glaciertea

[glaciertea]

word count: almost 9k summary: Your everyday routine turns upside down when a couple of strange visitors land on your city. warnings:Miguelx!Spider Reader (kind of Latina), some cussing, mentions of death, injuries (let me know if there is something else!)

<Masterlist>

Chapter 1: 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

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Earth - 129

Readers POV

“Dear soulmate, Do you think of me? ‘Cause I do”

You wish you wouldn’t. You wish you could erase his memory out of your mind. He isn’t thinking of you and he never will.

“Dear Soulmate, I can’t wait to fall in love with you”

That is the problem, you already had. You saw him with other eyes as soon as you found out the truth. The minute you learned that fate had tied you two together, your heart gravitated towards his.

He possessed your heart in his hands, and he crushed it, leaving you in this situation.

You feel alone, empty, as if you will never be enough.

When you were young, your father always told you how meeting your soulmate was where all the pain went away. From then and on, life was always going up.

LIES

You’ve never felt so low, how can you get back up now? Who can help you get out of the hole you dug for yourself? Why did your parents have to be soulmates?

Miguel was right, soulmates are stupid, you are stupid for believing your father. If you could go back, you would change the past, to never meet him, or better, to never be born…

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X POV 28 years ago

It was a cold January night in New York. The snow falling beautifully on top of trees and cars. The streets decorated with colorful lights, making the droplets glister with different shades, making them seem like fairies.

Everything was happiness. The Christmas and new years glow lifting everyone’s spirits. New beginnings, new dreams and new hope all around.

But inside a fairy-tale, there is always a tale of woe. A fragment of the story is never told. Stories are usually filled with brightness and happiness, but life is never like that. Not even for two people meant for each other. A pair of souls tied by destiny. Fate is never fair.

Inside the icy white hospital walls, there was a tense atmosphere. A man, in his mid thirties, was pacing the almost empty hallways, muttering to himself. Nurses watched him with heartfelt eyes, feeling his despair, knowing, deep down, what was about to happen.

“I can’t lose her, I- I.. I-I can’t” was all he repeated. Over, and over, non stop, for what felt like an eternity. “Por favor, Dios, quien sea. Please, help them” (“Please, God, anyone”) he pleaded, looking at the ceiling, as if a deity would pity him, and gift him a miracle.

Cries of pain were heard from inside the surgical room, a space that seemed far away, but was just a couple of steps ahead. A place that called him, lured him to get in, but with no use, given that it was forbidden, and that he already tried to fight the nurses to let him stay.

His wife, the love of his life, his soulmate, laid in there, suffering.

It all had started smoothly. The check ups were fine, everything looked perfect to welcome their daughter to the world, but nothing prepared him for this moment. 

Every minute that went by, every second, was pure torture. The walls felt like they were closing in, the floor about to disappear beneath his feet. His life, his everything was slipping out of his grasp.

The staff grew worried, they knew they couldn’t keep the man away for much longer. They were aware of the pain he was in, they could sense, feel it, tension palpable in the air. Chances were they had experienced and witnessed this exact situation a million times. The man’s health was deteriorating with every tick of the clock. His steps becoming shorter, pace slowing down, until he stopped. 

The calm before the storm.

Numbness. Cold. Fear. All emotions are far from familiar to this man. He could feel her presence in the back of his head, but barely. The man sat on the floor, knees to his chest, head tucked in, rocking back and forth, trying to steady his breathing, praying. “No por favor, po-por favor” (“No please, pl-please”). Tears began streaming down his face, wetting his shirt and trousers.

And just like that, the pain was gone. Only emptiness. His soulmate had parted this Earth. He could no longer feel her existence. His mark was surely gone, a mark that was printed on his skin his whole life. A half heart, only complete with her, your mother. 

Doctors came and went, apologizing, giving their condolences, explaining there was nothing to be done. The man tried to pay attention to them, but with no use, his mind else where.

But, he had to be strong, he had to keep going with only half a soul. He needed to prevail, since there was still a part of her with him, you. His beautiful daughter, half him, half your mother.

Your cries were heard from the other room. Your father dismissed the doctors and ran to tend to you. As soon as he reach the crib and saw you he swore on his life that he was going to take care of you, forever.

Your father immediately picked you up to calm you down. As he did so, he uncovered your right shoulder, where he noticed the mark. A strange shape, nothing seen before, from what he heard in stories and read in books or the internet. It couldn’t be a simple birthmark, it was yours and your soulmate’s.

A strange feeling formed inside of him. Obviously, happiness, for one part, as you had someone to call yours, but some sadness, and mostly worry. Your mark wasn’t as dark as everyone’s. It was even lighter than when someone is born before their soulmate, a much softer brown than his when he came to the world, as your mother was younger than him.

There was something wrong, but he couldn’t tell what. Not even the doctors or specialists in soulmates. All he could do was pray that his little girl could find the love of her life, like he did with your mother, all those years ago, and that you could live a happy life, a much longer one than your parents.

