#red light / mayday
Note
angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader
and then they make up yayayayay
Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete
✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.
✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.
✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k
✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…
Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!
You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.
“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”
He nods.
“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
He nods again.
“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”
“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”
“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.
“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”
He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…
“But Mig-”
“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”
He didn’t mean it like that.
“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.
“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.
You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.
You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.
The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.
How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?
This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.
And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.
You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.
You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.
“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.
“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.
“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.
“Yeah.” You huff.
“And… how are you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.
You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”
“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”
Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?
“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”
“Talk about romantic.”
“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”
“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”
“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.
“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”
“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.
“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”
“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.
You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”
“Bed.”
“(Y/n)-”
“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”
“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.
“You heard me.”
“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.
“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”
“(Y/n)-”
“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”
“I know.”
“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”
“I’m… I’m so sorry.”
“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”
You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”
“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.
“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”
He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.
“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”
“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.
“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”
“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.
“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”
“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.
“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”
You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.
© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.
#x reader#x female reader#fluff#angst#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara#spider man x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman x y/n#spider man across the spider verse#spider man 2099#spiderverse#spider man x y/n#spider man x you#spiderman x reader
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Honey-Sweet
Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.
Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)
A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest
You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.
You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.
You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.
It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.
But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.
But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t.
So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.
He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.
He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.
He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.
But.
As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.
“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.
He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.
And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you.
But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.
Not at all.
Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.”
Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.
And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.
You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die.
“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue.
It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears.
He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.
He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy.
You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch.
“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show.
“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.
Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“
“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“
And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it.
“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of “fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.
He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.
The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.
How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?
From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.
Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.
You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.
There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke.
When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.
You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?”
And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.
Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.
It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.
You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.
#yeah so#i wrote this in a TRANCE#want this man to throw me around like a ragdoll#can you tell that im ovulating#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#across the spiderverse fic#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x reader
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Walking on Sunshine
A/N: Hello✨ I realize that my post about Miguel’s height kinda blew up and I kinda wanna try writing a quick little blurb to see if you guys will like it. I been wanting to dove into fanfics, but I’ve been too scared to do so. Please leave some critics for me as I literally just typed this little thing on my phone last night.
Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, established relationship? (It’s kinda up to interpretation how deep you want it to be), no use of Y/n (‘Sunny’ is there nickname’).
I haven’t seen the movie so this maybe inaccurate.
TDLR: Miles is meeting all sorts of new Spider-Men as he adventures the Lobby, but who is ‘Sunny’?
—————————————-
As Gwen led Miles around the Lobby with Hobie and Jessica, they reached the main area where they were set to meet the leader.
In the distance, the group can hear arguing, which causes the others to sigh as Miles looks to them in confusion.
“Um, what’s all that about?” Miles questions as he listens more closely as they head towards the noise. As they draw closer, he realizes that the argument sounded more like a deep masculine voice fuming while a softer voice attempts to calm them down.
Jessica chuckles and rolls her eyes. “It’s nothing, most likely Sunny trying to calm down our fearless leader.”
“Sunny?” Miles quirks an eyebrow as Hobie groans.
“I swear, if Sunny wasn’t here, I would have thrashed that prick by now.”
“Now, Hobie, you know Sunny wouldn’t let that happen.” Jessica chuckles as she rubs her aching back. “Besides, you know he can’t stay mad at her for long.”
“Um Excuse me,” Miles interjects, clearly annoyed that they ignored him. “Who is this Sunny? Is she another Spider-Woman or?”
Gwen giggles at Miles’ frustration and nudges him. “Sunny is one of us and Miguel’s favorite, so if you plan to piss off Miguel, make sure Sunny is there to calm him down.”
“Why would I plan to-“
His sentence gets interrupted as the door opens and someone peeks their head out. The woman was about the same height as Gwen and had on a black spider suit. The suit had sections of white on her chest and inner sides of her arms and thighs. The lines of her costume appear to be black with a faint green iridescent in the light. Her eyes shined with a silent apology as her cheeks glowed red. Despite her obvious embarrassment, she smiles at the group brightly.
“Hey, guys.” She greets them in a sweet tone before her eyes lock on Miles. “I see you brought in the legendary Miles Morales, Gwen.”
“You know who I am?” Miles questioned the woman as she opened the door for the group. His eyes glare at Gwen as she responds with a giggle.
“Of course, Gwen told me all about your inter dimensional adventure. You certainly handled yourself well. Even Miggy was impressed.”
Hobie and Jessica laugh at the mention of the nickname while Gwen at least attempts to try not to snort. Sunny tilts her head as she looks quizzically at the laughing trio while Miles looks dumbfounded.
“Whose Miggy?” He ask before a tall man appears on the platform above them.
His burgundy eyes glared down at the group with annoyance as he sighs. “Cariño…”
Sunny looks up at Miguel with an innocent smile as she looks at Miguel with eager anticipation. Miles’ watches as the intimating Spider-Man’s eyes soften as he places his hands on his hips.
“Why don’t you go meet Peter and babysit Mayday for him? I’m sure this meeting won’t take too long.” Miguel’s voice sounded stoic as Sunny’s energy bounced at the thought of playing with a baby.
“Okay!” She agrees as she quickly gives everyone either a hug or a pat. “And Miggy?” She calls as she shoots a web out of the open door, ready for her quick escape.
“Yes?” He answers with a lifted brow as he chooses to ignore Gwen, finally snorting out a laugh.
“Don’t.” She warns with pleading eyes with an unspoken request.
A silent argument playing between them as they both know what’s about to happen. An unfair choice about to be given to a kid. A choice that everyone else had to make in order to become the protectors of their worlds. A judgement that they both wish didn’t have to happen as they weren’t even given the option for their own loved ones.
She looks at Miles briefly as she knows he can’t help to make this life changing decision. She knows how this is probably gonna go and she doesn’t blame him. She would probably fight her hardest if she had known what would have happened to her-.
“I won’t.” Miguel answers, drawing her attention back on him. His eyes stern with a glimmer of guilt, knowing he can’t exactly promise that he will stay in control of his rage if Miles decides to run.
“Alrighty.” Sunny replied before smiling. “You guys have fun.”
With that she left, Miguel softly returning her smile as he watch her leave before becoming stern again as Miles asks,
“So how do I join this team?”
——————-
A/N: That’s all I got for now.😅. I would appreciate some critique and if you wanna see more of ‘Sunny’ and Miggy, let me know.
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#spiderman into the spiderverse#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman
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Okay but…
Miguel’s on a mission, Gabi and Benji are out of the house, leaving mommy alone for some me time, that she spends with her hand down inside her panties.
She gets so into it, moaning and bucking (it’s been a bit since the two of them had done anything) that she doesn’t notice Miguel had entered the house….
Do with this information what you will
Well, yeah. Mama deserves a me time too 🥴🥴 Smut undercut. Lil bit of Dom! Miguel.
Times like these would suppose a relaxation period for you. You could go shopping, treat yourself with something, you deserved it. Being a mother wasn't exactly easy, and it was kinda rare when you had time for yourself cause one way or another, you'd be worrying over your role.
Miguel was at work, the kids were out. Gabi in her soccer practice, and Benjamin at Peter's playing with Mayday some board games. And you... You just sighed.
Boredom often lived in your head whenever you had nothing to do. You always needed to have your hands busy, house was already clean. An idea popped in your mind. Your feet took you to the bedroom, and you scourged through that special little drawer that hadn't seen the light in months.
Pulling out a key, you unlocked it, revealing neatly folded lingerie, along some little toys. A bullet like discreet vibrator, a couple of lubes, a small bdsm kit you still hadn't opened yet, since you wanted to use it with Miguel. And of course lingerie you still hadn't the confidence to wear.
But it was your chance. Since none was home, your clothes were discarded, and you tried the first one. Red Baby doll with an electric blue g string. It barely covered anything, and you could see your nipples through the red mesh fabric. Miguel said it was one of his favorites because of how bouncy your ass looked back in the dressing room.
Ah, your husband. You still wondered how such a fine and grumpy man had snatched you away for himself. He was hot, undoubtedly, but his way of carry on things were the actual spark that made you want him. The way cursing words flew out of his mouth in that rich spanish, made you swoon.
Thighs rubbed together upon you remembering how possessive and angry he was. How delicious his anger felt between your legs, how big he was to the point of you feeling he was swallowing your body like a black hole.
Your mouth sighed.
The next set was just a little butterfly thong with the crotch open, perfect for a good rile up. The butterfly design in the back cupped your ass gently. It was kind of curious and funny, how well he knew your body. Cause every set you tried just enhanced your body shape. Your nipples went hard at the sudden though of him, touching you, exploring your body, your hands trailing over where he would.
Light pieces of clothing rolling off thighs and torso. You laid on the middle of the bed, legs spreading, heat pooling at the soft caresses your hands delivered. God, you wished he'd be here. You'd certainly give him a show, but the only thing you could do was to wait for him to arrive home. Hands rubbed your inner thighs.
It was unavoidable to not think in that night, you liked when he was angry, cause his cock reached places you didn't know you could feel and get pleasure from. His hands had folded you in half, and you rubbed softly at your clit. Dragging slow lazy circles on it.
You loved every time he knocked the air out of your lungs, sheathing inside you, and stretching your insides, that as he said; were made specially for him.
Your legs trembled as your slit squished, slick in your need. One of your hands toyed with your breast, twirling your nipple between your fingers, as the other kept stimulating around your clit, teasing yourself. Just like Miguel would.
Whining, you smothered your legs together, edging yourself, trying to make it last. You breathed as heat spreaded through your body. If he was here, he'd be eating you out like a starved man.
But he wasn't.
Another needy whine. If he was here he'd surely be massaging your insides with his fingers, luring a wet orgasm from within. But again, He wasn't.
Your rubbings were desperate, your other hand squeezed your breast. But there was nothing that actually matched him. Not even the toys you had. Sure they were fun, but feeling him, going deep inside, his back flexing at the exertion, you scratching him, felt too real, too good and definitely you were needing it.
"Having fun?" The reason of your current desperate state leaned against the doorframe, watching with hazy eyes the scene unfolding before him.
"M-Miguel-"
"Shh. No te dengas." (Keep going)
He laid down, next to you, a look you knew all too well. He cupped your cheek softly and kissed your forehead.
"Hands off"
"But I'm-"
"Sin. Manos." (Hands off)
His tone firm, as he sat before you to take a better look of what he just provoked. Hands rested on your side, breathings erratic and needy. Legs weak
"That bad huh?" He shook his head with a smirk
"I need to..." You swallowed and tried to pull him to you, but he shook his head.
"No, no." You whined and plopped on your elbows, supporting your torso on them.
"Open up." He commanded and your hand went immediately on the outer folds, a little squish as you parted them with your fingers.
He hummed in approval. His thumb ghosting over your tiny bundle of nerves, but removed it before you could lift your hips and make any sort of contact, a smug smile in his lips
"Tócate" (Touch yourself)
Your nimble fingers stroked your own flesh, fast and a little too rough, trying to seek that heat you were melting into before he arrived.
"Hands off" You whined in frustration, but obeyed.
"Stop teasing!" Your voice at the verge of tears
A light slap on your soaked pussy shut you up, your hips bucked and you whimpered.
"Again. Touch yourself. Pero hazlo lento." ( Do it slowly)
The soft friction in your folds curled up your toes, fingertips dragged slow circles, his hands spreaded you a bit further, giving him a full view of you.
"Así, muy bien, preciosa." (Like that, very good)
You groaned, the pooling warmth spreaded through your body. Your free hand covered your mouth but he tapped it away.
"¿Quieres parar?" (You wanna stop?) You shook your head, fingers still caressing your clit. You had recognized the little threat in his tone.
"Then fucking do as you're told, open up. Need to hear you."
Your fingers left the caress away and once more you spreaded your flesh for him. He licked his lips at the sight. Your body trembled, the edging chipping your patience away. Two of his fingers dipped in, earning a shaky moan.
"M-Miguel!"
You croaked as he moved them ever slowly inside you. your hips bucking on his hand but he stopped.
"No." He warned and you stilled.
"Goddammit Miguel, please!"
Another light slap on your pussy, this one sent electric jolts through your legs as you sobbed.
"¿Qué te dije?" (What did I say?)
"No" You whispered, holding the sheets tightly, he was torturing.
"Again."
You shook your head and he frowned
"Uno" (One)
Still no hands on yourself.
"Dos" (Two)
Your hands went to your cunt again, he smirked
He guided your two fingers inside your pussy. The intrusion sending a little chill down your spine.
"Despacio" (Slow)
He warned as he pushed your fingers in and out, you followed, matching his speed. You cooed as he kissed your temple
"Un poco más rápido, preciosa" (A little faster)
His hot breath fanning over your ear and neck, your hand obeyed. The heat was on again, a knot forming in your lower belly. Moanings turned into breathless 'Oohs' and 'aahs' that escaped your lips at every chance they could
"Más adentro, mi amor." (Deeper, baby)
Your fingers were as deep as they could, reaching that sweet spot he loved bullying his cock into.
"No pares, preciosa" (Don't stop)
His voice didn't help. His lips nipping your earlobe, didn't help.
"Miguel" You voice an octave pitch higher. You were close. Breath caught on your throat as the imminent bliss loomed over you, stalking it's way to the brink.
"¿P-Puedo? ¿Por favor? " (Can I? Please?)
"Claro que sí, mi vida. Vente para mi." (Of course darling. Cum for me.)
Your spine finally arched as fire licked you raw. Your toes curled up, insides spasmed, you almost forgot how to breath for a moment. Fingers trapped in the contractions of your inner muscles, slowly releasing them. He licked them clean and then kissed you, a loving smile plastered in his face.
"Good girl."
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#soccer family ⚽🕷️#miguel o'hara smut#t writes✨#atsv smut#spiderman 2099 smut
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мιgυel o'нara х F!reader
◥︎ 『 coғғee ︎pт.1 』︎ ◣
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ѕυммary ➞︎ yoυ вrιng мιgυel coғғee тo нelp нιм тнroυgн a long worĸ nιgнт
warnιngѕ ➞︎ none
noтeѕ ➞︎ part 2 is up ❤︎
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The evening air was so dry in the summer, and the silence that invited itself into the coffee room buried deep in your skin. The tiles felt cold under your slippers, the setting sun stealing the heat and light from every inch of the room.
You let out a harsh breath, pouring the deep brown liquid into the two cups, staining the white glass with caffeine and steam.
You, Jess, and Peter B had made an agreement since your involvement in the Spider Society had started.
Miguel’s workaholism caused long periods of time, sometimes days, where he wouldn’t even leave his lair, chest deep in his own mind and perfectionism. You all initially believed that his inhumane attributes gave him the stamina to last weeks without rest, but after catching him in deep sleep on his own computer, you realized the goliath wasn’t, in fact, invincible.
So, like any good friends (although Miguel never really used those terms), you took shifts bringing him coffee. With the mugs, Peter and Mayday brought him laughter (all of which was their own, but there wasn’t an indication he didn’t appreciate it), Jess brought him a tough love and a listening ear that fueled his work and you…
Well you weren’t sure what you offered.
You never left without a conversation- and maybe a little coffee yourself. Sometimes he would explain whatever anomaly had taken his attention for the hour, or he would stay silent, listening to you talk about your own day, slightly less exhausting but much more exciting.
Most times, however, you’d give him his coffee, and without saying much, he would look at you.
You are convinced more and more each time that, years ago, his eyes were more brown than they were red. Deep bronze like the color of the coffee in his cup. Younger than they are now. Maybe it was his exhaustion seeping through his irises, but something in the way he looked at you…it felt softer.
Kinder.
You shook off the image as your slippers padded against the hallway marble, the once lively hub now hushed to an empty whisper.
Jess had gone to her universe, undoubtedly resting her weary body, and Peter B eagerly ran home to his beloved red-heads. Homes filled, endlessly, with reunions, warm meals and kisses doused in exhaustion and a love unique to them.
You were happy for them, but you would be lying if you told yourself that you weren’t envious.
Quietly, secretly, you much preferred the hub over your own home, it’s thrum of life filling the emptiness of your crammed apartment. It was depressing to go home to silence after a day of action, which meant many nights you slept in your office, feigning the stress of work and battles to avoid questions from your peers.
You stepped over stray wires and scraps of metal, amongst other abandoned equipment you were sure meant something, once. The dark room was illuminated in neon, flashing lights pulsing across the floor and ceiling.
His gigantic platform came into view, hovering over the pitch floor. The familiar sight of him, surrounded by yellow holograms, greeted your eyes with a brightness that made you squint, vision adjusting to the light.
