Missed My Pillow
Miguel's spoiled. He can't sleep if you're not right there...
âY/N?â Miguel stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing a hand over his face.
âOh, hey, Migs.â Turning, you looked over your shoulder to give him a tired smile. Miguel yawned and made his way to stand behind you. You turned your attention back to the stove. âI thought you were asleep.â He responded by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair.
âI was.â You grinned at the muffled vibration against your neck.
âThen why arenât you still asleep?â You whispered, leaning back into him, gently whisking the milk you were heating. Miguel pulled his nose away from your neck and rested his chin on your shoulder.
âI couldnât find my pillow.â He yawned, tightening his grip on your waist.
âMiggy, I have to get the cocoa powder.â Miguel turned his face back into your neck and grumbled.
âI was just getting comfortable.â He protested. With a chuckle you turned your face a little to look at him. He pulled back and yawned again.
âOh, thatâs charming.â Miguel narrowed his eyes at you. A warmth bloomed across your chest. He was so adorable with his hair wild and his eyes still bleary with sleep. All you wanted to do was run your hands through his hair and fold yourself into him like a koala.
âIf I let you get it, will you come back to bed.â He grumbled, not willing to release you. At your nod, Miguel moved to release you. He looked a little surprised when you grabbed his wrists and wound his arms back around your waist. Turning back to look at him again, you gave him a warm smile.
âWalk me to the cabinet, Spider-Man?â
âCanât make it by yourself, gorgeous?â Miguel smirked.
âWhat can I say, this is a pretty rough town.â You gave him a playful grin. You felt Miguel's chest rumble, but he acquiesced and walked you to the cabinet and back. Uncapping the cocoa, you poured some into the milk and gently began stirring again.
âCouldnât sleep, Y/N?â Miguel whispered, resting his chin back on your shoulder. With a sigh, you melted back into his frame. Miguel reached around you and turned off the stove before guiding you towards the bedroom. He noticed how you stiffened as you reached the bedroom door, and instead opted for the couch. Sitting down first, he pulled you back into his chest.
âWhatâs wrong, muĂąeca?â He whispered, you rested your head on his shoulder and reached for his hand. Several moments passed like this. Miguel holding you while you played with his fingers.
âI love you, Miggy.â The words came out thick. Looking down at his hand, you traced each finger and wove yours in-between his own. âYouâre one of the best things thatâs ever happened to me.â You could feel Miguel's breath stall. His fingers tightened around yours.
âI should be the one saying that, muĂąeca.â He rasped. You held up your joined hands towards the light.
âMaybe itâs true for both of us.â
âY/N?â He rested his chin on the top of your head.
âYeah, Migs?â Lowering your hands, you shifted so you could look up at him.
âLetâs go to the beach tomorrow.â He smiled down at you, and you returned it with a slowly spreading one of your own.
âIâd like that.â Miguel moved to lay further back, when you remembered something. âOh!â You shot up, startling him. Miguel gave you a confused look. âI forgot my milk!â When you moved to get up, Miguel shook his head and pulled you roughly back into his form.
âSleep.â He shifted and tucked you into his side. You blinked up at him and opened your mouth.
âBut,â You tried.
âSleep.â Your brows raised at his commanding tone.
âYes, sir.â You mumbled. Satisfied that you werenât going anywhere, Miguel wrapped an arm around your middle and curled himself around you. Stifling a yawn, you gave in to the sleep edging around your mind.
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do you think you'll be writing a part 3 to "i'll be lonely with you" ?? đ it's so good and i am invested
let's be lonely together â MIGUEL O'HARA
â there seems to be a spark growing between you and miguel, and you're forced to confront it when a heavy obstacle blocks your path.
minor angst. fluff. hurt/comfort. injuries. gn!reader. changed the formatting because it felt a little too clunky, hope you guys enjoy this one. school just started for me so i'll be getting a little busy T_T like the other "parts" in this, it can be read as stand alone.
You were absolutely mortified when you heard the news.
Miguel getting injured was a rare phenomenon that you'd only ever see in your nightmares, however the multiverse would always find a way to make those dreaded dreams of yours become a reality.
You'd refused to believe at first, standing as still as a mannequin once Jess had informed you, but that realization had finally sunk in. Miguel was hurt, and you were away while it happened.
