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loganlermanstanaccount · 9 months

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Rigor Mortis (part 7)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 6, Part 8

summary: You spend some time with Miguel.

warnings: smut. f receiving oral, fingering, grinding, switchy behaviour from both sides, angst. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this chapter beat my ass icl

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all-consuming grief,

It’s going to be a warm night. It's ushered in by the kind of dawn that bleeds red and gold, tawny and autumnal in the waning light. Like the washy colours of a Renoir, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing the thing he swore black-and-blue he wouldn’t. Reminiscing and romanticising; for the first time in a while, Miguel is able to see the sun set, legs splayed on the brick of his front steps.

Sitting by worn metal railing, he’s still in his work clothes. He chucked his rucksack on the step above, leaning long legs onto the ones below. They don’t ache as much as they used to, well-trained by a couple months of running and spending more time in the gym. There’s a shake in the fridge, labelled ‘Tuesday, PM’ that he’ll gulp down before bed, and one labelled ‘Wednesday, AM’ that he’ll take before setting off in the morning. In the morning, with cloudy skies and street cars to keep him company. There’s too much pollution, light or otherwise, for him to see some stars. He hasn’t seen stars in a while, now.

Long days seem to have turned into just days somewhere along the way. He can’t quite pinpoint when, and doesn’t really care to, but he thinks his brother would call it “progress”. There’s a grimace on his face as he thinks about it; a word that tastes like mud and feels like swirling cement in his mouth. It’s all bullshit, really. Gabi’s paltry attempt at therapising him, one which he would usually nip in the bud - taking metaphorical shears to slash at weeds and dense conversation. Catch-up calls about how he feels, how he’s doing – when he’s fine, he always is – as if Gabi is waiting for a shoe to drop.

He’s waiting for Miguel to have an epiphany, a breakdown the size of a collapsing star. It’s not coming, he keeps telling his brother, and the sooner the younger O’Hara realises – without the wide eyes and the pity – the better for the both of them. After all, Gabriel is his baby brother, and he’s spent his whole life worrying on his behalf: playing hide-and-seek in little closets and putting back together broken toys. Trying to drown out the sound of shouting and broken plates. They’re too old for all that, the worrying and gulping back tears, walking its well-travelled paths – and it doesn’t feel right that Gabi should do the same for him.

He sighs, deep and heavy and rolling down that quiet street. After what feels like forever, he’s tempted to lie down, to rest his head on the stone, close his eyes and think of something else. Of someone else - lots of someones, at this point in the day. He’s not the weepy type, but he is tired; shaking off the wear and tear, and fighting off sleep.

Then he sees it; a figure walking towards him, all sandals and khaki shorts and smiles. Mr Estevez, donned in his year-round attire of a polo shirt, a little tight around the middle, and cargos cut off below the knee – finally appropriate, considering the weather. He’s strolling closer like he’s got all the time in the world. If Miguel wasn’t so exhausted; the bone-deep kind, the kind that seeps into skin and lines a casket; he would’ve been annoyed. Instead, he hisses, furrows quickly deepening.

“Buenas, Miguelito!” Mr Estevez beams, scratching at scraggly facial hair.

Miguel frowns, but greets him nonetheless: that politeness drilled into him during childhood rearing its head.

“Buenas tardes, tío.” He grits his teeth as he gets up from his seat, creaky joints and all.

His landlord, the building’s handyman, owner of half a dozen shops all over the city, and Miguel’s uncle-that’s-not-really-his-uncle; Mr Estevez wears many hats, staying bright and informal regardless. He’s known the older man since he was 6, so he can’t be too disappointed; his tío has been late for weddings, funerals, and his little boy’s birth – it’s not much of a surprise that he’d be late now, too. Miguel stretches out a rough palm, and the man stops just shy of his hand, completely ignoring it. Before he knows it, Miguelito is engulfed in a great big bear hug, with wet kisses pressed to the apples of his cheeks. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, as usual, so they hang limply; arms flailing to his sides like a t-rex.

They separate, and he coughs at the great big hand that slaps his back. Grumbling, he walks up to the door, bag over his back, and stands expectantly. Mr Estevez doesn’t follow, instead dusting himself down to sit on the steps.

“I just need to get into the building.” Miguel starts. “Forgot my keys, and I've been here for hours. M’tired, and I–”

“Let’s sit, Miguel.” He scoots over, making space. “Look at the stars.”

It’s clear the older man isn’t moving. Begrudgingly, he obliges. “We’re in the middle of the city. You only see “stars” in the river – beer bottles and tinned crap reflecting the lights.”

“Language.” He gets a sharp nudge to his ribs.

“Discúlpame, tío.”

They stew for a moment, bathing in the silence that follows. The man besides him is the first to speak.

“I spoke to your mother.”

He’s scoffing and moving to get up, before feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.

“She’s worried, Miguel. Says you haven’t called in a while.”

“She hasn’t called me either."

“She’s stubborn.” The man besides him chuckles, bringing gentle eyes to meet his own. "Pig-headed. Remind you of someone?"

Miguel rolls his eyes, he just can't help it.

"She’s also the one that moved back home, so either way–”

"You know it's all been hard on her."

" –on her? It's been hard for her, surrounded by family, after she abandoned me? A-After…" His voice gets dangerously hoarse, threatening to crack under the weight of those words.

He can't stand the pitiful look sent his way: brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sorry. It's… It's nothing. I'm fine. Just fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine, Miguel."

–even though you're definitely not okay. That part is left unsaid, spat onto the pavement like bitter backwash.

Mr Estévez sighs, ruffling a hand through Miguel's hair. It makes him hiss and dart away from the hand, pouting like he's a little kid again. He doesn't like it; the way he feels like all this life he's lived has been for naught. Trials and tribulations, and yet he doesn't feel that ache of growth; still stuck in the shoes of an awkward teenager.

"You think too much, Miguelito. Always have." He smiles, the kind that deepens the wrinkles around his mouth. It twists Miguel into knots, mouth dry as he tries to untangle himself from that feeling. "I'm worried about you, kid."

He sniffs, eyes trained towards the pavement. There it is again, worry; complicating and unravelling what was meant to be just another day.

"It's today, isn't it?"

All Miguel does is nod, shakily. It's been 2 years since his heart was ripped out of his chest. It heaves now, an erratic rise and fall he’s doing his best to control. Breathe, deeply and calmly; try not to think about his little girl in that hospital bed, and those blank eyes staring back.

“M’fine.” It comes out more desperate than he intends it, and he curses under his breath. If Mr Estevez hears the crude language, he doesn’t react.

Miguel is tense, hunched over the bag on his lap and curled into himself like prey – spitting and prickly and clearly uncomfortable. He’s never been the weepy kind, but the older man can’t help but think it’s a shame; so much love, and nowhere to keep it but inside. Miguel's bottled it up; the memories of precious Gabriella, all that warmth she brought out in her father; and he's turned them to poison pills to keep himself sick.

Miguel would never admit it, of course. He’s too stubborn. Pig-headed.

His tío sighs, moving to get up. He groans, in that dramatic sort of way he knows Miguel can’t stand, but still, there's a rush to help him up. Producing the door keys with a flourish, he pulls from the depths of cargo pockets, and unlocks the main door. Ushering in the younger man, who has grown so tall he needs to duck as he climbs the narrow stairs, there’s a finger prodded into the back of that cotton button-up.

“Miguel?” He starts, revving up a conversation he’s been meaning to have for a while now.

“Hmm?”

They both wait by the entrance of the apartment. The keys jingle in Mr Estevez’s hand.

“If I open the door, will I find out that you’ve driven away another one of my tenants?”

Conveniently, there seems to be a rather interesting spot in the hardwood that Miguel pokes with a dress shoe.

“...depends on your definition of 'driven out', tío.”

“That’s the third one this year! Not even 2 months– I knew there was something up. Not a single one of those little smiley faces to my messages, and–"

“I’ll make up for his side of the rent, you know I will.”

“I don’t like it. You should be saving up, to go get a house and settle down somewhere."

“I like living here, and I’ve said multiple times I’d pay the extra to live alone–”

“And then what? You rot in your room for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t– rot feels a little–”

“Nonsense. You’re lonely, Miguelito. If you don’t like it, you move out.”

They both know he won’t. It’s not really an option; the apartment is affordable and he likes living so close to his old neighbourhood, his old haunts. It’s like he’s tethered to that place with a bungee cord wrapped under his ribs, always snapping back.

“No promises, tío.”

“Doesn’t matter, Miguelito.” He sighs, scratching at stubble. “It’s been hard to find other tenants, with half the neighbourhood drying up. But as soon as I do–”

He points an accusatory finger at Miguel, and the sentence is finished for him.

“...best behaviour, I know.”

“Best behaviour.” Mr Estevez repeats, and starts to fumble with the keys. He throws a little comment over his shoulder. “I liked your lady friend, ages ago… the scary one, with the blue hair. She was–”

“Xina’s not scary, when you get to know her.”

“She was funny. Very pretty. Always paid rent on time, gave me food when I came to fix the heating…”

“It's out again, by the way.” Miguel chews his lip, with a strange expression. “And yeah, she was.”

