not something typical for her. Eventually, when your gasps started to be slightly more productive, she kept her one hand on yours, still pressed to the center of her chest. The other hand pulled you in close, now placing your head against her heart so you could hear it. She rubbed your back slowly, trying to not overstimulate you any further. “That’s right amor, you’re doing so good,” Alexia continued to encourage you as slowly your desperate breathing turned to silent crying.

Eventually you spoke up as you became more aware of the situation. “I never wanted you to see that part of me,” you sobbed into your girlfriend, still entirely filled with shame over what she had just witnessed. It scared you so much. Surely this would make your girlfriend hate you. It should. You were awful to your parents. Granted they were equally awful to you, if not worse. And it had gone like this your entire life, you had no patience left for it. But it was no excuse. You didn’t deserve someone like Alexia. Someone who loved her family. And would surely hate you for how you felt about yours.

Placing both hands on your face, your girlfriend forced you to look at her. “You never have to hide yourself from me. Never. You can talk to me, I promise.” Alexia was almost struggling to hold in her own tears at this point, her voice cracking on the last word. Seeing you like this, so broken, absolutely destroyed her. You just nodded slightly, not believing her words, as tears continued down your face. She pulled you back into her tightly, continuing to provide comfort. You tried to focus on the sound of her heart and the feeling of her hand running through your hair. The longer she held you, the more you were pulled from your thoughts of what had gotten you to this point.

Once your breathing had become more normal, Alexia tentatively pulled back to look at you, “why don’t we go sit on the couch?” she asked softly, hoping that a new spot would further pull you out of the headspace you seemed to be so stuck in. “I’ll get you a glass of water? We can talk about it if you want or we can just throw a movie on?” All you could do was nod, tears still pooling in your eyes. Alexia was so perfect to you. You could never deserve someone like her. Not when your life was such a mess. The blonde stood up slowly, reaching for your hands as she did so. She pulled you into another tight hug once you were both standing before leading you to the couch. Once you were settled there with your favorite blanket, Alexia went to get you some water and a small snack, knowing it was your favorite.

You felt numb as you waited for your girlfriend to return. Your mind was somehow both racing and empty. It was clear you needed to tell Alexia about your conversation, if you could call it that, with your parents. She deserved to know the truth about your family and you knew it was the only way you’d be able to make sense of the thoughts. Talking was your only way out of your head and Alexia admired how well you were able to communicate your feelings. It also helped her to know where your head was at and how she needed to be helping you.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice your girlfriend returning to you. She sat close to you, leaving it up to you if you wanted to snuggle into her further. After drinking some water, you were much calmer than before, effectively blocking all your feelings from your mind for the time being.

Alexia knew you well enough to know this was not how you coped with stress. Blocking out your feelings would make you spiral even worse and both of you knew it. No matter how much you didn’t want to let her into that side of your life, you knew it was your only option. “Amor, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything,” she offered gently, trying her best not to push you into anything. Even though she hid it well, she was desperate to know what was going on, what could have caused you to lose yourself so quickly. It wasn’t like you. It made her nervous.

Your response broke your girlfriend’s heart even further, “Your opinion of me won’t change, right?” you avoided her eyes, looking terrified of what her answer might be. She could barely even hear you, you were quieter than she’d ever heard you speak before.

“Nothing could change my opinion of you,” she squeezed your hand tightly, trying to make her words sink in. “I love you, remember? I just want to help you” You had nodded slightly, but Alexia knew you weren’t really taking in her sentiment. “Prometo, mi amor. I am here for you. No matter what.”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to find your voice again, but couldn’t do it. It was clear that you needed to explain everything to your girlfriend as she sat in front of you, looking at you with eyes full of hope, full of love. The words you were going to speak would surely make her realize that you did not share the same family values that she thought you did. How were you supposed to just say something when it was obviously going to change how she looked at you forever?

Part 2

Feedback and requests are always welcome! :)

Masterlist

#barca femeni #barcelona femeni #woso imagines #fcb femini #woso one shot #woso #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #sefutbol fem #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso soccer #wosoreading24/7 #wosoreadingalexia

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