From what you've gathered, he got impaled. It wasn't in any fatal areas, but it's a gut-twisting incident nonetheless. You shuddered just thinking of Miguel covered in blood, but to think that a spear, a sharp piece of metal, a blade piercing through and sticking out of Miguel's side left you unsettled.
Of course, your first instinct was to visit him. No second thoughts.
God, even as you paced hurriedly to the infirmary which was all the way across headquarters, your mind ran like a coding sequence. Trying to compute what to even say once you see him.
Being too forward and asking questions straight away might get him overwhelmed, he is frail and you certainly don't need to weigh down on him even more. Yet, you also want to show him that you care, but how do you do that without confessing your feelings for him?
Oh, right. Your feelings for him.
Cross your heart and hope to die, it started out as a small crush. Very miniscule, very minute, but who could blame you? You hadn't been around for as long as Peter B., Ben, let alone Jess, but he was more than okay with your company. You considered that to be a great achievement, but you celebrated too hard on your newfound friendship. Letting it fester in your heart, boiling for more.
You had tried to embrace delusion, you had tried to be content in the illusion of simply being friends, however guilt crept up on you at every single possibility. Maybe you could push down your feelings, stay in denial, but it would be a wasted effort.
It was the little things. The ghost of a smile that you would see forming on his lips whenever you talked about your interests or practically anything not work-related, the way that his eyes relaxed whenever you came into sight, how he ran his hand through his hair during the times it had fallen unkempt to fix himself up just for you.
Although it wasn't just you who noticed his tiny habits, Miguel was ever the observant type as well. During conversations, he'd occasionally interrupt you with a detail from a discussion that you two had three months ago. You wouldn't be surprised if he knew bullshit like your mother's maiden name.
This showed up in presents too. When you just happened to be hungry, Miguel had pulled out a small box, well as small as it could get when in his hands, and handed it you. Once you'd open it, you were met with the smell of your favorite fast food place.
Even with the snarky comments about how he could easily replicate it with the ingredients he had at home, there was no ignoring the absolutely smitten smile that he wore as he watched you eat. Content, happy, and most of all: full.
You'd missed it, all of it. The adrenaline in your veins raced like a runner on a track, hand shaky as you raised it to knock on the door of his medical room. Sweat gathered at your forehead, you held your breath as it threatened to collapse. You knew had to do this.
Three knocks was all you needed, but before you could even get to the third rap, Miguel's voice spoke from inside. "Come in," it was low, but not menacing like it usually was. He no longer spoke like he was commanding a room, getting your undivided attention, low from the bottom of his heart with every word serving a purpose.
No. Right now? He spoke like he'd fallen into the pavement, instead trying to divert your attention, low from the deep pit of shame and embarrassment that he dug himself into.
Once you'd entered, Miguel looked just as sad as you thought he'd looked. Even if he still adorned the suit that made him particularly stand out from every other spider-person running in and out of this place, the suit that served as his captain's hat, the freshly patched wounds shined through it all.
"Miguel," You spoke, voice hushed as you rushed to his side. He flinches when you slam the door shut behind you before you grip the railings of his 'hospital' bed. "What even happened?"
Your eyes ran over his body, observing how the molecular fabric of his suit glitched and stuttered, the same way a TV would look if you pressed your hand against the screen too hard.
You wanted to get a good look of his injuries, to check for any sign of what the full story was, but before you could do more, Miguel brings the covers over the entire lower half of his body, including the surface of his abdomen. Looking away shamefully.
"I don't want to talk about it right now," He grumbles and you could barely even hear it, his words tore your heart apart piece by piece. Did he not trust you? Were your efforts to see something more in him for naught? "Why are you here?"
"Why else do you think I'm here, Miguel?"
The truth was that you weren't even mad at him, just disappointed. Numbers were too finite to count the amount of times you've limped into Miguel's office with a brand new injury from a mission, the amount of times you've explained to him that you'd go straight to the infirmary after, the amount of times he's demanded that you sit down as he patches up your wounds while you report said mission to him.Â
Yet he was this ashamed to act so vulnerable in front of you, while you've looked even weaker in the past? It made you think, it really did. "I feel like you owe me some explanation, don't you?" You insisted, but he just shook his head.