The door swings open. Mr Estevez doesn’t let him off the hook, though, engulfing him in a warm hug. This time, in the doorway of his apartment, eyes screwed shut; he doesn’t try to wriggle out of it, melting into his tío’s arms. It feels different now that he’s not a kid: angry and hurting with a different sort of ache, but he leans into it, all the same.

~~~

There's a pressure released from the apartment, lately. Miguel feels… well, first of all, he feels ; thinks with his heart and not his head, sometimes. It's lighter, coming home with that weight on his shoulders and with someone there to distract him from it. Living life, he thinks, for the first time in a while. Vivid and vibrant and awake ; relishing the autumnal weather. It's always been his favourite season, despite how childish he thinks having a favourite season is; something you had asked him on a whim one morning.

Normally, he wouldn't entertain it, and with all the shit Pete spews, sometimes, he's had plenty of practice ignoring it. A well-timed dirty look, and then he'd get his head down and work; occupy himself with something less frivolous. But when you say it, with half a piece of toast sticking out of your mouth, it doesn't feel like a chore to answer. It doesn't feel like a stupid question, and he finds his face growing warm at the thought of you caring about these little things – wanting to know him , however that comes.

And so, his answer is Autumn. It's a little stilted; but catching him off guard after a run will do that to him. It's purely practical , he says, eyes tracing the slopes of your body in that shirt and shorts that stops at your thighs; high enough that he feels like a perv for looking. Autumn has temperate, even weather. Perfect for sweaters and hoodies. Warm enough that you don't need a jacket. Just right. You snort, nudging him. Bullshit, Mig. You flutter your eyelashes mockingly, your tone light. You just think it's the prettiest.

And he hums, catching you off guard. You're both drawn towards that little window over the sink, the one that overlooks a fire escape and the street. He's had that view for three years, now. Sleeves always rolled to his elbows as he does his washing up, but never quite looking. The street just below is framed in its windowpane, quite the pretty picture. Crisp leaves scattered on the sidewalk, carpeted in red and honeyed amber. And he can feel it from the other side of the glass; smell it, touch it, taste it. Autumn: hot chocolate and giggles, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and cupping tiny palms to warm them up. Sunsets seen for the first time, watched through bus windows on the way back from school – he misses those the most.

"You don't think it's beautiful?" You say, leaning your head towards the half-open window.

You don't notice, but he looks over to you, swallowing roughly. He says it with a small voice.

"I…I do."

You're darting to the bathroom not too long after, breaking the spell. Frustrated, he resists the urge to curl up into a ball and scream into his palms. He's got what he wanted; a good fuck, a pretty face, a warm smile. Friends, at the most, who happen to get the other off after a long day. A welcome distraction, at the least. He's got what his body has been telling him he needs for the past few months. It makes him feel weird, so oddly settled; but, all things considered…

Miguel is doing okay.

“...and I wouldn’t normally ask, but I swear , I left him…o-on read and he won’t stop texting me.”

Really, actually; he’s doing fine.

“It feels weird– mmffuck– but I can’t ignore him any longer.”

Maybe even… good. Better than okay.

“I still have a bunch of my stuff over there. At least half of it is clothes and books, a-and I’ve put it off for as long as I can…”

He hums in response, pulling quiet curses from you, above. Pressing the flat of his tongue onto your clit, your hips jump up and he purrs ; rearing up to dive even deeper into your pussy. Too quick for him, you catch on, hand in his hair to pull him up.

Sitting up on your haunches, he rests his head on your bare thigh – licking the taste of you off of his lips.

You tilt your head, looking at him with those eyes he can’t help but marvel at. A beat passes.

“...so?” You start, expectantly. “Will you help me or not?”

His response comes in the form of teeth nipping at pillowy skin. You yelp, and swat him away whilst he chuckles.

“I’m serious , Mig. It’s too much to pick up by myself. And you’re the only person I know with a car…”

“ Ouch, hermosa. ” He frowns as you peter off. “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? For my car?”

“If I say it’s because of your sparkling personality, will you help me?”

For a moment, it seems like he’s got his brows pressed together like he’s seriously considering it, but it ends up being just smoke and mirrors. He’s pretending , biding his time to hook a hand under your legs and force you to lie down onto the bed. Your head hits the covers with a gentle thump as he hikes up the lip of that big tee even further; squeezing your thighs around his head like earmuffs.

It’s when he makes eye-contact, tongue circling your hole, that you realised you’re fucked. Up until now, he’s been toying with you – playing with his food, so to speak – lazily swirling his tongue around your clit and pressing buttons to see exactly where to push. And you'd welcomed it, a hand in his hair as you talked about your day – which he'd asked for, of course.

Now, he's insatiable, eating you out like a man starved; all tongue and wet kisses to your swollen bud. You're slightly raised up on his shoulders, clamping around his tongue as he fucks into you fervently. Big palms spread you wider, and he hums into it, content.

"So pretty ," He sets you down, pupils blown as he studies the way your back arches and the way your legs shudder in the sheets. He slides upwards, sitting next to you, tracing a hand across the gentle curve of stomach that peeks out from your big t-shirt.

Still coming down from your high, you're only just able to register it: he looks mesmerised, a dopey smile plastered on his face.

"What?" You scoff when a moment passes, and his hand inches closer towards your lower lips.

"M'just looking." He shrugs, with a little smile on his face. "I'm not allowed to look?"

You scoff, but you're still shaky so it comes out a little more pathetic than you intend. Nevertheless, you start to sit up but he stops you with a gentle hand at your chest.

"Call him." He says, pressing two fingers to your clit and then down to your gushing slit.

Maybe it's the way he hunches over you, eyes flicking towards your lips, or the way he slips those fingers in; but your eyes go wide, and you're choking on your next words.

"Call… Call who?" Playing dumb, dancing on a razor's edge, and Miguel only quirks up an eyebrow at the stupid question.

"You know who." He says it low, smooth and dulcet as he curls his fingers at that sweet spot, experimenting. "I'll help you, fine. But I want you to call your ex, too. Let him know when to expect us. Is that okay, sweetheart ?"

That last word comes with a twang, the lilting tone of what sounds like mockery. He twists the knife, nudging the flat of his palm onto your clit – still tender and throbbing from your last orgasm.

Before you change your mind, you pick up the phone laid face down on the bedside table, pressing shaky fingers to its screen. You don't dare to look up, knowing Miguel is watching; dark eyes studying your every move.

Flicking his wrist this way and that, he swallows roughly as your fingers stutter on the screen. Not completely satisfied, he still has the time to look smug, settling into a comfortable pace. Finally, your phone rings with a tell-tale dial tone. It rings once. It rings twice, and–

"Hello? " The voice is muffled as it says your name. Put it on speaker, Miguel mouths and you oblige.

"Hey, J-Jamie." The phone is shaky in your hands, so you lay it out next to you on the bed.

"It's late, baby." You don't have time to be annoyed at his tone – or the unwarranted pet name – because Miguel speeds up, pumping in and out of you with a little more force.

"I… I know. S-Sorry." You clamp down the moans that threaten to erupt, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts.

Head lolling back into the sheets, you spend a good ten seconds in oblivious bliss, until Jamie breaks the silence.

"You've been ignoring me for ages, baby… and then you call out of the blue. What is it?" He's tired, it sounds like. Irritated for sure.

"Just w-wanted to–" Miguel presses his thumb to your clit and you jump. Once back down to earth he has to prompt you to answer. "-my stuff! Fuck , I just want to pick up my stuff."

"...now?"

Tomorrow. Miguel mouths.

"Tomorrow. " You repeat, wrapping a hand around his forearm to slow him down. It's too much, too fast; and he has the audacity to add another finger, scissoring out to stretch your cunt.

"O-kay. " He clicks his tongue, with some things rustling in the background. "Okay. You're acting weird, but..."

You're conflicted. His tone makes you melt, reaching for your phone to answer when Miguel snakes a hand under your shirt, palming your tits. To your surprise, he presses shaky kisses to the skin, rolling around your nipple with the flat of his tongue. You keen, clamping a hand around your mouth to stop the noises that spill out.

"...we still need to talk about what happened. About how we left things."

Anger flares up at your chest; hot at the sheer gall. He wants to talk? Now, when you had been met with a brick wall of silence; begging and begging for even a simple explanation?

What made it sting even more was that even after the breakup, everything happened on Jamie's terms. He broke up with you, providing little warning. He completely ghosted you, refusing to answer countless calls and messages. And now, he wants to talk; to make himself feel better and wank off his own ego, no doubt. It's not bitterness that makes you press Miguel closer, to revel in the pleasure that he gives you, you convince yourself. It's for you ; finally, unabashedly, just for you.

You don't bother to answer, hanging up the call with a click. Tugging at his hair, you pull him off with a wet pop; slick-soaked fingers slipping out of your cunt.

He cradles your chin, angling you upwards.

"You okay? Too much?" It barely registers; you're too focused on the tangle of curls framing his face, and the rosy pout of messy lips.

You shake your head, writhing against the sheets.

"More." You move his hand over to rest between your legs. "Please, Miguel."

His eyes flutter, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

He says it with sobering clarity, bolstered by just how precisely he slots against your bare pussy. You can feel it, the full length of his cock; pressed up against you as he slips it out of his sweats. Head spinning, it slaps onto your stomach. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Oh fuck. He's big.

"Just like that." He coos, spitting into his palm and pumping his cock. “Wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum.”

~~~

When tomorrow comes, you’re still sore from the litany of bruises and hickeys littered. It’s a Saturday, and you’re up bright and early. Well, Miguel is up bright and early, clattering around in the kitchen as you wake up.

He seems energised, mug of coffee in hand whilst you rub the sleep from your eyes. You waltz into the kitchen through the open doorway, morning breath and all.

"Morning," You say, soft and giggly at the way he jumps ten feet in the air, too wrapped up in himself to notice at first.

"Morning." He breathes, melting when he sees you in the shirt he had picked out for you last night. He shakes himself out of it. "Hungry? I can make something."