You caught the butt-end of a conversation, Lyla glitching around his head with attitude. You kept your mouth shut, a little curious to hear their idle chat.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Miguel said, flatly.
“Don’t play stupid, I’m an incredibly intelligent A.I. I know fondness when I see it.”
“She brings me coffee- that’s all.”
You paused, muscles tense and the suggestion that they were talking about you.
“I don’t know Miguel~. Peter B and Jess do the same and you aren’t as soft with them.”
“I am not soft!”
“Sure, sure.”
Lyla’s hologram stuttered, and she suddenly focused you. Even from far below, you recognized her mischievous grin.
“Well, I’m feeling awfully tiered. It’s very late y’know! I’ll just let you do your thing!”
“But you don’t-“ Miguel followed her line of sight. He looked down at you with surprise, and you sent him an awkward wave through the cup handle.
“Bye!” Lyla’s drawn out y’s echoed even as she disappeared, Miguel’s hand swiping at the air before she vanished.
He let out a harsh sigh, and you slung up to his platform, handing him a cup. He looked at you again, that faint brown sparkling clearer tonight.
Strange.
“Thank you.”
You nodded, leaning against his table.
“Long night again?” You asked, thumb tracing the smooth glass of the handle.
Miguel nodded, letting another exhausted sigh escape his chest. “Yes.”
You waited for more, but it never came, Miguel shifting near awkwardly as he clicked on the screens with his free hand.
You nodded slowly, taking a sip of your cup. You shuddered, unfamiliar with the pure caffeine. You looked down at your cup, dark brown looking back.
Oh shit.
You watched in short-lived anticipation as he took a sip of your cup. He’s face scrunched in surprise, as if the sweetness of sugar and cream was completely foreign to him.
He looked at you, the red in his eyes more prominent now. Your cheeks strained, but soon the ballon of laughter burst from your chest.
It bounced off the dark walls, echoing around the both of you. You closed your eyes, squeezing out tears as you gripped his desk, laughter shaking your core.
When you regained yourself, you slowly sat up, wiping your wet cheeks and grinning ear to ear. You sighed, small laughs residing with your quickened breath.
“Oh, Miguel you should’ve see your-“
You stopped.
Miguel was smiling.
Well, in the generous sense of the word. Although it wasn’t bright like Peter B’s or gentle like Jess, it was genuine. His eyes crinkled, his lips drawn into a gentle upturn, highlighting his dimples.
Your shocked face must have startled it, because it quickly disappeared, now taught in a hardened, neutral line.
You smiled at him empathetically, slightly guilty you had embarrassed him. You reached out your hand, beckoning your drink.
“Here…let’s switch.”
You fingers brushed at the exchange, and you blushed, the warmth of his skin penetrating your own. If he noticed, he didn’t let it show, taking a quiet sip of his flavorless, bitter coffee.
An awkward silence fell over the two of you, agonizingly different from the laughter just seconds before.
You were beginning to think that he really only was fond of you because you brought him coffee. Sure, you had polite conversation but it never really passed surface level. Not to mention you always initiated it. Maybe Miguel was just playing along, desperately waiting for you to leave him to his work and study.
You sighed, your tone possibly letting on to more than you would’ve liked. You stood, flexing your legs and taking a sip from your cooling coffee, ready to breathe air that wasn’t so endlessly stiff.
“Why- why do you drink coffee with so much sweetness in it?”
You paused, looking at Miguel with surprise. He’d never asked you a question like that. A question about you.
“I uh- well,” you laughed a little bit, still a little startled at the sudden interjection, “black coffee is too bitter for me. The sugar and cream lets me enjoy it.”
“But coffee is meant to energize you, you aren’t supposed to enjoy it.”
You lifted a skeptical brow. “That’s a pretty serious take, don’t you think?”
Miguel paused, lips pressed together in thought before he replied, “I’m a serious guy.”
You laughed, a little quieter now, leaning back onto the table. But this time, closer to him. If you were paying attention, the way his eyes looked at your new position might of told you he noticed.
“I gathered.”
Silence fell over the two of you like a weighted blanket. But now, you had hope that he might want this conversation to continue. That he liked it- you.
“How about this Mr. Serious,” you leaned in, “I’ll give your black coffee another shot if you do the same for my sugar and cream.”
He scoffed, but when the corners of his mouth quirked up you knew the proposition interested him- if only a little bit.
“Absolutely not. I already did try it.”
“First impressions aren’t always accurate, y’know.” You shook your mug, the light brown liquid creating a small whirlpool.
“Try it? For me?”
He glanced at you, and although you thought yourself educated on his eyes and their looks, you were stumped by this one. It was entirely alien to you- there was something in it that you couldn’t place.
You liked it.
He let out a sigh, and held his hand out. You grinned, taking his mug and swapping it for your own.
You both took a sip, and you forced yourself not to wrinkle your nose.
His coffee was extremely bitter- as close as coffee could get to the bean. If his scowl and general demeanor was grown and grind into a beverage, his drink of choice is what it would taste like.
However, it was extremely warm. Somehow it hadn’t cooled off in the fifteen minutes since you had poured it. It’s bitter bliss seeped down your throat and made home in your chest. It was almost calming.
You opened your eyes, surprised to be as content as you were with the drink.
You glanced at Miguel, whose lips were pulled into a tight line. His brows were drawn in thought, eyes glimmering in the hologram light.
“Well?” You asked, rocking on your heels.
“You first.”
You paused, running your tongue over you teeth to remember. “It was a bit gross. But honestly? No bad.”
He nodded, and sighed. “Yours wasn’t….bad either.”
You gasped, a wide smile spreading across your face in stunned victory. “So you liked it.”
“I never said that.” He said, narrowing his brows.
You raised yours. “Didn’t have too.”
He shook his head, handing you the coffee mug. You looked at him as if to ask are you sure? To which he rolled his eyes and pushed it closer to your chest.
You sighed, taking his cup and swapping mugs for the last time. When you looked up at him, sending him a gentle smile, you noticed a thin line of cream that lined his dark lips. You stifled your laughter, stepping forward to a clueless and confused Miguel.
“What are you-“
“Stay put, you have a little-“
You brought your hand up to his face, cradling is course skin under your palm. Your movement stuttered, just for a moment, savoring the feeling of his rough jaw.
You lifted a gentle thumb, your touch but a whisper on his skin as wiped the sweetness from his upper lip. Contrary to his jaw, his lips were soft under your print, molding to your movement with ease.
You imagine they’d taste like coffee.
You paused, your eyes drifting from his lips to his eyes. When they met yours, they were the softest brown you’d ever remember seeing them. It could be how close you were, feeling his slow breath on your nose. It could be how small, short the moment was, catching his facade in a moment of weakness.
But you think, hopefully, foolishly, that it might be how good it felt- to be this close.
You drew your hand away, still staring at the warmth. You settled yourself on the floor, holding your cup with both hands, the once steaming glass now a cold comparison to his face.
“You…you had some cream left on your face.” You laughed weakly, your gaze looking to the side. “I didn’t want Lyla to make fun of you.”
You paused, uncomfortable with the silence your created.
“Sorry.”
Miguel stared at you for a moment, with that same glimmer you couldn’t quite place. He cleared is throat, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips.
“It’s- okay…I-“ He paused, eyes finding your again, “thank you.”
He had whispered, speaking as though if he has said it any louder he would’ve scared you away. It was so- gentle compared to the gruffness of his voice. Warm.
The silence that followed was completely novel from the past dips in conversation. It was full of tension, thick and suffocating. It felt as if you had swallowed cement, every breath trapped in your collarbone and buried in your throat.
You stepped back, your vision so deep in his own- their intensity making it feel as though there wasn’t anything else to look at. Even in their softer colors, they were so deeply overwhelming it felt like they had woken something visceral in you. It wasn’t fear, or terror-
It was fondness.
“Well- I think I need to get my own rest,” you tore your gaze from his, setting your coffee down on the table next to him, “I won’t be needing this- I don’t want caffeine dreams. You’re welcome to finish it- now that you like it. A little.”
You smiled up at him, the thrum of your heart and the heat of your breath tickling your skin.
“Goodnight, Miguel.”
His chest rumbled, preparing to speak, before he sighed quietly and quickly, another genuine smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Goodnight.”
You took one last look at the brown- intimate and tailored to yours. One look at the coffee cups, different in every sense but comforting none the less.
One look at the man who may have just given you the home you’d been envious of.
As you slung off into the the void, you smiled at it all, welcoming the shudders of warmth that pooled in your stomach at the revelation.
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The next morning, you woke up in your office yet again, the early morning chill crawling up your spine and beckoning you to wake.
The first thing your eyes were met with was your mug, matte in the morning light.
It was empty, a yellow note rested under it.
I didn’t want it to go to waste.
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Part 2
#across the spiderverse#fanfiction#into the spider verse#spiderverse itsv#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x reader#spiderverse atsv#fanfic#fanfics#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara x you#atsv miguel#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara
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lovers’ spat, part i
miggy is an oblivious overworking idiot and fails to see you’ve had a bad day. he eventually makes up for it, though. (there will be a smut follow-up)
warnings: no smut (yet). just some nice angst (the girls are fightinggggg hehehe)
it starts with a missed alarm. then a sip of too-hot coffee burning your tongue. being late to work, getting yelled at by your boss, then by a client and finally by some randomon the fucking street when you’re walking home and he’s catcalling you and you refuse to look his way.
so yeah. it’s been a shit day.
but you’ve opened a portal to nueva york, you’re close to hq and you know migs will be inside and ready to take care of you. so all hope is not lost. yet. you burst through the double doors, half-sprinting to the elevator to reach his…lair? office is too mild for it, really. (eh, miguel’s a moody guy. it fits his vibe.)
you’re just about to walk in but you’re stopped by the call of your name paired with a babbling baby behind you. twisting to see the top of mayday’s head disappear behind him, you watch as peter b walks towards you with a grimace on his face and purple blooming under his eyes.
“are you…alright? you look a bit rough.” it sounds funny as you say it - take one look in the fucking mirror and you’d be saying it to yourself - but you can’t stop yourself from asking. he does look tired. and upset. which is entirely unlike him, but they do say parenthood is an adjustment. plus, it can’t be easy balancing being a spider and a dad and a journalist all at the same time. an offer to babysit bubbles in your mouth but stops at him shaking his head with a wry grin.
“today’s been rough. to be honest, i doubt miguel’s gonna be able to see you right now - we just caught an anomaly who stopped a canon event. he’s dealing with the fallout.” he’s speaking slowly, like he’s placating a child or dog. your frown must be obvious, because he starts chuckling nervously and follows up with a “but i’m sure he can work it out! goodnight!” before he’s swinging away - typical of a man who loves setting fires but never knows quite what to do with the ashes.
so now you’re stomping into miguel’s office, tearing through the tranquility of silence as you scowl at the raised platform and squint through the frankly shitty lighting. the sound of his fingers on the keyboard halts, and you think you hear him take a deep breath before his voice rings out.
“‘m busy, cariño. be home late tonight. don’t wait up.”
and it’s the way he says it, the irritation and annoyance glinting in his monotone words that has you seeing red, until your fingers are clenched in fists and your teeth are bared in the direction of his stupid, stupid platform. (you’d rip it apart with your bare hands if you could. why can’t he just work on the floor like a normal person? fucking medieval villain much? why don’t you just menacingly twiddle your thumbs and mwahaha while coming down then. idiot.)
you’re barely thinking straight, fury sparking in your veins and thrumming in your blood as you rip off a sandal and chuck it in the vague direction of the stupid thing. it’s not like you can tell, because your migraine and miguel’s shitty decor seem to have teamed up to fucking impair your vision and why in the fuck did he have to blow you off tonight of all nights-
your heel clunks against the metal, clattering to the ground with a pathetic thud. a sharp intake of his breath through his nose - loud enough to let you know he’s pissed - and therecomes the creaking of the dumb thing being lowered, inch by inch. you wait as the top of his head appears, hair standing in all directions and you just know he’s been doing that thing he does absentmindedly where he runs his hands through it over and over when he’s focused. and normally it’s cute but right now you just want to scream at him or walk away and you’re not quite sure which one to lean towards. and then he comes into view, eyes narrowed and fists clenched, hands stiff by his sides while he…frowns at you? lunging off the platform, he crouches to pick up your shoe before stalking over in your direction, glaring down at you.
“por qué joder harías eso?” he’s snarling now, jaw tensing with the effort it takes for him to spit the words at you. it makes you flinch, the forceful weight of his words and his tone and the way he’s towering over you like you’re one of those anomalies he hunts and something in your chest just cracks at the sight. straightening your spine, you curl your fingers around his to snatch back your shoe before slipping it on.
“qué esperabas? what did you expect, miguel? that i come here after a long day to find out again, for the billionth fucking time that my husband is too busy fighting something new-because there is always something new-to so much as look at me when he basically tells me to fuck off.”
eyes wild, your chest heaves as you meet his fierce look with one of your own. you can see him processing what you said, guilt flashing in his eyes for a split second before it’s replaced by concern. you can see him softening, reaching out - but you don’t want it right now. don’t quite know what to do with the sudden care in his eyes just moments after he was being so dismissive towards you. and if you’re honest - after the day you’ve had, it’s easier to cling to the venom coating your next words than it is to give into however the fuck he’s planning on fixing the situation.
“vete a la mierda, miguel. don’t come home tonight.”
and with that, you walk out.
you make it three steps before lyla pops up, wincing at the tears already spilling down your cheeks. you’re scrambling for your watch, fumbling your way through portalling home to curl up in bed. you can distantly tell she’s cooing something at you, placating and warm, but you’re too far gone to hear it; the AI too much of a reminder of miguel for your comfort. a wave of your hand through her hologram and a stumble through the portal, and she’s gone too.
well, fuck. that couldn’t have gone worse.
v excited to continue this one. as always, thanks for reading, comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day<3
taglist: @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis (hey pal), @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @pertinentpostmortem
i know most of y’all didn’t sign up for miggy content so let me know if u wanna be tagged only in pedro works. divider by the amazing @cafekitsune.
#miguel atsv smut#atsv miguel#atsv#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara#dom miguel o'hara#miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel o' hara x reader#miguel o' hara x reader fluff#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x reader#migeul o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader fluff#miguel ohara x you#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o' hara fluff#miguel o' hara smut#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#astv miguel#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel 2099#sm 2099#miguel o’hara angst#miguel ohara angst#spiderman atsv#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara smut
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Miguel smol shy!innocent!wife!reader fills my mind♡
She crochet cute things for Miguel like, PINK CUTE THINGS FOR HIM TO WEAR, and if she sees that he is not using them she will make that cute cry baby face and Miguel will immediately rush to wear any of the cute things to make her happy:3
cw. fluff, gn!reader, miggy being love sick, slightly suggestive at the end *not proofread, just pure brainrot
[ABSOLUTELY LOVE THE REQS FOR MIGGY X WIFE!READER]
yknow like those leaf sprout things you can attach onto headphones?
yea reader making matching ones for everyone
everyone gets a designated colour bc yes
miguel is red, peter is mint green, miles is maroon, gwen is powder blue, pav is golden yellow, hobie is violet, jess is navy, mj is apricot
mayday gets a headband with a light orange sprout
I can imagine reader seeing the headphones still in the box that they gave to him and getting pouty
miguel always reassures you that he does in fact use them just not that often
at least seeing the kids wear them makes them happy
internally he's bawling his eyes out bc you're just so cute with the little things you do and make and it makes his heart swell
it makes his dick swell too but let's save that for another hc post 🤭🤭
#bubbly speaks <3#ash answers#bubbly writes <3#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader smut#miguel o'hara imagines#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara headcanons#miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#spiderverse x you#spiderverse x reader#spiderverse#spiderverse x y/n
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The spiderverse men when they accidentally fall asleep on top of you (Drabbles)
Tag list: @alliwriteistrash
Rating: 18+, Angst, Hurt/comfort
Peter B Parker
For everything Mayday gives Peter in joy and love, she takes back tenfold in his sleep schedule. She’s a time sponge on top of that, changing her diapers and getting her to eat. Then suddenly three hours will have passed, Peter’s unconsciously shaken tiredness all together from his body. Half a cup of coffee surely helps, but the lower lids of his eyes pulling down to his cheeks. As black circles both of his eyes, and somehow he only notices when you point it out to him.
Although you don’t consider your relationship as serious. You don’t mind helping him out with Mayday by doing the shopping for him or watching her for a few hours. He appreciates it every time. And when silence envelops his home, you know it’s when Mayday is fast asleep in her red and black crib.