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Reader’s POV 5 years later

“Papiii…, can you tell me how you met momma again pleaseeee?” you said with a pout as your father tucked you in bed. Their love story was your favorite bedtime tale. “¿Otra vez?” (“Again?”). You nodded excitedly. The idea of soulmates was your favorite thing in the world, and knowing that your parents were, only fueled your dream of someday finding yours.

“Okay, here we go..”

Like every other night, he told you how he met your mother in high school. The day that they met, he felt his mark itch more than normal, like it was trying to tell him something, that she was near. Everyone experiences a different feeling or physical sign.

As soon as he saw her, he knew she was special. It  wasn’t like with the other pretty girls, he felt pulled by her, he couldn’t move his eyes away. 

As soon as they touched, their marks changed. Marks in your universe can change multiple times in a lifetime. When someone is born, it is a light brown if their soulmate isn’t born yet and a dark brown when their other half already roams Earth.

But, when two soulmates meet (and realize they are each other’s soulmate) the mark turns a reddish color, symbolizing true love. It stays on your skin until one of the pair dies, like it happened with your mother.

You’ll never forget the look on your father’s face when you asked why he didn’t have his. He looked at you with tears forming in his eyes, and that’s when he explained to you, for the first time, what had happened with your mother, and how important soulmates are.

Despite his loss, as it came with an unforgettable pain, he always reminded you that one’s half is the only person you should be with. Soulmates can only be born from other soulmates, and if someone chooses not to wait for their soulmate, the link breaks, leaving only emptiness and sorrow behind.

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Three months ago

“Y/n!!”

The sudden scream waked you up from your slumber. The shock made you lose balance, falling from the stool you were on and landing butt first on the floor.

“Aghh, shit” you groaned, rubbing your eyes, trying to regain consciousness and see what was in front of you.

“Oh my god, I am so so sorry” Peter, your best friend, apologized. “I just wanted to wake you up”.

“Yeah, well Pete,” you said cleaning the saliva off your arm, “maybe, next time, just maybe just shake me a little bit” you said, sarcastically.

Peter laughed, the sarcastic tone a clear indication that you weren’t harmed. “Noted” he stated, offering his hand for you to take.

You just swatted it away, lightly, and stood up on your own. This was no surprise for Peter, who didn’t make a fuss out of it. You weren’t a morning person at all, and he was aware of it. But you had your reasons.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning” he joked, trying to light up the mood, as he walked back to his lab station, that was perpendicular to the left of yours.

“I didn’t wake up at all Parker” you groaned, looking at the devices and papers spread over your table, trying to remember what you were doing before dozing off.

“You can’t keep doing this, you know?” he said, concern lacing his voice. Peter was aware of the life you had once the day was over. He believed it was dangerous, and even though he tried to be supportive, he really didn’t approve.

You sighed, resting the palms of your hands on the marble surface in front of you. “With great power-”

“Comes great responsibility. Yeah yeah, I know. You always say the same” he said, while he turned his body towards you, resting his back on his table. “But, the fact that you have this powers doesn’t mean that you have to compromise your health every single night” he lectured, punctuating the last words with his hands.

The course this conversation was taking was not strange to you. Peter always tried to coaxed you out of being Spider-woman, every chance he gets.

You didn’t fight back, as you normally would. You just kept looking at the floor, exhaustion taking over, a yawn forming in your mouth.

“Hey” Peter whispered. You slowly lift up your eyes to match his. He stared at you for a little, supposedly trying to decipher what was going on behind your eyes. He walked up to you in slow, quiet steps, as if he made a wrong move, you would break, like glass.

He stopped a couple inches away from you, giving you enough space. “I know that you feel like everything that happens in this city is your job to fix.” He started in a calm, soothing voice. “I get that after your dad passed and he said those words, you fight day and night to make this hell a better place, but it has taken a toll on you. You need to rest”

The mention of your father brought tears to your eyes, or maybe it was the frustration, or both. You lost him not long after becoming Spider-woman. You never got to tell him, but in some way, you think he knew. After all, he was the person who knew you best.

Every day, you try to imagine whether your father would be proud of you or disappointed on how you are handling your life. Oh, how you wish he was here, to hug him one last time, to run into his arms and feel safe. However, you knew he was in a much better place, reunited with your mother after all those years.

As you didn’t answer, Peter continued, “I know it is hard, but I am here, MJ too. She doesn’t know, I promise I didn’t tell her, but that doesn’t matter” he rested a hand on your left shoulder, trying to give you support. “Just tell us that you need help, and we will gladly provide it”.

That brought a smile to your face, mirroring his, despite the tears spilling from your years. You laughed, easing the tension of your chest and shoulders, and hugged Peter. You knew you had amazing friends, the issue was that, sometimes, you felt out of place. And, there were numerous reasons why you felt like that.