"No, no. M'good." You sidle up to the counter, head clocked at the fancy machine on the heavy slab. There's a question on the tip of your tongue, one you roll between your teeth. "Could I have some coffee? I mean… could you show me how?"

Where you expect laughter, mockery, or surprise that you've lived here for months and can't figure out the coffee machine; he nods, patient and calm. You ask him more questions; curious with every flick of a switch, and the way he lights up when talking about it. To your surprise, you want to know more – anyway that comes.

He's talking about expensive beans, and his favourite roasts – and a place across town that sells the exact kind he likes, but it's too fucking gentrified for him to go there more than two or three times a year. That makes you giggle: his little pout, the press of brow; and he looks up in surprise before joining you in light laughter.

You finish, pouring cream into his special mug with a flourish, and he steals a sip before you can. You elbow him away, angling for that stolen taste. When you do, it is deep and rich; sweet in a way that reminds you of Miguel, grounded and balanced and silky. In short, it's the perfect cup of coffee. More than content, you hum.

"Is it good?" He asks because he's already making mental notes, planning to greet you with a hot flask of the stuff in the mornings – if it means he gets that smile, of course.

"Very." Fervently you nod, lips curved to the ceramic as you blow; and Miguel is trying really hard not to stare. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen you in a way not everyone gets to; pretty and vulnerable and writhing on the tip of his cock; but it has him fending off vivid daydreams. Your lips wrapped around his length, his hand pressing you further down, feeling that warmth as you choke on his–

He blinks and you're gone, padding off to your room with that mug of coffee. You return not too long after, phone in hand and tapping away at the screen. Miguel ignores the way it makes him feel, having your attention and then losing it just as quickly. Like a kicked puppy, he resists the urge to beg for more – of your time, of your attention – turning away to clean up instead.

"I spoke to Jamie," You start, leaning with your back to the counter as he rolls up the sleeves of a comfy sweater. "He said he'll be around later in the evening, after his shift. Around 10. Is that okay?"

He shrugs, not caring either way. You're a friend, and he's helping you because that's what friends do. He can still taste you on his lips, but it doesn't mean anything. Not in a way you'd want, anyways.

"Sure." He doesn't turn around, stealing glances at the open window whilst he clatters around. "I've got a session later on anyways."

He catches a flash of something on your face, and you're pushing it away; prickly and uncomfortable. In his defence, he's stopped bringing people over for faux chemistry tutoring and there's less banging coming from across the wall. Less , but not completely gone, because you've learnt he has a penchant for dropping shit and cursing like someone's Dad.

But you can't help but think about Sarah , and Jia …. and how close he would get to Sita on the dining table. Fuck .

You're sighing now, tracing the curve of his jaw as he settles in front of the window: jaw set, arms crossed, and distant. He does that sometimes, goes off somewhere else – all teeth and claws. Tense, brows drawn up in a way that makes you want to smooth them out.

You put your phone down and mug away, sliding across linoleum to gently nudge his shoulder with your own.

"Are we…" He starts, and you track his line of sight to a quiet street below. He hums, without looking away. "Are we good?"

It makes you turn. You blink, as if out of all the nonsense you bicker about daily, that was the most ridiculous. Good? Good? Of course we are, of course we always will be. How could we be anything else? You shut it down before it spills out of your mouth, overzealous and desperate.

He clarifies with a nervous cough. "Last night. Was it… good?"

His frown deepens, and you wonder if it's just you that hears it in his tone. His real question, the one that makes you splinter and creak like a felled oak tree: Was I good? Am I good enough?

"Yeah. " You say it like the most obvious thing in the world – and to you, it is. For all his flaws; assholery and its trimmings aside; Miguel has never been a bad lay. You don't even think he has it in him; he couldn't half-ass it if he tried.

"It was–" Fucking amazing . The kind of thing you'll fuck yourself to for the foreseeable future. Cathartic and breath-taking and hot . All of the above.

Miguel finishes your sentence with something a little less… horny. "It was a lot, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking, how uncomfortable it could be for you, and–"

Gently, you laugh and cut him off. "I've been having mediocre sex for basically the whole of my adult life, Mig. This is… exciting and new. I like it, I really do."

Exciting and new. It brings him crashing back down to earth. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel, the thrill . Not… him. Not really, anyways. That pang of disappointment feels different, for some reason. He's never liked the song and dance of flirting, but he cherishes its rewards: of being wanted, and someone wanting him . So that fiery flame of need; deep and heady; is unfamiliar under his skin.

"We can slow down, if you'd like." You bring a hand to his arm, warm and gentle. "I don't mind. We can go back to just messing around on the couch…."

You've got a cheeky smile when you say it; a vague memory of a different time, when you had gotten a little too comfortable on the sofa, leading to hands stuffed in trousers and pressed up against one another. Quick and desperate, you had wanted to see him fall apart; like he did your first night together, and the next, and the next.

He gets closer, sandwiching you between the counter and his body. With a gentle hand, he strokes your hip, bunching up the fabric to get a peek of thigh.

“What do you like?” He’s deadly serious, red-brown eyes searching your face for something he can’t quite place. And just like that, the air is thick with tension. All you can manage is a limp shrug.

“I don’t know, really.” It comes out as a croak , as you’re much too occupied with the shrinking gap between you both. “I haven’t done the things you’ve done.”

You’re making assumptions, of course. Filling in the gaps of what you’ve learnt in the past few months; of alleged threesomes and a laundry list of women at his feet. He’s an asshole; pretty and gruff and sarcastic; but God , he knows how to touch you just right.

“I could show you.” He slots a knee between your thighs and your head spins. “Make you feel good. ”

Before you can think, you’re nodding; chewing at your lip to bite back moans when he rucks up your shirt. He nudges your legs apart, both hands on your waist as he slots himself between them. You can feel it; quickly hardening, loose underneath sweats. Miguel slides wide palms to your ass, kneading its globes. With one hand, he picks up your leg by the thigh, and snakes the other to your pussy. Bare, because you’re trying to kill him, of course, and he groans at the feeling of his hand at your cunt; already wet and pliant for him.

After a few wet taps to your hole, obscene, he slips himself out and you heave; pussy fluttering at just the thought of him inside you. Gathering up your slick on his palm, Miguel pumps his weeping cock, pressing its tip to your hole.

"Still sore, Miguel." You hiss, looking down at where you both meet with the prettiest pout he thinks he's ever seen.

It has you clawing at his back for purchase as he finally sinks in, stretching you out in that wonderful way he did last night. Except this time, he's slow and careful; steeling himself with shaky breaths.

"Oh, fuck. " He settles in about halfway, stopping to hike up your leg just a bit higher. "Want me to make you feel better?"

He says it breathless and crooning, forehead comes to rest on yours. With that other hand flat on the counter, you're lifted up to only toes on the floor, and he angles himself to buck up; filling you deep, and cock sliding past that sweet spot inside. He sets a pace, grinding into you, rather than fucking. If last night was dirty ; taboo, quick and primal; then this morning feels different. Intimate and reverent, he rolls his hips perfectly ; sending flashes of that first night down your spine.

With the moans that spill out of your mouth, it takes all of Miguel's willpower not to swallow them in a kiss. Impossibly close, he traces up your thigh with a large palm; eventually pressing into the small of your back. Arching into him, your lips barely brush together, and you're both panting into open mouths; drunk on pleasure.

"Miguel." There's a warning somewhere in your tone; underneath the layers of lust, you remind him of your previous agreement.

"I… I know. " He swallows, nose pressed to yours, eyes screwed shut. He thinks if he opens them, he might spill into you right then and there.

He's trying, he really is, tracing your cheek with his nose and mouthing at your neck – light kisses against the skin. He smells like coffee, bittersweet and heady, and you groan, rocking into him in a way that rubs up against your clit – before finding an ounce of restraint and putting a hand to his neck.

You apply a little pressure, intending to push him away, but he likes it: eyes fluttering open, and mouth curved into a little O. It's a pretty sight that has you drooling, tits pressed against him as he practically purrs . And so, you pull him closer; nails dancing underneath his shirt, whispering filth into the shell of his ear. You're close, grinding into him like the push and pull of waves, merely waiting for the crescendo of orgasm to take you out to sea.

"I'm close, Miguel." All he can do is hum, pulling you closer. "Fuck, I feel so good. You make me feel so good."

"Yeah? " He asks, needy in a way you haven't quite seen before.

"M'gonna cum," You nod. "...because of you, baby. You did good. So good. Shit, ohh –g-god–"

You clamp down on him, gushing around him with shaky legs. And Miguel is good; patient as he watches you fuck yourself through the aftermath. When it finally slows, he slips out with an obscene squelch clamping a hand to the base of his cock and leaning heavily on the counter.

"It's okay," As if on cue, you kneel in front of him as best you can, tugging down your shirt to expose collarbone and the swell of tits.

Miguel growls, grunting as he splatters thick cum across your chest, pumping his poor cock through it.

He wouldn't have lasted a second longer, not with that smile across your face; smug as you swipe fingers across your chest and lick up the mess he's made.

He's sighing, tucking himself back into gray sweats and pulling you up with a hand in yours; grumbling as you absentmindedly follow him to the sofa.

You're leaning back onto the arm of the tattered material, and he settles to sit so your legs lay in his lap. He's frowning, again, and it makes you giggle, still licking up what's left on your fingers.

He rolls his eyes, tapping a spot on your chin. A fat glob of his cum, dripping from your jaw to your neck. You miss it on the first swipe, and he gets impatient on the second, grabbing your hands and clambering over you. He drags the flat of his tongue to your skin, licking it up for you – and your eyes go wide. That… that felt good.

You giggle at the sensation, so attuned to your roommate that you can hear it: his eyes clattering into the back of his skull, as he rolls his eyes a second time.