After a few moments of the quiet being born, you hear Peter gently crushing the rug of the hallway with his feet. Making sure to keep Mayday’s door open, he walked over one door down on the right. To where you laid on the right side of his bed. The newly born moonlight just started to cut through the room. The Spears of light pass by the glass of the window on the furthest wall from the mattress.
As the night lights unfeelingly pierce your skin, the mattress laid bare on top of the rugged floors. He hasn’t exactly had time to set up his own room. All that keeps you two warm is your bodies and your own blankets. A new blue silk one in contrast to his somewhat worn, crimson fluffy one. As said blue silk was pulled up just above your hips.
You spot Peter somewhat dozed off on the side of his door frame, you sit up by your elbow on his side of the bed. Only remembering to whisper halfway through your line of words, “Hey Peter, come on get some sleep-“
Right as you finished, before you could scoot over to your side of the mattress. Peter had wordlessly closed the distance between himself and the bed. Tumbling on his side to your side, planting himself like a human blanket on top of you. You almost try to get his attention, but his snoring tenderly rumbled against your chest.
His hair sweeps against your chin, his heart making a beautiful beat against your own. In a beautiful rhythm beside one another. You simply smile, planting a kiss on his scalp. Turning off the lamp light also propped on the rug beside your heads. Casting the room in further darkness.
“Good night Peter.” You pull yourself further down between Peter’s body and the cushion of the mattress. Spelling the nights end for you two.
Miguel O’Hara
You two haven’t been alone in weeks, and it felt like years. It showed in the desperate but small claw marks and bruises dotting his favorite parts of your body. Your bedroom itself held the past couple of hours like a ghost. No longer alive but certainly still there. Your bare bodies were covered by dry sweat. Dirtying the silk sheets further than they’ve already been by your previous activities.
After the soreness in down the middle of your hips dissipated enough for you to stand. You push the sheets off of you, as Miguel’s gorgeously sculpted back stared at you getting up. Presuming he was asleep you try to get up and shower. Only by pressing weight on your thighs did you feel a stiff ache under your skin.
Immediately you’re back off your legs, the bottoms of your feet abruptly pulled from his wooden floors “Ah- Miguel!” You cried out semi-defiantly.
His arms aggressively swaddled around you, burying you under himself on your side of the bed. The bridge of his nose rested against the left side of your neck. His very chest dominates yours as it sinks you further past the surface of the mattress. In vain you try to wiggle out from under him. But his the weight of his soft muscles pushes you against the sheets.
He immediately pretends to fall asleep, you grunted in his ear “Miguel get up! I should shower!” He groaned against your jawline “Five more minutes…” he forgot to end his sentence with something to convince you. But he figured the six foot, muscular Mexican Irishmen on top of you would be enough of an argument.
You can’t help but find his whines adorable, despite him not giving you a choice. You grumble inside your throat still attempting to push him off. But his persistence grows, funneling his bulky arms between your back and the bed. Tying himself around your visage further, like quicksand the more struggle made your fate harder to escape. A huff proceeding a fourth futile effort. Made you properly sink down into your shared bed, you felt his shit eating grin along the brim of your face.
Your pouting will always be loved by him, even as it’s against him. Giving in, the warm bubble of his body heat sets in around you. He’s the best weighted blanket you’ve ever had. How he strolls his fingers against a small patch of your skin, and bumps his toes against yours. Alongside the drumming of rain against the wall of glass lining the left side of the room. Giving way to a foggy and comfy view of Neuva York.
The gentle grey of fog sewed tightly against the skyscrapers of the city. The honking, bustle, and tussle of usual city life was muffled by the aggression of the storm. Things went on as usual, but with a tangible slowness now. Created by the rainfall, all the while building a song for itself when its raindrops pounded against your home. Catching a whiff of Miguel’s dark auburn locks upon taking in nature’s rhythm.
You know the depths of his Miguel’s walls in his mind, and everywhere else besides his home. Here he cries, laughs, smiles, holds you, and says what he feels. Anomalies as far as everyone else in his life is concerned. However for you, there’s nothing he wouldn’t overcome in the world and in himself to have you here. So you can’t help but relent.
“Fine. Five more minutes.” You surrendered, he hummed appreciatively.
Hobie Brown
It was after a big concert, the cheering and roaring of millions still permeated in your mind. There cries and shouting branding itself into your brain. You’ve never endured such an adrenaline spike before. Your hearts still cooling off after the high. You never knew someone could feel like this without drugs.
The back of hobies head was sandwiched in between the giant coils of his hair and your lap. His legs kicked up on the furthest couch arm with his shoes off. He was in his black pajama shorts with his shirt off. The aroma of his cologne swimming around your nose as he closed his head.
“Your first concert aye? How ya like it?” You took a deep breath, you definitely weren’t conflicted. It was amazing, almost as much as he was. But it was hard to put into words. “I can’t explain it, but it was great. I’d happily go to more.” He smiled in response.
By the slowness of his tone you could tell he was getting sleepy. The crowd surfing alone would knock the wind out of anyone. But with the performance he put on, by how hard he exercised his lungs to hit the notes. His voice will need a break in order to not have to scratch and claw out of his neck.
So you understand why he didn’t keep the conservation going. You both just pleasantly stayed in the domestic quiet of his apartment. His other bandmates were already past out in there rooms. Hobie was truly a different breed of man. He could preform for hours and hours on end, blasting apart his mind and body for the sake of his music alone. Sure the money was good, great even. But in how he acted and how he spoke that wasn’t what he truly wanted out of it. He wanted to be loud, to be heard, if Hobie would die doing anything. It’d be what he’s loves and whatever was right.
You reminisce over the concert as the fresh cover of night drapes itself over New York City. A greyish black painting the mural of the sky. As red, green, and blue traffic lights spontaneously cut through its hues and just as quickly disappearing. It was a gorgeous cradle for everyone around you, as you allowed Hobie to huddle as close to you as he wanted. You simply preoccupied yourself with a book. As the front and back of the book masked your face from his sight.
“Love?” You removed the book and looked down at him, his piercings making a tiny glimmer in your sight “Yeah?” You asked, he just smiled and confessed. “Just wanted to look at a beautiful person…” a tender heat rises up your cheeks right under your eyes. You playfully hit him on his side as he laughed “What? Can’t handle the truth?” 
You just smiled back rolling your eyes, as you tried to find where you left off on your story. After a couple of minutes, before your immersion in this novel sweeps you away from the scene. You hear Hobie’s gentle snoring, it was but a whisp of noise from his throat. You could hear a pen drop as it went on. However, you disrupted the flow of your eyes with the pages. To grab the blanket draped over the couch, subtly swimming it over his body, ensuring he’s warm in his slumber. And you as his pillow, would now have to stay still for the rest of the night. But you didn’t mind. This was great.
With your soft kiss now decorating his forehead, you whispered “Gnight.” to punctuate his delivery to the land of sleep
Spider-Man Noir
It was a fun night out, after inviting your darling out to drink with your friends. Alcohol now made a stench of his body, practicality having to drag him out of the car. Once your designated driver duties had concluded for the evening. The aroma of summer heats disappearance with the arrival of night made its way to you. The first thing you’ve smelt tonight that wasn’t alcohol or regrets. As your darling was a blubbering mess in your embrace on the walk to your front door.
“That was real berries babe!” Your darling barely managed to illicit from the bottom of his throat out from his lips. Still wet with giggle juice as you managed to unlock the front door.
Escorting him onto the living room couch, leaving his touch only to lock the door behind you. And to take off your heels at the side of the entry. You went back to him to kiss his forehead. With that sprawling smile still dressing his face since when he took his first sip of wine. You went to the kitchen to grab him some water, despite now smelling of a light night bar. You made sure not to have a sip, knowing how much a lightweight your man is.
“That Derrick should mind his own potatoes about you and me-“ he begun blabbering on about. Derrick offered, rather insistently, to be a third.
He laughed off the rejection, ultimately it was the booze talking. But your beloved didn’t take it as such, as the facet sprayed the fresh water into the glass you retrieved from the cabinets. He wouldn’t stop complaining about Derrick, pain stakingly insulting his appearance and lack of looks. You knew this was all just jealousy. Adorable drunken jealousy however.
You sat beside him on the couch handing him the water, by your offer he took the glass from your hand. Sipping at least three time. His thirst was parched, he pushed his head onto your shoulder. Continuing on,
“You didn’t consider it right?” He earnestly, almost whimpered out. You were shocked at his honesty. You knew he was jealous. But that he believed you would want another man as much as him, shocked you “Of course not…” he almost wanted to cry.
He knows he can’t have as much time for you as he wants. He’s not as suave or handsome as other men. He can’t get you those expensive presents. He’s not like Derrick at all. A cutting pit formed in his ribcage watching Derrick make moves on you. But a cold self hate also fumigated his lungs all the while. He knows that’s who you truly deserve. A respectable, well educated man with lot of money and security to offer you.
All he offers you is a one bedroom house in the bad part of town. With half as much time when not even counting his civilian job. And with just enough pennies to get by in the mean time. Derrick isn’t a bad guy, even as he overstepped tonight. And you know where your darlings thoughts are going.
“No other man could make me as happy as you darlin’…” he shoots puppy eyes at you from under his scruffy brown hair. “No one.” You repeat to him, now tasting his favorite beer from his lips onto yours “darlin’…” he breaths out guilt ridden, “I’m too tired, in the morning I’ll definitely make another try at being the father of your baby…”
You giggle sheepishly, as he goes back to resting his head on your shoulder. The curtains divide you two from the view of the starless night sky. Not a loss considering you’ve seen it a thousand times over. He just softly nods off into slumber. As you allowed your head to fall back onto the top of the old couch. He already started snoring.
#spiderverse#spiderverse drabble#Drabble#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara#hobie brown#Spider-Man noir#Peter B Parker#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#hobie brown x reader#peter b parker x reader#Spider-Man noir x reader#Spider-Man 2099#spiderpunk#Spider-Man#18+
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Fic Titles: Song Edition
Part I
Softly we tremble tonight - Cat and Mouse, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
We're so happy (we could die) - Blood & Glitter, Lord of the Lost
There′s no remedy for memory - Dark Paradise, Lana del Rey
Love is the warmest colour - Nara, alt-J
We gotta stop pretending who we are - Don't speak, No Doubt
A force more powerful than gravity - Satellite, Lena Meyer-Landrut
They turned to dust (all that I adored) - Things we lost in the fire, Bastille
Lose all sense of time - Coastline, Hollow Caves
Sometimes quiet is violent - Car Radio, Twenty One Pilots
I′ll show you mine (if you show me yours first) - Swing Life Away, Rise Against
So beautiful and wild - Tonight, Reamonn
See your face lit by starlight - Colorado Sunrise, 3OH!3
Misunderstandings and words unspoken - Don't waste my time, Victor Lundberg
When we stole the night - Another heart calls, The All-American Rejects
The way that we love (like it's forever) - Happy Ending, Mika
But it's home to me - Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Green Day
Like memories of dying days - Savior, Rise Against
Electricity between both of us - Landfill, Daughter
I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow′s dreams - Uma Thurman, Fall Out Boy
There'll be a riot (cause I know you) - Robbers, The 1975
All of your flaws and all of my flaws - Flaws, Bastille
Crossing all the lines - Girls Like Girls, Hayley Kiyoko
Misery's your master - She's the blade, Sugarcult
But we go where we want to - Lane Boy, Twenty One Pilots
Between the lines of fear and blame - How to save a life, The Fray
There's a heavy cloud inside my head - Lemon Tree, Fool's Garden
A very common crisis - Fluorescent Adolescent, Arctic Monkeys
Turn the light out, say goodnight - Fake Empire, The National
Let′s write a song that we can dance to - Jersey, Mayday Parade
There′s strangers everywhere - This isn't everything you are, Snow Patrol
More titles!
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꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓖𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝓑𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓 𝓞𝐅 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 .ᐟ
ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡
˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 ˖ ׁ .ᐟ it’s valentine’s day and everyone is celebrating with cute gifts. miguel isn’t too fond of the holiday but only celebrates it because of you. however, he isn’t too happy when he founds out how many gifts you’ve gotten from others. miguel decides to give you the best gift he could offer.
˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 ˖ ׁ .ᐟ fluff, friends to lovers (ish), swearing, miguel is a big softie, some jealousy, cute moments
( ꯭♡︎ ) ˖ ࣪ . love note ˒˒ inspired by “about love” by marina, my valentine’s day anthem. another valentine’s day of me watching movies and eating candy. happy evol day! (marina stans get it) ♡
valentine’s day.
the day of romance and love.
gifts of flowers, candy, and cards passed all around HQ. the entire place is covered in valentine’s decorations. balloons, streamers, confetti, stickers, and glitter. a pink and red magical wonderland. pretty much everyone is wearing either red or pink.
except for one person; miguel. as the big grumpy bug himself, he doesn’t participate in the holiday. he showed up to work in his suit like usual. peter gave him a gift earlier, a hand dawned picture of him made by mayday. of course as the stubborn man he is, he refused at first but ultimately accepts it because mayday made it and it actually warmed his heart. he kept it, hidden somewhere in his desk. some of the young spiderlings miles, gwen and pav gave him candy and cards. miguel felt a bit awkward receiving gifts since he wasn’t use to that when he was younger, so it was a shock to him. he doesn’t really give a shit about valentine’s.
well — he has one reason to celebrate it: you.
like the vampire he is, miguel stays in his office observing the various orange monitors in front of him with a hunched back and balled fists. a faint feminine voice from the entrance of his office snaps him out of his workaholic thoughts. a voice he knows very well, an angelic voice he’ll listen to for an eternity. his ears detect light footsteps, knowing it’s you which makes the corner of his lips curl up into a smile.
as the platform lowers down, miguel thought about what type of gift he should get you. flowers are a bit cliche, same with chocolate and candy. he isn’t a fan of cards. those thoughts and his smile fade away as he turns around to see you carrying a shit ton of flowers and a teddy bear in your arms.
his heart fucking dropped.
“dude, i don’t think i’ve ever gotten so many flowers in my life.” you giggle as you walk up to the tiny desk near his and put down your gifts. seven bouquets of flowers and a cute teddy bear. you tell him each person you gotten a bouquet from. one was from webslinger, another from noir, and the rest were from peter variants. hobie got you the teddy bear.
while you were smiling and babbling, miguel was a sad puppy. so many other men got you nice gifts, fucking hobie got you a damn teddy bear. that felt like a slap in the face, making him frown. while thinking of possible gifts to get you, other men beat him to it. miguel feels beaten, especially the way you smile at your gifts and talk about them so happily. he wants to be mentioned like that. he wants you to smile at the gifts he’d give you like that.
“i only have one vase. i’ll just borrow some from my mom.” you snort before glancing at him. “oh! by the way, peni wanted me to give you your gift.” you remembered, turning around to grab the gift.
miguel blinks at you, snapping out of his sad thoughts. “what?” he sounds genuinely confused.
you hold out a tiny plushie in your hand, a smile gracing your lips. his eyes instantly land on the object and they widen at the gift. it’s a plushie of himself, in his suit but without his mask. his face has a scowl, furrowed brows and flat mouth with red eyes matching his own. miguel stares dumbfounded at his mini self. very slowly, he raises one hand and gingerly takes the plushie from your hand. it’s even smaller in his hand, how comical it looks which makes you smile. his thumb skims the material of the plushie, feeling the softness against his gloved palm.
“she made everyone their own. i got spider-cat since he’s my favorite.” you said, holding up the plushie version of spider-cat in your palm.
those crimson eyes snap back at you, a shocking look illustrated on his face. “what?” his voice cracks a little, feeling a bit sad by your statement. he isn’t your favorite spider-person, a cat is.
well, that adds more salt to the wound.
you shoot him a dumbfounded look, rolling your eyes. “oh come on, miguel. you know how much i love that cat. he’s the cutest.”
he rolls his eyes in return before widening once again. he noticed your outfit, a baby pink dress with ribbon sleeves (i have this dress and i love it so much, one of my favs). oh wow — you look beautiful. there goes his heart skipping a beat like usual. his cheeks grew warm, same shades of pink as your dress.
you turn around and grab the teddy bear, hugging it against your chest. “so, did you get any gifts? besides that.” you point at the plushie.
miguel was too fixated on you holding the teddy bear hobie got for you. a sting of jealousy forms in his heart. “i uh… mayday drew me a picture.” he adverts his gaze from yours, glancing the plushie of himself in his palm, giving it a light squeeze.
