Latest Posts by see-the-thrill - Page 4

i think peter is turned on by domesticity <3

cws for fem reader.

-

He can’t help but feel this deep hunger starting in his belly as he watches you flit around in the kitchen; hair sticking in odd directions, one of his old band t-shirts hugging your figure, mismatch socks on your feet, and a white pore strip placed over the bridge of your nose.

You’re not doing anything but trying to decide between putting jelly on your bagel or cream cheese, softly muttering to yourself as you tap your foot against the tiled floor, but there’s a warm flush in his cheeks and a throbbing in his boxers as he sits at the kitchen island, chin propped up on his fist as his eyes rake over your form.

“…think I’m gonna go with the jelly, actually.” You finally decide, and then you’re padding over to the fridge, a low hum filtering through the kitchen as you pull it open and bend to look inside. Peter groans at the peek of your panties between your plush thighs, the pink cotton practically screaming out for him to push it to the side and get a peek at what’s hidden behind it. “Annnnd we’re out of jelly. Cream cheese it is.”

You straighten up with the small tub in your hand, and then you’re moving over to where he’s sitting and placing all your items down onto the surface of the counter. “Do you want one, too, or no?” Your eyes flick up to his, eyebrows furrowing when you make out his flushed skin, and then you’re rounding the counter so you can stand in front of him. “God, you are red, Peter. Are you sick?” You place one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you raise up on the balls of your feet, the other moving to touch his forehead. “Yuck, you’re clammy. No fever though. What’s up with you?”

“You smell good.” He mumbles, ignoring your question entirely, and he pinches at the end of your shirt, stretching the material down, the fabric pulling taut against your breasts that are free from a bra. He admires the shape of them before letting the material go.

“Cocoa butter.” You smile, the gleam of your retainer catching his eye, and Peter groans again as he drops his forehead against your shoulder, arms tightly winding around your waist as he pulls you between his legs. “Peter, what is up with—oh.” He turns his face into your neck, cool lips pressing open mouthed kisses to the warm skin there. You swat at his shoulder. “Absolutely not—you’re gonna sweat off my pore strip just like last time. These aren’t cheap, y’know.”

“I won’t.” You kiss at your teeth in response. “I won’t.” A hand travels down your back until he’s palming at your ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. “I just want a taste, that’s all. Nothing major.” His teeth gently nip at your skin, fingers slipping down lower, lower, until the tips of them are brushing against the outline of your cunt in your panties and feeling the growing wetness forming.

“But . . .” He pushes up, fabric getting stuck between your puffy lips, and then he’s dragging his fingers up until he reaches your clit, basking in the way you sigh his name and tug at his hair. “O-Okay—b-but nothing major! I have work in a bit.”

“Nothing major.” He echoes, slipping out of his stool to drop down to his knees in front of you, lidded gaze looking up at you as he licks his lips. He taps your leg, signaling for you to lift it, and you hook it over his shoulder, hands moving to steady yourself on the counter.

His gaze drops back down to your cunt, heat from emanating from it, scent heady and strong in his nose. Saliva pools in his mouth, and he hooks a finger into the seat of your panties and slowly tugs it to the side, a drawn out moan bubbling up from his throat as he watches strings of your arousal stretch between the fabric and the fat lips of your cunt.

“So fucking pretty.” It’s like he’s in a trance as he leans forward and kisses where your slit begins, right where he knows your clit is tucked away and hidden from view, and you suck in a sharp breath, a whine of his name on your lips.

He thinks you’ll be a bit late to work today, and he also thinks he’ll have a few new boxes of pore strips waiting for you when you get home.

I really thought that Miguel was a vampire, but even if that's wrong, no one ever said that he can't do Edward

Rigor Mortis (part 3)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

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

Part 2, Part 4

summary: A bad day turns even worse. Miguel surprises you.

warnings: angst angst angst, mentions of grief, very vague mention of domestic violence and abuse.

recommended reading: the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais, and the song Ophelia by the lumineers.

a/n: i lowkey suck at communicating my "big" ideas so i really really hope this makes sense!

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

Join my taglists here

wc: 3.8k

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

they were here, she says,

You’ve had your share of bad days.

Oh God , enough to fill an A4 binder with. For example, knocking out that tooth when you were twelve. A butterfly effect of fuck ups that led to a scuffle at school: blood in your mouth, a tooth on the ground, and a looong suspension. You received quite the earful at home, that day. 

And then there was telling your parents you had dropped out of college. Telling them you were moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend. Breaking up with said boyfriend in your favourite diner; thus sullying Pam’s waffles and pancakes with the bitter taste of… oh-fuck-I-don’t-know-how-I’ll-afford-an-apartment-now. Oh, and heartbreak – although that wasn’t as immediate. 

Scratch that, the day of the breakup had been fairly mundane. Pleasant, even. Jamie had an off day, and you only had a few lectures. He didn’t tell you, of course, so meeting him in the apartment was a surprise. You’re home earlier than usual, and you can’t quite bear to wake him up; slumped on the sofa like an old cat. He’s tired, lectures and clerkships running him ragged for the past few years. Only a year out until residency, with bags under his eyes as proof, and you see him less and less.  All things considered, you’re glad to spend the rest of the day with him. 

You’d spent too long after the break up analysing the days leading up to it: for a sign, something in his behaviour that would’ve warned you. And so, you remember it quite vividly: kicking your shoes off, putting your bag down, and sinking into the sofa next to him. You curl into him, looking up at his face: steady, tempered breathing. Something at your chest, solid and heavy. He looks peaceful, happy; and you haven't seen that side of him in quite a while. 

When you shift against him, you knock against his shoulder. Jamie stirs, groggy, and eyes adjusting to the light. The first thing he sees as he wakes is you; romantic, in theory. His expression is etched into your subconscious; stark and stiff like a marble statue, or a tombstone. A flash of disappointment, lip drawn in what seemed like disgust – but only for a moment.  

" Morning , baby." You squeeze his side, and take his hand into yours. That look ; it's gone almost as quickly as it came. 

"Thought…" He frowns, fighting dregs of sleep. "I thought you would be back later."

"Nope." You give him a smile and he returns with one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He puts a hand on your cheek. 

"Morning," Probably tired, he sighs deeply. You move on with the day. And he breaks up with you, not even 6 hours later.

You had had 4 years of that: good days, bad days, but most of them had been… mundane. Boring. Not quite the heat and intensity of true love, as the movies had gaslighted you into believing in. 

You like the old black and white ones the best. Old fashioned, old-timey folk; declarations of love in tinny transatlantic accents. Suddenly, you’re on the floor of your childhood bedroom; eyes wide at the Sound of Music. Maria and Von Trapp hand in hand: her dress billowing, the flash of white glove on the small of her back. Love, love, love; and your lack of it.

You feel its loss all the same. 

Despite all your efforts – including a dash to the station that could rival an Olympic sprinter – you were late to your first lecture. Sweaty, out of breath, and ambushed with a pen and paper; thrust into your hands on arrival. You look around to see dozens of heads down, scribbling furiously. A surprise test – and you’re late.

Hand aching, you barely finish within the two hours, after bullshitting your way through at least half of the questions. By the looks of the people streaming out of the hall; faces rumpled and grimacing; you’re not the only one. However, it does little to comfort you. You’re sure you're the only one failing so spectacularly, with the semester already half over. 

You'd smacked your leg on the coffee table on the way out and a book had slammed to the floor. An art book, the kind in a model home - and you know damn well Miguel's not an enthusiast. The image sticks for some reason, leg aching as you trudge to your next class. When he gives you that blank look; the memory of men gone past is haunting – dead-eyed, and blank, like eyes cut out of a painting. You wonder if a Van Gogh would feel the same with the brilliant blue of eyes slashed out. 

Nevertheless, you feel like lead. Off

to your next class, and it's going over material passed out the day before; which you didn’t have the time to look over. The professor drones on; voice monotonous and gravelly. Struggling to keep up, you sink into your seat – tapping away at your laptop, whatever you can get down. You pick at your lip, unravelling; unfurling like the tip of a slashed rope.

That's what you’re waiting for, you think: sandbags clattering down from stage left, to bring the rest of this whole farce down.

A sinking feeling, that starts at your chest and makes its way to the tops of your fingers and toes, leaves you numb for the rest of the day. Dread, like a shadow, at your heels in the corridors, across the courtyard, all around campus. Another lecture, and you make it in time for labs, barely, but there’s no time to go over notes; what you managed to scrape together in preparation. And of course , your lab partner’s sick, because that’s just the kind of day you’re having. It’s hectic, doing the work of two people with only the scraps you’ve cobbled together. 

The pressure mounts. Like liquid in that flask you weren’t meant to stopper; and you just might end up like its remnants on the counter. Glass everywhere but where it should be. For a good grade, it helps to be organised: everything in its place, always. Except it isn’t, and you’ve fucked it up, again . It means the results don’t match up in your lab book, and another hour staring at liquid decanting, monitoring temperatures. Staring at stark white walls, with achy legs. 

You step out whilst machines run in your stead, and shed your lab coat. It’s hot and stuffy in there but out in the corridor, you can finally breathe. Forehead on the cool wall, it all stops for a moment. The persistent buzz of your phone, sat in the pocket of your trousers, creeps into the quiet. 

Absent-mindedly, you turn it on with a click. The buzzing stops. You’ve just missed a call from Miguel. It’s odd, he doesn’t usually call, but it’s the little box underneath the notification that makes you pause. A message, from a number you thought you’d blocked – that you should’ve blocked. 

From:Jamie <3

Hey

From:Jamie <3

We should meet. I’ve still got some of your things in the apartment.

Your blood runs cold. Dread, like a shadow; its hand wrapped your neck. You can’t breathe, stuck under the weight of something at your chest. You can’t breathe, the walls close in. We should meet , he says. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world; just friends catching up over a coffee. Like you didn’t watch him carve out a chunk of your heart with a rusty spoon. 

A panic attack, and you’re awkwardly hunched over by the wall, phone in hand. Someone will find you here, lying on the vinyl floor in Block B, spread eagle between lab 6 and 7. Dramatic timing, but if it kills you; you’ll find a way to haunt your ex's ass for the foreseeable future. And Miguel’s too, because if you’re having a bad day; then somewhere out there, he’s having a good one. 

~~~

The apartment is still when Miguel gets back – unusually so. You’re not on the sofa, watching a mindless soap opera, or howling some song in the shower. And he’s had to deal with that most days for the past few weeks, a break in the peace and quiet he’s so carefully cultivated. Rigorous routine, they keep him together. He needed it; the way myth needs a martyr, the way flowers on a small grave needs a body. A tick-tick-tick in his head, that drives him a little less crazy after a morning run, or a good meal when he comes home. A countdown, he thinks, a mechanical clock whirring and puttering with a shake of its gears. He feels them stutter and start, slowing down, but not quite stopping. An ache so deep, he feels its creak with every step. 

Absent-mindedly, he looks around the empty apartment, pulling at his ears.

When he was younger, Gabi would pull at his ears, to get him out of a book. Reading, always reading, whenever he could. At the dinner table, when his mamá would rap his knuckles with a wooden spoon and chuckle lightly at his little grimace. No en la mesa, Miguelito. Not at the table, Miggy. Léeme más tarde – read it to me later.

It was when he got his braces, and picked up a slight lisp. He stopped talking for a while, not completely; but a lot less, not as interactive in lessons. And it was always little Miguel, at the front of the class with his hand up to answer. It didn’t help that Gabi poked fun at him, often sneaking up to him to hiss in his ear: palms pressed together with a slithering motion, and then a strike to his ribs like una víbora - a viper , struggling to say his S’s. They’d fight because of it after, tousling on the floor of their bedroom in a mass of limbs, like pythons squeezing prey. Or at least, until their mamá rushed to separate them. 

She didn’t like it when her boys fought; so they’d been forced to make up every time. He still has the scars to prove it.

Car magazines at first, and then the newspaper, whatever book he had picked up at the library that week. Even with his lisp, his mother made sure he read to her, and sometimes to Gabi as well, at least once a week. Looking back, she was never perfect; the things he knows now about his dear mamá, and her visage tumbles like Ozymandias in the sand. Her mother, married to a piece-of-shit mechanic; and his mother, elbow deep in the oil spill. That’s the funny thing about love, he thinks. Love, and the lack of it; dripping through the cracks, passed on through generations. Maybe mamá felt the gears shuddering in her chest. He hopes Gabi was saved from that burden. 

A small voice at the back of his mind tells him: it’s not enough. Doesn’t explain the little boy pulling at his ears, in Miguel’s jacket and dress shoes.

A glimpse in the reflection of a shiny pan on the side table, and he looks like shit. Eyebags, a permanent scowl, shadowy lines that prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s ironic, crows feet without the penchant for laughing. He thinks you’d find it funny. The pink and purple of a setting sun spills in through windows and makes him sigh. It’s late, and you’re still not home. 

God, you're strange; sticking your nose where you shouldn't. Disrupting the calm of his apartment. A sanctuary, and you've got your grubby paws all over it. Your shit is all over the place; pun-based mugs in the cabinet, chewed pen lids with no pens in sight, a blanket on the couch. The same blanket, a ratty old thing, that he usually meets you wrapped in when he gets back. A creature of habit, he folds it up; trying to ignore the whispers of your perfume, sweet and heady on the fabric.

He gets dressed, starting with dinner; knife on a chopping board cutting onions and peppers into cubes. It's therapeutic, the steady thud ringing out into the kitchen. Quiet, for a fleeting moment. But the worry, it sticks ; despite his better judgement. Before he changes his mind, he clicks open his phone to call you. It rings out – you don’t pick up.

The urge to call again is surprisingly troublesome, so he shoves it down with a piece of tortilla. It sits in his chest, regardless.

~~~

You trudge into the apartment. Squelch seems more accurate, sopping wet as you step out of waterlogged trainers. It was an inopportune time to wear jeans and forget a jacket – and you fight the urge to wring out onto the wooden planks. Miguel would kill you; the place was already falling apart, and water-warped floorboards might just be the last straw.

It’s thundering outside; a torrential downpour you’d just been dragged through. Dragged, half-running through streets-turned-streams, with nothing but a tank top and hoodie on your back. And you must look a sight , eyes bleary and slick with rainwater. The bag heavy on your back goes first, slipped off your shoulder and on the floor next to the coffee table with a thunk . You’re unzipping the flimsy canvas, inspecting its contents. A soaked through textbook, clumps of loose paper. You’re ready to cry when you see what's happened to the pages of your lab book; bleeding ink that’s only half-legible. But it’s the state of your laptop that makes your chest really heave and knees weak.

It’s slick with rainwater, and the sandwich you’d forgotten to eat, smeared across its fans. Caked on, more accurately; an odd sludge that you try your best to wipe away. You put it on the coffee table and your hand shakes as you press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. 

You sink onto the floor, head in your hands between the coffee table and the couch. Everything was on there: photos from senior prom, end of semester projects – your whole life. You have to dig your teeth into your bottom lip to bite back a scream.

Miguel peers from the kitchen, watching your silent breakdown. Quiet, and so still, with only the slight shake of shoulders to tell him that something is wrong. He glances at your half-opened laptop. He’d eaten already, clearing up what remains of his dinner and this is the sight he’s greeted with: the lady of the lake, lain between the reeds. 

He shakes the image out of his head, and walks over. You feel a tentative prod, and look up.

