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clementine-thedestroyer · 5 months

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Purls for my love - Miguel O’Hara x reader

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, Miguel struggling to knit. Miguel still implied to be rich and to enjoy spoiling his partner. (going say they’re engaged by now) Reader is not pregnant but Miguel kinda wants her to be soon/one day. Very domestic, very fluffy.

This is a loosely connected sequel to Sew cute, and this idea came from @reverieblondie in the comments of that post. I’ve been wanting to write this since their comment! But I’ve only just now managed to-

You sneak up behind Miguel, peeking over his shoulder and trying to see what had him so frustrated. You can’t help but feel a bit shocked when you find Miguel angrily hunched over a pair of knitting needles, a skein of soft light gray yarn sitting in his lap and a determined look set on his face as he struggles with a set of messily knit rows.

You grin, standing up from your desk and happily checking over the seams of the skirt you had just finished: a simple ankle length circle skirt- flowy and pretty with a thick waist band that you knew would cinch your waist nicely. It had turned out nice, you already had most of the fabric you needed, and the project had given you a convenient excuse to try out the rolled hem presser foot Miguel had bought for you a few weeks ago. You had been meaning to add some more formal pieces to your wardrobe recently, and this skirt was a simple piece- hardly even needed a pattern- that you figured you could dress up or down easily depending on the occasion.

You poked your head out of your sewing room, grinning when you saw Miguel’s state of unawareness. He’s sitting on the couch and staring intently downwards at his phone or laptop- likely sorting out some ill-timed work issue. You bundle up the skirt and hold it tight against your chest, unable to stifle a quiet laugh as you run behind the couch- making a beeline for the stairs.

You’re sure Miguel heard you. He must have- with the way your bare feet thump loudly against the hardwood floors as you run. But he doesn’t call out for you or even look up from his phone.

You worry about it for a moment- Miguel was always quick to spot you trying to be sneaky. It was almost like he’d notice you faster when you tried to sneak up behind him or surprise him with something.

Miguel found it funny to tease you when you were trying to be sneaky. He wouldn’t try to figure out what you were planning- or at least, wouldn’t tell you if he did find out- but you could always expect to hear Miguel’s amused, rumbling laugh and some mild teasing over your failed attempts at subtlety.

He was probably just focused on dealing with a work thing- and you push his silence to the back of your mind as you continue up the stairs, going into your and Miguel’s shared bedroom and locking the door behind you.

You quickly start kicking off your pants- stumbling over the fabric in your haste and nearly falling flat on your rear. After untangling the pants from your feet- opting to leave them out for you to change back into later- you step into the skirt and pull it up.

The waistband sits perfectly at your waist- drawing in the otherwise loose and flowy fabric in a way that emphasizes your curves. You switch out the shirt you’d been wearing around the house for a simple loose white blouse, and when you get it all tucked in and situated you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you do a little twirl.

The fabric flutters prettily around you as your spin comes to a stop- settling as you smooth it out and look up to the mirror. It really does look nice.

You wet your hands in the bathroom sink- running them through your hair to smooth down any frizziness. Once you’re satisfied with your results, you smile wide and clamber down the stairs- excited to show Miguel your new skirt.

You reach the bottom of the stairs, but pause when you notice Miguel still engrossed in his phone with a rather frustrated look on his face. You walk up behind him, peeking over his shoulder and trying to see what had him so frustrated. You can’t help but be a bit shocked when you realize it’s not his phone or even laptop in his lap.

Instead, you find a skein of soft light gray yarn and Miguel angrily hunched over a pair of knitting needles- a determined look set on his face as he struggles with a set of messily knit rows.

Miguel groans and runs a hand through his hair. “¡No mames! ¿Por qué es tan difícil?” He growls, dropping the knitting needles and leaning back against the couch- flinching when the back of his head fell on your arm where it rested along the back of the couch. He looked back at you, the remnants of a startle on his face as he reached a hand back to brush a wayward strand of hair out of your face. “I didn’t see you there, love. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You nod, not really processing his words- instead focusing on the absolute mess of yarn in Miguel’s lap that you think is supposed to be knitting.

“Miguel… what are you doing?” You ask, your brow furrowed.

You’re a bit confused, frankly. Before this, Miguel had never shown any interest in doing any sewing, knitting, or needlework. Unless, of course, throwing money at patterns and fabrics he wanted to see you use and leaving them stacked by your sewing machine as a silent way to say “I want to see you in this” counted as sewing. (You weren’t complaining- he never chose anything horribly extravagant or labor intensive, and the way he’d puff his chest in pride and hold you close constantly anytime you wore something you made outside the house filled you with a warm fuzzy feeling that practically washed all your worries away… although you do currently have a bunch of baby clothes patterns from him that you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do with, considering you aren’t even pregnant). But, in general, Miguel had just always seemed like he preferred watching you sew over trying to do any projects of his own.

Miguel sighed, and you were pulled out of your thoughts as he nudged his open laptop towards you, watching your face with apprehension.