“awww how cute! of what? you?” you asked.
he nods shyly, still avoiding your gaze. “yeah…”
“i would’ve gotten you something too but i’m too poor as fuck right now.” you shoot him an apologetic smile, feeing a bit guilty.
miguel immediately looks up at you, shaking his head. “no, it’s fine. don’t worry about it.” he said reassuringly, taking a step forward.
you shook your head, softly smiling. “nah i’ll get you something for sure, eventually.”
goddamnit you’re too kind, and cute. you could kill him with your cuteness and he’ll die happily. his heart continues beating faster for you.
“i promise to get you something too.” he said, truly meaning his words.
you snort. “i think i have enough gifts.” you quickly glance at the bouquets on the desk then look back at him. “but if you do, don’t get the same thing.” a soft chuckle spills from your glossy lips.
oh miguel is definitely getting you something, hopefully something different and unique. however, that’s going to be quite the challenge because what could be considered a unique valentine’s gift? some research he’ll have to do, and luckily as a scientist himself, it won’t be a hassle.
━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━
numerous hours of research for a unique valentine’s day gift. after he left HQ, miguel was cooped up in his penthouse searching gift ideas. as his assistant, lyla helped him by giving him a few suggestions. of course she can’t go without teasing him about his little crush on you. sometimes he regrets having lyla a personality of her own. finally, an idea popped up in her tiny ai mind, a light bulb above her head.
“oh! i got it!” the ai exclaims, clapping her hands. “you should make her a gift basket.”
one of his thick brows arched, looking at the tiny ai assistant with a confused expression. “what? a gift basket? how is that a unique gift?”
“because, dumbo, you can put all things she likes in the basket. like her favorite scented candles, candy, flowers, plushies, snacks, drinks, self-care products, mugs, balloons, cards.” lyla suggests.
he ponders for a moment. “that… actually is a good idea.” he said softly, mainly to himself. “but she already has tons of flowers.”
“well, then make her crochet flowers. trust me, women love them.” she smirks, folding her arms.
miguel blinks at her, visibly confused even more. “crochet flowers? what the hell is that?” he has never heard of that term before, mainly because he lives in a futuristic society so technology and other resources are different.
the ai rolls her eyes and sighs. “flowers made of yarn.” she elaborated. “if you make them and give them to her, she wouldn’t have to worry about them dying in a few days. she’ll keep them forever.”
keep them forever? you keeping the flowers he made for you without going to waste? now that convinced miguel. he can imagine those crochet flowers on your dresser or desk. you gushing over them, how they will always remind you of him. his heart skipped a beat at the adorable thought, smiling to himself.
“give me a list of materials for this crochet flowers thing.” miguel orders.
lyla salutes with a smile. “on it, boss.”
miguel knows what things you like. favorite drink, snack, candle scent. this gift basket seems to be a perfect idea, gift for you. he’s gonna to make sure it’ll be the cutest gift basket you’ll ever receive.
after work, he visited multiple stores and bought your favorite items and materials for crocheting. since it’s a valentine’s gift, everything is pink. once he got home, he searched up multiple gift basket ideas. lyla encouraged him to look on pinterest, a site he’s never heard of but went along with it. he was actually impressed by the amount of creative ideas the site offered. definitely will use it for future date ideas. miguel wants this gift basket to be perfect so he is fully dedicated to the mini project, pouring all of his effort just to see that beautiful smile of yours.
after arranging the basket, which he was very proud of, miguel starts working on the crocheting project. however, it was a lot harder than he anticipated. he watches tutorial videos but ends up failing numerous times, making him frustrated. his penthouse was filled with angry grunts and tossing shit around.
“grunting and throwing things isn’t gonna help you.” lyla teases, smirking at the grumpy man.
the brunette rolls his eyes. “how is something that looks so simple is impossible to make?” he runs a hand through his dark chocolate locks.
the ai sighs. “you just gotta take time with it. don’t think too much and give it another shot.”
miguel stares at the scribbles of yarn in his hand. after closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he decides to give crocheting another shot.
after watching the tutorial videos and actually taking his time with it, following each step, he finally got the hang of it and successfully made the bouquet. it’s not perfect but he tried and actually looks quite decent for his first time attempt at crocheting. miguel was a happy camper, smiling at his little project made just for you. now with the completed gift basket, he hopes you’ll like it. miguel is eager (anxious) to see your reaction.
━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━
it’s still a few hours left of valentine’s day when miguel arrives at your apartment. he stands there anxiously in front of the door dressed in a black buttoned up shirt, a pair of black slacks and black dress shoes. his hair slicked back. his fingers grip nervously on the basket handle. god miguel hasn’t been this nervous in who knows how long. feeling like a teenage boy asking his crush to be his valentine. technically, that is what he’s doing but as a grown ass man obviously. his heart pumps out his chest, palms a bit clammy, one foot tapping the floor.
inhaling a shaky breath, he gently knocks on the door and waits for you. his grip on the basket handle tightens when he hears the locks open before the door opens revealing your angelic presence.
his eyes dilate drastically and mouth hangs open slightly as he slowly takes in the sight of angel blessing his eyes. you are wearing a different dress that hugs your curves so graciously. gorgeous curls of your hair curving your pretty face. makeup done beautifully yet natural, matching the dress. it seems like you went out or are going to since you’re dressed so nicely. miguel is just too enthralled by you.
“oh, sup man.” you softly smile at the tall brunette, titling your head as you lean against the door.
he blinks out of trance, realizing he must’ve look like a fool for staring. “uh… hi.” miguel clears his throat, offering you an awkward smile. he knows you’re going to ask him why he’s here. so, he lifts up the gift basket and holds it in front of you with a bashful expression. “happy valentine’s day.”
your eyes immediately land on the gift basket and your heart melts. it’s a tiny basket decorated in baby pink with a matching bow on the handle along with baby pink tissue paper inside, completely filled with your favorite items, which are all in pink. a candle of your favorite scent. a bag of your favorite chip brand and another of candy. some self-care products like a face mask and moisturizer. a pink butterfly plushie, miguel calls you “mariposa” so it seems fitting. and finally, the crochet bouquet. a bouquet of your favorite flowers made of yarn.
miguel watched your enthralled face, making his own warm up. he just stands there like the bashful mess he is, presenting his crush her valentine’s day gift. hints of cheeks staining his sharp cheeks, heart pounding in his chest like a drum and palms growing more sweatier due to anxiousness.
a very thin layer of tears began forming in your eyes, making you bite your lip to hold them back. “you… you made this?… just for me?…” your gaze fixates between the basket and miguel.
he nods sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “yeah… i though since you already have so many gifts of the same stuff…” he shyly meets your gaze. “a gift basket would be nice.”
and you thought your heart couldn’t melt even more. “i… you didn’t have to go through all that effort for me.” you said with a tiny pout.
miguel shook his head. “that’s why i did it. para ti.” he said sincerely, ruby eyes bore into yours.
oh my god, this man. he’s fucking perfect.
those tears were threatening to spill. your heart is utterly melted. you tenderly take the basket from his grasp. “this is the sweetest gift i’ve ever received. thanks, miguel.” you shoot him smile.
oh he was a happy camper. a big feeling of relief and accomplishment flowing through his body. plus, he got that beautiful smile. “of course, mi mariposa.” he mirrors your smile, overjoyed with your reaction.
you softly chuckle at the nickname. “i would totally marry you.”
his eyes widen dramatically at your shocking comment, making him blush more. “r-really?”
you giggle at his flustered face. “oh definitely.” you step away to place the gift basket on the counter then put on a pair of comfy shoes. “so where are we going?” you ask as you put on a tiny cardigan.
miguel blinks at you confusingly. “going?”
“yeah, for our valentine’s day date.” you softly smile, grabbing your mini white purse as you step out the door and lock it.
valentine’s day date? holy shit — miguel didn’t believe he would get this far. you wanna go on a date? with him? wow it’s like a dream come true. however, he doesn’t any idea on where to take you. he needs to look at the pinterest ‘date ideas’ list.
“i uh…” miguel rubs his jaw, thinking of what possible place he can take you. he doesn’t want to take you to generic places like a restaurant, movie theater, the park. just like his gift, miguel wants the date to be unique. then, he remembers the local carnival in town. “the carnival is still open, we can head there.” he offers his arm to you, smiling as he watches your face light up at his suggestion.
“oooo yes! i’ve been wanting to go there since it opened.” you wrap your arm around his as you two start walking away together.
“well, i’m happy to take you there first.” miguel offers a little smile, gazing at you with adoration.
you smile at each other, walking together as you head off into the night of your valentine’s day date, indulging in a night of fun and romance.
© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡
#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓞𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .ᐟ#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara fluff#across the spiderverse#oneshot#valentines day
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a/n: bc anon asked for a part three, and im super cheesed about it. I wasn’t gonna post it until tomorrow, but what can I say, im a generous god.
Take me far enough to say we’ve gone -
Miguel O’Hara was also a nervous man, as it turned out. He was nervous for you, afraid of what the light in his chest had to offer when he saw you return from a successful trail-run. His bluff was called, it seemed, and you passed with flying colors, earning a wide smile from Peter B. as he dropped you off, once again in O’Hara’s main quarters. The heavy glow from all of his screens casts him in an ever-intimidating light, that seems to be his theme with you. Scary.
He’d watched you with rapt attention on your little assignment, not sure why he’d anticipated the worst to happen to you - worst-case was Peter stepped in and bailed you out, but he’d informed Miguel that he hadn’t even needed to give any advice, a silent watcher, only coming down from his perch on a near building to show you how to activate the force-field device and ring in for a transfer.
“Well, looks like you’ve earned a permanent position amongst our ranks, huh?” He’s mumbling a little, he seems a little deflated as he says it.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” You’re raising a brow behind your ever-present mask, nary a ding on your suit. He can tell how much confidence the mission had given you, your shoulders not tilting inwards like they had the last few times he’d loomed over you. Your back was straight, and your hands pressed firmly on your hips in the shared stance every spider-person adopts when they know they’ve done well.
“Of course it is, but these missions aren’t always gonna be so easy, kid.” He mirrors you, standing up straight, leaning down slightly to make his point, “there’s gonna be a mission for each of us that we can’t come back from, you know that, right?” It’s almost threatening, the way his red eyes bore into your white eye-covers.
He watches your chest deflate a little at the comment, a pang of remorse runs through him for saying it in such a harsh way. Truly, he just wanted you to be aware of the risks here, the sacrifice that you may be called to make one day. Each of them was expected to lay their life down for the greater good, and he wasn’t exempt from that, either. In his mind, he was offering you an out, a second chance to save your own hide if that’s what you really wanted, before taking on such a lofty responsibility.
You jump a little when you hear the door slide open behind you, “jeez, Miguel, as pleasant as ever, aren’t’ya?” It’s the Peter that came with you, “Mayday is asleep-” who? “-Why d’ya always try to scare the new kids, don’t you think she’s proved herself enough?” He looks at you with a warm smile, the kind a father would wear as their kid rounded home for the first time, “I think you killed it, kiddo, don’t let him take the wind from yer sails. I was impressed,” you feel your cheeks heat up at his blatant praise and mumble a sweet thank-you, absent-mindedly kicking a pretend pebble as he claps a warm hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t stop, “why don’t you take your mask off and breathe a little, huh? It must feel terrible in there after the long day,” you can tell he’s being genuine when he asks, bending down to stare right into your mask with a slight tilt of the head, but you can’t help the itch on your forehead when the mask isn’t there, especially thinking about having to make direct eye contact with O’Hara.
He cuts in, “she says she’s more comfortable with it on, Peter.”
“Well, that sounds like a lie, she’s probably just terrified of you, chief. Especially when you go around making threats like that on a debrief.” They carry on like you’re not standing right there.
“It’s not my fault if I want them to be aware of the risks, Pete.” How informal of him, using a pet-name, you think.
“Yeah, well, the least you can do is thank’em for once. Not everything has to be so life and death. It’s no wonder our turnover is so bad, I have to wonder what our unemployment payout looks like.” They’re not stopping, you really consider making a quick escape while the two men, obviously very good friends based on Peter’s razzing, carry on talking over your head.
“I want to think you’re joking but-”
“Tax fraud is no joke, ‘El, you know that.”
You’re…Uncomfortable now, he was right, your mask was kind of stifling after working so hard to have a no-loss mission, there’s still sweat dripping down the back of your neck as the two of them chirp on and on, back and forth. The heat from all the monitors has your vision swimming a little and you start to get a light headed trying to keep up, eventually heaving a heavy sigh of your own. A small, shaking hand makes quick work as you tilt your head down, hair messy as you shake your head, finally getting a good breath of fresh air from outside your protection. Both men stop mid-sentence and stare.
Peter is the first to speak up, not missing a beat but teasing as ever, “there she is, as pretty as ever,” he’s smiling-still. “Feels better, right? Don’t worry about it, we all know how to keep a secret kid, you’re safe here, with us.”
O’Hara just lets a heavy breath fall from his nose and turns away from the two of you, “I have work to finish, Peter, can you get some food for the two of you, please? Consider it a celebration, since you’re so keen on rewarding everyone for just doing their damn job.”
Peter mumbles something as he steps behind you, guiding you with hands on your shoulders, pushing you a little from your spot in the middle, “yeah, yeah, come on.” His head snakes around to smile at you again, “not to brag, but the food here is amazing.”
It’s quiet after you leave and let the door slide shut, Miguel takes a shaky breath in, and out. He couldn’t help the pang of...jealously? Remorse, maybe, that he couldn’t be the one to tell you that you were safe with them, reassure you, tease you the way Peter was so confident in doing. The way your rosy cheeks looked so pretty, like Pete had said, plays over in his head time and time again for much longer than he’s proud of. He wanted you to know you were safe with him. At the end of it all, he wanted to make sure you were safe.
He’d seen you on his monitors for weeks before calling you to help them, walking around your New York in your street clothes. When Jess had caught him staring at you with such a heavy scowl, he’d said he just wanted to make sure you were keeping it above the wire, doing his due diligence to make sure he wasn’t hiring some loose-lipped kid. She only smiled at her feet, seeing right through his little lie.
He was even more curt with you after you became comfortable enough to venture the halls without your mask, usually late at night when you knew less folks were around, but pluck his eyes from his skull before he admitted to the dull ache his ability to give you comfort enough to be maskless gave. He really did try to be more inviting with you, even briefly considering taking you on a more risky mission with himself and Jess. Of course, the anxiety that bubbled dashed any hope of one-on-one time in the field. He’d ask you about your canon events, trying to find a way to connect with you. However tight-lipped he was, you were moreso. Mumbling a quiet affirmative or negative, then steering the conversation back to work, against his best efforts. He thought it must feel that way with him, sometimes, when folks try to talk with him. He found himself missing your wry jokes, not as jovial as the run-of-the-mill spider, still keeping a shred perspective on your life of sacrifice. He, of course, knew all of your canon events, he could lay them out by dates and times if he wanted, he’d spent more time than he’d ever admit to on his little…Obsession with you.
It worried him, how fond of your company he’d become in the short time you were helping him. He was really trying to connect, honestly, but every time it felt like he was putting his hand on a hot-plate, and every time he was reminded of what his job meant - sacrifice. And God himself couldn’t convince him of the idea of sacrificing you for this chosen life.
He, as a result, decided to pull back. Treat this as a little passing fancy, maybe you just reminded him of being young again, careless, caution to the wind and so on.
Months trickled by, trying his best to get you to smile at him despite his resolve to let it all go, to hear your laugh at least once was all he needed to get through his day, it seemed. He was embarrassed, in all reality, he was still technically your boss, no matter how informal that seemed in the walls of the citadel.
“-well, at least that’s what I thought, but Hobie said she was quite the up-and-comer.” He tried to listen to you, but the way you licked your lips made his skin tingle, “I may swing by and meet her, he seems super excited.” You’re leaning over his desk while you talk, Miguel had lost the plot, though. “As excited as someone like him can be, y’know.”
“Yeah, send out the welcome wagon, no?” He smiles a little, typing away at some code that needed fixing.
“Ha - well, it’s not like you’re one to do it, you’ll scare her off like a wolf would a hare.” You’re staring at the screen when his fingers stop, hovering over the keys like he’d lost his train of thought, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He turned to face you, eyeing you with a heavy scrutiny, as he was wont to do.
“No, nothing bad, I guess. You’re just so dramatic sometimes, it’s weird until you get to know ya’.” There’s a chuckle hidden between the words spilling from your mouth, he wonders if you realize how much he loves when you tease him. It makes him feel more human, less isolated.
