The Love Lab presents:
Boyfriend is to Husband
pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader
summary: How would Miguel react if you did the “calling my bf my husband” trend? 🤔
content warning: It gets a little suggestive, but other than that, it’s fluff fluff fluff. There are short mentions of food, but nothing too crazy. The Miguel in here is also not Spiderman. Just a little guy.
credit for art and dividers: Me! and @kimjiho1 (plus another person for the gif divider, if this is yours, lmk!)
a/n: This will be apart of a series called The Trendy Couple! This is the first installment ☝🏾😌. I’m not sure how long the series will be, but right now it’s just based off of cute couple's trends. My fyp has suffered trying to do research for this…
word count: 2.2k
I use the word "buggy" in here. Buggy = shopping cart or trolley. I'm southern so buggy just rolls off the tongue. ❤︎ Plus, it sounds cute!
You and Miguel have been out since 8 am running errands and grabbing supplies to fill up the new apartment.
After a year of your dresser being full of his sweatpants and hoodies and his furniture hosting several of your blankets, his fridge being stocked of your favorite fruits and your shower caddy holding his body care, you both decided it was best to live together.
Towel sets, bed sheets, comforters, silverware, curtains. This was only the tip of what you and Miguel had managed to stuff inside the car.
After hitting five shops just that morning, you opted to stay in the car while Miguel went and handled a pickup order from the hardware store. It was getting closer to lunchtime and you didn’t want to become irritable because of the long lines.
To pass the time, you decided to scroll on TikTok, watching video after video, reacting to each accordingly.
First, it was chatty kitties begging for food. Then, it was edits of hot wrestlers. Next, it was ramen recipes to cook at 2am. There were even a couple of NPC lives even though the trend was nearly dying at this point.
Finally, you scrolled to a video hosting a girl and her boyfriend huddled together in a car over the console.
She’s leaned up against him, her smile beaming, “Today I’m going to be guessing my husband’s favorite things!”
“I’m not your husband,” are the words that shoot from her boyfriend’s mouth, fast as lightning. Cold. Unkind. Callous.
You watch as the girl’s smile drops and the video cuts, her laughing out of shock beforehand, evidence of her trying to stamp out her embarrassment.
You watch more as his grin widens and she gives him this awkward glance.
“Not yet,” he adds, seeing how quiet she was.
The video ends with her jumping at him playfully, trying to play the situation of.
“Jesus,” you sigh, mouth turned sideways as you pause the video and open up the comments. Thousands of people were telling her to dump him, others questioning why he would say what he said in the way that he did.
Your heart went out to the girl who clearly wanted to do a harmless joke that completely backfired.
You liked a comment about this being a possible red flag. Although he could have responded that way because he wasn’t ready for marriage, his response was so quick and distant that it was like he was disgusted at the possibility of being with her that long.
After working yourself up by scrolling through the comments, you decide to go even further by pressing the “calling my boyfriend ‘husband’” search at the top.
There were so many stitches to the original video with people giving their own thoughts about the situation. Some people were proclaimed dating coaches, others psychologists, and a few influencers.
You even see a follow up video from the original couple with the guy giving a shitty excuse as to why he was so quick in his response.
“Yeah right,” you mumble, watching the girl snicker at her boyfriend’s pouts. You agree with the comments that his response makes the original video even worse.
Still scrolling down, you find another video featuring a new couple.
They’re at a table eating donut holes out of a hat, and when the girl calls her boyfriend “husband”, the guy’s entire body lights up. He’s grinning, cheeks rosy, and can’t stop staring back at his girlfriend.
From there, you were able to see countless other couples with cute videos, all of the guys radiating at the word “husband.”
Biting your lip, you wondered how Miguel would react if you called him your husband.
You loved him with all of your heart and you were sure that he loved you. You guys are literally moving into an apartment together. But the thought of him being unsettled by you calling him your husband weighed on you.