One, you are not completely human. You are Spider-woman, spider DNA resides in your cells. Two, and arguably the most important, you haven’t find your soulmate yet. A constant reminder that you are in fact, alone.

Every time you are out, whether when you are swinging across the city or walking on the street, all you see is couples having dates, holding hands, whatever. The important thing is there were always two people simply enjoying each others company. Apparently, you were the only one who couldn’t find their other half.

Another worry to fill your mind, as if being a superhero wasn’t enough.

“What you are saying is,” you said after calming down and pulling away from Peter’s embrace. “is that, if I ask you to put on the mask for one night, you are going to do it” you finish half smiling, trying not to erupt in laughter.

Peter snorted, a smile forming on his lips. “There is no way in hell I would do that, not even for a million dollars” he laughed. “There is only room for one crazy person in this friend group, and that is you” he said, punching your arm affectionately, before walking back to his station. He knew that if you were joking, that meant that you were okay.

“Never say never Pete!” you quipped, wiping the remaining tears from your eyes and cheeks. “One day maybe, after finishing all this research, I’ll find a parallel universe where you have the powers”.

At that, Peter double down laughing, clutching his stomach from how hard he was chuckling. “Yeah sure” he said between giggles, cleaning his happy tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Maybe you could find your soulmate too”.

“Oh fuck off” you exclaimed. “I thought we were having a wholesome moment over her” you laughed.

You both giggled for a good couple of minutes, still bickering at each other, throwing shade back and forth. The break from work helping you both distress, the weight on your shoulders decreasing.

After calming yourself, both of you went back to working on your respective projects and theories. Peter was fixing some technology and improving your web-shooters, something you had been complaining about for weeks.

You, on the other hand, were trying to come up with a device capable of breaking the fourth dimension. Something that could allow you to travel to other dimensions. This being your ultimate goal.

You had been theorizing about inter dimensional travel since the last year of college. You wrote your thesis about it, claiming that it was possible given the technology human race had available at your time.

The difficult part was gaining the energy necessary to make the jump, or open a portal. You wished you could do it, prove to all the people who called you crazy that it was in fact possible. You were going to be the first woman to jump between dimensions, or at least you hoped. If you were trying to do this, did that mean there was someone who also thought about it in other Earth?

Those kind of questions always pop up on your mind, distracting you from work. It for sure was a possibility. If there are others out there, you can’t be the only one trying to find them. As with aliens, you can’t be alone in this bast space. You shook your head, trying to focus on your papers in front of you, aiming to push those thoughts to the back of your brain.

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Hours went by. You would think that you had done a lot of work, but no. Your brain wasn’t cooperating. You still couldn’t find a way to make the devices stable with the amount of energy they were consuming. You have never tried to use them, but theoretically, the portals wouldn’t form evenly, making the jump extremely dangerous. You weren’t taking any chances.

Besides, sleep was still trying to creep on you and now, to top it off, you were hungry. Your stomach had been complaining for like an hour now, but you were too lazy to stop and look for food.

Your stomach growled, making you lose the last bit of concentration you had. You groaned out of frustration and flopped on top of your table, not caring about the technology or papers scattered on it.

You heard Peter laugh behind you, which made you grunt in annoyance. How can he always be so happy?

As in on cue, you heard the sliding doors open, followed by the clicking sounds of heels on the floor. You heard rustling beside you, probably Peter trying to cover your spider things so MJ would not see them.

“Hey guys!” MJ greeted, always with that angelic and cheery voice. “I brought lunch”. Oh thank god, you thought, she really was an angel. Reason number one of why Peter is happy every single damn day.

“Thank you babe” you heard Peter say, followed by a kissing sound, making you gagged internally. Too much cheesiness. The dream of accomplishing the same thing with your soulmate since you were a kid slowly banishing. Every reminder of love making you sick to your stomach.

“What is wrong with y/n” MJ asked, concern present in her voice.

Upon not hearing an immediate answer from Peter, you lifted your head up from the table and looked over at them. They were clearly communicating, but without uttering a word. Their shared looks was all it took.

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, the hunger or the fact that you were pathetic from not founding your soulmate which made the feeling of anger and frustration inside of you come to light. Anger and frustration that were only directed to yourself, but that somehow, escaped you, even surprising you.

“Hey!” you snapped without thinking. “I’m right here, you know? Can you two quit doing that?” Your face becoming redder and redder as seconds went by.

The couple glanced at each other. “Doing what exactly?” MJ asked furrowing her eyebrows, and playing with her hair.

“That!” you shouted, as if the answer was clear as water, pointing at them with your hand, moving it from one to another. “You are using your soulmate telepathy or whatever” you finished, throwing your hands in the air and turning your back to them.

Peter snorted, clearly not sensing the tension in the atmosphere. “You do know we can’t read each other’s mind, right? Soulmate can only sense emotions. That’s not how-”

“No Peter!” you roared, turning back around at light speed. Your tone and actions making Peter and MJ take a step back from fear. “I don’t know how it works, or what it is, or how it feels” you continued, while pacing from left to right, using your arms to exaggerate your words. “I don’t know if you haven’t notice yet, but I DON’T HAVE SOULMATE YET” you finished, aiming those last words directly at him, looking at Peter right in the eye.