"Is that okay?" He says it into the skin, pausing over a particularly tender spot. "Not too far?"

"Feels nice, Mig." You sigh, content. Sun streams in on a lazy morning, and you're sore in the kind of way that feels good; fucked out and blissful.

You lean into it, and then he sucks , teeth clashing onto the skin as he gives you a hickey and the juncture of your jaw. You wriggle, and he pins you down with one big hand holding down your arm, nipping and kissing and soothing it with a flash of tongue. This time he smiles, wrapping around your middle, tugging down your shirt to decorate your chest with hickeys. You play with his hair, wrapping soft curls between your fingers.

You spend a little too long like that; curved into him, spines moulded to the shape of each other. It feels nicer than either of you would care to admit; the pretense of sex wrapped around you both like a thin veil. Before he leaves, Miguel indulges himself just this once; head on your chest and sinking into those arms wrapped around him. You smell like coffee and sweat and Autumn, somehow. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, for a bit longer.

Miguel is okay. He's doing just fine.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader

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redrose10 · 4 months

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Here is Chapter 12! Sorry for the delay. I am feeling better, but I am still a little behind so I’m hoping the next chapter can be posted in a few days. We’re getting closer to the end!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 2,053

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Tag List: @gimeow @kam9404 @viankiss @baechugff @gaby-93 @kayleefriedchicken @igot7fairlyoddparents @jalexad @drrookie

Yoongi was too stunned to move or even speak. You on the other hand were impatient and wanted to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. Already with your shoes and coat on you walked back over to Yoongi jingling his keys in front of him, “Come on. Let’s get going.” When he still didn’t move you slammed the keys down in front of him, “Now Yoongi!”

He instantly jumped up and hustled after you. He had to admit he was really really starting to love this new take charge no bullshit Y/N.

Once in the car you punched in the address that Namjoon sent you and Yoongi began the drive over.

“What exactly did Namjoon say?”, he asked finally breaking the silence.

“I’ll let him explain everything, but I think that Suri used him to try and get to me so that she could have you.” Yoongi tried to comprehend, but you didn’t even give him the chance to ask for clarification.

“I just don’t understand what her problem is. Is it really worth ruining so many lives to keep you? I mean no offense Yoongi. You are really attractive and you can be nice when you want to be and you do have money, but aren’t there any other rich idiots she can chase after?”

Yoongi looked over at you with his brows furrowed. He wanted to take offense but you were right in a way so he knew it was best to let that one go. Instead he chose to focus on you calling him attractive instead bringing a slight tint of pink to his cheeks. He knew himself that he was attractive, but something about hearing you say it did something to him.

The two of you arrived at your destination and hastily made your way to the front door knocking several times. A few minutes went by before the door swung open revealing a somber Namjoon. He invited you both in offering some drinks before taking a seat on the couch. You and Yoongi sat across from him.

“Thank you both for coming here. Suri doesn’t know this address so there’s no way she could possibly show up. I wanted to make sure of that.”, he said clearing his throat.

“No problem. I think you should start from the beginning to catch Yoongi up on everything that happened and then we can go from there.”

He nodded, “Okay so I guess I’ll just get right to it then. The first time I met Suri was several months ago. I was leaving your place after one of our lessons and she was waiting for Yoongi out in the hallway. We talked a little and that was it. I met her a few more times in similar situations and each time we’d talk a little more. Then this one time Yoongi and Suri were coming back from doing you know what while I had just spent the evening comforting Y/N.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, “Oh please. If you were so innocent in all this we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“Yeah well if you weren’t a womanizing cheating asshole then none of this would’ve happened to begin with.”, Namjoon spat back.

“Both of you stop it. This isn’t the time to act like children’.”, you shouted feeling overwhelmed by their bickering.

Namjoon and Yoongi glared at each other before continuing, “Sorry Y/N, you are right. Anyways, Suri asked if I wanted to grab drinks that night. I didn’t but I wanted to find out more about what Yoongi was up to with her so I agreed. After a few too many drink I let it slip that I was starting to develop feelings for Y/N but she told me that she would never cheat and wasn’t able to leave Yoongi. Suri told me that she had a way to make it so that Y/N wouldn’t want anything to do with Yoongi outside of what was required of her. At the time I thought she was genuinely trying to help me, but looking back it was clear she was just using me to get Yoongi for herself. She started asking me for information about the two of you that she could use. That’s how she knew about the cologne that Y/N had made. She knew that the two of you were going up to the cabin so she really increased the amount of texts she sent hoping that Y/N would come across it. She knew that Y/N was going to be at the charity auction and got Hwan involved.”

“Wait, wait, wait, so did you know that Hwan was going to come after me at the auction?”, you asked feeling hurt that he would possibly put you in danger like that.

“Uhh kind of. He was supposed to just say some creepy stuff to you and then I’d swoop in and chase him off so you’d feel safe with me and be upset with Yoongi for not being there for you. But he wasn’t supposed to follow you outside or actually touch you. He took it too far and then I couldn’t find you anywhere in the building. I know it was a really dumb idea and I don’t know what we were thinking.”

You scoffed, “Yeah you think? Thank God Yoongi was there to save me unlike you. I can’t believe you Namjoon!”

“You’re right Y/N and I’m sorry.”

What about the baby situation?”, you asked after taking a breath and wanting to move this long

“So a while ago she came up with this crazy plan to get pregnant by Yoongi. She really thought that was the key to force him to stay with her. I told her that was taking it way too far, but she didn’t care. She stopped her birth control, but never said anything about it. She would complain constantly that Yoongi refused to touch her without a condom. She came up with this ridiculous idea to have another guy get her pregnant and then say the baby was Yoongi’s. I told her she was fucking nuts and that would never work. I was getting to the point I wanted nothing to do with her or this plan. But I honestly didn’t think she would go through with it. Then one night she came over to my place really upset. She said she had just left Yoongi’s office and he had once again told her that their relationship was over. He was going to work on his marriage and that started with cutting her out of his life. He even had security remove her from the building when she wouldn’t leave. She seemed pretty devastated. I felt kind of bad for her, but honestly I was more relieved that she wouldn’t be able to go through with this crazy pregnancy plan. I asked her if she wanted a drink and one drink turned into two and then three and so on. Well one too many drinks later we ended up in my bed together. The next month she told me she was pregnant and was going to tell Yoongi the baby was his. We both knew I was the father based on the last time she had slept with anyone else and I wasn’t going to let her take the baby away from me. Then when we were at the police station she showed me the sonogram and that she was going to tell Jin about it. I got upset and told her that I wouldn’t let her take my baby away from me and if she told Jin about it then I would tell you both about her whole entire plan. So when I found out from Hwan that she went through with it after I had left I decided to call you.”

Your head was spinning round and round. You felt like you were in some kind of weird soap opera. You looked over and Yoongi looked just as shocked as you felt. “Surely she won’t let you get away with this that easily. What is going to happen to you?”, you asked turning your attention back to Namjoon.

“Well I’m definitely going to loose my job since I work for Hwan’s company now.”, he chuckled.

“But I don’t even care any more. There’s an innocent baby involved and I’m not going to let her continue this mess.”

He reached to the side table next to him and grabbed a brown folder. He handed it over to you before leaning back into the couch, “In this folder is everything you’d need to use against her. Copies of texts, emails, voicemail transcripts. There’s a copy of the prenatal dna test we had done that shows the baby is mine.”

Yoongi took the folder and began flipping through the papers humming and letting go of a sigh everytime he saw something interesting.

“I mean this is great and all, but there’s still the issue of the mixtape.”, you said.

“There is no tape.”, Namjoon spoke.

Yoongi and yourself both looked over at him with wide eyes.

“What?!,” you said in unison.

“Yeah she told me all about that and how she wished she still had a copy of it because it seemed to be the only thing that really scared you. Apparently there was a big data breach at her dads label a couple years ago. Some hackers got in trying to access account information. They had no choice but to wipe every system completely clean loosing a ton of music and other files. For some reason they didn’t have any backups. She said the label almost went bankrupt until they debuted that girl group. You know, Old Jeans or New Beans or something like that.”

You lightly chucked at his lack of pop culture knowledge.

He continued, “But yeah there is no tape. She’s been lying to you about it for years.”

Carefully you peaked over at Yoongi. His face was so red he almost looked purple. He was gripping the folder so tightly his knuckles were turning white. Slowly you reached over trying to not startle him and grasped his hand into yours.

“Umm so what do we do now? We can’t just tell her to stop it. If she’s willing to go through all of this there is no way she’s going to just backdown easily.”, you asked.

The three of you sat in silence for a while pondering your next move.

“I have an idea.”, Yoongi finally spoke before getting up. He extended a hand out to you and you accepted following after him towards the door.

Namjoon followed closely behind. “Thank you for coming clean Namjoon but I think we should take a break in our friendship.”, you said before walking off towards the car.

Yoongi walked just outside the doorframe before turning back to Namjoon.

“I’ll handle it from here. Thank you for providing us with the documents.”

“Sure if you need anything else just let me know.”

Yoongi went to walk down the few stairs leading to the walkway before turning around and making his way back up using his hand to stop the door just before it closed.

“Oh and Namjoon.”

The door swung back open and he gestured for Yoongi to continue.

“Stay the fuck away from my wife.”

He turned and walked back down the steps and over to his car where you were already waiting. Gently he placed the folder in the backseat before putting the car in reverse.

He was silent on the drive back to his place and you didn’t want to push him. Once he parked the two of you sat in the car for a while. Yoongi nervously drummed on the steering wheel.

“Hey are you okay?”, you asked concerned with his lack of emotion.