Just as you were deep in your thoughts, you heard a knock near the trunk of the car startling you. Looking up in the rearview mirror, you see Miguel standing with a few bags and wood planks in his hands. You reach over and press a button to pop open the trunk.
“Got everything?” you ask, turning to watch as he drops items in the back.
“Yeah, I think so. Although there was almost a brawl over some potted plants,” he said. “Some older lady just came up to this guy and snatched his monsteras.”
“What?” you respond, watching as he closed the trunk and walked around to the driver's seat. “Out of his hands or the buggy?”
Miguel laughed, both recalling the scene and finding your terms adorable. “She just came up and snatched it out of the cart while he was waiting at the end of the line. She swore that she saw it first.”
You listened to him retell the story, hand under your chin as you leaned closer. He was cute, lilt in his voice to make an impression of the plant thief. Thinking to yourself that you liked this little moment of playfulness, you take your phone out to record.
Placing your phone in a case attached to the dashboard, you smile at the camera while Miguel’s still going.
“‘You youngins think the world owes you everything, and that’s just not the case!’ And the poor guy is standing there going ‘ma’am, I just want my plant back.’ He looked so distressed.”
“I would be too! A random lady just shopped from my buggy. It’s like, why are you this close to me to see what I’m trying to buy?”
Miguel turns the car on and buckles up. “It started to escalate when the lady’s friend came over. Then there were two shrill voices fussing at this guy.”
He started to back the car out of the parking spot, hand behind your seat and head turned towards the back window.
You slowly glanced at his arm, eyes tracing a vein up his shirt.
Too bad you were in a car right now or else you’d let his arm wrap around you elsewhere.
You tune back into his words, silently scolding yourself for letting something so simple get you to fold.
“Luckily, I was able to calm them both down. All it took was me showing them some dasheen leaves,” he said, driving the car closer to the exit of the parking lot.
You came to a conclusion. There was no better time than the present.
“Aw, look at my husband. Saving the day with his genius,” you say, hand reaching out to pat his chest.
Then you feel your body jerk to the right. The seat belt tightens as the car jerkingly swerves in between two parking spaces.
You stare in a panic at Miguel who puts the car in park and turns his entire body towards you.
“What did you just call me?” he asks, eyes searching yours, a little startled but mostly hopeful.
You decide to keep the charades going, “I was just praising my husband for stopping the creation of another Karen video. Why did you turn the car like that?” You’re still looking at him as if he has two heads.
“You just-!” Miguel takes your hands into his and places his forehead on his fists. “Baby, you know what you just said.”
You laugh, a little giddy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Miguel leans back against his seat and closes his eyes, reaching down to take his seatbelt off. His eyebrows scrunch up as he brings your hand to his chest, “Feel my heartbeat.”
Your mouth drops as you feel his heart rattling against his chest. He really wasn’t being dramatic.
“Baby look at me,” you grab his hands and hold them tight. “You did a good job today.”
His breath stopped, as he looked at you. His face was tinted from the whole fiasco.
“Husband.”
Miguel’s entire body slumped as he grinned wide. He nearly jumped over the console to sag his body onto yours.
His shoulders were shaking and you heard his laugh muffled by your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and make a face at the camera.
“What’s up, Mig?” you say, trying to get him to talk.
He mumbled into your clothes, shoulders still shaking.
“I can’t hear you, you gotta sit up.”
He sits up and sniffles, turning his head toward the backseat.
Looking at his profile you can see a few streaks down his face.
“Are you crying?” you ask, turning his face towards yours.
Miguel swipes his wrist across his cheeks, “Stop, this is extremely embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not! I promise it’s not,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his ear. “Talk to me.”
He chuckled, eyes looking down, “It just feels really good to know that you think of me that way. We don’t have to ever cross that line, but one day, if you would like, we can make that title true.”
“Is this a pre-proposal?” you ask, heartbeat in your ears. You went out on a limb to follow a trend, not knowing how it would end. Now you’re staring at Miguel’s flushed face with his heart pouring out into your lap.