As soon as you finished that sentence, you spun around again. You pressed the palms of your hands strongly against the table, not paying attention to the things on it. If you broke something, it didn’t matter. Nothing worked anyway.

Your chest was heaving up and down, your breath quick and short. It was getting hard to see, spots feeling your vision every time you opened your eyes. You tried to calm yourself down. The annoyance you were feeling was strange, you had never felt like this. Sure, you had your bad days, but most of the time, the negative emotions were directed to yourself! And you knew how to control them.

It wasn’t Pete’s or MJ’s fault that your soulmate wasn’t here, that you hadn’t found him yet. They were just trying to help. For God’s sake, MJ even brought you lunch! Tears began spilling out of your eyes out of frustration. The emotions too strong to let them in, and crying was the only way you knew how to get them out, without shouting at them again.

You started shacking, not being able to stop it. Sobs spilling out of your mouth. You ran your hand though your hair before covering your face, trying to stop the tears and sounds coming out, but not succeeding.

You slumped over your desk, hoping to be swallowed by the floor. You were so ashamed of shouting at Peter and MJ, they would probably walk away, you would. Is this why you haven’t find your soulmate yet? Because you are not ready? You are emotionally immature? Probably you are overreacting, but still.

Between your sniffs, you heard shuffling behind you. Steps growing louder, until you felt a gentle hand on your right shoulder. The smell of roses and vainilla signaling it was MJ.

Raising your head up and looking to the right, you were met with a blurred image of a red mass and blue eyes staring at you. MJ wiped your tears away from your eyes with her thumb, always so gentle. The gesture making a sob come out of your throat.

You could see on MJ’s face that she was worried, and she didn’t know how to make you feel better. After looking at your face for a little longer, she glanced at your station, making you do the same. Papers were scattered all over, no organization whatsoever. For many, it would be chaos, but you knew your way around it. After all, the state of your lab table was a clear indication of how your life was going.

“What are you working on?” MJ asked calmly, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked back at her, contemplating whether she was really interested on what you had to say, or she was merely trying to get you out of your head. You shook your head. The reason wasn’t important, what mattered was the fact she was helping you.

“Umm, I am just trying to prove some theories, nothing important, really” you shrugged. You used your sweater sleeve to dry off your cheeks and nose, before showing her the different devices.

“This is supposed to teleport you.” you explained, grabbing the bracelet in front of you. “And this, is supposed to create a portal to another dimension” you said, pointing at the first piece of technology on the table.

MJ watched you with a smile on her face. Not that you were paying much attention to her, talking about science always made you wonder to other worlds, forgetting about all your worries and sorrows.

“Have you tried any?” Peter questioned, joining the conversation. He walked towards you like he was stepping on eggshells, aiming to keep you calm, for the second time that day. He stopped right at your left, between you and his station, just as a few hours prior.

“You know I haven’t Pete” you giggled. “Stop being so tense Peter, I’m not going to bite you”.

The three of you laughed, and you visible could tell how the weight was lifted from Peter’s shoulders.

“I am so sorry for snapping at you both” you said, looking between them. “I know it isn’t your fault. I guess I was just a little jealous” you admitted.

“It is okay” MJ replied, putting her hand on your arm and giving it a squeeze. “Just, let us know how you feel before your emotions explode right in our faces, alright?”

You laughed and nodded at her, focusing your attention on the bracelet on your hands.

“I wish I could try them, you know?,” you continued elaborating what Peter had asked “but I guess it is still too dangerous. I don’t know how unstable this things are”.

You examined the device a while longer. After being satisfied with the fact that everything looked normal and just as how you had planned it, and not longer being able to extract information by just looking at it, you went to set it down on the table.

As if the universe was listening, as soon as the lateral of the bracelet hit the surface, a surge of energy emerged from it, aimed at the roof.

The sudden blow knocked you off your seat, falling to the ground on your butt, for the second time that day. MJ and Peter crumbled to the floor, protecting their heads.

You quickly sat up, checking for injuries on both of your friends. After visually checking they were unscratched, you watched the energy beam. You couldn’t take your eyes off it.

It was a mixture between red, orange and blue, illuminating the room in a beautiful warm light. On the ceiling, the matter was creating a spiral, turning and growing bigger by the second.

The ray coming out of the bracelet was unstable. It shone brighter for seconds and then it slowed down, making the semi-portal grow and close, consuming and dropping matter everywhere. Things were floating towards the portal, but then dropping down when the surge became smaller. You felt pulled by it, your scientific mind wanting to see what was on the other side.

You were stuck in place, sitting on the floor, mouth agape, watching all the changes the portal was creating on the lab. The trance you were in was so strong that you almost didn’t register your spidey senses going off.