“Yeah I guess I just can’t believe I’ve been so stressed about this stupid mixtape when it didn’t even matter. I thought I’d feel relieved, but I’m just having a hard time processing it.”

“So what is your plan? How do you know it’ll work and not make things worse?”, you asked reaching over for his hand.

He chuckled before looking over at you with a smirk, “Oh it’ll work Y/N. But uh you are definitely not going to like it.”

#bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #cinnamon&vanilla #min yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi x y/n #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi au #bts yoongi #yoongi #bts fic #namjoon #ceo au #arranged marriage au

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appleblueberry-pie · 2 months

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Yandere Miguel asks? Alright

Miguel who's already lost his daughter Gabriella and his wife when he messed up the Canon and the universe got destroyed. He's doing his little thing in the spider society when he finds a universe nearly identical to the one that got destroyed, the one where he replaced himself.

Only, in this universe, (Y/n) and Gabriella are meant to die instead of that universe's Miguel.

I imagine Miguel would tell himself a lot of excuses and rationalizations before bringing those two back to his universe (probably with a permanent form of a day pass). A little white lie to them won't also hurt.

Its a plot I've been wanting to write for awhile (as a fellow Yan author) but I've put writing on the back burner so I wanted to share this idea and see how'd you approach it :)

I'll be honest, I didn't feel like writing the entire backstory for what you want(which I usually would), but I went to straight action.

BLOOD MOON

He thought things would get easier from here. He thought he could finally come home, relax, see his beautiful and amazing wife, along with his precious baby girl. Because he's worked too hard in this lifetime. Too many short days and long nights, too many sacrifices made to keep himself and others safe. Too many deaths. Too many losses. Too many remembrances and forgotten memories. He just wanted it all to end. And he thought it did. Because he finally found you guys. Here you were standing before him with those gorgeous eyes he always got lost in. Telling him about his daughter and your day. So why were your words so venomous?

"I can't do this anymore." He kissed you on the forehead and closed the front door behind him. He walked past you and placed his work items on the table. "What was that, dear?" You stared at him as if he grew two heads. "We can't stay here forever, Miguel." He shuffles to get one shoe off before he finally comprehends your words. His face falls and he looks over at you. He had told you it was all in the past. Why are you bringing up old news? "Can't stay here?" He quotes you as if you said a joke. Your face twists into one of anger and you walk over to him.

"You know what I mean. Holding us here with no real motive besides keeping us for your own sick fucking pleasures. We're not pets, Miguel-" "Wait, wait, wait, wait. Where is this coming from? Pets?? Y/n, what are you talking about? I've never treated you like any kind of animals, you're my wife-"

"I don't know you!!" The growing silence allows you both hear the creak of a door opening from afar and Miguel begins to stare at you as if you mentioned something taboo. As if you're stupid. "Let's talk about this later." Miguel turns his back to you to go your shared bedroom. "No, I'm not going to talk about this later, Miguel, we're not from here! Look, I don't know what you want, or even who you are. But...you can't just-" Miguel feels his irritation that build up all day begin to rise again. His shoulders tense the more you talk, and your daughter peeking out her bedroom to witness this wasn't helping.

He turns to face you again, almost seeming to crowd over you. "I am your husband. I am your husband! I've given you everything you needed. I gave you a place to call home, a better home. You don't have to live off of minimum wage anymore. And finally, your daughter has a father figure to watch after her, aren't you happy?? Because I sure am! Gaby's been so happy now and so have you. Why can't you just.....appreciate the things I've sacrificed for the both of you???"

You scrunch your face and take a step back. This stranger suddenly spouting bullshit to you about your killed husband and saying that the two of you being in a random different universe is a blessing?? You're confused and scared and would rather live where you used to than wherever this foreign place is. He was beginning to piss you off. ".....How dare you?" Miguel raises his eyebrows when he notices your tone. "How dare you? My husband is fucking dead......You stole us away from home and now you're saying that whatever this shitshow is, is a blessing?" "Mommy?"

You shake your head and jab your finger into his chest. "You don't know the first thing about me." "I know you love teaching Gaby piano, I know you love going out on walks when the sun is setting, I know you love letting me drive you to places, I know you love when I cook you dinner, I know where you used to work, where you want to work, I know when you first told me you were pregnant with our babygirl, I have your vows memorized and I know that you love me. I know that you love me, so why don't you just let me love you, hermosa?" Miguel had backed you into a door and gently cradled your face into his hands. He softly whispers to you as if trying to snap you back into reality, as if it wasn't setting in the moment you realized this psycho was obsessed with you two.

"I would never, ever hurt you. I do everything for our family, nothing else. My two girls are the only things on my mind all day when I'm at work. And to come back home to you is everything I could ask for. And if there was anything else I could ask for, is for you to love me back. Please." He had gestured your daughter out of her bedroom and she ran into his arms. He smiled down at her, making her worried face shift into one of relief. Miguel laughs and kisses her forehead lovingly. You want to kill this man for ever putting his hands on you and your daughter. You failed to keep your girl safe and now she was in the hands of a monster she believed to be her dead daddy. Your worst fucking nightmare come true. Calling out to her and making her come to your side wouldn't save her. Attempting to kill him wouldn't save her because then the both of you would be stuck wherever you were. All you wanted was for her to live a normal life, and not even the universe could give you that. What were you gonna do?

Miguel noticed your blank face and sent Gaby away, grabbing your hand gently. You let him. He hugs you and whispers into your ear. "I'm done talking about this. You clearly need sleep." You look up at him, glaring, yet he continues to stare down at you with adoration. He leaves no room for argument as he opens the bedroom door to lead you in.

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 7 months

Note

Could I request Dadvi after the war, (wishful thinking, he just needed to heal and learn how to walk again after I healed) he has children outside of paradise? He fall in love with someone in the medical field. Please and thank you

think my heart would melt if i ever saw levi playing with his toddler ksjdfksdjf

Needy Little Brat | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~800 ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff, my headcanon that levi can still walk but with a limp and uses the wheelchair as a mobility aid

You stepped out of the shower, pulling your shirt on over your head, immediately frowning once you heard your husband cursing across the hallway in the living room.

You walked over to see what it was that got Levi grumpy, knowing that it could range from something as simple as his tea leaves being steeped for too long all the way up to something catastrophic like the house getting set on fire.

You sighed as you saw him walking across the room from the dining table over towards the couch. His limp was a bit more noticeable than usual and you could see the small frown line on his forehead that resulted from him trying to ignore the pain that was undoubtedly shooting through his leg.

You remembered how stubborn Levi was when the war first ended. He had accepted the idea that his knee would never fully heal, but struggled with gauging where his limit was in terms of pain tolerance. Luckily, he had you to call him out on his bullshit, noting that if he kept pushing himself, then he was going to end up hurting himself more and end up being even more pissed than he already was. Plus, the fact that you were a combat medic helped with navigating his recovery.

Still, he was stubborn and refused to stay seated even though he was clearly in pain.

"You know, if you need to sit down or use the wheelchair, then quit being stubborn and just use it," you insisted with a sigh, unfolding his wheelchair and wheeling it over.

"Kinda hard to sit still when there's this little shit running around," he grumbled.

You followed his gaze and then understood why he was forcing himself to walk around despite his knee likely flaring up.

While your child had been calmly playing near the couch when you had stepped into the shower, she was now unsteadily wandering around the living room, with no regard for any tripping hazards or the coffee table that she was now tall enough to bump into.

She finally noticed Levi glaring at her, with her face lighting up as she began to run towards the two of you, immediately tripping over her own two feet.

Before you even got a chance to react, Levi had already leapt forward to catch her so that she didn't faceplant into the ground.

While you could clearly tell that he was in pain from the sudden movement, your daughter clearly did not put the pieces together, beginning to babble as she grabbed at Levi's arms.

Sighing again, you bent over and picked her up from the ground, motioning your head towards the wheelchair to indicate to Levi that you had brought it out for him if he needed it.

Now that he no longer had to worry about your child accidentally hurting herself for running around before she could properly keep her balance, he got into the mobility aid, clearly exasperated by the fact that your child was just as stubborn as he was when it came to moving around when she wasn't supposed to.

Still, he couldn't blame her. She was a kid exploring the world, but he'd be damned if he didn't admit to himself that he felt wholly unprepared when it came to having an actual child that wasn't just the 104th goofing off or hanging out around Gabi or Falco that were already able to take care of themselves.

His eyes flashed up towards you, his gaze falling on the toddler in your arms that was now looking more distressed as she reached out for him, trying to wriggle out of your arms.

"Alright, alright, calm down," you scolded, securing your grip on her so that she didn't fall headfirst back down to the ground.

"She's just as clingy as you are," he muttered, the corner of his lip raising into a small smirk as he saw the somewhat bashful look on your face as your cheeks began to heat up.

"Well, she's just as stubborn as you are," you retorted as you plopped her into his lap after he got settled.

She immediately calmed down, giggling as Levi began to poke at her belly after calling her a "needy little brat", which she found absolutely hilarious despite not knowing what he was actually saying.

You watched as she began trying to grab at Levi's hand, which he was drawing back at the last second, before going back in and allowing her to grab at him again, before drawing his hand back again, unable to hide the amused expression steadily forming on his face. Eventually, he gave in, allowing her to firmly grab at his thumb.

"Quick reflexes, this one," he pointed out, giving a nod of approval, which made you snort in disbelief.

"Wonder where she gets that from."