“I’m just making sure they all kn-”
“-All know the risks involved, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. I think you’re just pretending so no one knows you’re a big softy.” His fingers haven't moved from above the keys. He leans back in his chair, his straight back finally relaxing a little, “and where do you get off thinking you can talk to me like that, kid?” There’s a stark lack of actual annoyance in his voice, a few months ago, you’d think he was actually offended you’d speak to him that way, but the keen look in his red eyes betrays him these days. “I think Peter is starting to rub off on you.” You laugh a little and smack his shoulder, “someone’s gotta keep you in check around here, right? He can’t shoulder all the burden of your grumpy ass!” You’re smiling down at him, having moved at some point to lean closer. He feels the tips of his ears heat up a little.
“Yeah, well, tell anyone and I’ll have to do somethin’ about it, kid.” You’re a little surprised at him, in the best way. He’s got a full smile, just like the one he wore when you told him about the dryer sheet below your mask, your cheeks heat up and you move to hop off the platform, “hey” a finger pokes at his shoulder - “don’t start writin’ checks there, boss, or I’ll have to ask you to cash’em some day.” You don’t turn around to face him as you continue, “it’s our secret, I guess. For now, at least.” You pull your mask back over your head as you walk out the heavy door.
He groans a little as the door slides shut, leaving him in the soft hum of all of his monitors - he doesn’t finish the line of code before he shoves himself away from his desk and starts the long trek back to his own private room for the night.
a/n: big man said feelings are for dummys. Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Pt. 4-
#across the spiderverse#spider-man: across the spider-verse#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#pt 3
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babysitter's club
pairing/warnings: hobie brown x f!reader; she/her pronouns used! cursing, some smooching, potential misuse of british slang (i'm sorry brits 😭), no phonetic spelling of hobie's accent, mayday being chaotic and adorable, reader and hobie talk about their future (kids), hobie and reader get to pretend to be domestic homeowners for a night, absolutely illegal amounts of fluff
word count: 3k
author's note: WOW okay. this took me over two months (?!?) to write. this is what happens when you take summer classes to get ahead 😔 but ANYWAYS! i hope you guys enjoy this!
"Only give her the one with carrots and the apples if she gets really fussy, okay? Tonight is peas, and... she's made it very clear how she feels about peas, so, good luck," you heard Peter say, chuckling as he closed the fridge and explained more of Mayday's feeding schedule to Hobie.
"Do I look okay?" MJ asked, stealing your attention away from the scene in the kitchen as she fussed with her hair in the hallway mirror.
"You look absolutely perfect," you reassured her, slightly adjusting the necklace that she was wearing. "Make sure you don't forget your umbrella though; I heard it was supposed to rain."
You saw the boys approaching you two from the kitchen and broke out in a grin.
"You lovebirds have nothing to worry about. We'll take good care of Mayday. Right, Hob?" you said, glancing sideways at you him.
"Yes ma'am," he confirmed, giving you a two-finger salute.
"If you guys need anything, just call, okay?" MJ said over her shoulder, stepping through the door that Peter was holding open for her.
Do not call, Peter mouthed when MJ's back was turned, pointing his two fingers at his eyes and then pointing them at you two. You waited until the door closed before you started to giggle.
"Looks like somebody's trying to get shagged tonight," Hobie chuckled, leaning against the living room wall as Mayday giggled happily from where she was seated on her playmat.
"Hobie! There is a child here for crying out loud!" you say exasperated, swatting at his shoulder.
"What? It's not like she knows what that means, love," he responded, looking at you with a lazy grin.
"Can you just—at least attempt to behave, please? I'm not trying to babysit two babies tonight, thank you very much," you say, rolling your eyes as you plant your hands on your denim-clad hips, eyes raking over the messy state of the living room. You made a mental note to pick up Mayday's toys off the floor before MJ and Peter came back.
"Listen, all I'm saying is—,” he pauses, crouching down in front of Mayday and picking up a toy that she had dropped to give it back to her. "If my theory's right—which it most definitely is—we'll be babysitting two babies in no time," he said mischievously.
"Oh my God. You did not just say that," you said, moving to sit cross-legged to the side of Mayday. You tried to stay serious, but you're unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.
"I'm only teasing, promise," Hobie grinned. "You wanna order in?"
"Already did. Wanted to be 100% certain that I was the one who ordered," you say, learning to the side a little as you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and unlocked it to check the status of your delivery.
"Yeah? Why's that?" Hobie asked innocently. Your thumbs pause their scrolling as you look up at Hobie, utterly unamused.
"Because I absolutely will not be bombarded with those ridiculously spicy wings you got for us last time. Genuinely unhinged behavior on your end to not warn me," you say, shuddering as you recall the horrors that your tongue experienced last week. Hobie threw is head back as he laughed, watching your face curl up at the memory.
"Ah, I wish you could've seen it, May-May," he told the child, his face lighting up as he heard Mayday giggle upon hearing his laugh. "Her eyes were so bloody red, like this," he said, chuckling as he pointed to the sleeve on his shirt.
"He's exaggerating, honey; don't mind him," you say, tickling Mayday under the chin, causing her to laugh even more. "My eyes were not that red, Hob," you protested as you smiled at Mayday.
"They absolutely were. I have photo evidence," he rebutted.
"Wha—you took pictures?!" you ask incredulously, whipping your head towards him. "Hobie, I swear on everything, you better dele—"
You're interrupted by the sound of rapid knocking on the door, causing Mayday to make a startled noise as she fearfully grabbed at your arm with her tiny hands. Hobie made his way over to the door as you tried to soothe the girl.
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, honey," you say soothingly, hoisting her up and holding her snug on your hip as you untangled your legs to stand up. "It's just the door, bub." You watched as Hobie kicked the door closed with one leg, balancing the pizza on one hand while he locked the door with his other hand.
"Dinner's served," Hobie said triumphantly, setting the box down on dining table.
"We gotta get you your dinner too, huh, May?" you said, gingerly setting her down in her high chair before you tugged open the fridge. You squinted, staring down the rows of puréed baby food before turning to Hobie. "Which one of these are we supposed to give to her again?" you ask, picking up one of the cold jars and turning it over in your hands.
"Tonight is P-E-A-S," Hobie says, recalling what Peter told him. He leans on the kitchen island with his forearms as he skims the paper with the list of instructions that MJ and Peter left for you two. "And then after that is her bath, and—"
"Why on Earth did you just spell pe—"
Your sentence is cut short by Hobie swiftly covering your mouth his his large hand, eyes going wide.
"She hates 'em," he whispered. "Even sayin' the word P-E-A-S throws her into a hissy fit."
"Okay, well—," you throw up your hands in disbelief before planting them on your hips. "When she sees the jar of green P-E-A-S, I'm pretty dam- dang sure that she's gonna know what they are," you pointed out, catching yourself before you swore as you tugged open the drawers to find a tiny spoon for Mayday.
"Nice save," Hobie said, smirking as he took a seat at the dinner table in front of the baby.
"Listen, if she's gonna be upset eating this, you have to be the one to feed her," you sighed. You pulled the jar out of fridge and set it down in front of Hobie, along with the spoon.
"Why me?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
"Because she literally adores you?" you replied, as if it was common knowledge.
"Who doesn't?" he said, grinning.
"Alright, funny guy. We'll see if you're smiling when you have the 'vegetable-that-must-not-be-named' thrown all over you," you said, smirking as you opened the pizza box to help yourself. Hobie's hand covered the lid of the jar, and he gave it a firm twist, opening the jar with a pop.
"That's not very fair, love, innit?" he said, frowning at you as you got up to tuck a bib around Mayday's neck.
"It's actually very fair, in my opinion. This is payback for destroying my taste buds last week," you say, settling back into your chair and giving him an expectant look.
"You're never letting that go, eh?" he said, shaking his head. He scooped some of the food onto the baby-sized spoon, gauging Mayday's expression as he cautiously moved the spoon towards her mouth. The baby tentatively accepted the food, tasting it for a second before she scrunched up her face in disgust. Just like you predicted, she spit the food out of her mouth, nearly missing Hobie's shirt as she let out a short wail.
"Uh-oh," you say smugly, taking a bite out of one of your pizza slices. "You having fun yet?"
"May, c'mon," he pleaded with the infant, ignoring your quip. "S'not that bad, I promise," he said, trying to get her to take another spoonful. But Mayday remained defiant, turning her head to the side when Hobie brought the spoon to her mouth again as she let out little cries of frustration. He set the spoon down with a sigh.
"Man, why even make her eat this if she hates it?" he asked to no one in particular, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Kid’s clearly miffed. I say we give her the one with the apples n' the carrots."
"Absolutely not. You get babies on the sweeter stuff now, and they'll never touch vegetables again," you declare adamantly, sliding the baby food over to yourself. You turned around and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer behind you.
"Look, Mayday!" you say cheerfully. You grabbed the spoon, scooped out a bit of the purée, and slathered it on your pizza slice. You mentally prepared yourself for the taste before you took an exaggerated bite, and the infant watched you curiously.
"See? It's really good!" you reassure her, encouraging her to try a spoonful of her food again. This time, she accepted the food from you, although her face still scrunched up every time she took a bite.
"You're a bloody baby whisperer," Hobie said in awe. "Are sure she likes it now?" he asked, taking note of the faces Mayday was making.
"Yeah, she just—" you paused, scraping out the last of pea purée and feeing to her. "A baby's gag reflex is closer to the front of their mouth. That's why they'll sometimes make faces when they eat a new food. Doesn't mean they hate it; they're just trying to decide if they like it or not. Right Mayday?" you say. The baby cooed in response, drooling out a little bit of her dinner. You lifted up the corner of her bib and wiped off the food that had gotten around the corners, and Hobie grinned as he picked up the empty jar, rotating it around and showing it off to Mayday.
"Nice job, kid. Did all that on your own," he said grinning, holding his palm up for a high five (Mayday ended up missing his palm almost entirely, but when you have limited fine motor skills, it's the effort that counts).
"Good job, May!" you beamed, pinching her cheeks. "Alright, lets get you cleaned up for your bath, yeah? We gotta let Hobie eat," you tell her, picking her up from her high chair.
"Finally," he said with an exaggerated sigh.
"So unbelievably dramatic!" you called over your shoulder as you carried Mayday to the bathroom.
Bath time, thankfully, went relatively smoothly (well, minus the part where May tried to play the "water drums", which got an ungodly amount of water onto the floor and subsequently, onto you. You're 99% sure Hobie taught her to do that at some point and made another mental note to lecture him about it later). After you dried her up and got some lotion and baby powder on her, you changed her diaper before getting her into her pajamas. By this point, she was pretty exhausted, and you could see her little eyes fighting to stay open as you laid her down in her crib.
"You were awesome today, May. Get some shut-eye for me, okay?" you said softly, kissing the top of her head. She was already asleep before you even finished your sentence, and you smiled at her one last time before you turned off the lights and quietly shut the door.
Hobie's head turned away from the TV at the sound of your footsteps padding on the floor, and he looked like he was trying to hold in a laugh.
"You look like you've gone swimming," he remarked in an amused tone, looking you up and down.
"You try giving a hyperactive eleven month-old a bath," you reply, sighing as you plopped down next to him on the sofa. You looked down at the splashed cuffs of your jeans before shrugging. "It'll dry, right?"
"For sure," Hobie nodded. "But aren't most eleven month-olds hyperactive?"
"Yeah, but most eleven month-olds aren't Mayday," you say, chuckling as you leaned your head onto his shoulder.
"True that," he laughed, draping his arm across your shoulder.
You two sat in a few minutes of comfortable silence, watching as a random 90s romcom played on screen at a low volume before you spoke again.
"Hey, Hob?" you ask.
"Hm?" he responded, still half-focused on the movie.
"I'm gonna ask you something, and I want you to be honest," you say. You adjust your position so that you're lying on your back across Hobie's lap, hands folded on your chest. He tears his eyes away from the screen and gives you his full attention.
"What is it, love?" he asked, brows furrowing slightly as he looked down at you.
"Did you teach Mayday to play the drums with water?" you ask, fighting back a smile.
"No...," he said mischievously, raising his eyebrows at you.
"Hobie!" you exclaimed quietly, trying not to wake up Mayday as you slapped his thigh.
"Nah, I really didn't. Swear down," he said truthfully, laughing softly as he put his hands up in protest. "Really, you oughta be lookin' at Gwendy for that. She let the kid have a go at her drums once—it was adorable. I mean, also terrible, because she kept missing the actual drums, but still adorable."
"Oh my God, that is too cute. I would've paid money to see that," you replied, fighting back a yawn.
"Yeah? I think Pav and Miles got it on video. I'll have em' send it to you," he chuckled, tracing random shapes on your cheekbones with his thumb. "You tired?"
"Yeah, but...," (this time, you let out your yawn) "...don't let me fall asleep here. I still have to pick up May's toys and put them away. Don't want Peter and MJ coming back to a mess," you sighed.
"Already did that, love," he said. You let your head loll to the side as you looked at the corner of the living room—sure enough, the toys were all neatly put away in the toy chest, and Mayday's playmat was rolled up and tucked away.
"You're an actual lifesaver," you say. You're about to let your eyes relax before you remember another thing, shooting them open again.
"Shit. I gotta do the dishes," you say. You're about to sit up before Hobie plants a hand on your torso, gently pushing you back down.
"Took care of that, too. And recycled the box. And the jar," he tells you, grinning down at you. "I'm a world-class babysitter, c'mon now."
"And a world-class boyfriend," you say, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. He grabbed both sides of your face and started attacking your face with kisses as best he could at the awkward angle, causing you to let out a giggle.
"Hobie! You're gonna break your neck," you protest against his lips.
"Mm, small price to pay for getting to kiss you," he said, smiling.
"Nuh-uh, because then you'll have to get surgery, and you'll have to go through physical therapy, where they give you a bunch of instructions on what to do to get better, and we all know you hate being told what to do–"
"Alright, alright, point made," he laughed, giving you one last kiss before sitting up straight.
"God, I had no idea that taking care of a baby for a few hours would make me this tired," you sigh, rubbing at your eyes. "How on Earth do Peter and MJ manage to do it every single day?"
"Yeah... s'kinda mad when you really think about it," Hobie said pensively. "I mean, it's non-stop from the moment they're born 'til they move out. Guess you gotta take it day by day, yeah?"
You made a small sound of understanding, pondering what he said.
"How do you feel about... y'know, having kids? Like one day?" you ask quietly, craning your neck to up at him.
“Why? Are you…?” he trailed off, looking at your abdomen with raised eyebrows.
“Nonono, I’m not,” you reassured him, giggling. “I was just wondering.”
"Well, of course," he replied, sinking into the couch a bit more. "I love kids. I'd wanna adopt a whole bunch of 'em. Don't know if I'd be any good at the whole parenting thing, but..." he trailed off, chuckling to himself.
"You would be. I can see the way you are with Mayday; you're practically a natural," you said decidedly. "Me on the other hand... I dunno."
"You don't know?" Hobie said, snorting out a laugh. You turned your head to look at him, frowning.
"Don't laugh at me!" you protested, swatting at his shoulder.
"M'not laughing at you, swear," he said. "It's just funny you're saying that because you were a natural with May. You'd be an amazing mum."
"Really?" you ask, craning to look up at him.
"Really," Hobie confirmed, planting a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. You started to giggle, but the sound was quickly drowned out by a loud clap of thunder in the distance. You sat upright, startled by the noise as you peered behind the couch at the windows, and you were met by the sight of a sudden downpour.
"Oh God... I really hope that didn't wake up—"
Right on cue, you and Hobie heard the static noise of Mayday wailing through the baby monitor. You sighed as Hobie gently untangled himself from you, patting your thigh twice.
"I'll go get her," he reassured you, leaving the living room and disappearing into the nursery. You flopped back down on the couch again, groaning when another clap of thunder struck a few seconds later. You heard the sound of Hobie's socks shuffling on the ground, causing you to sit up and turn your head. You were greeted by the sight of a sleepy and disgruntled Mayday, who was clinging to the collar of Hobie's worn t-shirt. Her hair was frazzled, and her poor eyes were red from all the crying.
"Aw, it's alright, honey," you said soothingly. You outstretched your arms to Hobie, and he handed her to you to hold her. She curled up in a ball against your chest, watery blue eyes looking up at you as a few more lone sniffles came out.
"It's just a bit of thunder, love. You're alright as long as we're here, yeah?" Hobie chimed in. He sat next to you now, smoothing down the red hair on the baby's head in an attempt to calm her.
"You wanna stay here with us until the storm's over?" you asked gently. May let out a soft coo in response, so you took that as a yes. You grabbed the throw blanket that was sitting next to you on the couch and draped it across all three of you, and you let your head drop onto Hobie's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and Mayday to tuck you both in. It wasn't long before the three of you fell into a peaceful sleep.