“...I called you,” He says lightly, scratching at his neck.

You blink up at him. He thinks you look like a painting, watery and forlorn, framed in the yellow light of the soft bulbs.

“I was busy,” It’s not said with malice, nor as lilting as your usual sarcasm. Plain, simple. Busy. Your head slumps back into the little hollow you’ve made with your arms.

And so he sits, shoulders brushing against yours. He’s frustratingly patient, presence warm and comfortable despite… well, despite everything. 

You can’t help it. Popping back up, you state, “You never call, though.”

“You’re never this late home.” Home. The word is heavy, knocks you onto your heels.

“So?” You shrug. “Could’ve been out with friends, or at a club–”

Laughter slips out like apples loose in a bag, spills onto the floor. Crisp, sweet; but you glare at him all the same. 

“You don’t have friends.” He says it with the remnants of a smile, teasing. A challenge, and you’re more than happy to accept. 

“ Not true , fuckface.” It is. You'd lost track of most of your friends after moving – and all the ones you made here? Your friends were Jamie's friends, and they chose him  in the divorce. " You don't have any friends."

"I do ."

"You don't." It's your turn to scoff. "It's a Friday night and you're in here, washing up and planning to go to bed at a reasonable time."

"I'm an adult, doesn't mean I don't have–" 

"The ones you fuck don't count." And then you pinch the bridge of your nose. "God forbid, if that's how you treat your friends…" 

He laughs, properly, and you feel it in your chest too: the kind of laughter that bubbles like little breaths rising to the top of a lake. 

“M’serious.” He says it in between gasping breaths and you try to steady your own giggles. "And, I have a friend who could take a look at your laptop, if you wanted."

His eyes flick over to the crime scene besides you. It's sweet, but.. "It's gone, Miguel, I know. You don't need to… try and make me feel better."

" Chula ," He flicks the deep lines forming at your brow. You look up and he says, softly, "I'm not trying to make you feel better. I'm trying to get you off of the floor so I can mop up that puddle."

With the way he says it, with that little smile, you don't believe him. 

Now he's got your attention, he says, "You could've skipped that 9:00am. Or just been late. Don't think it would've mattered."

"Maybe." You shake your head. "M'not the best student. I'm blindingly… average. Just wanted it to be different, this year." 

Your voice crackles, leaves something in the air he can't quite name. Quiet, again, except this time it's thicker. Smoke, ash, rolling clouds of melancholy in the little front room. For once, he doesn't know what to say. 

You've got your head back on the sofa now, with a deep sigh. You look at the ceiling, and he's looking at you. It's the first time he's able to really study your features, trace the outline of your lips and sloping cheekbone. Your lashes, damp with little droplets of water, look crystalline in the light. Sparkling. Like the paintings depicted in the hefty book sat on his coffee table. He's read that one, twice , cover-to-cover in a fit of… insanity, maybe. He's not a man of frills and fancy, didn't really get it; nor why Gabi had given him the book in the first place. It felt like a filler piece, something to put on the little table and forget about, or to prop up a wooden leg. But that's not how his brother works, frustratingly convoluted. It's stupid, Miguel thought. Everything had to mean something , or what was it good for? 

But looking at you, here, like this ; it clicks. Reaching over for the book, he leans it against the flat of his thigh. And you see it in the corner of your eye, watching as he flicks through the pages. Filled with art, it's the kind of thing on a table in a model apartment: a space-filler in a false home. When you first came here, the starkness and severity of the space had stuck. To you, the book had only reinforced it. Who was Miguel? A serial killer for all you know, stocking fluff pieces and coffee table books; only pretending to be human.

Finally, he stops, finger over a specific place. A double page spread, of surprisingly good quality. 

He clicks his tongue. " This one. "

You follow his finger. A woman in a lake doesn't do it justice. It's beautiful, but it doesn't mean anything to you.

" Ophelia, John Everett Mills, 1852 ." He reads out the little label at the bottom of the image. "Like from Hamlet."

You shrug. "I don't…?"

"Well, she's in love with Hamlet, and then her father's murdered, Hamlet fucks off; and she's left heartbroken, goes mad because of it , arguably–" 

"I've taken tenth grade English, Miguel. I don't get what that has to do with anything."

"She drowns herself. Also arguably, to be fair," He chews his lip, thinking. "Slipped off the bark of a willow tree, into a brook. Incapable of her own distress, or something. Drowns. Do you know how horrible drowning feels? How violent? And yet–" 

He taps the page, and you come a little closer. Beautiful. She's beautiful. 

"I'll admit it, I'm not a big fan of Shakespeare. Gabi – my brother – is way better at this stuff than me. Drama and intrigue and–" He gestures vaguely. "– love . That's why he likes it, apparently. And I… I know someone who really liked this page; I think it was the colours, or the flowers…? She said it looked like a photo, and that the woman looked so pretty in the water."

He pauses, dead-eyed. He's rambling, only taking a breath to compose himself." I… didn't have the heart to tell her that Ophelia, in this painting, is dead. Dead as a fucking doornail. Dragged through still water, sentenced to death by her passivity and grief – but you wouldn't know it."

Unconsciously, you trace the outline of her hair with your finger; swirling locs that blend into muddy reflections. She's on her back and fully dressed; a beaded skirt billowing out into the water. On her back and looking up, like you were on the sofa just a moment ago. Oh. Oh . You blink at the image. Flowers, peppered around to frame Ophelia in her watery grave. It doesn't look like a grave from where you're sitting, but there's a body in the water all the same. 

There's a lump in your throat. Grief; the loss of 4 years of your life in a middling relationship, the aftermath of dead eyes and brilliant blue slashed from a canvas frame. Grief, rising to the surface like a bloated carcass. You thought you'd bound its ankles to cinder blocks and tossed it in a river long ago. 

"I'm probably overstepping. For that, I'm sorry, and I mean it. But I think there's something else. I..I hear you rattling around at night; and sometimes, when I look at you..." 

Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill over. You’re hearing him but you don’t quite understand. Does he know? God, does he know?

"...it reminds me of this painting. You remind me of Ophelia .”

He sighs, turning to you.