#kat chats #follower event #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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luvcosmos · 11 months

Text

CLEMENTINE SLICES

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara x AFAB!Reader TAGS: Fluff if you squint, Angst, Mentions of Death, Spoilers for ATSV, Not proofread WORDS: 2.3k EXCERPT: This. He thought. This is why he's here. To keep you and Gabi safe, happy. To make sure none of you would ever endure the pain of losing a loved one.

Gabriela’s favorite fruit is clementine.

Her love for the fruit may seem like a small insignificant detail, but it’s one of the first things Miguel made sure to remember before he entered this universe and took the place of your Miguel.

It’s Sunday and today, he’s taken you and Gabi to the park, just like his alternate self always does. The simple routine of sitting side by side at the bench, it’s important to him that things remain the same—with you none the wiser of the truth.

Your head rested on Miguel’s shoulder as you both watched Gabi run around and play. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders and he’s ardently and hopelessly in love with you.

It’s taken him by surprise, that he’ll fall deeply in love. It feels like his feet have been swept off the floor, but he supposes it was inevitable. He’s watched your life with his doppelgänger after all, saw how much you loved so passionately and the way you didn’t tolerate any bullshit from him or anyone.

That’s why he was so terrified when he finally saw you for the first time. He was worried that you’d see through him immediately but by some unknown miracle, instead of the harsh questions of ‘who are you?’ that he expected, you had wrapped your arms around him, scolded him for coming home late but still kissed him so softly and dismissed his strange behavior with an order to get some rest.

Your name has been carved into his heart ever since.

“Time flies by so fast,” You suddenly spoked wistfully, interrupting his train of thoughts. “Look at her, I can’t believe our little girl’s ten years old now.”

Miguel let out a smile, one that softened his entire face and crinkled his eyes at the corners. He squeezed your shoulders briefly with his arm and hesitated for a moment before pressing a kiss to your head.

“Time does fly,” He agreed. “It feels like it was just yesterday when I was holding your hand and supporting you as you worked hard to bring Gabi into this world.”

The lie came so easily to him, that he almost tricked himself that it was actually him in the delivery room while you gave birth and not another man who shared his name and face.

(A pang of pain gripped his heart and there was a sudden urge to run and take you and Gabi to safety. He ignored it though. He made sure that no enemies of his will be able to discover that he has a family here.)

“Oh yeah? That’s not what I just remember from that day.” You began to tease, “You were so nervous - more nervous than me, when my water broke. And you cried when you first held Gabi in your arms that day.”

Miguel felt his heart become soothed at your words, forgetting about his unease as the corners of his mouth turned up.

He remembered seeing that day through the screens, it was Lyla who showed it to him. Gabi was already born when his AI found this universe, but she had gone through previous moments of the life that the other version of him had.

“This might be a sign for you to go live the life you’ve always wanted.” She had said to him then. Who would’ve thought that he’d be here now?

He realized that he’s gone silent for a moment as he got lost in his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he tucked you closer to his side as he decided to tease you back, “Weren’t you also busy cursing me out that time?”

You laughed at his words, pinching his thigh slightly in mock offense as you retorted, “Yeah, well, who else was I supposed to curse at? You’re her father so you deserved it.”

The two of you shared a chuckle and Miguel removed his arm around your shoulders to intertwine his hand with yours. “Thank you for going through all that pain to bring our daughter into this world,” He murmured as he brought your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You practically melted at his gratefulness as you smiled fondly at him. “What are you talking about?” You started, “You have nothing to thank me for. It was our dream, after all.”

Your free hand reached up to rest a hand on his cheek, “And I wouldn’t have been able to do it if you weren’t by my side, ready to buy me any food I craved, and massage my feet whenever I needed it. That day might’ve been stressful and painful, but it was worth it.” You added.

Miguel stayed quiet for a moment as he stared into your eyes. It was like an invisible string tugged him closer to you and slowly, watching you for any sign of discomfort, his right hand cupped your chin gently and he leaned in to press his lips against yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his lips touching yours. The way he kissed you has changed, it’s gentler, maybe even a little unsure, but it has never made you feel less loved by him.

He reluctantly pulled away; his eyes stared at you with an awed adoring look. He nudged his nose gently against yours, “You’re right, my love. It’s more than worth it.” He whispered softly and his eyes drifted over to Gabi.

While he has his eyes on her, you have yours on him and you saw how his body tensed like he was ready to stand up when he saw her trip, but he relaxed when he saw his daughter get up with a laugh. It takes everything in you to stop yourself from smiling at the sight.

Your husband might’ve been acting off the past couple of weeks but he’s still as protective and loving towards your family as ever.

Although, it still bothered you when you couldn’t help but notice the unusual tone of soberness in his voice when he said it was worth it. It makes you wonder if he might mean something else too but before you could ask, Miguel pressed one last kiss on your forehead before slowly letting go of your hand and he moved to take a clementine from the food basket at his side.

“Gabriela will be a little hungry once she takes a break from playing,” He stated. “I should get it peeled for her now.”

He has only started to thumb away the skin of the fruit but somehow, as if she had supernatural senses, your daughter chooses that moment to glance back at you two and immediately hones in on the clementine Miguel is holding.

Her brown eyes widened almost comically, and she waved goodbye to her playmates before running back to where you and Miguel are sitting. Soon enough, the little girl is in front of you with her eyes staring at her father expectantly.

Miguel arched an eyebrow at his daughter, “Can I help you?” He asked with an amused expression.

Gabi only shifted her feet eagerly and held her palms out, her eyes drifting to look at him and the clementine. “Papa, I want one.”

He let out a small chuckle while you smiled fondly as you watched the two interact, silently reaching out a hand to tuck a loose hair softly behind Gabi’s ear.

“Oh, is that why you’re here? Not to say hi to mama and papa, check if we’re okay?” He teased her.

You can’t help but giggle softly and share a fond smile with your husband as Gabi breaks her gaze from the fruit and looked up at both of you worriedly.

“Mama and papa not okay?” She asked immediately with a small frown, standing up on her tiptoes with her hands now leaning on Miguel’s knees as if that would help her see what could possibly be ailing her parents.

Miguel softened and gave his daughter one of those smiles that was reserved just for his girls. If you weren’t so enamored, you would’ve laughed at how comically it looked to have this broad and strong man be so soft and gentle around you and Gabi.

“We’re okay, sweetheart.” He reassured her.

Your daughter, having the same overprotective instincts as her father— doesn’t believe Miguel at first. She ran her eyes over you both, double checking before she nodded with a smile, satisfied with her inspection. “Okay… that’s good.” She scooted closer, her eyes now looking at her father pleadingly.

He clicked his tongue at her, “Clean your hands first, baby.”

Gabi quickly turned to you then as you reached into your bag and pulled out a pack of wet wipes. You opened it and took one before handing it over to your daughter.

“Thank you, mommy.” She said, and under your gentle guidance, she wiped her hands thoroughly and carefully. Once she was done, she tossed the wipe inside the little trash can that you carried along and turned to Miguel once again, showing her hands proudly. “Clean now, papa!” She exclaimed, “Now can I have one?”

“Gabriela, what do we say when we ask for something?” Miguel questioned in a stern but soft tone. Gabi pouts at him for a moment before she replied, “Can I have one please, papa?”

Your husband nodded his approval with a soft smile and handed her the clementine slice, making sure that she holds it carefully first and won’t ruin her clothes, before turning to you with another slice held gently between his fingers and lifting it up to your lips to feed you.

You smile gratefully at him, popping the clementine into your mouth.

He watched you fondly as you ate and swiftly swipes his thumb below your lower lip. There’s really nothing to clean there, he just wanted an excuse to touch you.

He alternated between handing Gabi a slice of clementine and then feeding you one with a feeling of warmth and belonging in his heart. It’s like this is what he was meant to do all this time, his dreams finally come true. He’d peel a million clementines and more, if only that meant he would always have you and his daughter by his side.

This. He thought. This is why he’s here. To keep you and Gabi safe, happy. To make sure that none of you would ever endure the pain and suffering of losing a loved one. Gabi will never lose her father and you will never lose your husband.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he’s a selfish man. That’s why he feels no guilt or remorse for his actions.

If you asked him, he’ll even say that the Miguel of this universe would approve. He knows himself well enough that he’d want you two to be happy and safe no matter what universe or version of him is present.

So instead of wallowing in guilt, he watched his wife, his daughter with a smile on his face.

(But there’s that pang of pain in his chest again. A feeling of anxiety and worry that he can’t explain.)

He looked around cautiously for any threat of danger that might be causing this feeling. He might not have a Spider-Sense compared to the other Spiders in the society, but he’d be a fool to ignore his gut.

The park is full of other families taking advantage of the sunny weather to relax and spend time with each other. He saw children running around, dogs barking, and couples taking a stroll together. There’s nothing out of the ordinary that could explain this feeling of unsafety and yet his heart continued to beat faster with anxiety.

There’s something wrong. He realized.

He can’t explain it but he’s certain something is wrong.

His body tensed up and without realizing it, he’s got a protective arm around you while his other arm tugged Gabi close to his side.

His unease only intensified when the bright sky slowly turned gray, the sun nowhere to be found. That’s when he saw it. Somewhere in the distance, there is a dark shadow form warping into different sizes and shapes. He squinted his eyes, and it also looked like the form is... glitching?

He wants to run. He needs to run. He needs to take you and Gabi somewhere safe. But his legs aren’t moving, and he can’t move his eyes away from the shadow form no matter how hard he tries.

HE CAN’T BREATHE

He can hear you and Gabi calling out to him, but it sounds muffled. Like he’s being pulled deep underwater and the two of you are far away from him, out of his reach. Out of his protection.

“Miguel!” He heard you shouting now. “MIGUEL!”