"There's more important things to attend to right now," He begins, and it makes the blood pumping in your heart freeze over. "It's really not that big of a deal, it'll pass in a day, I promise." Lies. All of it.Â
The frigidity of his words seeped from your chest down to your very fingertips, the steel railing of his bed practically turning to ice as the realization sunk in. He didn't want you to see him like this. He didn't trust you enough to see him like this.Â
But why?
You wondered. So you asked him.Â
"I just don't get it." One of your hands lets go of bars that way you could smooth your hair, probably the only not messy part about you right now. "I thought I was doing everything right, and it's still not enough, is it?"Â
Miguel's face falls, the tense pout that he wore like a jacket being ripped to shreds as you further rambled. "Why are you shutting me out like this? What did I do wrong?" Fragile, delicate, creaking and cracking, all while on the verge of breaking.Â
Was it your voice? Your tears? Your composure? No, everything. It was as if he had you in a chokehold, a slight pressure, and you could shatter in an instant. Your head immediately tilted down, facing the floor. You prayed, prayed, and prayed that he wouldn't take notice of the crystalline drops that fell from your eyes.Â
But Miguel can't even bring himself to say anything and he hates himself for it, don't get him wrong though, he has so many thoughts, he's had so many thoughts about you. He felt like such an idiot for not saying them to you before, but he'd feel like even more of an idiot if he said them right now.Â
That was mostly the self-defense talking, just look at you. Sure, he was the dumbass injured on the hospital bed, but you were an entirely different kind of pitiful. The strength that he'd built over the past year, to hurdle obstacles both physically and mentally, to be a leader, yet he couldn't even undo the repression of the feelings that he so coldly locked away.Â
He wanted to try though. For you.
"It'sâ it's not for the reasons you think, okay?" Miguel stuttered, how he wanted you to look up that way he could wipe your tears, hush and reassure you, but he couldn't. Not in this moment at least. "I'm an idiot, I really am."
Now, that made you redirect your attention. A rarity it was to witness the proclaimed genius, leader of hundreds of Spider-people, to call himself fucking stupid. Your eyes were dry, but the puffiness of your lids said all it needed to.Â
Miguel's face scrunches up a little, he had to be vulnerable, it was the least of many things that he owed you. "I just think you're too good for me sometimes," He sighs,Â
leaning back against the pillow behind him. Gazing distantly into the small corner of darkness in the room, "Not sometimes. A lot of the time. Everyday."
A wave of warmth crashes over your chest, coursing through your icy veins as Miguel further digs himself into this hole. A hole that he'd most likely die in. "You're just soâ so you, you know?"
He denotes your perplexed face and sucks in a sharp breath, bringing a hand out to rub the wrinkles on his forehead. "Fuck, just give me a second to think." He huffs in annoyance, there were often times where Miguel would be able to explain the full extent of canon evemts with no breaks in between when it came to something as simple as saying I like like you, he was more than clueless.
"I've seen this place come to fruition ever since I could even begin to fathom multiverse travel," He starts, Miguel had normally upkept the habit of keeping eye contact with those he spoke with, but right now he wanted nothing more than to keep looking away from you. "A year. A whole year."
Miguel was smart, that he could say with confidence. He was able to build machines that allowed him access to scientific discoveries that nobody else could attain, the same machines that are the foundation of everything he's built.Â
However, it all really boiled down to the people. Each individual that he's recruited is special, he can't deny that. Their origins are the same, maybe their suffering alike, but it comes down to the soul, the core of their being. There's a specialty in every Spider-person that he's walked by in these hallowed halls.
Even after all of that, he just couldn't comprehend it. After seeing all of them get knocked down by the cruel humor of the multiverse, only to get back up and to keep preserving, he hasn't made a single realconnection.Â
"You come in only a few months ago and it seems like everybody knows your name, knows who you are, your smile." Miguel talked and talked and talked, like you weren't even in the room. Like how he did whenever he'd come back to his office from a mission, a mission with you and Lyla would beg him for the details.Â
"Yet, even when there's so many better versions of Spider-Man out there, more charming and more... likeable," Finally, finally he turns his head back to face you, trying to fight back the shame that makes him want to just shut the hell up.Â
"You chose me." How could he even call himself a genius after all of this?