“TAKE COVER!!” you screamed, before grabbing MJ’s hand and pulling her towards you, to put her beneath Peter’s lab station, following Peter.

As soon as you got MJ below the desk, the bracelet exploded, breaking the surge.

The semi-portal took all the remaining energy, and stopped moving.

Just as you thought it was all over, the spiral shrunk and then expanded, creating a blinding light and an electromagnetic wave. Pieces of the ceiling fell, the lights cut off, the emergency lights turn on, at the same time the fire alarm did.

Five minutes went by, no one dared to move. Being Spider-woman, you decided to be the brave one and taste the waters, besides, it was kind of your fault this all happened. You crawled out under the table, and looked around the lab.

Everything looked normal, if you rule out the big hole on the ceiling were the portal was forming. After inspecting everything in case of danger, you signal Peter and MJ to get out.

“Are you guys okay?” you asked concerned “Yeah, yeah, we are fine” Peter answered cleaning the dust on his knees. “What the hell happened?” MJ questioned a little shaken up. “I don’t really know. I recognize the devices were unstable, but they weren’t suppose to work. At least theoretically” you elaborated. “Unless-”.

Before you could end your explanation, your Spidey senses went off again. You scanned the lab alarmed with your eyes, trying not to make sudden moves to not scare MJ even further. Peter could see that you knew there was something wrong, he had seen that look in your face a million times. He knew your Spidey senses were attempting to tell you something.

“Why don’t you go and look at the light panel y/n?” Peter said, aiming to call your attention and making you look at him, which you did.

He was staring at you, telling you to go and save the day, like you always do.

“The light panel, right. Yeah, I’ll do that.” you declared, giving Peter and understanding and thanking look. “Stay safe, the fire department should be here in shortly.”

“Will do, now go!” Peter urged you.

And with that, you grabbed your bag and ran out the door. Thank god you always carried your suit with you. You made a quick pit stop in the bathroom to change and, five minutes later, you were off in the streets, trying to guess what your spidey senses were warning you about.

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Earth - 928B

Miguel’s POV Same time as reader’s pov

Miguel had been in front of the screens in his office for what felt like days, which probably were.

After all the chaos had Spot caused and the mistakes he made with Miles, he didn’t dare rest, in case the multiverse collapsed, when he wasn’t on watch. Besides, he was giving himself a really hard time. He couldn’t believe that the theory of canon events was wrong, it shouldn’t have been, it made total sense.

But, given that Miles father was still alive, and the police captain, nonetheless, that meant he was mistaken.

Not only his job became ten times more difficult because of the instability of the multiverse caused by the Spot, but also, he needed to find answers. He craved to know why Gabriella’s universe shattered. If it wasn’t because he wasn’t supposed to be there, what caused it? Can it be fixed? Can he see his little girl again?

On top of it all, there was a new group of villains roaming the various dimensions. He had sent different squads of spiders, hoping one of them could trap them, to then be sent to their respective universes. But they all failed, and not by a little.

There was little to no information about the individuals forming the evil organization. The only warning someone could get before being sent off being “Warning: Extremely Dangerous. Do not, under any circumstance, hold back”.

Every spider sent on the quest came back severely injured or passed out. The ones injured were far too traumatized to speak. The lines of the Spider psychologist growing as the weeks went by. Miguel had to even consider hiring a new one, even taking into consideration a normal human.

The atmosphere at the Society wasn’t ideal. Many spiders losing respect for Miguel over the whole Miles ordeal, even if he had apologize to him a thousand times. Tension was escalating, and Miguel was between the sword and the wall.

He needed people to trust him, because he needed to catch these bad guys, but he couldn’t do it alone. The whole stability of the different universes was in play. And yes, he is aware he had use that argument before, and that he was wrong, but there is proof now.

Miguel had tasked Lyla on monitoring the universes where this group had been last. During their stay, all the living creatures of the surface started to slowly die. Technology was unusable, and people were growing mad.

This case was the top priority, but there were still other variants outside of their respective universes that had to be taken care of. Unwillingly, he had to give control to Jessica Drew. She was now the leader of the “easier” missions to retrieve anomalies. Furthermore, much to his dismay, Peter B was in charge when Jess had to take care of his son, as long as he didn’t bring Mayday along.

The sleep deprivation wasn’t helping, at all. He was more irritable, he could barely focus, and to top it all off, his left side started itching. He should probably check it out, but it was probably nothing. Jess would probably tell him to go to the infirmary and rest, but he couldn’t, not now.

Talking about the devil…

“Hey Miguel.” Jess announced herself. “Any new lead?”

“Ugh not yet.” he hissed, trying to find the spot where the itching originated.

“Are you okay? Why are you scratching yourself so much.”

“It’s nothing Jess, you back to work.”

“There is no work Miguel. I’m just that good.”

“Then go do whatever, I’ll rather be alone.” he growled, visibly uncomfortable.