His head snapped to the side so quickly that he almost got a whiplash, but the empty side of his bed is what greeted him instead of your face.

Cold sweat dripped down his body as his breaths came out heavily. Miguel looked around with wide eyes, looking for you and Gabi with panic and fear gripping his heart, before he realized it was all a dream.

A memory of his past haunting him like a ghost.

He sighed heavily before swinging his legs to the side of the bed, running a shaky hand on his face as he sat up.

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to push the memories away but even then, he could still see your face and his daughter. The two people that he failed. The two people that died because of him.

But still, he can’t bring himself to wish that he’ll stop dreaming about you or Gabi. Even if it’s painful and it reminds him of how much he fucked up because of his own selfishness, he’d rather keep on having these dreams than forget about his family entirely.

No matter how much time has passed, he will always carry you two with him. The only pain that he welcomes with open arms, the only pain he will never get rid of, because it’s a pain he deserves.

He will never be able to look at clementines the same way ever again.

#saw the lack of angst and thought I’d do it myself #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse #atsv fic

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sunnybergamota · 2 years

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I swear my favorite kind of email is [author] replied to your comment on [fic]. It's a reward. Im getting a good grade on reader. That's both achivable and normal to desire

#gabi's bullshit

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1percentcharge · 8 months

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fine ill write film thoughts at 2am(!) because i can't sleep anyway

i liked how cecelia paralleled john. it struck me as necessary because of how john was framed as the protagonist (though not necessarily hero) of this movie, so it made sense to have an antagonist. it also fit w how Gabi paralleled Amanda. I was sad about and pretty shocked by Gabi's death (that post about liking two characters that are opposed was actually about cecelia and her).

Obviously, cecelia couldn't kill john or amanda because timeline. so i think that kept her from ever fully rivalling jigsaw. but she did strike me as more intelligent than some other saw characters (not the highest bar?) because of things like the intestines as rope. Too bad john's omnipotent.

i love how cecelia's test was smth that would force her to betray Parker and as far as i could tell she really didn't GAF bc she's just crazy. I think that's great. Parker sucks too so good riddance. But can you imagine her in the bathroom trap lmao? no moral issues she'd kill adam immediately.

I don't think she deserved to survive but by the end i would've been pissed if parker had killed her instead. It also goes to show how fucked up John's worldview is: someone like valentina or matteo, who obviously also did something bad but were less privileged and less responsible (as well as being mere seconds from winning), "didn't have the will to live," but cecelia, a ruthless murderer at the heart of the scam, can live because she "won" her game. like... john's philosophy is bullshit, that's the point.

#saw x #saw x spoilers

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glaciertea · 1 month

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Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a leader. A leader who doesn't let anyone or anything distract him from the tasks at hand.

He's focused, unwavering, and ruthless.

But what happens when he abruptly pulls away from his territory and wanders into an unknown playing field he hasn't faced in forever?

Many say love holds no bounds, but how much will he be willing to break for you?

Word count: 1.5K

Chapter 1: You're A Natural, Living it so Cutthroat

My name is Miguel O'Hara.

I'm this dimension’s one and only

Spider-Man… at least I thought I was…

but I'm not like the others.

“...el.”

I do things that others won't be able to do.

“...uel!”

I've seen things that others will never see.

“...iguel!”

And I've given up too much to stop now…

“MIGUEL!”

A familiar voice sprung him out of his inner reflections as he snarled, snapping his head back at the figure below.

Jess crossed her arms over her growing pregnant stomach, glaring at her brooding boss. Her neck slightly craned, wondering why his platform must be at the highest point instead of closer to any subordinate that has the pleasure of communicating with him.

“I'm here to give the reports for today's anomalies that were captured.”

Miguel twisted his body towards his dozens of monitors cascading, entrapped all over. A grunt escaped his throat as his eyes darted from screen to screen, typing away at whatever was tossed onto him.

His second in command sneered, rolling her eyes at the permanently irritated man.

Though it gets to a point where one is used to his tendencies. This is just who he is. The burden that copious amounts of spiders have to compromise with.

“Also, there's been a recent increase in anomalies as of late. Rampant even. We were wondering if we could get any input on that.” Jess clicked at her watch, sending the information to her ill-tempered leader, wanting to get this over with as much as him.

“Later.” Miguel refused to gaze behind him.

“Actually, I would prefer now so we can get a semi-head start on th-”

“I said later!” Miguel barked, going over the notes he received.

Jess scoffed, resting her hands on her hips. She wasn't going to allow him to speak to her in any sort of way. Jess is one of the few with the ability to pierce through Miguel's ‘bullshit.’

“As I said, I'm going to need that info ASAP. Presumably after you're done with those documents. Thank you.” She drolly spoke.

Before Miguel could offer a rebuttal, Jess was already making her exit out of his space, refusing to deal with him anymore for the time being. The man twitched as his claws dug through his metal desk. There's never any rest for the wicked, yet this is the life he must heed. The precedents he exposed to himself and those underneath his wing.

He doesn't enjoy this harrowing cold stature, but it's the only manner that will get things done.

He inhabited the lifestyle he was forced to construct. Harboring all the burdens so the others won't make the same mistakes he committed. The sins that constantly dangle over his head every single second, of every minute, of every day.

That perpetual reminder of what and who he is.

Miguel lingered at his workstation for another hour and a half, as he found unhealthy comfort being close by it. If he never unoccupied his space, work will always be completed in functioning order. He begrudgingly issued data and charts towards Jessica, mostly as an excuse for her not to return and harass him any further.

His tasks were going smoothly. No interruptions, no trivial disturbances from the other heroes. All was fluid sailing on his end.

And that was very off-putting for him, but he decided to brush it off.

Ten minutes passed by as Miguel decided to view the footage of him and Gabi, the main reason why any of this exists in the first place. His main reminder to abide by is to focus on the main goal at hand.

Keeping the multiverse safe.

A miniscule smile began to form as the video rewinded and began to play… until the orange iridescent screens dimmed off. Silence rang throughout his area. Then a shattering crash of glass sprinkling surrounded the air.

“Lyla!”

The tiny hologram teleported in the air, casually waving her fingers as if she hadn't witnessed her creator violently hurl a computer at the wall.

“Heya boss, what's the fi- hey, hey whoa!” Miguel's claws went to snag Lyla as she rapidly flickered several feet away from him.

“Isn't that a bit unnece-”

“¡¿Qué carajo pasó?!” He rammed his fist down onto the heavily abused desk.

“Uh, did you forget? Undergoing system maintenance today.” The A.I. brought up a digital calendar with a date circled in pink glitter marker and heart stickers surrounding it.

Only a scowl etched across his already disdainful face. This wasn't helping Lyla's case at all. Lyla tapped her nail on the date, only increasing Miguel's fury.

“The twelfth? Which is today?” She gestured toward the number.

His expression didn't waver. He should have been one of the first to be alerted about this.

“Why wasn't I advised?!” Miguel hissed enough for spittle to fly out.

Work needed to be done. Required. He doesn't have time for any delays; he must be the one to upkeep the endeavor of the headquarters. The multiverse. Everything.

Lyla shifted her glasses near the bridge of her nose, raising a brow. “You were. In fact, you were the very first to attain that scheduling because you appointed the date, Miguel.”

He made an effort to recall, but the more he dug, the memories refused to pop up. Prepared to refute and prone Lyla for her attempts to gaslight him, she came equipped with several angles of Miguel hunched over, deep within some tasks as usual.

The displayed date in the top left corner was a week prior, as a cautious Spider-Byte scrolled up to the high-rise platform. The teen announced her presence, only to be greeted with completely nothing. Spider-Byte clearly struggled to flag down his attention until a jeering ‘what’ sprang out of him.

"We're still on for the system shutdown on the twelfth, correct?”

Hushed. Nothing.

“Yo, are we still on for the-”

Miguel hollered out for Lyla to jot down the time frame for it as the assistant saluted and disappeared.

Miguel dismissed an agitated Spider-Byte who threw her arms up, murmuring underneath her breath as she vacated the area, clearly refusing to deal with him any longer.

Lyla blipped the feed away and leaned back, crossing her legs as if she were pretending to be seated in a chair.

“So, you have the rest of tonight unofficially officially off just like the others. So… have fun!” Lyla retreated, abandoning him in solitude.

That made sense as to why Miguel wasn't disturbed for the last duration of his work period. No one was essentially able to commute to the HQ. He remained static for a few minutes. The solemn, stagnant atmosphere was the only element left. There was an occasional whirring of a machine, but there was nothing else.

This isn't something to get used to. Something he wasn't used to.

He slumped himself on the metallic flooring, desolate. When duties aren't demanded, he doesn't exactly know how to handle the implanted turmoil racing deep in his mind.

He pulled his watch near his face as it only presented his world, the time, and a missed alarm flashing. He pressed the tiny button as a message flashed, warning about the upcoming stoppage. Nearly thirty minutes ago.

Dropping his arm, he observed the bleak, dark-red area. His isolation chamber he relished in a sense. Second nature. But there was a commodity brewing within. A path beckoning him to stray away from his natural setting into an unaccustomed world.

Gradually, he stood up before dropping off the edge and landing with a solid thunk.

He pressed through the wide corridor that led into his ‘office,’ past the contained anomalies, who thankfully are under a backup program, so they couldn't escape with ease. Stepping into the elevator, he tapped the down arrow, leaning back against the cool glass.

Was he truly going to do this?

He trudged out until he reached the usual bustling facility, now still with a couple of spider stragglers reserved in their own bubble or quickly converging with one another before moving on with their business.