The door opened an hour later with the soft click of the door unlocking.
“Well, that was the most fun I’ve had in a while, honey,” Peter said, kissing the top of MJ’s forehead.
“Until it started pouring,” she replied, laughing. “What d’you think the kids are up to?”
Mary-Jane’s question was answered as soon as they rounded the corner. They were greeted by the sight of the three of you tangled up with the fluffy throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch. Hobie’s head rested on top of yours, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist. Your arms were around Mayday, who was sound asleep—a string of drool was dangling from her mouth, which was precariously close to landing on your jeans.
“Well, would you look at that,” Peter whispered, chuckling. He dug around in his pocket and grabbed his phone to snap a pic of the sweet scene in front of them.
“We’re definitely framing this.”
#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie brown fluff#hobie brown x f!reader#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#across the spiderverse#astv hobie#spiderman atsv imagines#spiderman atsv x reader
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MORE Spider Society Headcanons
Halloween: Spiderween
First of all: DECORATIONS??????
The ENTIRE campus done up with jack-o'-lanterns and lights and smoke machines and COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SPIDERWEBS for the Spooky vibes???!!!
Spider decorations EVERYWHERE. From October 1st.
There's a haunted house on campus - filled with volunteers AND REALLY REALLY good jumpscare holograms made by Lyla
The food court starts serving Halloween specific food. Like a Vampire Miguel Milkshake at McMiguels.
COSTUMES??!!! COSTUMES BUT OVER THE SUITS.
TRICK OR TREATING Some people stay home at their universe and people portal over for candy and they get to see a glimpse of your universe
Or you get to hop universe to universe dressed like a Spider-person dressed like a giraffe. And since it's Halloween, it's fine if a bunch of Spider-people are running around dressed ridiculous because so is everyone else on most Earth's, Miguel's like 'yeah sure okay'
BIG BONUS POINTS if they dress up like ANOTHER Spider-person but like... Still over the suit.
Like wearing the crappy costume Miles had over your actual suit and 'acting' like someone else.
And EVERY TIME you see someone dressed as you, or wearing the same costume -
You know what you must to do.
One year Hobie comes as Ben Reilly. All dressed up in punk but with a blue hoodie crop top to match . He spends the whole day wailing about the harrowing memories and crouching on ledges. Dramatically collapsing in people's arms
Is your Spidersona small? Imagine them dressed as Miguel. Walking around acting and irritated and fake angry and DOING THIS TO MIGUEL
Miguels like 'are you serious? Cut that out-'
"aRe yOu SeRiOuS?? cUt ThAt OuT'
(and Lyla's like 'oooo that was good. They sound JUST like you Migs')
Lyla being a very popular costume
A bunch of Spider-people wearing fur coats and heart glass and they just decide to spend the whole day being useless to Miguel.
Which LYLA ADORES SHE'S LOVES ATTENTION
They all lounge around on all the seats like her, some even in bob cut wigs, and they follow Miguel and trying to get selfies with him LMAO
The Lyla with the cutest or funniest Miguel selfie gets put in the Campus newspaper
MJs A POPULAR ONE TOO -
ALL the lazy Spider-people wanna throw a red party city wig over their suit and be like 'I'm MJ'. NO YOU'RE NOT.
Or some will even wear their MJ's clothes. Walking around calling everybody, Tiger. (Mayday gets the joke - they're supposed to be her mom - she thinks it's HILARIOUS and giggles the whole day)
Sidebar - can you image Gwen with a wig over her suit BUT LIKE under her hood??? SO SHE WOULDN'T LOOK BALD?? I'M SCREAMING AIRPOD LOOKING AHH
VILLAIN COSTUMES - Spider people dressed as Doc Ock over their suits, coming in with fish bowls on their head and going 'Look, I'm Mysterio!! Lol'
While the caged villains are looking at them like
('y'all mfers got a lotta nerve')
I bet some people get REALLY REALLY into it and go all out, designing everything to a T. (Like the perfectionist!pavitr)
Some friends even do joint costumes - WebSlinger makes a costume for Willow so they match. Hobie does all his costumes DIY and it's like the ONE thing on campus he participates in.
Because he loves the DIY spirit. And the chance to mock his bosses on company hours.
Goes ALL IN on him and Gwen's (he wants to match) costumes. Or maybe he doesn't participate cause-
What's even better is people 'Punkifying' their suit to be like Spider-punk is a popular costume too!!
They throw together their own vest and jeans and jewelry and boots. And follow Hobie around, hands in pockets, and they all act all cool and fake punk all day , Hobie hams up the act for the occasion
Hobie of course weaponizes this by annoying Miguel with his 'clones'.
Ten Hobies outside his office sturming untuned guitars REALLY badly and Hobies likes 'Keep it up you !! U sound great!!'
Miguel's office full of Hobies and Lylas, Last year Margo went as Jess and Jess was touched
Then there's some Spider-people that are broke as hell. But since they all have top tier humor they make the intentionally cheap or out of the closet costumes. that ends up being stupidly hilarious.
Like wearing boxes and drawing a Spider-suit on it. Boom - Lego Spider-man.
Sometimes people might wear their makeshift suit over their new suit. So like a Spider-person having this as their costume OVER their suit
And arguably the funniest of them all - having a really elaborate overdone homemade costume of a specific hero on campus, and everyone is like woah so cool have they seen you in it yet?
And you take off the costume mask... And it's just you... AS YOURSELF Like it's just the same mask underneath LIKE A HAT ON A HAT
THERE'S SO MANY POSSIBILITIES THIS JUST BRINGS ME JOY
But the ONLY TWO THINGS YOU CAN'T DRESS AS AT ALL-
Venom and Deadpool.
Venom is too risky. Deadpool is not allowed on campus and if THE REAL ONES seen they have to evacuate and deploy the capture team cause he gets too excited (you'd be surprised of what one man is capable of in the need of Spider-attention)
Anything else is fine though-
CAN YOU SEE IT ARE YOU SEEING SPIDERWEEN????? HUH
#THIS IS WHAT GOES ON IN MY HEAD#spiderman#atsv#marvel#spider man#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#spider punk#spiderpunk#peter parker#miguel ohara#miguel spiderman#jessica drew#ben reilly#Gwen Stacy#spider society#spidersona#spidersonas#spiderman 2099#spider gwen#spider woman#spidergwen#Spiderwoman#Lyla atsv
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Hummingbird: Chapter Six
Miguel O'Hara x Reader
What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?
Masterlist
Warnings: Mention of violence and injuries
“Why didn’t you call me? Esto nunca debería haber sucedido.”
“Hey, it’s alright. Keep your eyes open ok?”
“Mantén los ojos abiertos. Stay awake, Y/n. Mantente despierto por mí.”
“Is she going to be ok?”
“What’s going on? What happened?!”
You forced your eyes open, blinking the sleep and time from them as your mind slowly worked to clear out the fog. Voices had murmured to you throughout your sleep, whispering words that sounded kind and gentle, but you couldn’t hold onto the specifics of what they said.
Pain shot through uncooperative arms when you tried to sit up in bed, grimacing at the gross taste in your mouth. How long had you been asleep for? The soreness in your back told you it had been a long time.
“Hey, kiddo. Might not want to try that.” Peter said as you struggled. His hand was strong against your back as you shifted restlessly. The sheets smelled of laundry detergent and lemons. Overhead the lights of the Spidey med bay hummed softly.
“Peter?” You muttered groggily. Your vocal cords were tight and gruff like a car engine that had been left idle for too long.
“The one and only!”
You finished clearing out your eyes and your voice. It was good to see a familiar face.
“How long have I been out? I feel like shit.”
“You look like shit too.” He said with a forced grin like he hadn’t just lost one of his best friends, “Do you remember what happened?”
You accepted the water he handed you, downing it in five seconds with a groan. Your hands and arms were wrapped like a mummy’s and you could feel the soft gauze rub against the sensitive skin beneath whenever you moved.
“Yeah… Yeah I think I do.” The IV drip, drip, dripped saline steadily into your arm, “How long have I been out, Peter? You never answered.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, still wearing his pink bathrobe and matching slippers when Mayday was nowhere to be found. At this point fatherhood had become a new superhero role for him, so it made sense he should dress accordingly at work.
“Ten days?”
“Ten days?!” You sat up with a grimace, “Joder.”
Did someone call me out of work? God, I’m hungry. Isn’t Miles’s reference letter due soon? I need a shower. Fuck.
Peter held you down gently when you tried to roll out of bed. If Miguel discovered you’d gotten up on his watch, he’d never hear the end-
“You’re awake.”
Miguel’s frame filled the doorway, a small tray of food held within white-knuckled hands.
You were here. You were safe. He had to keep reminding himself of that.
Shit. Peter B. spun around on his heels, letting you go and spreading his arms open wide like he’d just unveiled a marble statue at a ceremony.
“Surprise!” He sang, your irritated face appearing in Miguel’s vision from around Peter’s back.
You may have been the one to nearly die, but Miguel looked like he’d been put through the ringer. His red eyes were bloodshot and bruised, curls tousled, and shoulders slumped over like a deflated balloon.
“She’s awake! A real fighter, this one.”
Miguel stalked forward, sinking into the seat next to your bed that Peter had abandoned and sliding the tray of food in front of you. Everything about him spoke of exhaustion, but he hid it well as he pressed a hand to your forehead, feeling for a fever. His palm was warm, chasing away some of the pulsing pain in your head.
“How are you feeling?”
Peter B. pouted from behind Miguel. Hey, I’m here too! His expression said, drawing a small smile from you.
“Pretty terrible, I won’t lie. But at least I’m not dead.”
Miguel winced and fell silent. You regretted saying anything.
Peter fluttered around the room like a honey bee, chatting your ear off and taking the edge off of the tension that radiated from Miguel as he dutifully checked over your wounds. He barely said anything, only asking you to open your mouth so he could take your temperature or lift your arm so he could wrap the blood pressure cuff around your bicep.
Everyone had been worried about you, taking turns to sit at your bedside and wait for you to awaken (although the rotation was also made so that Miguel would be forced to take time to rest… He didn’t).
Even some of the Spiders you weren’t familiar with left behind cards and small stuffed bears - a consistent get well gift across universes, although Spider Cat did bring you a packet of catnip. They formed a small mountain of trinkets on the coffee table.
“We’ll leave you alone to rest.” Miguel said bluntly, stopping Peter’s rant in his tracks after seeing your eyes begin to glaze over and flutter shut.
“Oooof, sorry. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off. Hey! If you need anything, just call. I’m sure Miles will stop by later, but I told him you’d be upset if he skipped school. Oh! And I’ll bring Mayday with me next time I visit. She always makes people feel better. Doesn’t she, Miguel?”
Miguel’s neutral expression didn’t budge when Peter nudged him with an elbow. He only continued to herd Peter closer and closer out the door.
“Anyway, I’ll see you later!” Peter said, finally disappearing around the corner. Miguel huffed. Took him long enough.
“Wait!” You called out before Miguel could escape back to his office to brood. “Could-could you stay?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them and you cringed. You didn’t like to ask him for things but… considering the circumstances…
He walked back to you, rigidly sinking back into his seat and pushing the tray closer to you.
“You should eat. Build up your strength.” He said, clasping his hands tightly against his stomach as you hesitated and then began to eat ravenously.
He’d been in your position before - exhausted and confused and reeling from a near-death experience. A pit of shame formed in his stomach. He hadn’t been able to protect you from it. He’d been on edge ever since you’d joined Spider Society and he thought - he’d hoped - that by keeping you from the more dangerous corners of the multiverse, you’d never experience what you’d just gone through. First the incident with the Spot and now this...
“How bad was it?” You asked tentatively, poking at the leftover fries on your plate. You obeyed the comfortable stretch of your stomach, cautious of getting sick after not eating solid food for over a week. “How bad was I?”
“Pretty bad.” Miguel said gruffly and honestly, staring at a blank spot on the wall, “We didn’t think you’d make it for a while.”
You nodded. You remembered bits and pieces of the moment between sending the anomaly back to his dimension and passing out. The electricity flowing through your body had made your skin feel like it was being peeled off the bone, every nerve screaming out in pain until your brain had short circuited and shut itself off. You were lucky that the burns on your arms were all that remained.
“But I did.” You said, gently reminding him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He didn’t think… he couldn’t.
“Migs-”
The nickname threw him off guard. No one had called him that since his wife died.
He stood up so quickly the chair squeaked in protest.
“Get some rest, Y/n.” He said without looking at you, “Call if you need anything.” He tapped the touchscreen device he left on the table - his universe’s version of a cell phone - before striding out the door without another word.
You clenched your jaw and sank back into the pillows, part of you wishing you’d stayed asleep for a little while longer.
It took time for your body to feel like your own again. Most days you shouted at deaf limbs to move smoothly and carry things properly. Miguel had already written to Brooklyn Visions Academy about your medical leave of absence and had even gone so far as to visit your apartment to clean your kitchen and fridge while you remained bedridden at Spidey HQ. But for all the big and small ways he showed you that he cared, he neglected to do one thing - actually talk to you.
You shoved the sketchbook off the table, colored pens and pencils scattering on the floor as you dropped your head into your arms and silently screamed. Nearly a month after your injury and you still couldn’t quite hold things properly.
Your fine motor skills should return over time. Was what Dr. Parker had told you and the words should and time had been rattling around in your brain ever since.
Should or will? And how much time would it take?
“Fingers still not quite working right?” Hobie asked, leaning so far back in his seat with his legs propped up that he was nearly parallel with the floor. He held a tattered book in his hands, shifting colors with every page flip like the world’s worst chameleon.
“No.” You said, smoothing back your hair. You’d lost the bandages, but your skin was still tender to the touch in places and numb in others. Lichtenberg figure scars trailed up from your hands all the way to your collarbone, growing there like lichen on a tree. “It’s gotten better. A lot better. But it’s still not the same.”
“You’ll get there eventually.” Hobie said. He knelt on the floor and started to clean up the mess you had made, “Then you’ll be good as new.”
“How do you know?” You sighed, joining him.
He shrugged, “I don’t. But I was right before about you being able to send someone back to their own dimension without a watch. I’ve got a good feeling I’ll be right about this too.”
He offered you a small smile and a helping hand, both of which you accepted.
You spent the rest of the day together, joined by Peter, Gwen, and Miles who cheered you through your daily exercises. You were getting strong again, albeit slowly.
“I want to see you kiss the ground!”
“Show that stress ball who’s BOSS!”
“Yeah, THROW THAT DONGLE!”
“What did you just call-”
Miguel hovered by the door, never stepping foot into the training room with you in it. Never speaking to you, although he desperately wanted to. When you caught his eye, blinking in surprise as you kneeled in the training ring sweaty and tired, he bolted.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He muttered to himself as he strode to the office you’d affectionately coined his “vampire lair.” Although he’d kept his distance, he’d never left you alone. When you asked Peter about getting things from your apartment, he was the one who visited your dimension. When you initially had trouble walking after your injury, he was the one who tracked down the best physicians and physical therapist variants he could find. He was breaking protocol left and right to make sure you were ok and he knew it. But...
“Lyla, could you pull up the video?” She didn’t need to ask for clarification on which video. It was always the same one. Always the same happy memory, followed by a terrible and harsh reality.
Gabriella’s smiling face flashed on the screen, her bubbly laughter rising high above Miguel’s own baritone chuckle as she threw her arms around his shoulders and slapped that silly blue bow on his head. He’d taken that video to send to you after she scored the winning goal. You never made it to the game.
It was a painful reminder of everything that was at stake. He’d taken too many liberties, allowed himself to get too close to you. If he lost you like he’d lost Gabriella. He-
“Is that her?”
Miguel’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.
“Is that Gabriella?” You asked, swallowing thickly as Miguel turned around, leaving the video paused on two smiling faces. He wasn’t smiling now.
“Yes.” He answered softly, guilt heavy on his voice as you moved closer and inspected the girl on screen.
Your breath caught in your throat, coming out as a strangled gasp.
She looked like Miguel… She looked like you…
“She’s got your smile.” You said softly, brushing away the unexpected dampness that had collected in your eyes.
You’d been frustrated all day. Frustrated at yourself for your slow healing and your uncooperative body. When you had come to Miguel’s lair it was with the purpose of yelling at him for not visiting, and part of you still wanted to do that. But seeing him vulnerable and tired in front of his daughter your daughter Gabriella had taken some of the fight out of you.
“I always thought she had yours. Well, the other-”
“I understand, Miguel.”
Silence stretched between you, tense and thin and waiting to be sliced through. You made the move.