Jess rolled her eyes, that response being an usual thing she heard this days. “Why don’t you get Lyla to check you up? Maybe it is an allergy.” Jess pressed, not accepting a no for an answer.

“No es nada, mierda.” [(It is nothing, dammit) kinda, ahha) ] Miguel replied, scratching his side even more. “I don’t need a check up.”

“Too late!” Lyla chirped, appearing from thin air, making Miguel roll his eyes and groan.

“There is nothing out of the ordinary.” the AI informed “Apparently, the itching comes from the mark on you abdomen Miguel.”

“Mark? Like, what, a past scar? Those itch all the time.” Jess questioned confused.

Miguel hurried to answer before Lyla could open her mouth. “It’s noth-”

Late again. “Oh, the soulmate mark? You weren’t aware of that? Weiird” Lyla stated in a sarcastic tone, eyeing up Miguel to see his reaction.

“Lylaa” he snarled, trying to grab the AI, but she teleported near Jess’ shoulder.

“What? I am just providing information to our dear friend Jessica” the AI expressed shrugging, as if the information she has just divulged wasn’t a secret Miguel had been hiding for years.

“A Soulmate huh? You’ve never mentioned that” Jess wondered

“I’m not in the mood to talk about it Jess” he said, turning his body towards the screens, trying to hide. The itching was becoming unbearable. His talons threatening to come out.

“You are never in the mood. Why have you never mentioned it?” Jess continued questioning, abusing the fact that Miguel wasn’t going to yell at her.

Miguel slumped his shoulders and head forward, his chin touching his chest, his hands on his hips. He took deep breathes, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable conversation that was about to happen.

“This Earth like many others,” he began, lifting his head. “once had a lot of soulmates roaming the surface”.

Miguel turned to Jess, checking if she was following. Once she nodded, he continued.

“After a while, people stopped looking for them. Many didn’t believe there were meant to be, others weren’t patient enough.” he sighed, remembering his mother and his biological father. “My mother married George O’Hara, a man who wasn’t her soulmate. But still, whatever wicked entity who is in charge of all of this, brought her to her soulmate, and I am the outcome of that.” he finished, anger evident in his voice.

“So.. what?” Jess asked. “Soulmate disappeared as a punishment for not wanting for them?”

“No” Miguel answered pinching his nose, already done with the conversation, at least it was distracting him from the pain on his side. “From what I gathered from Lyla’s investigation, only soulmates can birth soulmates, thus, the numbered decreased because people had children with others who weren’t their ‘half’.” The last bit said between air quotes, as he shared the sentiment of all those people. There wasn’t a person who could be his other half. The universe wouldn’t gift him a nice one. One that he could love and could love him back.

“And that’s it?” Jess said. “Your excuse for being secluded in your office all day and being lonely is waiting for your soulmate?. You ain’t gonna find her if you keep burying yourself with work.”

“Quite the opposite actually” he mumbled, the end of the conversation not coming fast enough.

“You don’t want to find her?” she replied surprised. “I get why you don’t want anything with this..”

Jess words blurred in the background, all he could hear was his heart pounding in his chest.

“… you are condemning the girl to the same thing.”

His chest was rising up and down, the air around him becoming too hot. Each breath too hard to pass. Miguel rested his hands on the table, slumping his body forward, aiming to calm himself down.

“What if she wants to find you? What if she is waiting for you?”

He stopped registering what Jess was saying, all his brain could focus on was the itch in his abdomen. The mark hot to the touch despite the barrier of his suit. Closing his eyes, he tried to regain control of his body, but it wasn’t cooperating.

“And, what if-”

“Enough!” Miguel roared, halting Jess from talking, her mouth wide open. He turned around, eyes as red as his suit. Chest heaving, nostrils blown.

“I don’t care how she feels, and neither should you.” he declared firmly, aiming to get his point across. “I am Spider-man, my duty is to the multiverse. I don’t have time to waste on trivial things as love, as finding the ‘the one’. I can’t, and I won’t.”

“And if she finds you?” Jess pressed, not caring about the consequences.

“I said enough! Ya basta por favor” he snarled, turning his head towards the screens. (stop it please).

Silence consumed the room. The only noise being Miguel’s heavy breathing.

Miguel could feel Jess’ deathly stare on the side of his face, but he was done talking. All her questioning was useless, there was no way his soulmate could appear out of thin air. Besides, again thanks to Lyla’s research, he knew his mark wasn’t normal. The shape was strange, the color was wrong. He was aware that the marks disappear once one of the souls left this Earth, but he still had his, meaning his soulmate was somewhere still.

The weird thing was that it seemed dormant, as if his soulmate was in other reality. Funny huh?, how he said he doesn’t think about it, but he had Lyla do research and how he has theories about them.

Despite everything and his brain’s attempt to bury the thought, his heart still yearns for love, for being taken care of. His emotional side urging him to get out of his office, go on patrols hoping, praying, to find the one person destined to him. His rational side, for the other part, shouting at him to have some sense.