Some blissfully greeted him as Miguel nodded in acknowledgment when he passed by. Some curious ones eyeballed him, astonished to view him casually teetering around, but chalked it up due to the seemingly night off all the spiders “dolefully” received (many honestly are grateful; relieved for it).

However, numerous heads did rotate dumbfounded when Miguel… treaded out of the establishment with no warning or announcement.

Clearly, this was one for the books.

Miguel allowed the chill breeze to graze across his face and curly locks as he compelled himself towards a direction.

Where exactly was his destination?

Usually he appoints on having everything to the point, narrow, clear, and straight cut. But now? He's aimlessly roaming Nueva York's evidently pristine streets, allowing his legs to carry him to an unprecedented location.

He was out of bounds with the routine. Highly so. There undoubtedly had to be a reason for this particular circumstance for him willingly abandoning his homebound post.

• • •

For the puzzled ones, there's a meaning behind a reason. An answer to a question. A cause pursuing the effect, and Miguel surely didn't expect any of it.

Even the most natural of ones can slip into the most foreign of fates.

>>Ch.2

#miguel o'hara #Spotify #Tales the Songs Weave #miguel x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #atsv #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderverse

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rivaille-13 · 7 months

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I know I should’ve been happy to see Captain Levi post-war but it doesn’t sit right with me. I am very glad to see another illustration of him—he looks toned and handsome, and mostly, he looks very capable of living useful.

What doesn’t sit right with me is the scenario. Is it still fan service to see Levi with kids he barely knew? There was never a connection among them. Gabi and Falco STILL have their parents. Their parents are the reason why they kept on fighting the war so that they could live a long life with them…and it is the same with Levi.

“Is it hope or despair his strength comes from?”

From the SNK exhibition, even before the events of Chapter 138, Levi’s tagline was a question of liege especially that he now lost Erwin. But it was finally answered that his strength comes from hope when desperately it was just two of them (Mikasa and Levi) battling the final war. It doesn’t need explanation, honestly, the way Levi’s eyes shone and the way he committed himself to Mikasa was a concrete evidence that he found himself another liege.

So that was one reason why it doesn’t sit right with me. Having Mikasa away from him, or maybe let’s put it in a gentle conclusion, having his squad (which is his family for many years) away from him in exchange for Gabi and Falco (which he barely knew) just because it resembled Furlan and Isabel? Come on…Levi isn’t that shallow.

Plus isn’t that Yelena I see over there? Does it sit still right that above all people he knew, he is here out with people he barely knew and put great damage to his life?

I’m so disappointed the way I was disappointed last 2021. The reason why a lot of RM shippers quit the fandom because of this bullshit. End events doesn’t make any sense.

#rivamika #リヴァミカ #levi and mikasa

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siccariushahni · 10 months

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GRIEVING.

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!Reader.

Wc: 1,5k

Disclaimer: Angst, mention of death, grief, good ending. If i forgot anything please let me know!

The heavy weight forming on your chest as you first stepped onto the HQ in the morning were almost an understatement, a heavy cloud of resentment and something more that you couldn't really say, maybe some type of presentment or apprehension; something felt so wrong and god knows what really was.

It seemed that everyone on the field knew what were happening but you. Everything seemed pale, lifeless, like if a silence vow have been made without your knowledgement. You didn't heard a single word from anyone, not even a chitter-chatter from afar, their expressionless faces rathering to look on the ground than to you.

Your paces were filled with uncertainty as you headed to Miguel's office, the infinity of empty corridors on your path made your already tight chest ache for any kind of answer. Where were everyone? God, it even looked like someone had.. died?

Everything stopped on that right moment, your throat became dry like a desert and something clicked on your head, suddenly it all made sense. Your fingers trembled with fear and worry with the slighest idea of what was actually happening. Your legs ached for a break as you ran towards the office's big doors, mustering all the remaining strength you had to open them. The sight of the empty plataform made your heart sink to your stomach and Lyla's apologetic eyes didn't made it any better.

'How could i forget about it?' You repeated it to yourself as a form of self-flagellation, today were the day where Gabi passed away, it was Miguel's fifth year without her but time didn't made it any easier and you knew that too well. You were the one who were supposed to take care of him on that exact day, like you did a year ago and the year before. You were the only one Miguel really allowed himself to trust, to show this side of him; all his vulnerability, his weaknesses and how he really blamed himself for what happened.

Unfortunately things this year weren't the same as before. It's been eight months since Miguel had broken up with you. His words still resonating on your chest, the guilt and the fear on this man's shoulders were something that corroded him from inside out. The incessant thought that he would be the reason of your inevitable fate haunted him every night; the fear of losing you, hurting you. He couldn't bear it. And lamentably there were nothing you could do to change his mind, not even all the kisses and reasurrement words you could give him, your eyes burned with just the mere reminder.

You quickly typped Miguel's cordinades on your gizmo, jumping on the wide open portal without a second thought.

"Wait-" Lyla called your name in a hush, her voice echoed on the background as you were transported to his flat, the one you two shared so much intimate moments. You had to brush all the remembrance away as your eyes darted around the room, all the lights were off. The darkness felt empty, it was harrowing.

"Miguel..?" You voice went like a whisper, the fear of being too loud and breaking something that didn't had repair. Something inside your old lover and his broke self.

Such careful steps, like the floor would break apart as a thin layer of ice in a frozen lake. You knew he were here, even if he pretended not. The sound of his broken heart resonated within you.

Something crashed inside you as you had finally reached his room. You would never see the man you love as a being who deserved pity, he would never want that. Knowing Miguel as much as you did he would rather be a dead man than someone who's seen like miserable; but even trying so much there wasn't other word to better describe the sight.

The usual big and imposing Miguel O'hara, the man who held the responsability of taking care of all the multiverse, so many lives, all the canon bullshit which he tried with all his might to maintain. Now lowered to the resemblance of a wounded animal.

The extremely large body shrunk in the corner of the room, the eyes who had looked at you with such passion on the past now were full of remorse; deep dark circles like you've never had seen on him, thick tears rolling down by his cheekbones and soaking his t-shirt. The lips you used to whisper sweet-nothing's against, to kiss so passionately, now quivered with such heavy sobs; the effort he made on trying to contain them were almost palpable. He held Gabriela's favorite cloth doll for dear life, pressing it against his chest; his claws unconsciously opening small holes on the thin fabric.

Every breath you took felt like a bunch of needles scratching inside of your lungs, it hurted like hell seeing the man you loved in such suffering, you really wished you could take his pain to yourself to free him of all that madness fate put him on. His eyes averted your face, maybe shame, longing, you couldn't say.

"It's okay.." the sweetness in your tone made him shudder, he craved your touch, your care, your embrace, you. The way only you managed to rid him off of his misery. How this poor man spent nights on trying to keep your smell on his things, how he missed the sound of your voice when talking to him, to wake up in the morning and seeing the sunrise kissing your soft skin while you kept dreaming. Oh poor, Miguel..

You expected him to push you, to hiss, to send you away at least to show how your presence was not desired here. But your walls came down as he settled himself between your legs, his immense trembling body trying to poorly hide on your small figure; your arms surrounded him so fast, holding him tight against your chest. "It's all my fault.." He stuttered between sobs, his voice so low and hoarse, almost like he stood screaming his pain away for hours now.

A hot little puddle formed in the chest of your suit, his tears touching your skin so softly that you couldn't bare to hold a cry, your emotions failed you on trying to be his strength. "I lost her and then you.. I failed you, I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.. " he trembled inside your arms, your grip on him just increasing.

A small kiss were placed on his forehead, your shaky hands caressing the nape of his neck so slowly as you poured your heart on every touch. "You could never loose me, Miggy. Never. I know that you did what you thought was better for me, for us. There's nothing to be sorry about." his grip on your suit so light, he didn't felt worthy of your forgiveness, or touching you, not after seeing how much you suffered because of his decisions.

His head snapped from your chest, his glossy eyes finally facing you after what seemed like years. His lips moving so uncertain of what his heart begged to be said. "I.. I love you, I-I'll never be able to not love. To look at you and not feel that I ruined everything. Gabi would've hated me for what I did to you-"

"Don't ever say that again." you interupted him, your lips pressed in a line as you tried to hold the tears back. "Don't ever dare to think she would hate you, she loved you until her last breath." his big hands came on top of yours, squeezing them so weakly as you tried to remain still. "Maybe you've made mistakes, but you don't deserve being punished like this. You're human, Miguel. You already learned what you needed to, you failed and then you fixed what you could. Please stop torturing yourself.."

You brushed back a lock that fell over his tired crimson eyes, your thumb caressing his features as your heart pleaded for you to remember every small detail that you may had forgot on this months apart. His eyes darted from yours to your slightly wounded lips. If only maybe he allowed himself to get closer to you, to kiss you.. God, how did you missed kissing him.

Your breath hitched as his lips brushed sweetly against yours, so close but at the same time so far. "I.." his words faltered. "Please.." he searched for any doubts on your eyes, on your words. You nodded absentmindedly, your thoughts went numb. You craved it for so long.

The tip of his tongue grazed your lower lip, a supplicate for entrance, to remember your lovely taste. Your eyes closed and your mouth slightly opened, a single shiver running down your spine as you molded yourselves into each other, so familiar. Suddenly the room feelt so small, there wasn't enough place for all the buried emotions.

Painfully you had to separate against your will, both lungs begging for oxygen, foreheads leaning against eachother. "Please, don't leave.." he placed his palm on your cheek, cuping your face so perfectly like you've been tailor made for him.

"I'll not.." his face returned to your chest, hiding itself while his body leaned on yours. Both of you stood there, between caresses and sweet words, until his crying stopped and he feel asleep on you, the ground never felt so good before.

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