The laptop has a knitting guide pulled up. You squint at the small print, leaning closer over the back of the couch until your feet come off the ground, then picking them up and holding them against your rear as you balance on a part of the couch you probably shouldn’t be putting your full weight on. One of your arms is clinging tightly to the cushion, keeping you from sliding backwards as you stretch your other arm to reach the trackpad of Miguel’s laptop.

You start to scroll to the top of the web page- at least until Miguel pulls the laptop away from you, setting it on the ottoman before pushing the knitting stuff to the side and pulling you the rest of the way over the couch with a sigh.

“You shouldn’t be doing that. It’s not good for the furniture, and you could get hurt.” He says, looking down at you with his best attempt at a stern expression.

You huff, rolling your eyes and making a bit of a show of pouting (because you’re not going to hurt yourself, and the couch had a metal frame, it would be fine! But mostly because Miguel’s scolding reminds you of being told to not do the same thing by your parents). But it’s quickly forgotten once you get the computer back into your lap and scroll to the top of the webpage.

It’s a very simple tutorial over knitting hats, but what catches your attention is the very prominent note of “including child and infant sizing”. Before you can say anything, Miguel quickly buts in- speaking a bit hurriedly. “For a coworker- she’s expecting. The office is having a baby shower tomorrow… her kid’s due in December, so- um- baby hats.”

You hum in acknowledgment, looking down at the mess of a knitting project in Miguel’s lap and scooting closer to him. “You could’ve asked me for help, you know.”

Miguel turns to you, his tone questioning. “You know how to knit?”

“I’ve dabbled. I know enough to be able to help you with this- but only if you want me too, of course.” You say, shrugging as you take the needles and work attached to them and starting to look over the stitches.

“Yes. Please.” Miguel replies, immediately leaning closer to you and watching as you go over the stitches- ready for any advice you’d be able to give him.

You look between the rows of stitches and the pictures on the website, frowning as you spot a rather immediate issue. You turn to Miguel, holding up the work and giving him a questioning look. “Miguel, did you mean to do a garter stitch here? The pattern you’re using calls for stockinette.”

Miguel’s face freezes, then falls, and he lets out a deep sigh dropping his head on to your shoulder defeatedly. “I give up.”

You frown, nudging Miguel. “You said the baby showers in a couple days?”

Miguel grumbles, snaking his hands around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll just pick up a gift card on my way to work.”

“Miguel- don’t just give up- this was a good start” You say, trying to get him out of his mope, only to be cut off by a tight squeeze of your waist and Miguel nuzzling deeper into the crook of your neck as he grumbles. “Nope. I give up.”

You frown, nudging him again and giving him a worried look- a bit of guilt building in your chest at the thought of your words being the reason Miguel gives up on his project. “Why are you so discouraged all of a sudden?”

“It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve been trying to do this for four hours- I’m frustrated and tired and confused- and I’ve missed you.” Miguel says, smushing his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

You ruffle Miguel’s hair, wrapping one of your arms around him and giving him a hug of your own. “Sorry… I bet me coming out here and telling you that you may have been using the wrong stitch the entire time wasn’t very helpful.”

Miguel shrugs, looking defeated and taking his face out of your neck. Instead, he pulls you closer, fitting you into his lap like he was your suit of armor against the world. “Don’t feel too bad, I’d pretty much gotten too frustrated by that point to make any more progress.”

You squirm in his arms, tilting your head backwards and looking up at him expectantly.

“Let me try and help you? Please?”

Miguel smiles softly, the tension pent up from struggling all afternoon with this project melting out of him at your request. “If you want, love. I’ll try, but only because it’s you.”

You grin wildly, sitting up and grabbing the knitting needles and yarn as you squirm in Miguel’s lap, getting yourself comfortable. You take the small, oddly shaped and slightly butchered set of stitches off the needles, then pulling at the working strand of yarn still connected to the skein and unraveling the rows of stitches.

You wind the yarn loosely around the skein, just to keep it out of you and Miguel’s way before turning back to him, still grinning.

“Ready?” You ask, placing the needles and length of yarn into Miguel’s hands. “Ready” Miguel says, his face brightened by a happy, loving smile.

“Do you know what casting on means?” You can’t help the bubbly boost in confidence that comes with seeing Miguel smile like that, especially given how down he’d seemed before. Knowing that he was happy to be doing this, and not just going along with you for your sake made you feel a bit lighter and keeps you comfortable and relaxed in his arms as you start with your instructions.

Miguel huffs lightly- a bit of pride in his voice as he starts working the yarn around one of the needles. “Actually, I do know what that one means. It’s how you start, right?”

“Yep! Just cast on a couple of loops and do one row of knit stitches.” You say, watching closely as Miguel casts on, wanting to catch any mistakes or slips of the yarn before they cause an issue or result in a weird looking stitch later.

To your pleasant surprise, Miguel’s knit stitches are… good. Not perfect, but aside from the occasional reminder to come from the correct side, he does the row completely on his own. Once he finishes, he looks down at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Those are really good, Mig. I told you that you shouldn’t give up!” You tease, poking at his bicep before leaning forward and taking his hands as they hold the knitting needles, placing your hands over his in order to guide him through the first couple purls.