“Maybe,” he whispered, grabbing your hands. “Possibly a promise for what could be.”
You bite your lip to hold back a grin, “Can I know what could be right now?”
“And expose my plans? Not a chance,” Miguel smirked. “Besides, a husband knows what’s best for his partner, right?”
“He does,” you quip, rubbing your hand in a circle on his chest. “He also apparently forgets that SUVs can flip very easily.”
“Lo siento, mi amor,” he says, looking sheepishly at the placement of the car. “Did I startle you?”
You just giggle at his concern and give him a quick peck on the mouth. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting that big of a reaction.”
“How would you react if I casually called you forever mine? While driving!”
“Go 90 in a 70,” you joke. “Maybe pull over and do a little more than make out.” You rub your hand down his chest, and squeeze playfully at his pec.
Miguel stared back at you, body instantly reacting to the shift in conversation. “We can actually do that right now.”
He leaned forward and brought your lips to his. You could taste the mint from the gum he had earlier, humming when he pushed further into your mouth.
He started to reach for your hips, ready to pull you over onto his lap.
Your stomach let out a loud grumble, making you jump.
“Ok, let’s try this again after we get you some food,” Miguel says, plastering kisses on your face.
The day moves on smoothly with Miguel not letting you out of his sight, hands itching to hold you in some way.
He also never lets the husband thing go.
As you’re ordering lunch, “One lemonade for my baby. And a water with lemon for me, the husband.”
As you stop in a clothing store at the mall for a small break, “These say boyfriend jeans. Do they have any husband jeans?”
As you’re trying to reach the top shelf to grab the last of your favorite detergent, “No, cariño. Let your husband get it for you.”
As you’re looking for throw pillows and towel sets for the apartment, “You think they have a couple’s set? I want something that says ‘Mr.’ on it.”
As you stop at a gift store, looking for something extra to give to the movers, “Look, this shirt says it’s made of ‘hubby material.’ Should I get it?”
This feeling is only amplified when you post his initial reaction online. The comments were full of people yearning to be in your predicament.
“If my boyfriend doesn’t crash the car when I call him husband, THROW HIM AWAY. 😒”
“Does he have a brother….asking for a friend”
“I needed this after the “I’m not your husband” he in LOVE”
“If your bf doesn’t cry at the thought of you, what are you doing”
“He was blushing HARRRRD 😭😭😭”
“So when’s the wedding? 🤨”
“He was literally cheesing and crying omg”
“Get you a man that stops the car to declare his love”
“What if I did a five mile marathon on i-55”
“He’s so in love with you that it’s palpable”
“He was ready do a lot more than make out 😭”
Miguel saw most things, a little embarrassed but mostly happy that so many people found him to be genuine.
You laid on his shoulder as he checked the comments, liking the funny ones as they passed by.
“Do you want to make a response video?” you say, liking a comment going ‘he’s a good man, Savannah.’
“No, I think this is enough,” he replies, handing the phone back to you. “Let me keep a little mystery. At least until I actually propose, of course.”
You looked at him with stars in your eyes.
“A mysterious husband. I kind of like the sound of that,” you say, wrapping your body around his side. “Maybe I can be nosy, find out his secrets.”
“I bet you would, cariño,” he voiced, nuzzling his chin on top of your head. “After, everything is planned and done.”
You laughed and snuggled closer, happy to be with him.
Once again, I hope you enjoyed reading! ❣️
Any likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated and welcomed.
I'm excited for the future of this series and I hope you guys are too. When I finish the series masterlist, I'll link it here. If you guys have any trends that you want me to include, then just let me know and I'll see what I can do!
- Lauro ♡
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Number 2 from the 50 cliché tropes and prompts
Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn't help but steal it
Buck never understood why he had lost so many sweatshirts and button-downs to past girlfriends. Nine times out of ten, they didn't even remotely fit their figure and they were only worn in the comfort of Buck's home anyways.