“Why haven’t you visited me?” The words came out sharper, more accusatory than you’d expected them to.
Although Miguel flinched on the inside, he forced himself to take that pain and longing and shove it back into the little box he’d crafted for those feelings in the corner of his heart. The little box that you’d been steadily hacking away at from the very moment he met you.
“It wouldn’t have been appropriate.”
“Appropriate? What the hell is that supposed to mean? It’s not appropriate for you to visit a friend?”
His jaw clenched at the word friend. It was a flimsy word, too weak to hold up all the feelings you held for each other. He ignored your question and barrelled through his next words, words that he’d been contemplating over the last month you’d been stuck in the med bay.
“Peter J. says you’re well enough to go back home and back to work if you feel ready. He wants you here every Wednesday at 7pm for the next six weeks-”
“You’re not answering my question-”
“I’ve got a write up for you to bring to any physician in your dimension-”
“Miguel, stop ignoring-”
“If you need documentation. In the meantime-”
“Y ni siquiera me estás escuchando-”
“I’m taking you off the team.”
You took a step back, the realization of what he’d just said hitting you like a slap. “What did you say?”
Miguel gritted his teeth, eyes sliding down to the floor so he wouldn’t have to see that quiet look of devastation on your face. You were having none of it, immediately getting close to him and pressing your hands against his chest. The pads of your fingers were delicate but forceful as they tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into your eyes.
“Miguel, look at me.” Quiet. Desperate.
“I’m taking you off the team.” He repeated, clenching his jaw so tightly he could feel the grinding of his teeth.
“What-why would-why?”
“You almost died, Y/n. That stunt of yours could’ve gotten you killed.”
“Stunt? Is that really what you’re calling it?”
“You’re not cut out for this.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
It was bullshit and he did know it.
“We couldn’t call you.” You prodded him with a finger, “We couldn’t trap him using the usual methods. We could barely hold him off long enough for anyone to come help. If I hadn’t done what I did, who the hell knows what would have happened? To Miles. To Gwen. To the millions of people living in New York. You need me Miguel, and not just for the superhero crap.”
What hadn’t occurred to you was that he knew exactly how much he needed you… and that was what terrified him so much.
“The decision’s been made, Y/n.”
“By you. So change it.”
“I’m not changing my decision.” Miguel growled, grabbing the hand that you’d been jabbing him with.
So this was the Miguel that everyone had told you about. Not the soft, brooding, sarcastic man you’d come to know. Not the Spider-Man whose humor revolved around making quippy comments. Not the Spider-Man who claimed to be the roughest and straight-laced of them all while still letting the cooks put his face on their signature burger. Not the smiling, laughing Miguel from the video with a blue bow in his hair.
No. This Miguel was short-tempered and hammered from steel.
So why did he still hold your hand so gently, clutching it to his chest like he wanted to keep you there?
He shrugged you off, finally closing the screen on the video of him and Gabriella. Something about that made your blood boil.
“So what now?” You seethed, refusing to let this go. Not even as his fingers started to fly over the keyboard and his mind struggled to go elsewhere.
“You can go home. You can go back to the med bay.”
You can stay here with me. You can help me get through all of this.
Miguel’s heart screamed at him. His brain screamed back so loudly he felt his hold on his emotions stretch to its breaking point.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Your voices had been steadily rising throughout the argument. So when his broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh, one hand coming up to rub at his temples, you thought you’d finally gotten to him.
“¡Dime la verdad, Miguel! Why are you taking me off the team?”
“I told you the truth earlier. You’re not cut out for this.”
“BULLSHIT!”
He slammed his hand down on the keyboard, cracking it in two and sending keys clattering to the floor.
“I’M NOT LOSING YOU!” He roared, eyes alight and burning like the sun itself. “Not again!” His eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t stand the sight of you, chest rising and falling with desperate gulps of air.
You stood there, lightly swaying on your feet like a boat caught in an unexpected storm.
“I am not your fucking wife.” Your voice cracked, “You didn’t lose me before and unless you tell me to walk out that door right now, you will never lose me. Ok? I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to.”
You expected something, anything, from Miguel. But after a minute of silence passed with him standing like a statue in front of you, you swallowed your tears before they could fall and blinked away.
It wasn’t your intention to go home. You’d planned to go back to the med bay, curl up, and sleep away your troubles before stealing a watch in the morning. But like a broken dam can’t hold back water, your emotions and powers couldn’t be contained.
When you looked around at your cleaned apartment, the faintest smell of Miguel’s cologne still stuck to the couch pillows, you sank to your knees and started to cry.
<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->
_________
Author's note:
Autumn is here! And the colder, somber atmosphere in the coffee shop today helped inspire this chapter. I had a plan for this fic... I abandoned it long ago. But, that being said, I hope to have things wrapped up in the next 2-3 chapters and to bring some closure to the first multi-chapter fic I will have ever truly completed.
As always, I hope you're all taking care of yourselves and that your Autumn drinks are tasting ✨delicious✨
Love,
Florence B.
Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape. @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake @hyperfixationwho @corpsebridenightamare @mikeys-thighs
#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#atsv x reader#miguel o'hara x wife reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader#miguel x spidersona#miles morales#gwen stacy#spider verse#atsv#hobie brown#peter b parker#angst
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(Not So) Champagne Problems
pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader
summary: he had infuriated you, and you deserved a drink.
word count: 3.2(ish)
warnings: drinking, reader being at a bar, intoxication, drunk!reader, swearing, a stabbing and an injury, angst but also fluff don't you worry, a little bit of klepto tendencies, no y/n used, mentions of death?, brief talk of a lack of self-care, miguel having feeeeelings
a/n: it's one am and i crunched this out in two days so no beta we die like men (gender neutral). also since i don't speak spanish i used spanishdict.com, but if i messed anything up please let me know and i will fix it!
masterlist
one more thing! don't repost my stories, otherwise i can sense a real nasty cold coming your way that will last just long enough that it becomes annoying, and when you think it's gone it will come back for another week. don't be like that, you don't want that, do you?
thank you for reading! -ella
credit to gif owner!
By now, the sun had long set, and your vision was a little blurry.
You had to have been on what, four? Five drinks? And were surely going to be cut off if you asked for another. But you fucking deserved these drinks, after what Miguel had put you through. He had the nerve to bench you after you saved his life.
The only other thing he had was the audacity.
As you placed the remnants of the fruity drink back down on the bar, your mind swirled with what had gone down earlier that day.
"Where's our anomaly at?" You heard Peter B shout from behind you, a giggling mayday in the baby carrier attached to his front.
"I'm rounding on them now, Miguel do you see them from up top?" How Jess could speak into her comms without the wind from her bike getting picked up was beyond you. You were swinging through a train tunnel of this particular universe, tasked with trying to catch the anomaly alongside Peter B from below. Jess took the road route, and Miguel took the birds eye--there was no way this villain of the week had a shot at escaping.
"Yeah Jess, eyes on them now. Heading down."
Woof. Miguel got on your nerves more than you'd like to admit, but man did his voice send a shiver down your spine.
"We're existing the tunnel now, eyes on them." You answered for Peter and you, checking back to make sure he was still good before the light of the day enveloped your vision.
One thing led to another, and soon enough you saw what was going to happen before you could warn him. There was the anomaly, fighting Miguel, who stood with his claws out and fangs bared. This anomaly could phase between states of solid and liquid, and just as Miguel was about to paralyze them, they switched states, forming back to solid right behind him.
And sure, maybe you had a certain lack of self-preservation that made the team a little concerned, but you had lost enough in your life to get to that point. So that's why when you moved to block the anomaly's strike from Miguel instead allowing the hit to come to you, you didn't think much of it. In fact, you'd gotten your hopes up thinking that he might even be grateful.
But no, he was most certainly not. The anomaly was quickly taken down afterwards, the familiar glow of Miguel's red eyes painting your vision every now and then as the job finished up. The anomaly had stabbed you, not in anywhere too concerning, but it still hurt.
From there it was a bit of a blur, with images of the portal and the team and Miguel running through your mind, until you were in the infirmary with stitches in your shoulder and the tall brooding man towering over you with his arms crossed.
"You were stupid." He had said in the infirmary.
"A thank you would have been nice. My shoulder is the same height as your heart, and the anomaly had a perfect shot." You had scoffed at him, and his face had flashed with a look mixed between anger and something you couldn't quite place.
"And what if they missed and had gotten your neck instead? In no universe do I want to deal with you dying, especially right in front of me, for me." His tone had developed a softer edge toward the tail end of the sentence, his jaw clenching. He hated the vulnerability, and you saw right through him.
You weren't too sure what you and him were, in terms of a label. Sure, you'd been one of the first spider-people to be recruited into his (not so) little boy band, and sure you had seen glimpses of him that no other spider-person had seen, but the latter had only been done late after hours between shared cups of tea or as he laid in bed falling asleep holding you. But then again, he always had that stoic look to him otherwise, with his mountain of an ego and his asshole-like behavior.
It was complicated with him.
"Plus, I would have to deal with mess of your death." There it was.
You rolled your eyes and stood to get up, him walking to your side to help you maintain balance from the pain of your cells rapidly healing.
"For the next few missions, I want you back with Lyla."
You turned to him then with anger washing over you. "You're benching me?"
"Yes, until you can prove you're not going to do something as reckless as that again."
And then the argument broke out, and he fought you on your recklessness and its consequences. Well, fuck him then.
He never took the time to think about what would happen if the anomaly did strike him, heightened healing abilities or not. It's hard to heal from an impaling of the heart. And he refused to listen to anything you said to justify your actions.
He was so bullheaded and strict, and you were tired of it, tired of him. If he wanted to bench you? Fine. But he could kiss those late nights goodbye, no matter how much you craved his sweatpants and t-shirt look, with his fluffy, soft hair, his so broad shoulders, the fangs, oh the fangs, and his a-- enough.
Snap yourself out of it. You cursed to yourself and flagged the bartender down, your intoxicated state making your hand sway a little as you did so. The bartender looked over at you and shook their head, making you loll your head back in irritation.
Big mistake.
Rapidly shutting your eyes, a groan accompanied you as you felt the effects of the alcohol sink in. You had taken off your watch too which you severely regretted now, because not only were you about to glitch any minute, you needed to talk to Peter. He would know what to do, and the watch was the quickest way to contact him. But it was in your bag somewhere, and you would rather suffer the consequences than even try to look in that thing right now.
His spider senses must have been pretty accurate because not even three minutes later your phone was ringing, his name appearing on the screen.
He spoke your name into the phone upon your answering, and you chuckled as you pictured him in that pink robe, probably pacing in some rabbit slippers too. Not that there was anything wrong with that of course.
"Hey Petey B, what's up?" You tried to muster all of the shards of your soberness to sound as articulate as possible, which was not much.
"Where are you? Hobie said he saw you walk out after getting in a fight with the big guy, and we've been trying to get ahold of you for hours now!"
You snorted. "I'm fine, Peter, just..." You trailed off, the sight of a rather interesting wine bottle catching your attention.
Your name was called again, his voice reverberating through the microphone. "Hm? Hey Peter, Can I tell you a secret?" You whispered back, a giggle following the beginning of your little confession.
"Are-are you drunk?"
You scoffed and continued on disregarding what he said. "Miguel definitely doesn't want me sharing this, but he's being a big ol' mean bundle of muscles so I'm going to anyway." You looked around to make sure no one else was listening to your drunken ramble and whispered into the phone. "He'll deny it until the day he dies, but he likes being the little spoon." Another giggle followed after that, thinking of what else to tell the brown-haired father about Miguel.
"Yep, oookay you are definitely drunk, and in no universe did I want to learn that information. Where are you? Lyla--" You tuned out after that, focusing again on that wine bottle you fancied. It would make for a perfect vase, and if you could just avoid bringing attention to yourself--
"Hey! Listen, I have to get back home with mayday, but Lyla found your location and is sending for someone to pick you up, okay?" His concerned voice made you worry a little. Maybe he needed a little pick me up.
"Peter you should know that you're such a good friend, you don't need to worry silly." A hiccup accompanied your words of attempted comfort. "You don't need to have anyone come get me, I'm fine--"
That's when the pain started--your heart feeling like it was being ripped from you. The feeling surged through your body at a wicked pace then, with your nerves burning as if they were on fire. You felt like you could feel your molecules splitting apart, the pain circling through you for what felt like an eternity, when in reality it couldn't have been more than a few moments.
You hadn't glitched in a while, and you forgot how much it hurt and threw you off-balance. Add on top that you were pretty intoxicated, and you felt like your world was upside down, literally, because your vision danced, and you couldn't locate any solid surface to grab onto.
You must have dropped your phone while you glitched because it was no longer in your hand, and as your senses started to half-hazardly return, you fought to keep everything in your system. Yeah, you seriously regretted not putting the watch back on. Of course, they could still track it if it wasn't on your wrist. You should have just left it at the Spider Society. Or better, you should've just returned home.
But you needed to escape, and you weren't thinking clearly after you fought with Miguel.
Miguel. Stupid, cold, stoic Miguel. Hot, soft, sexy Miguel. Couldn't hold in his anger for the life of him and doesn't know how to properly process emotions Miguel. Sweet, aggravatingly cute, loving Miguel.
"You think I'm cute?"
The low accented voice made you whip around, your head catching up a moment after your body, making you sway. You stuck your hands out to catch yourself from falling off the chair, your arm hitting a hard surface.
Ow. Did you just say that out loud?
"Yes, you did." The same voice, unimpressed, crossed his arms.
There Miguel stood, clad in everyday clothes, jaw clenched and shoulders taught as he looked at you in your drunken state. "Come on, we're going home." He grabbed your arm from where it laid against his chest, lowering it while using his other hand to support you while you stood up. You could hear him say a string of curses in Spanish before meeting your eyes, an annoyed look reflecting from them.
"You can't just walk out of there into the city this late at night without telling anyone that you're leaving. Something bad could've happened to you."
You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm away, reaching for your bag and missing a couple times before grabbing its handle. "Oh, stop pretending you care, Mr. 'you're off duty even though I'd be dead if you hadn't stepped in'." Almost stepping on your dropped phone, you bent over to try to pick it up, nearly falling over as you did so, the world spinning. A hand lightly grabbed your waist to steady you, and you cursed at his subtle show of affection.
"You dealt with that by getting drunk?" He said as he helped you back up, placing some money on the bar. "That's extremely irresponsible."
"Tough talk coming from someone who gets his anger out by throwing desks." Why did he have to be the one to pick you up? Why couldn't it have been literally anyone else?
An annoyed huff sounded from him then, and you turned to fully face the spider. Giving him a good once over, you couldn't help but become a little flustered at how he looked. Yes, you were extremely fed up with him right now, but jeans, on that ass? Accompanied with the compression shirt he donned, well, you took a good drink of him in. Enough of that, he benched you.
"We're going home, come on." He tried to coax you from your spot again, but to no avail. You may be drunk, but you still were stubborn.
You scrunched your eyebrows and crossed your arms. "No. Not until you un-bench me."
You heard him take another deep breath, you clearly getting on his nerves, but you couldn't care less. "I took you off duty because you don't care about yourself and your well-being, and until you can prove that you're going to be safe out there, we'll find something for you to do."
He really had the nerve, huh? "Oh come on, you would have done the same for me, and you know exactly why I did why I did. Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't have taken my place if the roles were reversed.
He hesitated a moment, deciding whether or not to indulge your drunken challenge.
"I wouldn't have."
You snorted in response, pushing his hand away from you. "Liar." The floor was still spinning, but you weren't going to show any signs of that to him. You tried to turn around and wave for another drink to be brought your way, but the bartender paid you no mind. "If you think you can come in here and be mean to me, especially after earlier, think again Miguel."
He grabbed your shoulder then, turning you towards him a second? Third time? He was always more touchy when it was just the two of you, not that you were complaining. You heard him mumble under his breath, though he never talked that loud in public settings--you figured it had something to do with his fangs. Oh, those fangs, those--
Snap out of it.
"Dios mío, mi amor (Oh my god, my love). I didn't mean it like that. You know I would have done the same, it's just that..." He trailed off, and you in turn raised your eyebrow.
If he was going to admit anything right now, whether you were drunk or not, he was going to fully say it. "Hmm?"
He had let the last part of that slip out and was thankful that you hadn't said anything about it. Once he realized the situation he was in though, he begrudgingly continued. "I tend to not think as straight when I'm around you sometimes, and it leads me to make rash decisions. I know you did it out of care."
"And?"
His stone-like facial expression finally, finally dropped, and you could take that for a win in itself. "And I'm sorry for benching you, but you have to see where I'm coming from."