“I know how it feels. And I think this shit is going to kill you, if you're not careful."

~~~

He doesn't talk about it. He runs off to start the shower, bundles you into towels and leaves you reeling. God, it's like you've been shot – barely a 10 minute conversation and he's cracked open your ribs to root around in what's left of you. He sees you; wades through the undergrowth and cuts through the bulllshit - he sees you. 

You couldn't even answer. That's what stings the most. 

You’ve settled on the sofa, cross-legged and still fresh from the shower. There’s a documentary on the TV; mindless background to Miguel clattering in the kitchen. He’s putting together some leftovers, even though you insisted that you weren’t hungry, that you’ve already eaten. Well , he had pointed to the gunk caked onto your laptop, wasn’t that the problem in the first place?

He’s good at it; wraps you up in the blanket you always keep draped on the cushions, and hands you a full plate. Wordlessly, because you suppose he’s said everything he needed to. Dutifully, he takes care of you, without a word; the strain of cutting you open on the coffee table clearly too much to bear.

You thank him, and he settles on the armchair opposite, mug of coffee in hand. The gloom of the TV bathes him in light, cuts his cheekbones and jaw just so. One of your mugs in his lap, and he's in a thick knitted sweater. His hair kisses the tops of his lashes, but he brushes it away. You swallow thickly, and when he turns, you look away.

“...You okay?” He asks, confused.

You nod, unable to speak. He gives you a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled up like crepe paper. You return it with one of your own. 

He sees you. Finally, you see him too.

_

_

_

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

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

SPIDER

Shout out to my ex who came over when I called him bcz there was a spider and I was scared

Also!! Part two to never again will be out eventually

He hadn’t heard from you in weeks, “y/n? Are you alright?” He’s quick to question frantically going for his keys when he hears sniffles and small whines

“There’s a spider. In my room. And it’s really big” you start as he hears a door that closes, “I know that we’re over and that you might hate me but I really really need you”

Those words strike his heart as he starts his car, “I’m on my way”

He finds you sitting on the porch steps of the cozy little house, “where is it?” He asks

“In my room.. I think. Dude I don’t fucking know!!” You’re frantic and holding onto his arm.

“Ok”

“I couldn’t find the spider”

“We burn the house”

A/N: honestly didnt think I would come up with another astv fic so quick after the first one lmao but I got inspired for this scenario based on the overall consensus struggle artists are having drawing Miguel (me included asdfhjk). I was stuck between doing a drabble or a list of headcanons and doing some other characters as well. But I decided to keep it simple for now, but if you guys would like to see headcanons of the other characters reacting to you drawing them, feel free to let me know and tell me about any other ideas you guys may have!

Trigger Warning: none

Word Count: 795

Miguel O'Hara x Reader - Drawing Practice

Being a part of the Spider Society definitely had it’s perks and setbacks. 

Yeah, it can be stressful, exhausting, and anxiety inducing. Honestly, that just came with being a Spider-person in general. 

On the plus side, it was nice to be a part of something so extraordinary. Just when you started to feel lonely, you were soon thrusted into this whole other universe of other walks of life that were like you. 

Which easily kept you inspired for your art. You had a plethora of finished sketchbooks, scrapbooks of your drawings you did on notepads, napkins, and other materials. 

When you weren’t on missions in your own universe or serving as backup for an anomaly mishap, you were likely swinging around the headquarters looking for your next subject. (Not to mention there was no angle quite like the one you could get hanging upside down…)

During one of the more calmer days, you were sifting through your latest sketchbook. It was almost full. Mostly consisting of whatever caught your eyes, some new environments from different universes, and all sorts of different Spider personas. 

Well, most of them anyway. There was still probably many more you have yet to see…or one in particular you see almost every day. 

Spiderman 2099 a.k.a. Miguel O’Hara a.k.a. The guy that founded and ran this whole thing. He’s also Mr. Tall, Dark, and Intimidating…and handsome…but mostly intimidating.

You rarely spoke to him outside of certain missions where he requested you for back-up or for any sort of follow-up meeting. 

You definitely can't forget his face though…perhaps you could draw from memory? Maybe start from his mask and go from there? It can't be too hard. It's not like he's ever gonna see it anyway, and besides how are you going to draw everyone else but him? 

You got comfortable at a nearby corner seat in the food court area. You took a deep breath and started sketching. 

The more you sketched the more all the hustle and bustle started to fade away. It was you and the sketchpad. You could almost hear the pencil scrape the paper and the thumps whenever you had to erase something with your eraser.

Some significant time had gone by, and a certain leader was looking for you. Yet you didn't have the slightest clue. 

Miguel cleared his throat to get your attention properly and you almost jumped to the ceiling. 

"Oh, uh…hi, Miguel…w-what's up?" You really wanted to ask how long he was there. And damn your hyperfocus for interfering with your spidey senses. 

You clutched the pad to your chest, trying to keep him from seeing what you were doing. You hoped he never even noticed. 

"I wanted to ask you about this new mission. If you wouldn't mind following me so we can discuss it in private?" 

"Uhh. Yeah. Okay, sure." You got up from your seat, still clutching your sketchbook like a lifeline in treacherous waters. 

As you followed behind him, you couldn't help but feel conflicted. 

On one hand you didn't want him to see and on the other you kinda wanted to know what he thought about them. Would he appreciate them? Would he think it was weird? It's not like it was just him, you drew all the Spiders…

"I like your drawings, by the way." He commented over his shoulder as you got closer to his desk. 

"Oh. Uh..uh thanks…" 

"Gotta admit, I've never had anyone draw me before…" Miguel mentioned.

"That was my first attempt, you're the only Spider I haven't drawn yet."

"Felt obligated to add me in with the others?" 

Before you could stop yourself, you said. "More like saving the best for last…" 

You both stopped simultaneously in your trek. Both of you were shocked at the sentiment. 

Miguel was far from perfect, despite how hard he tried to be perfect and in control. Despite his flaws and his cold aura. You admired his determination and dedication (even if it bit him more often than helped him.) 

He turned to face you, as if expecting you to take it back or say it was a joke.

"Really?" 

You nodded.

You couldn't help the soft swell in your chest when you saw the faintest hint of a smile grow to the side of his lips. 

You tried to train your eyes and brain to take a mental photo for later. 

You two started walking again in comfortable silence, until Miguel's voice perked up. 

"Although. I don't think I have that many wrinkles." He quipped. 

You quirked your eyebrow, questioningly. "With your stress?" 

Miguel nodded in a huff. "Fair enough. You should probably add more." 

You tried to refrain from giggling as he tried to refrain from smiling any wider. 

Why not? (Peter B. Parker x reader) pt. 4

He is so broken. I just know I can fix him.

THIS. HOLY SHIT. Okay, so this is just oozing with honey sweet fluff.

Warnings: slight angst of insecurity, a steamy kiss, my heart was racing while writing this

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

You've known. You knew the first time you felt his lips gloss over your own. You tasted his musk on your tongue, a hint of something sweet to accompany it.

He wasn't one to easily accept help. He hated asking for it up front. You knew he can't act worth shit, and you knew when he was lying. You knew when he was uncomfortable, and when he was at complete peace. And you were scared, because it had been a month now. And you didn't know where he was and if he was okay.

You sit in your living room, the rain outside a constant downpour. A glass of wine in your hands, you sit in the dark, a single candle that reminds you of him sitting on your coffee table, as you go through the various article clippings, all written by him. You always would collect the first copy of anything with his work, carefully cutting them out and placing them in a box that you keep under your bed. You wore a hoodie he had left, the smell still almost fresh. So you knew he wasn't dead or anything. Thankfully, you still at least knew that much.

You knew it was him every time you shared a passionate moment with his spider clad self. And you knew it gave him confidence whenever he wore that suit. He was an insecure man, his pride too big to let himself admit that fact. And you would take what you could get.

After the first kiss, it wasn't until about two months later you'd share another. Peter had been distant, not like he was shutting you out, that would break him. But you noticed that there was an obvious line he was entirely too scared shitless to cross.

He'd avoid touch in general, and he never knew how much he'd actually been craving it from you, as you with him. You weren't exactly sure what was going on, but you knew to be patient with him.

At the time, it was really only just a sneaking suspicion that he was the vigilante hero. In fact, it seemed that Peter wasn't the only one avoiding you. You'd be there occasionally whenever there was some sort of crime to be stopped, and see him there. You'd hope to talk to him, about the kiss you had shared with him. And yet he'd disappear before you even got the chance to even try.

You were walking home from work that night, feeling your patience seriously start to tax. Peter had usually walked you home on later nights, but he once again had cancelled on you. You understood that he has his own affairs to handle, his own life and whatnot. But dammit, if it didn't hurt to be rejected whenever you'd ask him to do something he'd usually be more than up for doing. You started getting seriously irritated with him, coming up with a plan to confront him the next day to be honest. That is until you were suddenly knock to the ground in an alley. "Alrighty toots, you can make this easy for yourself if you just don't squirm-" before he could even finish, he'd been webbed to a wall across from you, his mouth webbed shut as well. You looked up to find your hero, his red suit a blur as he drops down before you, wordlessly helping you up and handing you your things.

Before he can swing off again, you already had a firm grasp on his hand. "WAIT- uh, just h-hold on a sec. Please." You plead with him he stops whipping around to look you in the eye. He was tall, an air of confidence about him. It was intimidating, and so… magnetic. Attractive. Your words dying on your tongue as your own confidence slips away, suddenly shy.

"Uh… I-I just. Um. Can I get maybe a lift home?" Your ears are flushed in embarrassment, beyond flustered. Now he definitely wasn't gonna talk to you ever again. And yet, he laughs. Laughs. His shoulders relax immediately. The knot in your stomach loosening at the sound, so comforting and familiar.

"Alright, fine. Hold on tight, pretty girl." He teases, wrapping an arm around you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your cheek to his own, feeling even hotter than before somehow. You feel the wind whipping around you, stinging your warm cheeks, your heart in your throat from the sudden weightless around you. You squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to look down, until you feel you guys at a standstill. Just hanging there.

"Open those pretty eyes, honey." He whispers into your ear, his warm breath fanning over your ears and neck, which blossomed in a deep red now. You listen to him, opening one eye slowly, then the other as they're blown wide from the view.

It looked like you guys were hanging from the roof of another building, and when you look down, your stomach drops as well. You hadn't expected to be so high up. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tightening your hold on him, and he laughs, also wrapping his arm around you tighter, ensuring you felt safe. He's quick to swing you to the roof of your apartment building, landing safely. And yet, neither of you move to leave eachothers arms.

You breathe in his scent, the smell of warmth and familiarity dripping from his musk. You stare up into his eyes on his mask, as he does you. "Why… did you kiss me?" You breathe out. He huffs out another chuckle, warming your heart. "Couldn't help myself." "Do you do that a lot?" You question. "What, kiss the girls I save? No. Your the first." He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "No, I meant do you always know where everyone lived?" You tease back. It's his turn to be flustered, as he scrambles for an excuse. "I-I, well… I just ha-had that uh, intuition! Hah, something like that- woah, whatcha doing there?" He moves his face away from you, as well as his body, his hands on your wrists, which where on the edges of his mask to lift the bottom.

"Relax, I won't take it off entirely. I just wanna see something…" You chide. He's hesitant, pondering what you could be doing. The possibility of another kiss flashes his mind, and he feels a sudden pull at his heart strings. A sudden ache taking over his gut at the idea, and he's quick to relax in your hold, giving up complete control to you eagerly.

You back him into a wall on the rooftop, leading to the entrance of your building. He rests his hands on your waist comfortably. You lift his mask, ever so slightly, exposing his lips and the bottom of his nose. Just a little more, you lift it on the bridge of his nose. It's just as you'd suspected. He has his eyes closed, waiting with baited breath to feel your heat on his own, when suddenly he feels this searing pain on the bridge of his nose. "A-AAAH, DAMN-" You'd repositioned his nose, which he had broken that same night on an excursion with a certain rhinoceros villain before this little adventure with you. Before he can let curses spill from his lips however, he feels them completely encompassed by your own. You slip your tongue past his lips once he's been taken aback from surprise.

He whimpers into your mouth, his own tongue eagerly lapping at your own. His hands going to pull you into his own body, a hand carding through your hair, the other slipping beneath your shirt on your back, feeling the heat from your body. Your own hands exploring him, a hand on his neck and jaw, the other brushing your fingers along his chest, the feel of his heart hammering against your palm causing your own to race. The feeling causes chills to deliciously run down his spine.

The kiss is sloppy, but deep. Experimental, and yearning. Your mouths disconnected with a slight pop, a light string of saliva breaking from between you two, leaving you panting. He however, was completely breatheless.

You knew he had a broken nose from the slight blood spot on his mask, as well as his wincing. You weren't a nurse, but you knew that adrenaline was the perfect pain killer, and what better way to get his blood pumping than an extremely steamy kiss? You kiss his jaw, and another light peck just beneath his ear, feeling his pulse quicken. You smile, as you whisper against the shell of his ear. "Sorry. I couldn't help myself." You smirk. And with that, you leave him to stand there, completely frozen from shock, as the door to the building shuts behind you.

Peter was a lot more responsive to you after that. Jumping at any opportunity to follow you around after the event. This definitely confirmed your suspicions, especially given that his nose was crooked after that. You'd trusted him to come to you in his own time, truly.

The appearance of Spiderman was much more frequent after that as well. Suddenly stopping by almost two to three times a week, heated kisses and passionate moments being shared between you two. He'd even stop by in the night, coming to rest with you in your bed, cuddles and exploring hands, watching over you as you slept, feeling completely at ease. "Almost like twilight! Except I don't like, wanna eat you or anything." He'd joked once. This went on for about a year. You two feeling like two teenagers again, even though you guys were just 28 and 30 at this point in your lives. You two having been close friends for over a decade now.

When the time came that he told you about his identity, he was absolutely terrified. He didn't know what you'd think, absolutely scared of losing these timid moments with you, some of his most peaceful memories, as well as you. And so he'd whispered it against the skin of your chest, your back, wherever his lips had rested, with his mask off, whenever he thought you'd not be listening, too deep in sleep. But you'd smile every time he breathed these words to you.

One night you had decided to finally admit your own secret to him. After a night of shared vulnerability, he'd whispered it again, and you'd turn around to face him, looking into his soul, as he waited with baited breath for your response, scared shitless. And yet, all you did was smile, pressing a light peck to his now crooked nose, "I know. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." You whispered against his own skin, thus drifting off to your own dreams. His heart pounding so loud in his ears, so much relief flooding his veins, his heart swelling. He had never felt so calm, all of his anxieties dissipate into the night air within the safe confines in your room.

You were a goner from the beginning, and you always knew he was too. From the beginning, you'd known.

The Other Woman

(Part 2 FINALE)

—

Synopsis: Miguel had left Y/N for another version of his old wife in hopes of getting his old life back. To only realize the mistakes he’s made.

Link to Part 1

Pair: Miguel O’Hara x Spider!reader

Warnings: very heavy mental health, ANGST LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, ALL OF THIS IS ANGST, mentions of death/almost dying, long term establish relationship, cheating, swearing, therapy, physical fight, blood, feral protective miguel?

—

A/N: hello again! this one is more heartbreaking and longer than the first part oof… Very low dialog up until closer towards the end! wanted to just get through telling the story itself and the emotions. It’s just a very heavy storyline!! I want to say thank you so so much for showing so much support for part 1 i had no idea it would receive that much attention :O !! i wrote this out kinda fast as i didn’t want to loose the momentum of the idea. so apologies for any mistakes! all feedback is greatly appreciated ~

—————————————————

You used to make Miguel coffee everyday, with one cream two sugars, and he would nag about how he hated the taste. It was to your liking, not his. As you would sneakily take sips out of his mug while working next to him. Why didn’t you just get your own coffee? You claimed you could never finish it and just wanted a taste out of his. Miguel would roll his eyes at you every time he caught you but he adored it. He had secretly grown to love the way you made it and had become his only way of making coffee after meeting you.

Now as this version of his older wife made it the way he is suppose to like coffee, bland and straight, he found himself bothered by it. Going as far to correct her even though this was what he had been claiming to have missed so much. He was now seeing himself teaching someone else how to love him like you did…

He was only a shell of the man he was when he had Gabriella. Even though the copy of his old wife has her same personality, the relationship couldn’t be exactly how it was before because he had changed so much. You had helped him become whole again. His tastes and likings had all switched to everything about you. The charm he found in his old wife doesn’t hold a light to you now and he was getting frustrated. He had wanted this so badly. He felt like those babies who whine and cry wanting to eat a lemon and once they get their way they realize the sour truth.