“That’s a knit stitch, it’s what you’ve been doing the whole time. Doing a section with only knit stitches gets you a garter stitched knit.” You pause, moving Miguel’s hands how you want them before continuing. “But there’s also the purl stitch- which is just a knit stitch but…” you trail off as you- slightly clumsily- guide Miguel into doing a purl stitch. “But backwards! And a stockinette stitch is just where you do one row knit, one row purled, another row knit, another purled- etcetera, etcetera.”

You pause, taking a deep breath before looking over to gauge Miguel’s expression. He looks a bit lost- his eyes narrowed and jaw set as he stares intensely at the purl stitch you just guided him in doing- so you take his hands again, doing the next stitch in the row and making sure to go slow so Miguel can see what you’re doing.

“See? Just a knit stitch in reverse.”

Miguel nods, slowly starting to do the third purl stitch on his own.

“Yeah! Yeah, just like that! Once you’ve got this down, I can go get my circular needles and you can start practicing knitting in the round!” You say, excitedly cheering him on as he keeps working through the row.

Miguel is quiet when he’s focused- and the two of you quickly fall into a rhythm of him working silently, and you pointing out whenever you catch him coming in from the wrong direction or notice his stitches getting a bit too tight or loose. You find yourself not minding the silence, content to simply guide his knitting and enjoy the warmth of his lap as he sits cross legged and hunched over you on the couch, his chin resting on your shoulder as he works.

It doesn't take long for you to start drifting off. It’s not that late, only about 9:30. But still late enough for it to be dark outside. Miguel’s doing so well at this point that you hardly even have to watch his stitches for slip ups, and sitting in Miguel’s lap means being subjected to how he practically radiates warmth- a blessing in the winter and curse in the summer. The combination of warmth, the absence of sunlight, and Miguel’s lack of need for assistance leaves you drifting through various levels of awakeness.

At one point, you close your eyes- promising to yourself that you’re only resting them and that you’ll open them right back up in just a second- only to startle awake at being lifted off the couch.

“M-Miguel? You’re done? Sorry, ‘m awake.” You mutter, still mostly asleep as you squirm in his arms.

Miguel has one arm under your knees and the other under your back, holding you close to his chest as he walks the two of you towards the stairs. When you start to wake up, the arm supporting your back tightens, keeping you from wiggling too much, and Miguel leans his head down, murmuring sweetly to you.

“Vuélvete a dormir, amor. I’m just taking you to bed, no need to wake up.” He says, starting to climb the stairs.

Miguel’s words have the opposite of the intended effect, and you merely wiggle and whine more.

“Noooo- We gotta’ finish this! I just gotta get my circle needles!”

Miguel pauses, looking down at you with an amused yet adoring smirk. “Circle needles?

You nod hazily. “Mhm. Circular needles- for knitting hats ‘n stuff. We gotta finish- you said you only have a couple’a days.” You say, still only really half awake- at best.

“And stuff?” Miguel asks with a soft chuckle- clearly very entertained by your half asleep ramblings.

“….yeah.” You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut as you curl towards Miguel- who smiles to himself before once again starting to climb the stairs, pressing a soothing kiss to your forehead. “I have more than one day, and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you keep yourself up all night trying to have us finish this. We can work on it more tomorrow.”

“But-“

“Nope. Time for bed. No more knitting.” Miguel says sternly, reaching the top of the stairs and pushing the half open bedroom door fully open.

Taking you to your side of the bed, Miguel steps over your discarded pants and shirt from when you changed earlier, laughing as he easily stepped over the tripping hazards and lakes you down on the bed. “Are these from when you changed into this skirt you wanted to show me? I never got a chance to tell you how much I like it, it’s very pretty, love.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you out of your clothes and into pajamas.

Even half asleep, you can’t help the gooey mushy feeling buzzing in your chest at Miguel’s praise, (and the rush of affection that runs through you as you realize that he noticed your new skirt) but even that’s not quite enough to fully distract you from your insistence on staying up.

“I’m not tired- I still wanna help…” You mutter, automatically rolling towards and curling up beside Miguel when you feel the mattress dip as he climbs into bed beside you.

You quickly find yourself held tight by Miguel- his hand stroking your hair as he reassures you. “You were very helpful. You’re my amazing girl- who’s sweet and somehow amazing at everything to do with fabric and needles. I know you fell asleep towards the end and didn’t see, but I did a lot of rows- lots of practice, got my stitches looking good and everything. I wouldn’t have been able to do that without you.”

Miguel’s words send what you’re sure is a dopey smile to your face. “Can we do more tomorrow?” You ask, yawning wide and pulling your knees up so you’re curled against Miguel’s chest. “It was fun.”

Miguel smiles, running his hand through your hair lovingly before turning the bedside light off. “Of course, love. I enjoyed it too. But it’s time for you to get some sleep, okay?”

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