Then he started staying over Tommy's house more and more. He'd always come prepared–an overnight bag filled with an extra LAFD shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of chinos, and two shirts, one with a collar and one without–just in case he needed to rush out in the morning.
This morning, he isn’t quite as prepared as he wishes he had been. Tommy’s in the shower after sleepily kissing Buck good morning and Buck promised he’d run Hercules–Tommy’s ten-year-old retired racing greyhound–outside before Tommy dropped Buck off at work. Thunder crashes outside and rain pounds on the roof, and Buck didn’t even think to bring a jacket.
He looks around the bedroom closet, careful not to invade the private space too much, but he doesn’t see anything that might help. He knows there’s an umbrella waiting beside the door, but he’s already shivering from the chill sneaking in through the closed windows and Buck knows he’ll need something to protect his skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pullover laid neatly on top of the laundry pile. It’s similar to his LAFD one, but a lighter blue that matches Tommy’s on-duty uniform. It won’t keep him dry, but it’ll keep him warm and keep the water off of his skin which is all he has time to care about. He snatches it up and shouts to Tommy that he’s taking the dog outside even though he’s not sure he’s heard.
Before he gets too far, Buck pauses to get the pullover on. The first thing he notices is how much bigger it is on him. He’s not a small guy by any means, and he’s not much smaller than Tommy–at least he thinks–but there’s so much extra fabric that he has to bundle it up at his waist. He can also tell that the back doesn’t stretch taut against his shoulder blades and that the neckline slouches a little in the front.
It’s strange to wear something so unfit for him, but at the same time, Buck can’t help but feel giddy. He glances at himself in the mirror and feels small, but not in the way he usually does. It doesn’t make him feel inconsequential or overlooked, but like he’s protected and well-loved. It stirs inside of his stomach until the joy begins to bubble in his chest.
He notices that Tommy’s name is embroidered just over his heart, and he brings his fingers there to trace over the lettering. It takes everything in him not to whisper his name combined with Tommy’s last and he wonders if this was how his old girlfriends felt when they stole his LAFD shirts that had his name brazen on the back.
Where he expected to be a bit embarrassed at the claiming nature of it all, he can’t help but feel… powerful. Yeah, there’s something powerful about wearing someone else's name, like he’s screaming to the world that Tommy is off-limits because he’s Buck’s.
He’s Buck’s.
He’s too busy thinking about what exactly that means for him to hear the bathroom door open and a freshly showered and shaved Tommy emerge. Another figure beside Buck’s reflection startles him but Tommy’s reassuring hands slide around his waist. It’s strange how normal it feels to have strong, long arms wrapped around him and a broad chest waiting to hold him up as he leans back against it.
“You’re wet,” Buck says, feeling the dampness on Tommy’s unclothed chest. He’s in sweatpants like he’s ready to lounge around for the day, but the bare skin of his upper body is clearly on display where Buck’s body isn’t hiding it. He wants to pull away just so he can take another peek.
Tommy doesn’t seem to notice nor care that Buck is analyzing them because he’s too busy doing the same. There’s something in his eyes, though, that sends an eruption of warmth to Buck’s face. Tommy tugs at the extra fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s having the same realization as Buck did, and then he slides one hand up Buck’s chest to trace his name. He whispers each letter like a secret into Buck’s ear, piercing eyes never leaving Buck’s in the mirror.
Buck shivers, pressing back against Tommy and leaning his head back so that it plops on Tommy’s shoulder comfortably. Tommy finishes his name before dragging a finger to the neckline of the pullover and letting it hang there like a weight that keeps Buck grounded.
“You’re wearing my jumper,” Tommy points out like he doesn’t already know. Buck suddenly feels anxious, like he’s made a horrible mistake, and stands back up straight. He turns to look at Tommy as he speaks.
“Is that okay? I didn’t bring a jacket so I figured—”
Tommy kisses him before he can finish, and Buck can only hope it becomes a pattern.