Miguel never truly realized what it was like to loose you until three weeks after he told you the truth. Over the years the idea of losing you terrified him but he only ever thought of it being in death. He never considered separation when everything was perfect for both of you then. There were times he believed that you were made just for him and he treated you like his queen. Which you truly were to him in his spider society. Why would he ever throw that away? Look at what he did.

He gave himself every excuse in the book before you knew he was cheating on you. ‘This is only for research.’ he would think every time he found himself back in that universe. As everyone knew he was so serious about his work, obviously this is just him getting to know more about certain universes and canons. Lyla was the only one seeing straight through him knowing where he was actually going. Things kept tumbling and the more he found out about the place and spent time with her the more his grief and yearning returned. It was all just there, so reachable.

There was a time his mind tried to snap him back out of it while cheating on you and made him realize the guilt. The first time he kissed this woman you were there in his mind. He came home right after and held you without saying a word. You never questioned him, just showed him comfort as much as you could. Lightly stroking his back, you never over stepped or pushed him when he was vulnerable with you. He only closed his eyes and held onto you tighter processing how you were always too good for him. He was converting to living two different lives; his old self during the day and then coming home to you. He didn’t want to let go of either at the time.

Once he found out he could safely have Gabriella again was when he became distant with you. The shame of using you for research made him become stoic. He didn’t want to admit how wrong he was treating you. All while you were always being so loyal and trusting towards him. Things were slowly slipping through the cracks and he knew he couldn’t up keep it. He wished he could have had that conversation with you so much differently but it was over. Now he had his old life back, a dream he had his mind set on.

He ignored the shakiness in his hands when he returned to her after letting you go. ‘It’s all for the best.’ is what he would repeat in his mind as a mantra. His new girlfriend truly had no idea who he really was or what his background was. Miguel continued to feed her lies to the point where he even started believing them himself getting too lost in avoiding what he’s done. He believed he was happy as he spent time with her.

When she got too close to finding the truth after finding his wedding ring in one of his pockets, he set her off course from it by revealing his spider identity and taking her to HQ. This was the day that everything felt like it was crashing around him. Being reminded of his marriage, having to face his friends with his new lover, sharing his personal spider life, his work with someone who wasn’t you. He excused himself rushing to an unused office room while his chest was tightening. Pupils dilating as he realized it was his first time having a panic attack.

Nevertheless he continued to push it all aside and act completely normal with his girlfriend. He was feeling your absence the most while working. You had became an extension of him. He had trained you from scratch and you helped him build this society he has now. You knew the ins and outs of everything and fought perfectly alongside him. Now that he was on his own he let his girlfriend be there for him when he got stressed, but there always was a knot in his stomach he never could get rid of.

The more his mental health ate at him late at night the more he considered searching out for you. There was no closure between both of you and he never got to listen to how you feel. What was your opinion on all that happened? Do you hate him?

He wanted to speak with someone so badly but he dug himself in a hole too deep. You were gone, he was lying through his teeth to this poor woman he’s kept for some fantasy, he felt too ashamed to say anything to his friends, he would rather die if all his workers found out how big of a piece of shit he is. Anytime Lyla tried peeping a word that wasn’t work related he would snap. He had pushed everyone away and now he just felt alone.

Regardless he would wake up in the morning and swallow all his dark feelings. He would remember his grief of when he lost his family and it would put him back in the moment. He has another chance. He was happy with the direction he was going in now.

Right?

—

The day he found out you were at HQ he felt his heart stop. He was mid mission trying to call for Lyla but she wouldn’t answer. Frustrated he tried looking into what was happening only to see her busy having a conversation with you. It felt like something took over him when he opened a portal in less than a second. Without thinking nor wasting a heartbeat he rushed back. Just a glimpse of you, maybe just to hear a word out of your mouth. The feeling of having you back in HQ was making him ignore all his insecurities. How he would coward at the thought of trying to reach out to you before. You were in his home, your home, and the thought drove him wild.

You were already long gone though. Lyla stared at him not saying a word. The quietness in the room making his ears ring but his thoughts were screaming in his head. He stood there frozen still trying to recollect himself. He was the one that left you, what is wrong with him?

Again he went back and forth in his own head trying to convince himself ‘You wanted this.’ but if he did why is he feeling like someone just killed a puppy in front of him? Why is he here fighting with his self if this is really his dream? Why did he try chasing after you? The wounds of his past grief were too deep. He never took the time to properly heal and now look at what he’s become.

“Miguel, what’s this?” He was startled turning around seeing his girlfriend holidng your watch and skimming through the divorce paperwork addressed to him.

There was no more hiding, no more lying. He swallowed hard even though his throat was dry. He let everything he had kept away rise to surface. It hurt him to see the beautiful face his old wife shared contort into such anger and pain while finding the truth.

She didn’t stay, but for some reason he wasn’t upset. Though he longed for his daughter, he knew it would have never been the same now. He finally closed the door on his past. His heart had made the choice this time but it’s too late. Now grasping onto the divorce papers left by you, emptiness spread through his soul.

—

You on the other hand did not find yourself crying by yourself on a rooftop for long. The shift in the air from your arrival alerted the local spider-man immediately.

“It didn’t work out, did it?” He crouched down next to you as he noticed your watch gone and your missing wedding band.

Peter Parker knew both you and Miguel. Your husband had come to do many rounds of research in this universe when he took you. Eventually offering this Peter a spot in the society, which he politely declined due to just being busy enough here. You both never spoke much but always had an appreciation for each other.

“Do you need a place to crash at?” He continued while trying to get you to look at him. Reaching his hand towards you.

You had absolutely no one and you had been gone so long you couldn’t even go back to the little you had. When you met Miguel you didn’t hesitate to never look back and now it filled you with regret. How naive were you to put all your trust and reliance on him.

You took Peter’s hand. You were ready to start your own life and be your own person now.

—

Peter Parker was nice enough to let you stay with him as long as you needed it. You both had became ‘besties!’ as he would love to poke at you. The first month with him you were a disaster really but he showed you how he liked to cope using his spider abilities.

The first thing he helped you with was getting a new suit. Your old one resembled too much to Miguel’s and you felt suffocated every time you put it on. Peter had taught you to use your current emotional pain on whichever sad little villain was making trouble out in Brooklyn that night.

“Come on, we got multiverse spider-woman helping me keep these streets clean now!” He would taunt at the men while watching you easily take them out a little bit too aggressively. His feet kicking up and down while he sat on the side of a building watching you. The crime rate did go down a bit once word got around how strong your punch was. Peter’s just happy he can now spend some nights to himself.

You got yourself a job at the mart on the corner to help cover bills for Peter and save up. You were grateful enough the owners never batted an eye when you would disappear during a shift to either suddenly go cry uncontrollably or beat the shit out of someone at a nearby robbery. Next thing you were enrolling yourself back in university, wanting to finish that degree you never did.

It wasn’t too long that some of your older spider friends would stop by to check in on you. Seeing them was difficult sometimes, you were internally itching to ask about Miguel. Things were going okay for you on a very slow path of breathing step by step. You never wanted to feel that hurt again and so you very well pretend like Miguel didn’t exist if you could.

You couldn’t ignore the hurt resurfacing when you passed couples on the street. Or when you found yourself going to fidget with your wedding ring just to remember it’s gone. You can’t just move on from a relationship that was so deeply apart of you and lasted so long. You gave everything to him and it will take you much time to get yourself to build trust again.

After two semesters, you finally had your graduation. All the things you learned while in Earth-928 paid off as you barley had to study. Passing top of the class, you immediately got an offer for an internship opportunity with Alchemax and was able to get an introduction tour of the building beforehand.

What you hadn’t realized was that Alchemax had been looking for that girl who snuck into their offices a couple years ago. Who made another dimension’s spider appear and then went missing herself soon after. They had kept as close tabs on you as they could and how foolish you were to think your little break in wouldn’t come back to bite you. The moment you stepped foot back in their building, it was over for you.

—

Miguel had spent a whole year in much deserving therapy. Nothing could stop the embarrassment he felt when Peter B signed him up with HQ’s best spider-therapist after 3 months of constant out bursts. No one could come near the man when he felt like he had lost everything. Those first initial months were difficult for everyone around him.

Therapy did help, he hates to admit it, but it was a very rough ride. He finally was able to understand his deep inner term oil and heal his issues but moving on from you? No, he could never.

You were the only one who had sincerely stood by his side, always rooting for him. He never fell out of love with you despite of everything that he did. He just pushed everything down too deep and was blinded by obsession. Till now he could never deny that he still loves you. Maybe if he just would have went to therapy years ago instead of acting out on unsolved grief none of this would have happened. The guilt always making him toss and turn at night.

He would have big temper tantrums when he would find his coworkers going to visit you time to time and not sharing any details. He needed to know if you’re okay. Did you already move on? He longed to find you and speak with you but he knew he wasn’t ready yet. He was so self destructive and this was what he deserved.

Everyone avoided him completely when he overheard someone saying you were living with Peter Parker. Fighting crime with him and having a cute little home life. Peter followed you around now like a puppy. Miguel did not take the news well at all. Let’s just say, the large bill replacement for his monitor screens was what snapped him out of that rage.

He also wanted to strangle Hobie Brown every time he saw a glint in his eye when your name was mentioned around. Yet Miguel couldn’t hate the kid either, as Hobie was one of the people to try help repair the damage he did to you. How badly he just wanted to hold you and shield you in his arms from any other people taking you from him as if he wasn’t the idiot to let you go in the first place.

Everyone’s big, powerful, scary boss was really just a grumpy, wallowing-in-self-pity, sensitive, lonely man now. Mention your name too much to him and watch him start crying or take it out on whatever he could find nearest to him. He would some nights scroll through your wedding photos while listening to your last tracked log with Lyla. Your words cutting through him deep like long sharp knives. How he urged to go tell you it was all wrong and how guilty he was for making you feel like this.

Despite it all, he still believed in being the best of the best. He used his work to distract himself from his sorrows, to become numb. Even though his divorce paperwork were set next to him on his desk to remind him the pain. He never signed it.

—

“We can’t tell him!” Jessica gritted through her teeth. Small group of spider-people were hovered around Lyla taking in the new found information.

“Her canon events have always been uncertain, we can’t just stop and fix this one?” Gwen Stacy suggested in hopes.

“We have never prevented a canon event of hers or the people involved in it. It could be even more dangerous than a regular canon.” Peter B spoke grimly.

“When ‘as danger ever stopped us?” Hobie spoke up.

“Everyone get your gear.” Lyla added to the stress of the situation.

—

You couldn’t open your eyes properly with a strong blinding light being held above you. Arms and legs secured on top of a metal surgical table. You could feel the warmth of blood scattered on certain parts of your body, slowly starting to dry. It was a mix of yours and the people you had tried fighting through to get out of here when you realize the trap you were reeled into. Different people in lab coats poked and pried all around you while you were tied. Your mask was thrown on another table and your suit had large gashes across it.

Soon you also could feel the presence of Peter Parker being brought to the room, thrown slumped in the corner breathing heavily. They had gotten you too good. They knew everything and had planned this so detailed.

“Now you’re going to help me open the multiverse.” Kingpin loomed around you. All you could feel was searing pain as a laser aimed right at your chest.

—

Miguel was already staring out the window to the glowing night lights of Nueva York when he saw a big hole appear in sight of the skyline. His eyebrows furrowed while he was trying to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t a second later when all alarms started going off in his office.

“Qué carajos?” He exclaimed seeing the alerts of a possible universe collapse. “Lyla! Why wasn’t this being taken care of already?”

“I already sent people.”

“Then what are they doing?” He yelled. His confusion and anger only furthered when he saw a red alarm for a canon event.

“Canon event?” He whispered to himself. He always knew when these were happening, there were none scheduled for today. There was no way he would let one passed him, it’s not like this could magically appear? His jaw dropped in realization… a new canon event.

“Lyla, tell me the truth. Why wasn’t this reported to me?” He made the atmosphere turn cold. She knew he already figured it out.

“A new canon event was received this morning being given to Peter Parker. Of Y/N L/N’s death.” The words from Lyla made Miguel’s body go still. His eyes raced side to side while he processed it.

“No!” He roared, a fist slamming into the nearby desk. His massive strength breaking it in half.

“Boss, you can’t go on this mission only using your emotions.” Lyla warned. However Miguel was already half way stepping through a portal to find you.

He appeared, watching his team struggle to shut down the machine causing the collapse. Outnumbered by the amount of Alchemax puppets. A different kind of rage filled him as he saw you, for the first time in a year, suffering. Miguel was never one to act reckless while on missions but he had no plan here and just ran off the pure adrenaline the fight or flight had hit him with.

His claws tore into the backs of his enemies as he jumped beast-like across the room. Not hesitating spilling blood across the wall while he took everyone down as fast as he could. His team could only watch wide eye with an unsettling fear as they saw Miguel lose himself to his spider sense. While he fought they took the opportunity to take apart the machine.

Miguel was panting heavily, pupils blown wide glowing red, and fangs dripping with venom as the room slowly silenced. Kingpin laid on the floor slowly trying to drag himself after being beaten to a pulp. It was over. Peter B stopped him from doing anything further. Knowing Miguel would kill the man, Peter B let the team finish up to give Kingpin to authorities. Miguel turned frantically to look at you seeing the other spiders step away. Peter Parker was hunched over you in tears. Miguel fought the urge to snap at Peter and grab his hands off of you.

Your vision was too blurry and everything felt like it was burning. A shape that seemed too familiar came into your peripheral vision and you tried to push yourself up.

“Miguel?” Was the last thing you croaked before slumping back passing out. Miguel catching you in his arms before you could hurt yourself further.

“It’s her time.” Jessica spoke behind him. Yet he was refusing to let go. He had never defied the way the timeline worked since he created his society. He would never break the rules and you both had promised each other before not to. If there was a situation like this you both agreed to save the universe first. How stupid was he to think he would listen to that now facing it in-front of him.

He never got to tell you what happened. He never got to apologize. He never got to tell you one more time that he loved you. Even if you in result just spat in his face, at least he was able to talk to you one more time. You were never a placeholder or someone to fill a hole in his heart. His whole heart belonged to you and he couldn’t let you go thinking you didn’t mean anything to him. No matter the consequences, he needed to tell you.

“Call all the teams to control the damage of a possible universe collapse.” He turned to Jess with Y/N tightly in his arms. The spider-people watched speechless as he opened a portal and disappeared.

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Two weeks you laid motionless in the HQ’s medbay.

The clean up after breaking the canon was a little intense. They were able to get it under control as the event started to fade from your timeline once you were returned and starting to heal in Earth-928.

The spider society would remain silent near the medbay. The lights always being dimmed and hushed whispers between staff to not bother the distressed O’Hara. He refused to leave.

Your Peter Parker had now joined the team, much to Miguel’s dismay. Everyday your friends would come in and check to see how you were. Some telling stories about their day or any gossip updates you missed, in hopes that it would get you to wake up. They would ignore the gloomy Miguel who was basically glued to the seat next to you not saying a word to anyone.

At night Miguel would play with your fingers and softly stroke your hair all while pleading “Please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me. Por favor mi alma.” He knew it wasn’t his place to beg this after what he did, but he didn’t mind the words falling on deaf ears.

Miguel hadn’t eaten in days, he felt too nauseous from anxiety to even try anything. Pavitr had done the favor to bring you and Miguel’s favorite empanadas from a small street vendor downtown. Hoping to get Miguel to at least try the food before he ended up in a hospital bed next to you due to starvation.

You started to blink open your eyes, spots surrounding your vision. You could hear a soft breathing to your right side and you slowly felt your sense come back one by one. It felt like you just had a really rough nap.

“Oh my god that smells so good.” You moaned, sitting yourself up to try to look at where the smell of food was coming from.