His soulmate for sure was a normal citizen, someone else to protect. Another person to lose. One more person whose blood would be on his hands. He couldn’t bear it, his hands were red enough as it is.

The calm atmosphere was interrupted with the flash of the multiple screens in front of him.

“Lyla, what is this?” Miguel asked

“The evil group has being spotted entering Earth-129.” Lyla answered, looking at her tablet.

“What do we know about this universe?” Jess said.

“Not much. But there is a Spider-woman in it” Lyla answered adjusting her glasses. “If you want to catch them, this is a good chance. There is no time to call a squad. It has to be you two”.

Miguel looked at Jess. Despite the anger he felt towards her at that moment, she was his friend and his most trusted teammate.

“Stop looking at me like that” Jess said rolling her eyes. “I am not going to let you hanging. Let’s go!”

Lyla clicked some buttons on her holographic tablet and opened a portal to said dimension.

Before crossing the threshold, Jess turned to Miguel with a grin and joked “You know, if we both get injured or die, Peter B stays in charge of everything”.

Miguel groaned, not having thought of that. “Another reason to leave this mission unscratched” he said under his breath, swearing to himself to come back, no matter how hard.

They both pulled their masks over their face and disappeared into the portal.

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Earth-129

As Miguel emerged from the portal he had to squint his eyes. The brightness of the sun burning his eyes, not used to the light, given his office was always dark, and a consequence to the spider DNA.

He scanned the city looking for the bad guys. This universe, New York at least, was similar to his. A little less technological, but almost a copy.

It didn’t take him long to localize the villains. The chaos they were creating clear as day and really loud. The citizens of New York screaming at the top of their lungs and running away.

Before Jess and him could jump into action, a sky-blue figure flew right past him, or in retrospective, swung. The spider-woman of Earth-129 had a blue, grey and black suit, with a belt around her waist.

As she fought against the biggest guy, Miguel could see that she was experienced. She moved like she had been doing this her whole life, dodging punches, kicks and electromagnetic fields like they were nothing.

“We should help her” Jess said.

Miguel nodded, and they both jumped into action.

Reader’s POV

The minute you started swinging across the city after leaving the lab, you saw what your spidey senses were warning you about. Three individuals, each one different from the rest, were causing a havoc in the city center.

The first one, and the biggest one, was basically a mountain of dirt. He looked like a toddler had built him with clay and put rubies for eyes. He was at least 3 meters tall, from what you could see from afar. He also had some weird red rays surrounding his body, which attracted different materials. Probably an electromagnetic kind of thing.

The second one, who looked like the one in charge, was a regular human, or that was what it looked like. The only extraordinary thing was that he had a weird helmet on his head, but apart from that, normal.

The last one, you couldn’t decipher what it was, partly because it looked like he was constantly changing its appearance. From a tall man, to a woman, to whatever human shape you can imagine. It grossed you out a little, because it sometimes had two faces at the same time.

There was no time to think, you needed to protect your city.

You swung as fast as you could to reach the center. As you were passing a tall building, from the corner of your eye, you saw two people on the rooftop. It was probably the adrenaline and the lack of sleep, but you could swore they had suits on, and they looked like yours! Different colors of course.

You were approaching the scene as fast as you could, trying to come up with a plan. Clearly, the safest option, was to attack the human guy, let’s call it number two. The downside of it being that, if he was the leader, he was probably powerful, but it is the best option.

Before you could change your mind, you jump towards number two and kick him straight to the face, making him stumble back and fall to the floor.

The action caused the other two to lock their eyes on you. Oh, you were so fucked. You had fought bad guys before, in big groups even, but you could sense these were different.

Number 1, the big ugly guy, leaped forward, trying to strike you, but you jumped out of the way before he could even touch you, landing close to guy number three.

He was still changing his appearance, but once you landed in front of him and he locked eyes with you, he transformed into your dad. You stumbled back, shock, making you lose focus.

“What, dad? How- how do you know him?” you said dumbfounded. The quick distraction was enough to make you miss your spidey senses and receive an electromagnetic surge from guy number 1 from the right.

You flew back ten meters, crashing against a parked car. You groaned in pain. Your ears were ringing from the crash. You opened your eyes, seeing a blurred brown figure fast approaching, your senses begging you to move out of the way.

Your limbs weren’t answering, you were doomed.

Just as you were accepting your fate, a red and blue figure crashed against the other one, moving it out of the way.

“Hey” you heard from your left. You tilted your head upwards, trying to locate the source of the sound.

“We are here to help, come on” she offered your hand to take. You did, slowly, trying not to cause more pain.

You double down, hand on your knees trying to regain your breath. Whatever that guy hit you with, it was strong.

“I am going to help him, stay here until you feel okay” the woman said. When she saw you nod, she swung into action, kicking guy number 3.

The tall guy, the one that saved you, was still fighting with ugly guy number 1. The leader was no where on sight. You would have to be alert.