It’s just as soft as their first kiss and every kiss they’ve shared since then, but it grows in passion second by second. Tommy is gripping the fabric at Buck’s waist like he’s deciding whether he wants to pull it over Buck’s head or leave it on his forever. Buck holds his naked shoulders, palms sliding down the hard planes of his chest then his abs, before sliding underneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
When a cold nose hits his hand, Buck jumps back, out of breath and startled. Hercules is staring up at them like he’s let them have their fun and he’s done waiting to go outside. Tommy swipes at his face as he chuckles and Buck leans down to pat Herc’s head.
“I’m sorry, Buddy. Am I stealing all of your dad’s attention?” Buck coos, and he can almost hear Tommy’s good-natured eye roll.
“Well, if Evan here is done distracting me, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to take you outside, huh?”
“Oh, if Evan is done distracting you? Like you didn’t just walk out of the shower half-naked and damp and looking like you wanted to drop to your kn–” Buck inhales deeply when Tommy glances down then back up and raises his eyebrows. “Alright, I’m out of here. Be right back,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to Tommy’s reddened lips.
“Mhm,” Tommy hums, watching him start to walk away.
“Do you want your pullover back?” Buck asks, because he figures that’s what he would’ve wanted to be asked.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours now.”
It sounds a lot like I’m yours now, but Buck doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he takes Hercules out, ignoring the storm rumbling above him, and strokes his thumb distractingly against Tommy’s name over his heart. He guesses he’s Tommy’s now, too.
(now on ao3)
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"touya, are you my dad?"
rei's house is quiet this late, only alive in the muted whir of ceiling fans and the rainbow of colors from the nightlight out in the hall. touya can just barely see the distant glow peeking under the gap of the door; soft greens and blues and purples.
all the air in the room seems to evaporate, and instead is replaced by that awful, muggy heat that builds up in touya's hairline and in the creases of his skin, everytime he hears that word: dad.
he's better at knowing how to act around kids than he expected to be. not in some parental sense, but the bits and pieces of touya the big brother are at work again, slow and old and creaking—but moving nonetheless.
touya's thankful for the quiet; whispering hides the tremor in his voice. when he turns to the little girl in the small bed lying beside him, all he sees is you, staring back in red and orange and yellow.
"what makes you ask that?"
the little girl shrugs, shuffles around to push still-wet hair out of her face as she snuggles deeper into her blankets. touya doesn't realize he's holding his breath until she finally elaborates, clutching her little stuffed puppy to her round, full cheeks. "that's what people say."
it's not that you don't want her to know, but softening the truth for a kid ain't easy; touya's not even sure he wants her to know, quite yet, because it means introducing a version of himself he's not proud of. one he's never been proud of, one that still itches under his skin and makes his hands shake, one that wants to burn the guilt away instead of face it.
touya watches the soft blink of her eyelashes, long and dark, and when she looks back up at him, he's just—not ready for her to know him yet. because—
"would it be okay if i was?"
the little girl—his, yours—thinks for only a moment before nodding. "yeah, that'd be okay."
because this touya's okay, for now.
it makes him smile, even with the uncomfortable heat that's broken sweat all out across his body, even with the shame that's waiting for him out beyond the edges of the greens and blues and purples. even knowing that, one day soon, he's gonna have to break her heart the same way he broke yours.
touya shifts a little further down in the bed until his head's resting on her pillow, so they're eye level. he's half hanging off the thing, the tiny twin bed in her room at his mom's house. still doesn't have a place of his own yet, still trying to remember how to be a functioning member of society; gears slow and old and creaking, but moving nonetheless.
the is the only way he gets to see her right now, these few days out of the week that you let her stay the night, so he can get to know the daughter he's missed out on for far too long.
touya hums and forces a big yawn, closes his eyes and hopes she'll follow the act; shouto used to, once long ago. "'s'talk about it tomorrow, okay?"
the little girl shuffles around until she's a little closer, huffing against his face through her own yawn. "okay," she agrees, and touya waits a few minutes before peeking at her. watching her even breathing, in the red and orange and yellow.
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