You were met with a wide eyed Miguel holding a box of empanadas. His jaw slacked open acting as if he’s seen a ghost looking at you. Confusion hit you first for a second and then you start to panic.

Why was he here? Why was your ex-husband sitting right here? You started to push away from him and Miguel caught on to your panic.

“No, no, no mi amor stop.” He tried calming you. “You’re hurt, you’re going to open your stitches.”

You suddenly remembered everything that happened right before you blacked out. At that moment you forgot the hurt you had towards your ex-lover. Gathering yourself you just stared at him. “I’m suppose to be dead.”

Tears rimmed your eyes. Why did it feel like life just hated you so much?

Miguel engulfed you in his arms as you started to cry. You didn’t care right now. You had ached for this feeling again, so alone, with the comfort Miguel used to bring you. Just for a moment you could pretend like how it was before.

“We can’t do this Miguel.”

He knew what you were thinking. He didn’t want to let you leave his arms yet, as he let his self hold harder and push your head closer into his the crook of his shoulder. The tickle of your breath on his neck, he just wanted this forever.

“She left. Almost a year ago.” He let out to you. A big weight coming off of his chest. You pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes while you watched him avoid your gaze. You felt bad to say you could feel a bit of satisfaction bubbling in you.

“Good, she deserved better.”

“So did you.” Miguel sighed playing with his hands. Your eyes widened when you saw the ring still on his finger. He let you stare. “I-I could never. I couldn’t.” The emotions struggle to come out of his mouth. You understood him though. You always did. Placing your hand on top of his you just nodded.

“Please stay here.” He whispered.

Miguel had broken you in so many ways. Yet he almost ruined another universe just to keep you alive. You both needed time to talk and coming out a coma right now isn’t good timing.

“I finally became my own person when I went back in my universe. I enjoyed my independence.” The words pelleted at him. He could only hold his breath as he waited for you to continue. “I’ll stay… but not for you.”

It wounded him deeply; but he deserved it. This place will always be a home for you even if he wasn’t apart of it. Before he can tear his gaze and turn away, you reached out to hold his face close to yours. Your fingers gently rubbing on his cheeks as you slowly look at him properly after so long. You let your thumb smooth over his frown lines and he leaned into your touch closing his eyes.

“Let’s give us time.” Was the words you blessed that opened every door of hope he could find. He would take it, he would absolutely take it. He has to fight for you, he has to prove to you. He would do anything but for now he’ll be on his best patiently waiting for you.

Both of you sat comfortably without speaking, only the faint background beeps of the hospital monitor making up for the silence, while passing small glances. For once both of you felt a missing warmth you didn’t realize you needed. Sharing empanadas with each other, just maybe it will be alright…

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The end!!! Thank you so so much for your time in reading my story. i really really was so happy with all the comments and feedback on pt 1 it really meant a lot!!!

i hope this was ok ~ i apologize for how long it was i was thinking of doing another part but just wanted to finish this up. I was in such a conflict how to end this. i hope it wasn’t too cliche or anything i’m just a sucker for very wanty needy dramatic stories. It’s a hopeful ending tho~ i couldn’t pick with just happy or sad.

So many of you had tons of amazing suggestions which I appreciated so much. I was such a mess trying to figure it all out. Many of you wanted to see Y/N move on with another person but I ended up going this route. I used Peter Parker as an obv character in y/n’s universe but it’s not tied to any specific one and you guy can think of him more to your liking if you want to!

If any of you would like a small drabble or imagine of another route of this story or just anything angsty/possessive and rarwrarwbarkbark miguel. I’d be glad to help lol!! My request box is wide open~ i had so much fun writing this!

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Painkiller

♡Pair: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader Genre: minor Angst / fluff Warning: Injuries, blood. Incorrect British slang and spanish. A/n: Miguel can release how much Venom he wants to release, so this doesn't paralyzed (Y/n) Summary: You got injured from a mission and Miguel basically decides to numb your pain.

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"Miles! Watch out!" You yelp as the Lizard bites you. 

You made sure the Lizard didn't bite Miles. Its sharp teeth sink into your inner thigh. You punch the Lizard to get its teeth off of you.

As you did you swung a web out to a nearby building. Getting on top of it to check out your wound.

"Hey- Are you alright?" Miles swung by. He was in a panic.

You hissed in pain as you checked your wound. Your suit was ripped where you were bit. Bloody bite mark.

"Im- fine." You huffed. "Call for backup. Without Miguel's knowledge. " You spoke while holding your wound. And Mile did as he was told.

He called in Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr. They jumped out the portal seconds later.

"S’You called it, mate." Hobie shrugged. As the three realized you were injured.

"Oh my god- (Y/n)- are you alright?" Gwen crouched to take a look at your wound.

"I'm fine, don't worry." You shook off your wound. Wincing slightly when you push a towel onto it.

"Uhm, guys there's a Lizard down here." Pavitr pointed as he played with his bangle.

"Right, that." You sighed.

"We'll get that handle for you." Miles laid a hand on your shoulder. "Trust us." He smiled. You sighed.

"Well you better not tell Miguel about this." You winced.

"You s’betcha." Hobie swung off the building. As well as the other three jump off the building too. You panic when you saw, your watch glow.

It was Jess. Thank god.

"Oh- hey Jess.. how's the baby coming along?" You smiled.

"What's going on? And why did Miles call for backup?"

"Oh! I told him to. You see this… Lizard is pretty strong?" You gave a low chuckle.

"But!" Before Jess spoke again.

"We have it under control, promise." You plead, hoping she doesn't send herself or even worse Miguel.

You knew Miguel was going to bench you after this injury. So you made sure he wasn't going to find out. 

And if he does Miles might not survive another day.

Jess nodded, turning off her side of the call. You lead back on the smashed concrete that was behind you.

But goodness. 

It hurts like hell.

+-~-+

The four spider people lead you to the Medbay, making sure no one sees you. Once you got there. Miles used his Medbay card to check you in and out. Making sure no one knew you were injured.

Your wounds were patched and clean. You were almost healed. Expected the part where you're limping. But, it was very light, so no one could notice it if they were a mile away.

After you left the Medbay you went back to your Spider-dimension. Going back to your apartment.

You quickly changed and lay in your soft cold bed. Taking a break. Your injury was sort of aching. Miles said he would sign you out.

Somehow, he likely would have made it worse.

"Morale. Where. The. Hell. Is. She." Miguel frowned.

"Somewhere?" Miles flailed his shoulders.

"Somewhere? SOMEWHERE? She's your partner, estúpido. How could you lose her?" (Stupid)  

"Do you like her, aye?" Hobie added. Which seems to have shut up Miguel.

The room was silent.

"I'm going to check her watch." Miguel Ignoring Hobie's question would make everyone confused.

Miguel turns on your watch's camera. Everyone was bracing themself for Miguel to yell.

But he didn't. More like he was mesmerized. The screen was big.

You were lying in your bed, covers right on top of you. The watch right on top of your nightstand. 

How Miguel was staring at you, everyone in the room knew Miguel had the fastest crush on you.

Lyla snapped him out of it. He was embarrassed. A deep scarlet red rose around his face.

"You can leave, now." He turned behind to see no one there. He let out an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

+-~-+

Few days went by and you tried your best to distance yourself from Miguel, hoping he didn’t notice you were injured. Going on missions when needed, making sure to lower suspicions. This didn’t help your injury heal at all.

It only got worse. It was only time before Miguel caught on. He noticed your constant limping when you came back from every mission. 

He called you in one day.

“Yo, you need something?” You asked, webbing to his platform. Trying to stand still as possible.

“You want to tell me what you’re hiding?” He glanced at you, with his arms crossed.

“I’m fine.” You said.

“What?” He frowned more than usual.  “You're injured?”

Oh shit… He didn’t know?

“No-? What I meant to say is ‘What do you mean?’ ” You fidget with your hands. Not like he was going to believe that, but you still tried anyway.

He walked up a bit closer to you. You walk back a few steps, almost falling off the platform, till he catches you by the suit. You wince slightly. Miguel seems to notice you wince. His frown turned into a concerned face.

He carried you bridal style on to his desk.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked, searching around your body. 

“I told you, I’m fine. You got off the desk landing on your bad leg. You hiss slightly, crouching a bit. Miguel lifted you back on the desk.

“Eso no suena bien. I’m not going to ask you again. Where does it hurt?” (That doesn’t sound fine.)  He looked at you. As he pressed around your leg, as soon as he heard you whimper in pain. He ripped the thigh part of your suit.

“You owe me a new suit.” You said, wincing.

“Lyla, make (Y/n) another suit.” As the orange hologram appears.

“You got it, bossman” As Lyla puts up multiple orange screens.

Miguel's eyes widened when he saw bandages, bled through.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” His voice softened. You look away from him.

“Didn’t want to be bench.” You shrugged. You heard him sigh.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels like an ant bite.” You said sarcastically.

“Have you taken painkillers yet?”  He asked.

“No, those don’t do much.” You sighed, aching at every movement.

“Could I perhaps try?”

“Giving me medicine?” You frown.

“Do you trust me?” He crouches to your knees.

“Yeah?”

“This might sting a little.” He spoke, spreading your legs out a bit.

“What are you-” You whimpered, as he stuck his two fangs into your thigh. You felt a cool numbing to your leg. It was a relief, but you were blushing like crazy.

“Better?” He asked, with a faint pink expose on his cheek.

You nodded at him with a million thoughts in your head. Your heart was beating a little faster than usual. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. You always had a small crush for Miguel, but you never thought anything like this.

“You might not be able to walk for a little.” As he started to re-bandage you. “You shouldn’t be moving at all, either way.” He carried you off the platform into his spare bedroom.

“Take me out to dinner first, O’hara.” You joked. As he placed you down on the bed.

“Sure, when you get better.” He placed a light kiss on your forehead.

Wait what?

-

W.C 1.2k

Another Miguel Drabble

I wanna touch his boobies so that’s what I wrote.

“So?”

“No.” He grumbles and you groan out annoyingly, knowing he hates the sound of both how loud you can be and also your disappointment. “What’s the obsession? You’ve been asking everyday for weeks!” He hisses.

“They look so soft! You love grabbing my boobs, why can’t I grab yours?” You pace a little, then turning back to where he’s sitting.

“Dios Mio, fine! Just shut up!” He yells a bit and you jump onto the front of his chair, straddling him as your hands scoop up his muscular pecks. “If you tell anyone about this-“

“Too late.” Lyla chimes from in front of him and snaps a cute picture of your hands groping his chest. Letting out a loud “argh!” He fumes and glares down at your body on his.

Too bad the second he sees how happy you are, he can’t help but not care anymore. That smile makes his day, and if grabbing your tits is what does it then he’s ok with that. But…

That doesn’t change that he’s going to absolutely torture your body once you get home as revenge. “When we get home, I’m going to return the favor ten fold.” He says lowly so you’re the only one that can hear.

Extra:

During a debriefing, Miguel talks and ends his spiel. “Any questions? Yes, Hobie.” He sighs, knowing it will be something very stupid-

“So, what size cup are you? And where do ya get the bras with the most support?” He kicks his boots up as everyone tries not to laugh.

That was it, you were so done for when he got home.

Familia Bonus: Filo!Reader x Miguel O'Hara Head canons

This is from my AO3 Account: @Witchlily1

Here’s chapter one: https://www.tumblr.com/sadsackssss/721873357753253888/familia-miguel-ohara-series?source=share

Some of these head cannons are based on real life experiences and research.

Again please, if I made a mistake on anything I will gladly change it :)

Anyway thank you so much for everyone who read and kudos everything you honestly made my day :) I hope you continue to read and support!

1. Lyla babysits Gabriella sometimes and once when Gabriella was so angry at Miguel, she ignores any attempted requests for a hug or a kiss, which devastates Miguel. As a result, Lyla would softly but enough for Miguel to hear:

“You just got rejected, R-E-J-E-C-“

“Enough, Lyla.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She replied instantly with no hint of remorse.

2. Gabriella LOVES chamoy, Y/N has to hide the bottle because she will either put it on everything or drink it out of the bottle. Once Gabriella had chamoy on her baby hands and rubbed her eyes, the sting from the spice and vinegar, made Miguel create the rule of locking the bottle in a cabinet until she is 10.

3. Y/N gets along with both sides of the family, at parties she joins in the chisomosa, sometimes when Miguel is too tired he tries to pull her away to go home.

“5 more minutes, Miguel! Your Tia is telling me something really important, just sit and have another drink!”

5 minutes turn into an hour, and Miguel is just praying for his life.

Y/N shrugs “Chismosa, tsismis all information is important!” (Gossip in both languages)

4. Once Peter B was over at their house, he forgot the difference between Lumpia (Spring roll) and Suman (Sticky rice cooked with coconut milk steamed and wrapped in a banana leaf) and tried to eat the banana leaf like a dog on a chew toy. Y/N had to stop him from choking on the leaf, Miles never lets that story go, and Miguel will subtly bring it up when he brings Tamales.

5. Every time Y/N points with her lips, Miguel ignores it and uses it as an opportunity to kiss her.

“Hoy! Ano ba?” (Tagalog: Hey! What?!)

He laughs, “Pasensya na, Tesoro.” (Tagalog: Sorry/ Spanish: Treasure)

Y/N and Miguel pick up some words from their languages and say them to each other to try to impress and tease each other.

On that same note, he makes cute language books for Gabriella, simple picture books in his office, during zoom calls with his boss his camera is off because he’s snipping pictures and writing down words in English, Spanish, and Tagalog.

6. During an outing to the aquarium, Y/N would point at the fish and have a debate with Miguel on which one would be the best to eat, he tries not to entertain that thought too much but he smiles at her thoughts.

“Fry up that one with some vinegar and you got a good meal, come on, think about it!.”

“Alright, Y/N let’s go before you actually do it.”

7. In August, Y/N and Miguel argue about how early to put up the Christmas tree (For Y/N Christmas season starts in September and Miguel’s in early December) but she gets Miles to tag team debate with Miguel to get the tree up right after Halloween. (Puerto Rico starts Christmas in November.)

8. Miguel was so proud that Gabriella gets to the part of the Virgin Mary at her school’s Nativity play that he purposely volunteered to make the advertising poster, some parents question why Gabriella slightly takes up more space on the poster than the child playing baby Jesus, but no one brings it up to Miguel.

9. During Dia de los Reyes (3 King’s Day, January 6), Gabriella took a bite of the Rosca de Reyes (king’s bread) and had the small baby doll in her hands. Her Tios kept rubbing it in Miguel’s face that he was going to feed the whole family tamales and hot chocolate on Candelaria Day (February 2), and judging his cooking skills. All of this was on Facebook live, pictures and video evidences were posted on Facebook so there was no way out of this obligation.

10. Gabriella blesses everyone (Mano Po) she blesses relatives, friends, strangers, and stuffed toys. She sees a hand and brings it to her forehead. Miguel has to chase Gabriella around the park and keep a keen eye on her so she doesn’t run off with another family.

11. Miguel is adamant about Gabriella having both a Quinceañera and a Debut (coming-of-age parties at 15 and 18 years old). That he has had a savings account saved since the day Y/N was pregnant.

12. So. Many. Parties, Miguel’s singing voice actually improved by the amount of people forcing him to the karaoke machine, Y/N is always the designated driver as Miguel is constantly forced to drink by both of their relatives.

13. “Miguel, where are the grapes?”

“Huh?”

Y/N pointed at the fruit basket “It’s almost New Year’s and there are 11 fruits in this basket.”

Miguel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly trying to explain what happened, until they see Gabriella eating and smashing grapes on the kitchen counter. Y/N glared as he pulls his hand out to hold out 6 grapes in his right hand, he had already eaten half.

“You have an hour to buy me a new fruit and it better be round or else!”

Once Upon a Dream | Miguel O'Hara x reader

Summary: you've been dreaming of a man for months, another Spider-Person, just as lonely as you...

A/N: please note that English is not my first language and I'm sorry for any mistakes you can find -

Warnings: none?

Words: 1743

I want to thank my beta readers @ohantonia and @bloodredwolfsbane 🩷

You woke up once again gasping for air. Tears escaped your eyes and found their way down your cheeks. Loneliness wrenched your heart, like it always did, after he visited you in your dreams.

It was happening more frequently. Almost every night now. And when he didn’t come, you went looking for him. Sometimes finding him in a state of despair that broke your heart. You could never touch, although you were dying to hold him in your arms. You could never speak, your words like whispers fading away before they could reach him. It was like you were separated by an invisible wall. But he kept coming back. And you could feel he missed you, and you hoped he could feel you missed him too. You started wishing you could spend your life in your dreams, with him. Tell him everything was going to be okay. You didn’t know what had happened to him, but you felt everything he did. His eternal sadness. The gaping wound in his chest that left him screaming in pain in his sleep. In your dreams. He was so lonely. And maybe that was why he was coming to you. Maybe his loneliness matched yours.

You sat up with a sigh, wiping the tears away. Like every morning, doubt seized you. Was it even real? Or were you going crazy? The tall Spider-Man, the large man with his dark curls and red eyes. Fangs like a vampire. The bright red and blue suit that he never took off, like an armor. Maybe you were imagining him. Maybe it was just your subconscious manifesting your need and want for another spider-person like you. For someone to talk to. Someone to share your life with. Someone to fill that hole in your chest. Like he needed someone to fill his. But like every morning, you chose to trust yourself, your instincts. You chose to believe. You chose him.

That day was like every other. Crawling around your neighborhood, everyone knew you had a routine, and you could make sure everyone behaved. The crime rate had lowered since you became Spider-Woman. The one good thing that came of it. You didn’t like being Spider-Woman. You didn’t ask for it, and you wouldn’t have chosen it for yourself had you been given a choice. And as a woman of science, you foolishly thought you would be able to find a cure. You never did. And you’d given up on that idea after a while. After you saved an old woman from a robber. After you saved a little girl from being crushed by a truck. After you saved a bus full of people.  You had power that could do some good. Who were you to ignore that?

