Miguel O'Hara x Reader [one-shots]

CRUSH [S]

I WAS AT a party hosted by my friends, having fun. I was dancing, doing my own thing before I spotted the man that owns every thought in my brain.

Miguel O'Hara.

No one expected him to be here, he's the leader of headquarters, and quite frankly, he never goes out. He always cooped up in his office, saving the multiverse and whatnot, but for some reason, he's here.

He's standing under the blue and purple strobing lights, his loose waves framing his face, wearing a rolled up dress shirt and straight jeans.

He looks so handsome, so mine.

Or at least that's what I want him to be.

But, knowing Miguel, he's no one's. Almost all the women and even men that come across Miguel flirt with him, and he doesn't do a single thing back.

I've never tried flirting with him. I mean, hello, I do have some dignity left.

Out of all the people here, Miguel is the most attractive one. And out of all the people here... he's looking at me.

Chills run down my spine.

I glance at my friends. "Hey, I'm gonna go talk to my friend. I'll be right back!" I shout over the music.

They nod, paying me the least attention as they resume dancing. I part ways from them and approach Miguel, a bright blush coating my cheeks.

Suddenly I'm very grateful for the blue lights. At least the redness won't be shown.

I smile as I wave, looking up at him. Miguel's extremely tall, especially compared to my 5'4" frame. He's a foot-and-a-half taller than me, and Gosh, do I love it.

"Hey—" I begin to speak, but I'm cut off when two girls pass us.

They eye Miguel, and both speak at the same time. "Hey, Miguel."

I glare at them as they pass us by, their sly tones suggesting that they like him.

I know I'm not special, but damn, let me speak!

He doesn't spare them a glance. Instead, he keeps his eyes on me. The heat of my cheeks intensify, and suddenly, I'm fidgeting with my hands.

"Hi, Y/N," his voice is soft, something I and my friends have noticed. He never speaks to me the way he does others, in a hard, authoritative voice. He speaks to me softly and gently, which usually sends shivers down my spine because his voice is so low.

"Hi, Miguel," I smile up at him. "You just get here?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I won't stay for long, though. It's not really my scene."

I chuckle. "Don't worry, you pull it off."

His small smile turns into a smirk, and my eyes widen for a second before I clear my throat. My heart beats, and so does my core. Damn you, hormones.

He takes a step forward, my chest practically pressed against him. I visibly gulp, and it seems to have a reaction on him. I see his pupils dilate a little, a surprise etches onto my face as I come to a semi-realization.

Does Miguel like me?

I clear my throat, though my heavy breathing doesn't cease to exist. "Uhm, so how was your day?" I opt for the lame question, my brain firing quicker than normal.

"It was fine," he says lowly. "How was yours, muñeca?"

A small chuckle leaves my lips at the nickname. Miguel's been calling me muñeca for a while now, around the time I joined the team. I used to get hurt all the time during missions, and Miguel said I was like a porcelain doll (hence muñeca). Fragile, but...