And maybe you should have dropped it there, for you were able to get an apology out of Miguel, which not many people could say the same for. But your liquid confidence pushed you forward, bringing a finger to his chest. He lit this fuse, and you weren't going to let the fire go out just yet.
"If you don't let me go, I'm just going to sneak out to join a mission anyway. Leader of the Spider Society or not, you're not withholding me from something I enjoy doing." You could see the conflict on his face, but you knew you had won; after all, you were telling the truth. Either he let you go on the missions, or you were going to find a way to get on one anyways.
But this isn't how arguments got resolved, and you weren't sure he was used to someone talking back to him. Arguments were solved with compromise, so that's what you decided to do. "Okay, how about this. I'm not used to looking out for myself, but I'll try to do it more, yeah?"
He visibly relaxed at that, and maybe that was what he needed to hear all along. He knew that he was in too deep with you, and after Peter had told him of your late-night outing, his senses got a little frenzied. He couldn't put a name to the feelings he felt for you just yet, or maybe he could but he was afraid, but all rational went out the window when he found out that you were out here, not sober, in a universe you did not live in, by yourself. It was a recipe for disaster, and almost gave him freaking heart palpitations.
He had rushed to your location, and whether he was still frustrated with you or not, he loved cared for you and wanted you safe.
You were going to be the death of him, and he would willingly follow the reaper if that meant he got to spend the rest of his time with you.
At your offer he relaxed a bit, maybe he was being a little harsh. "Fine, I'll agree to that." He saw your eyes light up and quickly continued. "But only if I join you the next few missions, okay? You really had me worried today." You nodded at that, and the ghost of a smile could be seen on his lips. This was a whole lot better than fighting. Giving you a once over, he could tell that exhaustion was hitting you. "How about we head back home, mi querido/a, y ve a dormir (my dear, and go to sleep) . You can stay at my place for the night, sleep this off. I'll get you some medicine to help with the headache tomorrow, okay?"
You stifled a yawn, and his heart melted at the sight of you. Yeah, he was in deep. "Yeah, sounds good." Just as he dropped the tension in his jaw and shoulders again though, your frame began to glitch. He reached both his hands now to your shoulders to ground you. Why hadn't you put your watch back on? Why had you taken it off in the first place? You were blinking furiously when you returned to normal, falling into his touch.
Without a second thought he took his own off and secured it on your wrist, after all he wouldn't need his until tomorrow, when he traveled again. "Where's your watch?" He raced out, holding gently onto you. Eyes wide and mind scrambled, the moment you motioned towards your bag he retrieved it, setting it on his own person before ushering you out of the bar. "Are you alright?" He hated that his voice held a tinge of panic, but his stomach dropped at seeing you glitch, knowing how the pain felt first hand. You mumbled a yeah, and he walked with you back to his place. Swinging would make you all the more queasy.
When you two got in the door, he gave you another once over. "Are you doing better, are you sure you're okay?" You nodded, and the next thing he knew you were against his chest, hugging him.
Maybe he was freaking out a little on the inside at this, but he couldn't remember the last time he had received a hug. Returning the embrace, he murmured to you. "I've got some clothes you can change into, let's get you in bed." He heard an 'okay' slip from you, and he led you to his room.
And as he tucked you into his bed before heading to go change himself, dare he say that his heart fluttered when he heard you speak.
"Thank you Miggy, I love you."
And as sleep lulled you into its song, he was left momentarily frozen, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome warmth filling his chest. Because drunk words are sober thoughts, aren't they?
#spiderman#across the spider verse spoilers#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#oscaar isaac#miguel o'hara x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you
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мιgυel o'нara х ғ!reader
◥︎ 『 coғғee ︎pт.2 』︎ ◣
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ѕυммary ➞︎ мayвe мιgυel lιĸeѕ нιѕ тнιngѕ ѕweeтer тнan нe wanтѕ тo adмιт.
warnιngѕ ➞︎ none
noтeѕ ➞︎ нιgнly reqυeѕтed ғollow υp, ι cannoт eхpreѕѕ нow тнanĸғυl ι aм ғor тнe ѕυpporт on тнιѕ мιnι ѕerιeѕ ❤︎ this is the final installment :)
↽︎ parт 1
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“And he drank it?”
You nodded, sipping at your morning cup of coffee. The sweetness stuck to the roof of your mouth, caffeine slipping into your chest. You watched as Peter B ran his hand through his hair, eyes wide in curiosity and shock.
“Every time I put chocolate in mine he looks at me like I killed someone!”
You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s because no one does that, Peter.”
He scoffed, puffing out his chest and shifting his baby strap, where Mayday bounced contently. “Well Mayday seems to like it!”
As if on cue, the red head purred, giggling at her fathers exasperated sigh.
“Do you think his exhaustion is getting to him? Miguel…isn’t the open minded type.”
You thought back to the night before, his soft brown gaze making your cheeks turn pink. The feeling of his lips under your thumb, and his-
“Well there is one more thing,” you said, eyes drifting to your coffee cup, “he…well he smiled.”
Mayday and Peter both went silent, faces blank. You shifted, awaiting the eventual explosion from the two of them.
But it never came. Peter closed his mouth, as if all the air and words has been caught at the back of his teeth, sucking in a sharp, stunned breath.
“Miguel…smiled? Like, a happy smile. Not a fake one? Or a sarcastic one?”
You shook your head, taking another absent minded sip of your coffee. Was it truly an unbelievable, impossible sight? Was the idea that Miguel could smile so foreign and strange that one of his closest acquaintances couldn’t conjure the image?
Mayday crawled out of her fathers carrier, cooing at you and reaching for your arms, as if you distract you from your wandering thoughts. You gladly took the grinning child, who curled into your arms, eyes fluttering in comfort.
“No. I think it was genuine.” You finally replied, smiling down and letting the little girl grip your fingers.
Peter sighed, tone calming at the sight of his happy daughter in your arms. “Well, consider yourself lucky. Even Mayday struggles to bring out a smile in that man.”
You laughed quietly, bouncing the girl in your arms. “Well now that’s just unthinkable!” She hummed happily in response, head leaning into your chest.
“What is?”
His voice had retained some of its evening whisper, but under its assured stature, laid a raspiness that was undeniably tiered and stern. It captivated attention even in its subtlety, abstrusely spoken in a manor that made you shiver.
You greeted Miguel with a smile, looking up at him as Mayday squealed, enthralled to see his shadow, casted by the morning light peaking through the windows in the coffee room.
“We were talking about how no one couldn’t like this sweet girl,” you tickled her stomach with your fingers, making the smile she had gotten from her father crinkle her eyes, “not even you.”
Miguel huffed, shoulders shrugging in mock offense. “I don’t dislike her- she’s just,” he looked down at the blubbering child, face softening for a moment before regaining its usual scowl, “unpredictable.”
Both Peter and you laughed, sending each other a knowing look. Nothing was predictable enough for Miguel, much less a child.
Mayday moved out of your arms and onto your shoulders, looking up at Miguel with an insistent, giddy smile. He sighed, extending his arm so she could crawl along it, resting on his shoulder and fiddling with his disheveled hair. Both you and Peter smiled at the endearing scene, Miguel grumbling frustrated, incomprehensible Spanish under his breath.
You took a sip from your mug before sending a guilty look at the empty machine. “Sorry Miguel, we’re all out of coffee this morning- we finished off the last bag of grind,” you paused, your eyes darting between Peter, your cup, and then Miguel, “but you could finish my cup. I’ve had plenty this morning.”
Miguel sent you an incredulous look, instantly aware of the game you were trying to play. “I wouldn’t want to take-“
“Please I insist.” You lifted to cup to his chest. He sighed through his teeth, taking the creamy, light liquid from your hand. You smiled sweetly at him, which he returned with a warning stare.
“This was a nice break- and always lovely to see you, Mayday,” you poked her shoulder, the giggling menace still happily perched on Miguel’s broad shoulders, “but I’ve got plenty of work to do. Including getting some more grind from the storage.”
You sent a final look to Miguel, and a message through your eyes. He rolled his, bringing the warm mug to his lips.
You got to see Peter B’s mouth drop before you closed the door.
▂︎▂︎▂︎▂︎
You walked triumphantly down the stark white halls, that similar heat simmering in your chest. You welcomed it with a quiet sigh, your shoulders light with the reminder of it all.
You and Miguel were close, in the loose term of the word. Being one of the few early members of the society, you had your fair share of adventures and fights together- but labeling the dynamic between you two is difficult.
Peter B would always be his right hand man- his confidant. Jess was probably the closest thing he would ever have to an older sister, despite her being a little less than a decade younger.
But you and Miguel didn’t have a category. You sat in the natural, comforting, almost familiar air that surrendered itself in your presence. Begrudgingly, you’ll admit that for as long as you’ve known him, attraction always fizzled in your ribs when his voice said your name, or his skin met yours. But for just as long you have decided it was ridiculous, even in the moments he looked at you with that endless brown.
“Why did you do that?”
There it was again- that subtle raspiness and the shiver that followed. You can’t say you’re surprised that he followed you, after all you did tease him.
You be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure why you took so much joy from making Miguel surrender to your wit. You knew that not many get the luxury of making him flustered, and that you’ve always taken advantage of your…affect on him. But as to why? It stumped the both of you.
You sent Miguel an innocent look. “Do what? Give you my coffee?”
Miguel pressed his lips together, torn on whether he should retort or agree. “…yes.” He decided.
You took a left, starting to remember the route to the storage room. It was massive, but because you’d rarely ever paid it a visit, its location remained misty in your mind.
“Well, you seemed to like it last night,” You sent a look to his empty mug, and then to him, “and clearly this morning.”
He huffed, setting the cup down on the nearest table, embarrassed he had been caught.
“You look like you need a boost, anyway.” You replied with a smugness in your voice, that was almost undetectable. Almost.
You took a turn around the corner, following the graphic signs to the storage room, grateful they placed markers to navigate the maze that was the Hub. Miguel had stopped behind you, but you still felt his looming presence down the hall.
“You told Peter, didn’t you.” He narrowed his eyes to punctuate his accusation.
“Tell him what? That you like my coffee?” You finally reached the storage doors, pressing your thumb against the scanner, hearing the programmed beep vibrate the scratched plastic screen, “Maybe.”
Miguel pinch the bringe of his nose, whispering, dios santo, me estás matando. sharply under his breath.
The gigantic doors slid open slowly, revealing the shelves stacked with an assortment of inventory. It had everything- everything, but organization. You went left, trusting the foggy memory of the storage map and where it placed the grind. You made yourself more sure as you counted the aisle numbers, cold air making the hairs on your neck prickle.
It was that, or Miguel’s presence behind you, demanding attention.
“He didn’t need to know.”
Your laugher echoed off the shelves, making the cans and bags shake in their spots. You turned down aisle 7, pleased (if not a little proud) at the sight of tan bags with “New York Grind” written in a typewriter font sitting at the middle of the aisle.
“What? Does cream and sugar stain your reputation?”
He was hot on your heels. “Yes!” He nearly wailed.
You stopped, facing to him with a playful smile drawn on your cheeks.
“Miguel, have you ever considered that people pay more attention to your pursuit of a coworker all the way down to the storage room and less to what’s in your coffee cup?”
Miguel paused, eyes roaming the steel shelves, as if he had just become aware of his surroundings. You shook your head, your smile still wrinkling the sides of your eyes.
You stopped in front of the coffee grind, now looking much higher up than it did only seconds ago. You stood on your toes, swiping with out success to the bags that sat a tantalizing, teasing, fingernail away from your grasp.
“Really, Miguel. I didn’t mean to ruin whatever mysterious, solemn image you built for yourself here,” you let out an exasperated sigh, straining your legs to no avail, “but I just think it’s sweet that you enjoy sugar and cream in your coffee.”
Hot breath fanned on your head, and your eyes watched as a large hand clasped over the bag of coffee. Your breathe hitched, suddenly very aware of the warm, familiar feeling that enveloped your shoulders.
“You think I’m…sweet?”
He said it with so much confusion, that your brain barely processed the underlying tones of hope that resided in the question.
You froze, replaying your words with a clarity that made your jaw click. He handed you the grind, but didn’t step back. You felt frustration building in your center (either from his clear attempt at intimidation, or how much it was working). You sighed harshly, turning while opening your mouth to say something.
It quickly closed, at the sight of overwhelming brown.
You were finally able to place the emotion that made itself home in his irises when he looked at you, and the mere thought that you might be correct made your heart leap into your throat, silencing every quip or retort you had prepared.
You weren’t trapped. His hands rested comfortably at his side, giving you the option to escape in any direction that wasn’t forward.
But not even the animalistic part of you, the survival instinct, wanted to escape. It felt more alive being exactly where you were.
“I am not…upset you told him about last night. It’s just that….” You turned to face him, the beat of your heart thriving tension that existed between the small space that separates your lips. His brows casted a shadow of contemplation on his eyes, concealing they’re hue.
You weren’t sure if you wanted them to be brown or red- but you knew that it was ecstasy to have him this close.
“Just that…?”
He sighed, the corners of his mouth neutral. You hated that his features were a perfect mask, never giving anything away- while your reddened cheeks, shaky breath, and gaze trained directly on his lips did.
“I wanted that to be between us.”
You shuddered at the thought. “…why?”
He looked at you, and his pleading gaze told you two things.
You knew exactly why.
And you were right about what was in his eyes.
Your mouth felt dry. “Does…does that also stain your…reputation?” You said, all of the bite in the response dead in your whisper.
He had leaned in, the brown so close you felt as if you could be sucked in. “Yes.”
Chills ran up your spine, eyes drifting to his lips, remembering the white cream that once lined them. You swallowed, fingers tracing the smooth plastic of the bag in your hands.
“That’s too bad.”
You held your breath, eyes not drifting from his lips. His hum rumbled in his chest, the sound making your knees weak.
You dropped the bag, the memory of why it was in your hands instead of him was now a distant and feeble mumble. He stiffened at the sound, watching you as if you were just as unpredictable as Mayday.
However, the way you’re eyes had refused to look at anything but his lips was a dead give away.
Miguel did things slow and small. It was one of the (many) things you appreciated about him. His energy was the essence if not the pure definition of subtle. Even if his loom made shivers crawl up someone’s spine, or his shadow alone made the opponent cower, nothing in his actions called attention on purpose. He used that subtly to his advantage, his goliath shadow speaking for itself to the enemy- his intimidation silent.
But you were no enemy.
In fact, you were the only force that he didn’t want to fight- he was completely fine embracing you instead.
And so he did.
The kiss was all of his subtly and more. It was soft, from the gentle movement of his lips against yours to the way he placed his hand shyly against your lower back, leaning you up against the cold metal shelves. You struggled to think straight, but the first thought that whispered in the back of your mind was that you were completely right about what you though his lips would taste like.
Coffee.
It was chaste, and as you pulled away every fiber in your body prickled at your skin and in your muscles, craving to collect in your lips. Your eyes fluttered to meet his, gleaming and foggy.
He was smiling, that beautiful crease in the valleys of his jaw making the wires in your brain spark and circuit. When he opened his eyes, he looked dazed, as if he felt as though he had just woken from a dream.
Their color didn’t really matter to you now.
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That evening, you assured Jess you could take her coffee shift, promising her that you could handle him for another night.
Her rough laugh and weary eyes thanked you, and you were left to walk the cold, empty hallways alone.
But when you reached his platform, smiling gently at him, the absence of Lyla (most likely by his doing) louder than the smile he returned, you felt like you were anything but lonely.
You handed him a coffee. It was lighter than his usual, the murmur of sugar and cream deep in its caffeine. However, it was darker than yours, different than the overwhelming taste of sweet.
He took the cup, sending you a gentle, knowing look. You returned it, placing a hesitant hand on his.
“Let’s start small.”
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I wanted to thank everyone for the overwhelming support I got after I posted part 1, you genuinely mean so much to me. I hope you enjoyed!
special thanks to the following (aka taglist): @myownsimp (your message made me cry ty legit touched my heart) @vxxxb (thank you for your message abt the way I write miguel ❤︎) @cooch1ecruncher (your so sweet and ur arts adorbs) @blue-raven-universe (TYYY) @miggyoharaswife (thank you for the support on pt.2) @abyemayiamay (your compliment means sm to me ty) @iwatobiswimbros (I’m feral for him to tbh) @lilithandherharlots (honestly same but for him? anything ❤︎) and @mochi46106 (ILY TY)
#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfics#across the spiderverse#spiderverse atsv#into the spider verse#spiderverse itsv#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x you#miguel o’hara x you#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099 x you
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