You had had a pretty uneventful day, even for a doctor in a hospital. But everything you did, you did with him on your mind. He followed you everywhere. Every room you stepped in, you looked for him. Hoped for him. And every time he wasn’t there, it broke your heart in more tiny pieces.

You changed out of your scrubs and closed your locker with a sigh. You closed your eyes, tried to picture him, imagined what it would be like to walk out of the hospital and have him waiting for you outside. You tried not to think about it too long. It only hurt more when you let yourself hope like that. You weren’t delusional. The man in your dream was just that, a man in your dream.

You stepped out of the locker room, ready to go home, when, suddenly, the hair on your arms rose and chills ran across your body. You knew that feeling. Something bad was about to happen.

You felt the ground shake before you heard the explosion.

“What was that?!” you heard a nurse ask from behind the counter under which she was hiding. 

Behind her, through the large windows, you could see black smoke emanating from the Alchemax lab across campus. The damage seemed catastrophic. You hurried towards the scene, taking advantage of the chaos to change into your sky-blue suit, and landed near the hole in the roof of the lab. You coughed as you stepped closer to the smoke. It was so thick you couldn’t even see the fire below. You decided to carefully make your way down and were relieved to see everyone had somehow managed to escape. You navigated the cloudy, unfamiliar and dangerous environment, trying to locate the flames, but it seemed they had already disappeared. Gradually, the smoke dissipated, and you found yourself alone in the mess, thankful no one had been around when the explosion occurred. Slowly, however, you started to spot a tall figure before you, as the smoke vanished around him.

“It’s dealt with. No. He wasn’t there.”

The man spoke to a device on his wrist resembling a big smartwatch. He had his back turned to you but still, there was no mistaking him. That tall and large figure, that bright red and blue suit, those dark curls... A gasp escaped you, alerting him of your presence. He turned around swiftly. And there they were. Those red eyes. Looking right at you.

His face dropped as his eyes grew bigger. The air stuck in his throat as he stared at you dumbfounded. Neither of you dared to move, too afraid you would wake up and be alone once again.

“It’s you,” he breathed.

You slowly removed your mask, so he could see you as you saw him. A tear fell down his cheek, and you were dying to wipe it away, to take his face in your hands and kiss them all away.

“You’re here,” you said in a whisper.

Desperate to touch him, you held out your hand, slowly, as if he were a small animal you could scare away. It felt like forever, waiting for the other to move, but he took your hand and you felt like melting away.

“Oh, you’re here,” you cried as you hurried towards him and buried your head in his chest.

Instantly, he enveloped you in his strong arms, his cheek coming to rest on the top of your head. He held you tight, as you did, tighter even. You couldn’t believe it. He was here. Not only was he real, but he was here! You moved away to look up at him. Just the sight of him filled that hole in your chest. You brought your hands to his face, but he was so tall, you had to tiptoe. He made it easier for you, falling to his knees before you. He was there, at your feet, finally face to face, and you finally felt alive. Alive and awake. After all this time. Months of sharing dreams, months of delusions, months of craving him. At last, you were touching him. Your thumbs stroked his cheeks as you smiled down at him, leaning your forehead against his.

“You’re real,” he sobbed.

“So are you,” you laughed, and he nodded.

“I thought...”

“Me too,” you reassured him. “But I knew.”

“So did I. From the beginning. Always.”

“Me too,” you sniffed.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he moved to look at you, and you realized there was so much about each other you didn’t know. You answered him. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara.”

“It’s good to finally meet you, Miguel.”

“You too, mi amor.”

A small laugh escaped you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your nose in his hair. It felt so good to finally be able to touch him, to embrace him, to be embraced by him. 

“Where have you been all this time?” you asked in a whisper.

“I-... it’s complicated.”

“We’ve been sharing dreams for months, I’ll believe anything you tell me,” you promised, looking back at him, caressing his cheek with your knuckles.

He chuckled as he took your hand in his. “I’m from another universe,” he said, and somehow it wasn’t that hard to believe. “I created an… organization for people like us from around the multiverse. We were chasing down an anomaly, I followed it here.”

The implication was clear. You had been sharing dreams, but not a universe. But you had overcome the first, you could overcome the latter.

“So... you’re not from my world?”

“No.”

“So, then... you’re not staying...” you murmured as you moved closer to him, your fingers nervously playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before taking your chin between his fingers. “See this watch? It allows me to go anywhere I want, travel to any universe. I'll give you one, so you can come visit me all the time, even stay with me if you want.”

“I want,” you nodded eagerly, gripping the collar of his suit, brushing your nose against his. “I really, really want.”

“Good,” he said with a bright smile before he pressed his lips against yours.

He took you by surprise, but you wouldn’t complain. You moaned against his mouth, sliding your fingers in his curls and he groaned as you fisted your hands in his hair. He kissed you until you couldn’t breathe, just to take your breath away again. And again. And again. Eventually, he released you, his hot breath hitting your skin as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Come home with me? Plea-“

“Yes. Miguel, take me home.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as he held you tighter. You saw his lips tremble, and you knew exactly how he felt. Like you could finally breathe. Like a weight was off your chest. You had spent the last months living a nightmare, with the uncertainty of your sanity, of his existence. You had even started doubting what was real and what wasn’t, started wishing you could live in that world of dreams where you knew you could always find each other. It had started to feel more like home. He had started to feel like home.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “Everywhere. Wherever I went. I never gave up.”

“I’ve been waiting. I’ve been hoping... I... I didn’t know how...”

He stopped your rambling, gently pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. His meaning loud and clear: it’s over now, we’ll never be apart again. 

Parallels Masterlist

Miguel O'Hara X SpiderWoman!Reader

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!!)

Summary: You never had a 'spidey sense,' as you came to learn from your time as part of Spider Society. You'd gotten along this far without it and were an excellent spider-woman regardless. Then you meet Miguel O'Hara and it awakens something in you. A strange buzzing in the back of your head.It doesn't stop whenever he's in sight, and you think he knows what's happening to you. Something about Miguel draws you in. What made him so fucking special? Notes: This is my first fic I'm sharing and I'm doing my best 😅

Warnings: Just porn with plot, Oral (M and F receiving), P in V sex, Fingering, Size kink, Praise kink, TENSION, Angsty as hell, hurt/ comfort, Miguel is doing his best with feelings, cannon typical violence (Will update as I think of them)

All chapters marked with * contain NSFW content

Chapters

Spidey Sense*

Training Session*

On My Mind*

Business as Usual

Y/N: Hey Wade, can I take you to my therapist next week?

Wade: Why?

Y/N: She thinks I’m making you up.

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - soft → she/her pronouns!

the first time miguel says "i love you." based off this beautiful artwork

A feeling in Miguel's chest has been welling up like a dam on the verge of overflowing. His heart feels so full lately, almost bursting at the seams with a sensation so sweetly saccharine and warm at the same time.

Yet, it's familiar.

It's been so long since he's felt this. Like a starved man in front of a platter of food, Miguel wants nothing more to spoil himself with your affections. Now, whenever he thinks about you, it's in a lens of adoration and infatuation, so bright and almost tinted with pink.

He thinks he loves you, the way he always wonders how you feel, the way butterflies always flutter around his heart when you kiss him, the way his hands were always meant to be on your skin.

Ever since Miguel realized that he loves you, he didn't know what to do with himself. He wants to tell you so bad, to show you how much you mean to him. Every time he tries to vocalize his feelings, he's left with his mouth agape with no voice in his throat. He's utterly speechless, clueless on how to say it.

"My love, are you okay?" You always ask him, trailing your little hand over his chest.

He coughs a little, blinking his eyes a bit. "Yeah honey, I'm fine."

He doesn't know who to ask, or if he should ask at all on what to do. Miguel despises being lost, he hates not knowing things that seem so simple and casual.

Normally, the person he'd ask for anything would he you, but obviously he couldn't do that without spilling his heart out onto the floor for you. You've made him too opaque with love.

What he does know though, is that an "I love you." should come out naturally.

It happens when Miguel least expects; a call.

He got a little lonely, left all alone to do ugly work and missions at the office while you got to lounge on your off day. He misses you a little too much; the ghost of your touch and scent lingering nearby as if you were actually there.

Everything he could be doing right now could be with you, but Miguel pouts. You should be spending time with him instead, letting him touch you and kiss you and feed you. Instead, you're out on your off-day, out into Nueva York enjoying yourself.

At first, he thinks about just waiting until you come back to work so that he can take you home. But, then he remembers that you'll be, "gone until 7" so that plan was out the window.

Your off-days to him were both a blessing and a curse; you get the break you rightfully deserve, but Miguel has to go a whole day without you. (How tragic.)

It's moments like these that really make Miguel realize that he loves you. He longs for you, even when you'll only be gone for less than a day.

If the plan to wait is out the window, then Miguel thinks that the best he can do is just call you. Hearing your voice through a low-quality mic is enough to send him miles, or at least until you come back.

He leans his arms against his desk for a moment, gazing at the watch on his wrist as if it'll give him an answer to whether or not he should call you. Is he being too clingy? Did you want some time alone?

Miguel supposes, that a short call would suffice. He'll call you quickly to say hi, and then he'll leave you to your devices. You won't even have to worry about tending to him.

It takes him a moment, but eventually, he presses that call button. Once the dial starts to ring, Miguel's heart rate rises. He almost doesn't know why he gets so nervous around you, but he knows you wouldn't mind.

"Hi hun. You need something?" You greet, and Miguel nearly bites down a sigh from how heavenly your voice sounds.

I need you. Miguel thinks, but he just can't bring himself to say it.

You can recognize the specific way Miguel's voice gets when he talks with you; gentler and airier. It's sweet.

"Hi, sweetie..." Miguel sighs, his cheek against his arm as he starts into the watch. "...I just miss you, that's all."

The way you chuckle is delightful, Miguel subconsciously smiling to himself. It makes him giddy, and something in his heart starts to grow.

"Awww, Miguelito. I miss you too." You say, warmth blooming on Miguel's face.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in line getting dinner right now, at Anton's. Do you want anything? I know you like the fried plantains they have."

Miguel gets excited, happily dreaming about sitting down at home to eat with you, just so he could stare at you the entire time.

"Can we share?" Miguel asks. "Get the plantains too."

"Of course, honey."

It sounds like you're listing your order the way he could still hear your voice, muffled and faraway from the mic. He waits the whole time, hearing your polite laughs and thanks from afar.

Miguel thinks back to the first time you went to Anton's together, after you had recommended it to him. Comforting food with his most favorite person was a memory imprinted in his mind, fluffy and raw with love.

He hears a bit more shuffling from the other end, and it appears as though you've taken a seat somewhere to wait.

"I'm back-"

"I think I love you."

Miguel's mind almost goes blank, sheer emotion guiding his voice to spill those sacred words.

"..."

A deadly chill runs up Miguel's spine, his heartbeat quickening and his face blanching when all he can hear from the other end is silence. It extends for only a few seconds, but to Miguel, it's more of three years long.

Instantly, Miguel starts to regret it, a choking, terrible feeling soaking his mind like water traveling up a napkin. He was too forward, too ubrupt-

"Really?"

Miguel virtually chokes on thin air when he hears your voice, hesitant yet hopeful.

"Yeah." Is all he can really say in the moment. He's walking on eggshells with you, near bending over backwards so that he can preserve what love he has left from you.

There's a moment of suspenseful silence, and Miguel almost starts to sweat from how on edge he is.

"Well, I love you too, Miguel."

The biggest, fattest weight is thrown off Miguel's chest, like a dam being burst open. Adoration swells in Miguel's eyes, and a smile creeps up onto his face. You love him!

Though, something in Miguel tells him that he always knew.

"Can you... say it again?" Miguel mutters, still a little embarrassed from the whole ordeal.

His request makes you smile. He's such a boy.

"I love you, Miguelito."

Miguel wants to scream when you finally tell him, resisting every urge to just flip his desk over right then and there. There's an angry blush on his face, and his heart skips a few beats. You're perfect.

"Oh my god, honey, say it again. Please." Miguel sighs, tucking his face into his forearm.

You giggle a little. "Miguel, I have to pick up the food! I'll tell you all you want when I get back, m'kay?"

"...M'kay." Miguel pouts, excitement already building up at the thought of being able to hear your love for him in person. It makes him nervous, a little light to the head at the thought.

"Love you, bye."

Before Miguel has a chance to say anything, you hang up the call, and he's left alone. He's speechless.

Reality slowly starts to trickle in, and Miguel realizes his adorable accomplishment. After nearly a month of holding back his feelings, he finally was able to tell you in person.

It feels amazing, almost like he broke a barrier in your relationship. With Miguel at the peak of the mountain, it's all downhill from here.

He promises to himself that he'll practice telling you how he feels, now that he knows you feel the exact same way. It should get easier over time, he thinks, fantasized about the sweetness, the domesticity of it all.

He's never been more excited to get you back home, eager to smother you with his hands and eat sweet plantains with you.

Miguel's aware he doesn't know how to share his feelings as easily as you do...

but he's working on it.

if anyone is wondering, yes, i switched accounts from my old one, @cosmosis, all of my writings will continue on this blog

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

Morning talk with SingleDad! Miguel O´Hara

This is the next part of the series of SingleDad Miguel, hope you like it. I appreciate every comments

It is well known that Miguel has terrible sleep hygiene. He lasts whole days without sleeping and when he has the opportunity to do so, he does so in an uncomfortable chair in his laboratory. He doesn't always manage to get home to have a well-deserved rest, many times he is caught up in things at work or finds himself in some dimension dealing with some anomaly and not to mention possible time changes between dimensions.

They are the worst.

But for Miguel the most difficult thing is to see how little by little he is losing his daughter, he is not always in the best conditions to take care of Gabriela and that is something that little by little kills him inside. Despite the fact that Gaby has made it clear in multiple times that she doesn't mind that her dad can't always be there for her as long as you're present.

For Miguel and Gabriela your arrival was more than a blessing, many would think that they are exaggerating but it is the truth, Miguel felt that he was failing as a father and he felt that he should do more for his daughter, he knew that he had to ask for help but O'Hara was a proud man.

"Of course I can take care of my daughter, have a stable job, protect my city and why not, also safeguard the multiverse and go to my daughter's training sessions on weekends."

Everyone could see how the world was coming down on Miguel, except him.

After you met him at that party, you began to hang out and when you realized the big problem he had, you offered to help him a little, you didn't have superpowers and you weren't a genius, but for Miguel you always had the power to make him feel better about himself and you always managed to keep Gaby happy, and, if Gabriela was happy he was too.

So when Gabriela found out that you would live with them, she was so happy that she kept telling you what their weekends would be like and how they would spend time together non-stop.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was one of those rare days when Miguel could spend the weekend at home with his little family. The night before, he had promised Gaby that he would take her to school next day. Today is the other day and Miguel had fallen asleep making Gaby late for school.

Those mornings were chaotic but without a doubt you would never change them.

After Miguel memorized all the commands and instructions that you left in the refrigerator, he took Gaby and put her in the car, starting the car in record time.

During the journey to school they were silent, probably both were still half asleep, neither of them managed to comb their hair. Miguel was the first to break the silence.

"So... how do you feel with her at home? you are happy?" Miguel asked as he leaned his head towards his daughter waiting for an answer without stopping to see the road.

"I really like having her around, also, her food is very tasty. More than yours." Gabriela said between laughs. She liked to tease his dad from time to time. He took food very seriously, it was his way of showing his affection when words did not allow it.

"More than mine..." Miguel repeats in a low voice "Okay, it doesn't bother me. I didn't want to cook anymore anyway." And the drama begins. "It's not like cooking is our favorite thing to do together. No, not at all."

"Just kidding, I like your food, but you have to admit that mom's food is good. You always fall asleep on the couch after eating what she makes" Gaby had the biggest smile he had ever seen.

"Mom? Since when did you call her mom? What am I missing?" Miguel stopped the car at the red light, turning to see his daughter.

Gaby's cheeks were a little red. "Well... I started calling her that after it slipped out by mistake at one of my soccer practices. She said it was fine as long as you and I felt comfortable."

"Mom huh? And what do you think about that? Would you like her to be your mom?" Miguel's tone was definitely serious.