One of Miguel's worst fears nowadays was you being in his place, possibly worse. Dead on the dark floor an alleyway in some distant dimension, that idea terrified him a lot. He almost thought he killed you himself when you only seemed to justâ stare at him, lips slightly parted and the only reassurance he received that you were still with him in this realm was the slow rise and fall of your chest.Â
If this was how you felt everytime you had a personal discussion with him, he completely understood if you'd leave this room hating his guts. As each second passes at a snail's pace, that pit of anxiousness grows and grows untilâ
"Miguel," It's a single word, his name, his calling; the way you say it though, it makes his heart drop below freezer temperature. "Is that really what you think of yourself?"
Huh?
"Here I thought that you were pissed at me this whole time," A dry, but short chuckle leaves your throat. The remnants of your sobs and previous cries still present in the way you spoke. "I don't hang around you just for some extra validation or because you're the boss, I stand you because I actually like you?"
What?
"Have you actually never considered that? That I wanted to know you past a work basis?" You almost find the utter shock on his face humorous if it weren't how ridiculous his mindset was, how stupid he truly was.Â
"I meanâ I didn'tâ" Whatever was left of your tears seemed to dry out watching him like this, tripping and falling over his words. The walls that he so desperately tried to build up crumbling before you into pieces, these pieces that you'd admire and care for. "Fuck, I'm no good at this."
"Yeah, I can see that." All the worries that you've held so close to your heart were slowly starting to be ebbed away by the what he'd just said, maybe you were afraid, but he was to. "I can do the rest of the talking now."Â
Even if he didn't make a single movement, you could tell that he agreed with you.Â
His heart thumps competing the speed of a race car as you place your hand on top of his, running your thumb smoothly across his bruised knuckles. You delight in the way that subtle dark red hue settles on his cheeks. It's working.Â
"I really, really like you. I like the way your hair moves, I like the way I can take a peek at your fangs when you laugh, I like the way that you roll your eyes when someone says something really stupid," It's a drawn out ramble, one that Miguel could get absolutely drunk on and result in a hangover the next morning.Â
"You're not better or worse than me, we both carry our own flaws, have our own struggles," Time seems to come to a standing point when you bring his scathed hand to your heart, where he can feel how fast it's beating under his fingertips.Â
"But what really matters to me is that we help each other change, to improve. You've done so much for me after all this time and I want to do the same for you ten-fold," You suck in a sharp breath. "Possibly even more."Â
Miguel clearly couldn't bring himself to words right now. How could he after everything you've just confessed? Any sentence after that would make him sound like a caveman and it's not like he could afford to look like any more of a bumbling idiot in front of you after all that.Â
Instead, he opts for something else. Slowly but surely, he drags his hand up to grip onto your shoulder, pulling you closer. Gently but closer.Â
He notices the way that your body tenses in anticipation, your breath quickening when his gaze flickers down to your lips.Â
"May I?"
Yes, please.
There was a certain softness to the way that Miguel kissed you, in a way that you'd never expect would come from him. However, the grip that he has on your shoulder tightens and surely, there's a certain desperation to how he holds you.Â
He wants this. He needs this.Â
You want to lean in closer. Maybe even climb onto the bed and straddle his lap so that things can go further deeper, all of these thoughts racing through your head come to an abrupt stop when Miguel hisses in pain pulling back.Â
Excitement quickly contorts into concern when he retracts his hand from you to rub the crook of his neck. You swore you could see blood sprinkling the gauze that covered the wound there.
"Shit, I'm so sorry. You shouldâ" Before you could even finish apologizing, he recovers. Practically grabbing you with so much force that your body slightly clashes against the metal of his bed, the cold steel in contrast to the warmth of his touch.Â
God, kissing you felt like running a marathon or scaling a building as high as the Effeil Tower, but did Miguel care? No, he didn't. He didn't give a shit if he'd be ripping a stitch or causing a blood vessel to pop. You were all that mattered to him now.Â
"Don't you dare apologize." He grits through labored breaths before continuing to kiss you with a newfound hunger and how could you not listen?Â
No matter how many bandages, lectures, and battles Miguel had to go through each passing day. The isolation that had consumed his heart in a tar nobody could break, you did. When Miguel was there to save the multiverse, most of all, you would be there to save him.Â
And he was more than okay with that.Â
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