"Yes" Gaby didn't hesitate for a second to answer, it's as if she had already had this conversation in her head over and over again and in none of them would she have said no. Every time she thought about it, you always showed up, at her training sessions, at her school events, God, even she had already thought about how her first mothers day would be with you there at her festival.

"I think she's good for you Pa and if she's good for you and makes you happy, so am I." At that moment Gaby was speaking from the bottom of her heart. "Besides, you're getting old, you're lucky she noticed you" And there it was, the usual Gaby was back, bothering her father in the most affectionate way possible, in the only way a daughter like her and a father like him could show their affection.

"First of all, how dare you. Second I'M NOT OLD, it's the stress. What makes you think I'm old." Miguel kept driving as soon as the light turned green. On the other hand, Gabriela was laughing. "Well, the other day I heard you tell mom that your back and knees were starting to hurt. That's for old people"

"For the sake of my health, I'm going to ignore the fact that my precious daughter called me old. What I mean is that if I ask her to marry me, would you be okay with that?"

"Definitely, if life had given me to choose who my mother would be from the beginning, I would choose her, in this and in all universes. If one day you two separate -I hope not- I would choose to go with her. I think that that makes it clear what I think."

Miguel remained silent for a while, getting closer and closer to the school entrance. "Well, I think the decision has been made" Miguel said as he accelerated.

"You just passed the school entrance" Gaby was confused "Where are we going?"

"To the mall" Miguel just shrugged his shoulders as if it were something obvious

"For what?" Gaby only saw how her school was moving away from her sight

"To buy an engagement ring"

"That's good because I was going to tell you that I forgot my backpack at home"

"AY GABRIELA!"

as soon as gabby starts calling reader mom ugh i’m sure miguel starts thinking abt actually asking the reader to marry him

this is a part of my flower shop au, fics are linked in my masterlist in case you want to read them if you havent :)) (gn!reader who's called 'mom')

miguel is an emotional man

he was near tears when he heard gabi call you mom for the first time

it made him see you in a brighter light

one that highlighted your features and made your skin glow

ever since gabi called you mom, he's been thinking of how stunning you'd look in your wedding outfit

miguel can tell that gabi loves you dearly, I mean she called you mom for gods sake

but he loves thinking about the excited smile she'd have when she sees you in your pretty outfit walking down the isle

he can practically picture how he'd be crying the second he sees the door open

after dreaming about it and being slightly disheartened that there's no ring on his finger yet

he searches for hours on end for the perfect rings

wonders whether to get a big diamond or smth dainty and cute

also tries to discreetly measure your ring size

meaning he steals borrows one of your rings to take to a jeweler

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮…𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Miguel! Ah!” You squealed, feeling the cold ocean water on your skin. “You got my hair wet! I'm gonna fucking kill you!l You giggled, splashing more water at him.

Miguel laid awake as the sun began to dawn over Nueva York. His eyes were red, watery, and sore, but he insisted on staying up, just to watch his home videos a bit longer.

His lips winced into a smile before jumping at the sound of his alarm. His growing smirk faded almost as soon as it came.

Miguel swiftly waved his hand, making all of his video tabs disappear in thin air, then sitting up.

“Morning Miguel!” A chipper voice greeted him.

He looked over, pretending to be annoyed at his AI companion.

“Oh…” You grimaced at his appearance. “You really need to get that insomnia checked out.” You commented

Insomnia was a lie Miguel made up so no one would ask questions as to what he was doing that made him so grouchy during the day. He also didn't want to break your code by confessing he was watching memories of the two of you together…well not you, but you, his wife.

“Today is gonna be a sunny day. Eighty two degrees with a windchill of eighty.” You spun and appeared in shorts and a tank top. “Don't forget your sunscreen O’Hara.”

“Don't need it.” He groaned getting out of bed.

“That's a myth! Us people of color still need our sunscreen Migs.”

His head snapped up from brushing his teeth. He quickly spit out his toothpaste and looked towards your floating algorithm. “What did you just call me?”

“Migs.”

Miguel stared with an indifferent face for a few moments. The way his nickname rolled off your tongue….It was almost as if-

“Don't call me that again okay?”

“Fine?” You stomped mid-air.

Miguel suited up and you began the morning sequence. Playing some soft music, starting the coffee machine, and lifting all the blinds in his apartment, switching on the TV, and opening up his closet.

Miguel walked over to the kitchen and made him a bagel, something quick and easy. He held the bagel in his mouth as he suited up in his spidey-suit for the day.

After a coffee break, his alarm started beeping. Once

“Great.” He muttered. “Y/n what's the problem?”

You appeared in front of him. “Anomaly detected on Earth-65.”

“Take me there.”

---

The building was destroyed…to say the least but Miguel and Jessica saved the day. They ended up inviting the spider of that earth to join the spider society, of course after a bit of convincing from you and Jessica.

Miguel walked into his headquarters and powered on his large device, where multiple screens popped up. Camera feeds in each universe, at least the ones that were hit spots for anomalie. He swiped through, checking to see if anything was out of order.

“You know it's unhealthy to stare at screens for long amounts of time…and that close.” You popped up.

Miguel looked at you annoyed. “Who summoned you?”

“Summon is a very…strong word. I can tell you're looking for something so i'm here to help.”

He scowled at you before sighing. “The Spot villain. I need to know more about him.”

“The Spot is-”

“No, No.” Miguel stopped you. “Do the explany thingy.”

You smiled softly and nodded. Soon, the room turned into a fake void, and you grew to full size. You spun and turned into a man with long hair and a beard.

“Don't-. Turn back.” Miguel demanded.

“Ugh you're no fun!” You turned back into your normal self and shrunk back to pixie size. Resting on his shouldersu, you waved your hand.

“Doctor Jonathan Ohnn worked for Alchemax on Earth-616.” You displayed the human, pre villain of course. “He worked closely with Doc Ock, but unfortunately became a laughing stock after…being hit with a bagel.”

“A bagel?” Miguel asked.

“And everything bagel with cream cheese.”

“No peppers?” Miguel said amused, referencing his own bagel go-to.”

“No peppers!” You exclaimed back. “Anyways, he HATES that kid Miles Morales, the one you were talking about.”

Miguel's face fell flat seeing the events replay in front of him. His eyes narrowed at the clumsy young boy, and he shook his head.

“Would you like for me to continue?”

“No.” Miguel turned back to his screen. “That's enough for tonight.”

You turned the room back to normal and pulled up a few screens of Miles Morales spidey-profile.

“Would you like me to elaborate on-”

The change in Miguel's face intensified seeing Miles again. “No! Cut it off!” He yelled.

You quickly did as told and crossed your arms.

“Migs, what is with you and that kid?”

Miguel took a few deep breaths in before turning to face you. “What did I say about that nickname?”

“Miguel- Okay listen. I know you're the boss and all but the mere mention of that kid sets you off. Why?”

Miguel didn't want to tell you that he envied Morales. Watching him from a distance and seeing him go home to his parents, his family. While he was stuck in a world without you-

“Shut down for tonight.” Miguel places his hand over his eyes.

“Miguel-”

“Lock the computer and shut down.”

You nodded and disappeared.

---

The internet is an endless void of searches, media, content, and texts. When Miguel allowed you in the computer during his free time you opted to watch youtube videos on stupid things like cats getting scared by cucumbers

When Miguel ordered you to lock the computer, it was like being a security guard for a museum. You only had access to personal files, which was far too complex for you to want to see anyway. So basically you chilled on the home screen until Miguel summoned you again.

You waited on the dark home screen, one of which was a spiderman logo. Groaning, you cursed yourself for angering your boss. Miguel was so emotional, and it drove you crazy at times.

Standing on the deskbar, you stomped, accidentally opening the already open tab of his files. And what came up shocked you.

Hundreds of videos and pictures of….you?

“What the hell?” You walked closer to a video of your face that was close in a camera. You put your hand on the play button and watched

“This is Y/n and…man.” Y/n turned the camera. “Miguel got us a room at the Ritz-Carlton for our honeymoon.”

You watched confused as you….but not you, showed the luxury hotel room.

“Here's a bottle of champagne and- oh! These fancy robes.” Y/n pushed the camera out to show that she was in a robe.

“Thank you so much baby.” Ricky smiled before turning the camera to Miguel, who was on the bed, in his robe reading….a book?

The video ended, and you quickly went scrolling through pictures. Going down a rabbit hole, you found pictures of your wedding, the trips you took, the two of you playing around in the spider suit…and some spicy moments between you two.

It all came to a halt when you came across an obituary. Your face was plastered on it, with a birth and death date.

---

The next morning you were more quiet, starting the morning sequence and watching Miguel prepare for the day.

“Miguel.”

“Hm?” He said looking down over the skyline of Nueva York from his window.

“We need to talk.”

You watched his body stiffen at your tone. He turned around and tilted his head. “About?”

You looked at your hands and shivered. “Who am I?”

“You're an AI, named Y/n.” He answered with a snarky tone.

“Who was I?”

He fell silent for a few moments. “A program.”

“That's not what I meant Miguel.” You waved your hand and multiple screens of your findings popped up. Miguel's eyes widened and his breathing stopped once he saw you everywhere at once.

“Y-you're….I-”

“I'm not just an AI am I?”

Miguel shook his head. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled a screen in front of him, playing a video.

“You were my wife.” He stated at the video with loving eyes, “My beautiful, sweet wife…” He trailed off.

You looked at him with a sorry expression.

“On Earth-2099 you got sucked into a wormhole…one of my failed experiments.” He looked at his hands as if they were covered in blood. “I jumped through every dimension trying to find you and never did. Then I found a new dimension where you were just normal old Y/n.”

He looked over to you. “We were happy…for 6 months. Got married and everything.” He sighed deeply. “But I didn't know that if I attempted to call another dimension my home it would be destroyed I-...I fucked up a canon event…I think. You- You were never meant to marry me, not in that dimension.”

A body camera popped up in front of you two and it showed the demolition of your dimension, running while holding your hand. Y/n ran as fast as she could, but the next time Miguel turned around she was gone. He didn't even feel her disappear.

Miguel sat on the edge of the bed sobbing, holding his face as he cried. You'd never seen this before. Eyes red, nose runny Miguel. You could hear the pain in his voice, and it made you regret bringing this up to him.

“If I- If I- If I made you like this…kept you like this.” He motioned around your body. “You can't leave me.” He choked out. Miguel tried reaching for you but his hand went right through, which made him lean his head down and sob. “I can see you! I can get through the torture of every day if I can just see your face.”

“Oh Miguel-”

“Don't! I don't wanna hear it!” He yells.

You looked at him somberly before smiling softly.

“If it helps. I am programmed to absorb information and adapt. If you give me access to your files, I can accurately depict Y/n.”

Miguel stopped his crying and looked up at you. “You can do that? From just photos and pictures?

“Yes, social media and personal documents as well.”

“And you'll be the same? Just like her?”

“Like she never left.” You reassured.

Miguel quickly wiped his eyes and ran over to his laptop, opening it.

“Do it. Do it now.”

if i had a quarter for every time i was attracted to an emotionally unavailable older man who tragically lost his daughter to a world-ending event and has beef with a teenager who has the potential to literally make or break the world then i would have two quarters which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice in such a short amount of time

miguel o'hara noticing that u really really like his big strong arms pls 🙏

i request

— MIGUEL O'HARA AND HIS ARMS !

pairing : miguel x reader !

a/n : anything for u dumpling!!!! thank you very much for requesting, also i jsut aced in my val game please be proud. p.s guys the reader doesnt know bro is spider-man lmao what a dumbass

It was early in the morning, and you were fatigued. Too exhausted to drive yourself to work, your boyfriend, Miguel, had offered to give you a ride.

You happily accepted.

You yawned, pressing the back of your head into the headrest of the passenger seat as your eyes slowly began to close. Miguel glanced over to you, then let out a chuckle at the sight.

"What time did you sleep?"

Opening your eyes, you were met with a very clear view of your boyfriend's arms.

You knew that he was jacked, for sure, but you marveled at the way his black compression shirt hugged his toned muscles, making them stand out even more than usual. Ignoring the extremely heavy weight on your eyelids, you couldn't keep your eyes off his biceps.

"You gonna answer me or keep staring at my arms?"

This snapped you out of your daze, causing you to blink twice before adjusting your posture. You averted your eyes to anywhere else but him as you felt the heat rising to your face.

"Yeah, ha... like 4, maybe?" You were too embarrassed to actually try to remember what time you finally passed out, but you knew it was late at night.

You didn't notice, but he was getting a kick out of seeing you like this, all flustered over just his arms. The smirk on his face was already formed thirty seconds ago, and he couldn't wipe off the smug that came with it.

"We're here. Don't get out yet though, I'm parking." He had a certain tone to his voice, like he was planning something. You shook your head, not wanting to be the reason he was late for his job, whatever it was.

"Ah, it's okay, I can just-"

You were distracted from the sudden movement of his hand moving from the gear shift, his arm reaching around the shoulders of your seat. He turned to get an accurate view of the rear window, reversing the car. One hand stayed on the wheel, and you swore right then and there that he looked ten times hotter while driving.

The arm you were staring at moments ago was now right in front of you, giving you a perfectly good look at the high definition of his muscles. It seemed that they were flexed this time, but you had no complaints.

Unbeknownst to you, he knew exactly what he was doing. He loved when you showed attraction towards him, and he loved embarrassing you about it even more.

He finally parked the car before looking at you, a small smile appearing when he saw that you were still in a trance with his arm.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled you close to him, embracing you in his arm, looking down at you to see your flushed cheeks. "I'll see you later, hermosa." He kissed your forehead, and you felt your stomach doing flips.

You then gasped in realization, glancing at the time. "I'm gonna be late!" Frantically scurrying to gather your things, you thanked him for the ride before opening the door and hopping out.

"I'll pick you up later?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Sounds good!" You nodded as you gave him one last wave, rushing past everybody near the building in fear of your boss giving you a hard time today.

On the way to your office, you smiled to yourself. You couldn't wait to come home and be engulfed in his strong arms, where you were safe from the world.

Meanwhile, Miguel's head was clouded as he watched you enter the building safely, thinking of all the ways he could get you to blush from his arms again, when really, all it takes is a simple hug.

One fanfic a day,

keeps the mental illness away

//spiderverse 2 spoilers

chapter 1 - when i first posted this on instgrm it blew up a little and it scared me :)

satan kisses you the same way he kisses cats. that means you get small, consecutive kisses on any spot he can reach at that moment: your forehead, your hand – it doesn't matter much to him, anyway. you're chilling on the couch and suddenly you're bombarded with the tiniest kisses on your head, yknow?

i also can not get over his little cat head bump. absolutely does that randomly to you, as gently as he can manage. it mostly happens when you're in public and he wants to be affectionate with you, just cause i hc he's not into pda much. im so in love with him.

a/n: take this ugh

"do you want be my girlfriend?"

you choke on your food, eyes widening as you look at him in disbelief. al haitham rolls his eyes and firmly pats you between your shoulder blades, glancing back to see if kaveh was coming.

"so?" he asks impatiently, eyes focused on your face again. you seem to be taking too long to compose yourself, he thinks, maybe that line wasn't the best to start this conversation.

"is this an experiment?"

he raises his eyebrows, confusion overtaking his usually stoic features, "why would you ask that?"

he watches you snicker, putting away the food tray to face him directly.

"considering we never exchange anything more than 'hi' and 'goodbye', i think it's a logical question."

pursing his lips, he ponders over what you said for a second before sighing loudly, giving up on his "act" and cursing quietly. he knew from the begining that he was too stiff to act romantic, or even try to act like he truly has anything in his heart for you.

"yeah, that's what i thought," you smile at him, and he notices that your voice has gotten that condescending tone, eyes watching him with something like pity. you stand up from your place and the scribe casts a slightly panicked gaze to his surroundings as he briefly hears kaveh's voice getting closer. "bye."

but this was not the time for him to sulk about the fact that he was unable to fulfill his plan, he needs you to help him, now.

"wait! can youー" and then he steps over his prideful nature, and grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest. "please."

your eyes widen in surprise before you can complain about his sudden acts, unnatural for his character. al haitham takes a chance, lifting his other hand up to cup the side of your face gently.

"please forgive me for this."

it's all an act, a scene, a spectacle just so he can prove a point to annoying kaveh, but somehow his heart slows down along with the moment.

al haitham hesitates. your cheeks, dusting with pretty pink, and plump lips, that glisten so sweetly, and your erratic breathing as you wait for his next move. he remembers that he chose you to be the victim of his argument just because you were the prettier one amongst his fellow scholars.

his periferal vision gives him a view of kaveh, and al haitham mutters apologies once again before he plants his lips on yours, swallowing the question of what's going on right off of them.

soft, he notes, your lips are soft and kissing them is the most enjoyable feeling he's endured in a long time.

"whatー so you weren't lying?" he hears his roommate cry out in shock. "stop being gross, ugh!"

al haitham smiles into the kiss, pulling away a few seconds later with a wet sound, the feeling of victory filling his chest along with warmth. he smoothes down your hair and lets go of your hand only to find you gripping his.

"thank you, i'll talk to you later."

he quickly mumbles in your ear, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheeks and gathers his things to go and entertain kaveh, so the blond doesn't jump you with questions about you being threatened to act along with him or whatever.

Lucifer x Stubborn mc

Man I'm on a roll with these animations 💃

Got way more ideas coming up now just have to actually do them...

Ik I haven't posted much obey me content in the last couple of weeks(?) But I'm starting to get into it again bc of the fandom ngl

Anyway hope you all have a good dayYy :D

(btw thank you all for the follows and the notes on my last post I really appreciate it!)

Mammon's such a fascinating character because canonically:

*good at solving complex mathematical problems in his head in a matter of seconds*

*understands people, their emotions and how they'd react to specific situations and uses that knowledge to manipulate them and get what he wants (whether that's some physical object or a certain reaction from them or just for them to calm down)*

*when there's no other choice at all, he steps up and effectively takes charge*

*a good teacher and seems to have a good balanced mix between being strict, encouraging and helpful*

*whenever Lucifer wants a job done well (no matter what the job is), he relies on Mammon (and has done so since they were angels)*

*scams usually work, he just tends to get caught at the end*

*came up with a code on the spot to tell MC he missed them while also being a comprehensible message on its own, that fit with his 'tsundere' personality*

*constantly found ways to sneak into the human world from the Celestial Realm*

*has fast and spontaneous reactions during high stake situations where you need to move/react fast*

*enjoys playing chess*

*can multitask well*

*actual emotional intelligence*

*one of the first brothers (the second?) to realise there was something wrong with Simeon*

*has a variety of skills that range from making balloon animals to fitting in seamlessly in a corporate environment*

*extremely hardworking when there's a goal he genuinely wants that he's working towards*

*when giving it his all he tends to pick up new skills easily*

*by his younger brothers' own admittance, he can do anything, complete any task and he can do it well as long as he puts effort into it*

But also canonically:

*had no idea what the fuck rent was*

*a shit liar*

*said "what if I accidentally tell MC I'm in love with them" to MC*

*constantly failing all his classes*

*easily falls for traps/curses*

*emotional intelligence fizzles out when it comes to talking about his own problems/admitting anything about himself*

*bet and lost their new house*

*managed to trick himself into believing he'd get a prize if he won a competition that Diavolo explicitly said there was no prize for*

*came up with a plan to win the competition in a matter of seconds, easily and constantly changing it to better fit the situation at hand. a plan that worked extremely well. lost the competition because he couldn't be bothered to check the title of a book*

Mammon's a character who'll break down and teach you PhD level Mathematics without breaking a sweat and then ask you what kind of animal the Pink Panther is in the next sentence.

I love him. I want to study him under a microscope.

What makes this even better is that I'm 100% sure his brothers have managed to gaslight the entire fandom into thinking he's the biggest fucking idiot alive with just the windows screensaver bouncing around in his head and nothing else

Don't get me wrong, he's a dumbass. He probably runs face first into a glass door at least once a week. But also....I mean....c'mon

In conclusion,

If you like Mammon, you're NOT a morosexual. You're a morosexual with a competency kink. Good Day.

On a side note, all of mammon's traits are like this,

*he's greedy but here's a long list of all the times he put his friends and family before money*

*he's a jerk but here's a long list of when he's one of the kindest people and an amazing brother*

*he's possessive but here's a long list of all the times he put mc's consent and/or choices above all else*

he drives me mad.

cw periods, gn reader/mc

i hc that demons can smell blood, right? idk if it's canon or not but they are predators so it would make sense in some degree.

now imagine mc coming back from somewhere where they went without the brothers (preferably after running some errands alone) and the moment they step in it's pure mayhem: demon lords running around in a frenzy, coming out of their rooms and offices and crowding around them like there's no tomorrow because why blood smell on mc?? why blood if no wound???

lucifer and satan's heads especially are going into overdrive with their cute brains going internal wound? hidden wound? other human's blood? magick? human in danger???

that is until beelzebub comes from the kitchen with some chocolate and just stands there like 🧍‍♂️🍫 because he was the only one that actually saw (and remembered) the big "mc's period week" on their family calendar (which is plastered on the kitchen fridge for obvious reasons) and has to watch mc explain that this is the fifth time in a year this has happened and if it happens again they will lay down and play dead until they're left alone.

bonus: it does happen again, which lead to the infamous picture of mc laying on the floor on the entrance of hol and lucifer nudging them with a stick (think "do something" meme) (it's now lucifer's home screen on his ddd).

it was past eleven in the morning when suddenly a scholar that alhaitham isn’t familiar with, much less remember his name or face, notified him that you, his precious wife who is an adventurer, is back in sumeru.

the important paperwork he is working on is done at the speed of light that the scholar in his temporary office gapes in shock like he has grown three heads but he paid him no mind and moves the pile of papers to the side and leaves the room, blatantly ignoring the shouts of his secretary and the scholars that greeted him as he passes by.

he arrived in front of his house, stopping. on the other side of this door, he knew you were there. he can hear your melodious laughter inside and alhaitham feels his heart pump in nervousness, his throat dry and his lips chapped. taking a deep breath, he entered and was greeted by a horrifying scene that his eyes had laid upon.

in your lap is lesser lord kusanali, happily eating the dessert that you are feeding her with a fork. your giggles and the dendro archon’s filled the silence as you don’t take notice of your husband in the doorway with his shoulders tensed, continuing to softly poke the chubby cheeks of the five-hundred-year-old girl.

“y/n..?”

only did you perk up at the sound of his voice and smile brightly at him. alhaitham watched in horror as you carried the little white-haired god in your arms and wrapped your other arm to bend him down as you greeted him with a kiss on his cheeks, “haitham! welcome home.”

but alhaitham stood still, unable to reciprocate your enthusiastic energy as it was replaced by shock, emerald eyes staring at large green ones as he addressed the elephant in the room. “y/n, that child..”

“oh.” you blink and your smile remains as you introduce the girl, unsuspect of the recognition in your husband’s eyes to the god of wisdom. with giddiness in your voice that he can't say no to, “meet this adorable plumpy smart child, haitham. her name is nahida and i’m planning to adopt her as our kid.”

shit.

TO YOU, FOUR YEARS FROM NOW

for @soleillunne : kaedehara kazuha + “in tune with all our dreams.”

kaedehara kazuha x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2k.

content: heart-wrenching angst to fluff + modern au. suggestive.

this idea occurred to me last night, and because you like angst, i thought, ‘why not?’ it may have come out somewhat messy, but i still hope you like it, aly, love ! <3

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

his words crash against you like waves breaking against sharp jutting rocks.

he’s leaving. tomorrow first thing in the morning. he’s departing to study on a whole different country for the next four years, at least.

your childhood playmate, turned best friend, turned boyfriend.

kaedehara kazuha is going away and you can do nothing about it.

your emotions twist nightmarishly inside your heart, venomous ice you didn’t know you were capable of spreading through your bloodstream.

the cruel sentence is out of your lips before you can think about it.

“we’re breaking up. goodbye, kazuha.”

you don’t bother to turn around when your now ex-boyfriend reaches for your wrist, his hold slack when you pull away. you don’t respond when he calls you that nickname he gave you all those years back when you were still hopeful kids.

kazuha is left there, standing alone, a breeze now unwelcome prickling coldly against the back of his exposed neck.

raindrops of shattered dreams start falling from the midnight sky. you are grateful for them, your tears will be less conspicuous that way.

that night silence fills your darkened room. no text messages or calls come through, no beacon of hope awaits you tomorrow either when you awake to a grey dull sky.

it’s better this way, you think, as you start to get ready for your day.

—

miles above ground, it feels like hell, kazuha thinks.

the boy stares blankly at his phone, screen pitch black. there were no notifications from you today as morning dawned in teary colorless hues.

for the first time in almost two decades, kazuha is at a loss for words.

why did he wait so long to tell you about this? sure, it’s his dream to pursue his passion for literature, but why did he have to tell you something so huge last minute?

he wanted to surprise you with his gift. now it only weighs ominously inside his backpack.

with the ebb and flow of the plane, kazuha closes his eyes. images of you on the edges of shattered mirrors are all the company his dreams can offer.

—

you miss him. badly.

months have gone by, and you still can’t wrap your head around the reason behind your decision that night.

maybe you wanted to avoid missing kazuha, needing him, like you do now. perhaps you deemed yourself just a distraction for him at that moment.

what you are certain of, however, is that, like this, you are a mess.

on late evenings, you find yourself staring out the window, as if by doing so, the boy you still love would show up out of nowhere.

when taxis stop, you perk up, just to chide yourself internally; kazuha is not magically arriving in one of them, he is no longer your prince charming.

forgetting about kazuha altogether might be for the best, you decide, after tilting your head upwards in the bus for the thousandth time when new passengers come in.

you should focus on the book you have to read for class, right now, you muse internally, directing your gaze back to the pages.

—

four years have passed since that eventful night. and as time has ran by, new memories have made their way into your mind; new friends, graduation, part time jobs and lovers that didn’t last.

you’ve been well, mostly.

however, the shards of your broken dreams with kazuha are still safely kept behind stained glass doors into the chambers of your heart. every now and then, they like to lodge into the ridges of the unclosed wound, waking you up in starless nights, with his name in your lips the moment your tear stained lashes open.

but as you’ve been doing for years, you dismiss them, trying to focus instead on the titles in front of you.

reading’s been your most trusty companion these last years, your visits to the local bookstore frequent on weekends. searching for new releases or old undiscovered gems, dreaming about laughing, or crying, or both, to the tune of the words… it’s exciting, in a way. it also keeps the vault of bittersweet dreams more or less locked, when your thoughts travel to distant lands on board of book pages.

sighing to yourself, your fingers graze the various tomes of the poetry section.

one of them makes you stop in your tracks.

‘unsent letters to my dove.’

and it’s the last part of the golden embossed sentence that causes for your heart to momentarily stop.

he used to call you that.

but it can’t be him, can it?

with trembling hands, you reach for the volume. the covers are crimson red leather, soft to the touch. golden lettering spells out the title, reminiscent of long gone sunlit afternoons that smell of childhood. an intricate pattern of maple leaves is drawn around the margins.

maple leaves. his favorite.

you breath catches in your throat when you open the hardcover and your eyes land on the dedication written in italics on the first page:

“to my beloved hummingbird, i’m sorry i couldn’t give this to you four years ago. wherever you are now, i dedicate this collection to you.”

that childhood nickname. that’s what he called you. that’s what you didn’t respond to the night you walked away from him.

no. this must be just coincidence.

you’re just being delusional.

you better check the author, yes, that will surely clear things out.

going back to the cover, there it is, in swirling coppery calligraphy: k. isshin.

that wasn’t his name. however, it doesn’t stop your hold on the book from going slack, you and the copy almost dropping to the ground if it weren’t for the person that suddenly stabilizes you with one arm around your waist, and catches the book with the other.

isshin. didn’t he tell you something long ago about a certain art from his ancestors being referred to by that name?

you don’t have time to ruminate on it for long before an all too familiar voice interrupts all train of thought.

“are you okay?” the boy that’s been intermittently haunting your dreams for the past four years asks.

his voice is still as soft as you remember it, though deeper, with a newfound warmth and richness to it.

it doesn’t help your already racing heart.

“i… i-i’m… fine.” you manage, at the same time your eyes meet his.

shooting stars flash before the sunsets of his gaze when recognition crosses his perfectly sculpted features.

you’re even prettier than he remembers. the memories he’s cherished and old pictures in his phone definitely can’t do justice to the you standing right before him now.

for a few instants, you just stand there, the book still held between yours and his hand. you are simply lost in every detail of kazuha, the boy you left standing under the midnight rain once. kazuha, your ex-boyfriend. kazuha, the boy you never stopped loving.

kazuha, who has written a whole book about you, it seems.

“you… ah… you almost dropped this.” kazuha suddenly breaks the awkward silence, pushing the hardcover into your hands, his cheeks a pretty shade of red, like the poppy fields through which you and him used to run.

“i… uh, yeah… thank you.” you make to walk towards the register to pay for it, but a hand gently holds your wrist.

this time, you turn around.

for a second, kazuha hesitates, his body having reacted as if on autopilot, as if his heartstrings commanded his soul to not let go of you ever again.

“are you free after this?” he asks. it’s uncommon, the way he almost mumbles it, eyes of embers not quite meeting yours.

he is aware this question is playing with fire, and flinches after a few moments pass and no reply leaves your lips.

then:

“sure.” you say, nodding. “have somewhere in mind? if not, we can go to my place.”

“sounds good to me.” he smiles, gently.

it’s pouring when you exit the shop. this time, you stay together under his red umbrella.

the trip to your apartment is mostly silent. there are too many feelings to unpack, too many apologies you wish to say, too many questions.

and the book, safely tucked under your coat, protected from the rain as if it was a precious treasure.

—

“make yourself at home.” you comment, as you open the door to your home. setting the book over the coffee table, you rummage around the kitchen for some snacks.

meanwhile, kazuha loses himself observing how much of you there is in your modest home: some of your favorite books thrown here and there; a spare cardigan similar to the one you always loved to steal from him; pictures with some of your college friends… this little space is filled with the sweet breeze of your scent, one in which kazuha would gladly drown.

when you come back from the kitchen, tea and cookies in hand, to find him standing there, your cheeks heat up.

“i apologize for the mess.” is what your lips speak, yet ‘i’d like for him to stand here every day’ are the true words of your heart.

“not at all.” kazuha offers. “it’s quite charming and cozy in here.”

“ah… thank you.” is all you can manage without excessively stuttering. busying yourself setting the plates, you take your chance to ask:

“that book. you wrote it, didn’t you?”

silence settles between you both again, tension palpable in the air, an invisible wall that didn’t use to be there years ago.

“so you noticed…” kazuha muses, melancholy evident in his tone. “i- that night-”

“i’m sorry.” you snap before he can continue further. “about that night. i was stupid. i hurt and left you, all out of my own impulsivity and egoism.” your hands tighten around the tea-cup you are holding. taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for the words you’re going to say next. “so i understand if you hate me now. i… i was mean to you, kazuha. i don’t deserve your friendship anymore and-”

his warm calloused hand comes to rest on top of yours, the frenzied string of words leaving the mouth he used to kiss, cut off.

“you are right, you don’t.” kazuha pauses, the scarlet lakes of his glance, ablaze with longing. his thumb traces your lower lip. your breath catches at the back of your throat. you want to utter his name, yet no sound comes out. then: “you deserve more than that, my hummingbird.” he almost breathes, in the few inches separating both of your ardently longing lips.

the invisible wall between the both of you has just shattered.

without knowing exactly how or what instant, his lips end up on yours, drinking in every version of you. your hands lose in the now longer strands of his smooth hair, their color, the same as the moonlight that sang the melody of your first kiss years ago.

now, kazuha kisses you with a new ardor, as if he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone, were the stars to fade away.

the cracked edges of the dreams you tore down that fateful night beg to be let out from the opaque case in which you’ve kept them all these years.

and, soon enough, the instant kaedehara kazuha undresses you with a softness you wouldn’t have believed possible even in your wildest dreams, the vault opens.

your hands ridding him of his garments are the wave of magic wand needed to set you and him in tune with all your fervent dreams once more.

“dove” falls from kazuha’s lips again and again and again, the waves of his praise, a mantra that softly caresses the pink sand beaches of a paradise only he is able to bring you to.

the skies no longer cry, you and kazuha, its most wondrous and intricate constellation. formed of stars seemingly apart from each other, brought close by a fate greater than the verses your poet writes could explain.

a sliver of moon illuminates the cover of your lover’s eulogies to you.

you slumber sweetly in kazuha’s arms. in your dreams, he reads you his poems.

maybe, tomorrow, that will become your perfect reality.

IDIOT GAMER

SUMMARY || in which, a sassy and bitter househusband, and his beloved, idiotic streamer of a lover got married! what a lovely occasion. now, for the married life in a newer, and bigger apartment.

PAIRINGS || Househusband Scaramouche x Gaming Streamer GN Reader

GENRE || Fluff, Smut (not confirmed u thirsty ppl), Rom-Com (romantic comedy)

AU || Modern

INTRODUCING || the newly-wedded couple, bowl-cut's family, idiot's ugly bootiful family, annoying lovely neighbors!, streamer's streamer friends

CHAPTER I — new tenants to Sumeru Apartments

CHAPTER II — not so husband material 😭

CHAPTER III — minecraft with hubby moochie 😇‼️ and the sidekicks ig

CHAPTER IV — cooking mama with [name] 🤭🥰

CHAPTER V — elden ring stream no death real not clickbait 😱‼️

CHAPTER VI — Fan Meetup except everything goes wrong 😦

CHAPTER VII — how to househusband by scaraboobs

CHAPTER VII — DO NOT STALK 😡😡😡

CHAPTER VII — collab with chef xiao 🤭🥳

CHAPTER VIII — tell me ur a paparazzi without telling me ur a paparazzi

CHAPTER IX — how to be a good lover to ur husband's lesbian mothers without looking like an otaku loser

CHAPTER X — massive cucumber 🥒

MORE TO COME !

SERIES STARTS AT MARCH 31TH, 2023

AUTHOR'S NOTE || SCARANATION UR VOICES HAVE REACHED OUT TO ME AND HERE IS THE MASTERLIST OF IDIOT GAMER

The Ero Mangaka aka Editor Kaveh x Ero Mangaka GN Reader will come out once the first chapter of Idiot Gamer comes out so

yes 🥰

Taglist is open btw