Both the woman and the man looked like Spider-guys to you, they had similar suit to yours. That’s weird, you thought you were the only one. You had never encountered them in your patrols. Why now?

Once you recovered your breath, you decided to join the fight. And just on time, because you saw the leader trying to sneak attack Spider-man.

You jumped right in front of him, before he could strike the man. Both of you entangled into a fist fight, none of you succeeding on hitting the other. Obviously, you had your spidey senses on your favor, so you could predict were the blow was coming from, but the leader was reading all your moves, as if he knew what you were going to do next.

Other thing that surprised you was that he wasn’t getting tired. Scratch the fact that he was a normal dude, he clearly had something.

”Surprised Spider-woman?” you heard inside your head, which made you stop in your tracks, giving him the opportunity to punch you straight in the face, making you fall to the floor.

”Where is it?” he continued, speaking in your head. Where is what?? What is this guy talking about?

”Where are you hiding it?” he stood above you, each leg on one side of your body, trapping you in. ”Well, are you gonna tell me? Or am I going to have to take it from you? I warn you, it is a painful process”

You could barely register what he was saying. What does he want? What is IT? Nonetheless, it didn’t matter. Whatever he was looking for, it couldn’t be good, and you didn’t want him to take it from you.

In a swift move, you punch his crotch, which made him stumbled back, liberating you from him. You stood up quickly, trying to continue the fight.

“How are you? What do you want?” you questioned, fists ready to punch. A few meters away, you could hear the rest of the fight.

”We are Cataclysm, and we will prevail”. he answered. ”We will catch you little spider, when you are alone.”

And just like that, the ground opened up and swallowed him. You stood there, confused, staring at the floor for a sign of where he had went.

The noise behind you had stopped as well. You turned around, looking for the other two bad guys and the two spider-people, but the first ones were already gone, probably alerted by their leader.

The spider-people, on the other hand, were talking a few meters away from you. You couldn’t hear them. As you were about to go up to them and introduce yourself, they shot a web to the nearest sky-crapper.

“Hey! Wait up!” you said, and shot a web yourself, trying to follow them.

You landed on the rooftop, and the other two weren’t there. Fuck! You missed them. Just as you were about to jump off and keep looking around, you felt a sting.

‘Ugh fuck!’ you exclaimed, clutching your right shoulder. Something might had hit you, which was weird, because it wasn’t there a minute ago. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing down.

All of a sudden, you heard a thud behind you. Two heavy landings.

You turned around, fist up, ready for a fight, in case they weren’t friendly, even though your spidey senses were silent.

‘Easy girl’ the woman said. “It’s just us. My name is Jess, this is Miguel.”

The tall guy, Miguel, was just looking at you, or you presumed, given the fact that all of you were still wearing your masks. He was crossing his arms, as if he didn’t want to be there. You had to admit, he looked hot.

“What are you doing here?” you asked defensively. “I thought I was the only one. And what the hell was that?” you said, pointing in the general direction of where the fight took place.

“First, those were a group of villains that we are chasing. They have been on the loose for a couple of weeks now”.

“The Cataclysm.” you replied.

“The what?” Jess questioned.

“The Cataclysm. That’s what they are called.”

“How do you know that?” Miguel asked. Wow, he had a really nice voice.

“Their leader, or well, what I presume is their leader told me” you answered, shrugging your shoulders.

“I was watching you while I was fighting, he never talked” Miguel continued.

“Not out loud, he has telepathy or something.” you said. Funnily enough, you accused your friends of using it just an hour back. You laughed to yourself remembering.

“Why are you laughing? This is serious” Miguel groaned.

“Jeez, sorry man” you said lifting your arms, the palm of your hands facing them. “I get that it is serious, I guess you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. Which leads me back to my first question. Who are you? And why haven’t I seen you before?” you questioned crossing your arms.

Jess and Miguel shared some looks, and then she answered.

“We are just like you, we are Spider-people.”

“I get that. But I thought I was the only one.” you said.

“You are the only one,” Jess reassured “in this universe, at least, as far as we know.”

“In this universe?” you repeated slowly, uncrossing your arms, letting them fall at your sides. this universe?? Alarms were going off inside your head, you opened your eyes and mouth, not believing what you just heard.

“Sorry, this universe?” you questioned. “As in, there are more universes?”

Jess simply nod, sensing that you only needed that.

“Oh my god. You are joking, you are fucking joking” you screamed excitedly, jumping in place. Your theory was right, you were right all along!!. You couldn’t wait to tell Peter

“That means that there are others like me, you are like me, how many are you? Are you from the same universe? Are you like a team?” you rambled. You were shaking with excitement.

You were pacing back and forth, trying to grasp the idea of there being multiple realities. From the corner of your eye you could see Miguel and Jess eyeing each other. You saw Jess nod with her head towards you, as silently asking Miguel something. With your happiness, you couldn’t decipher what.

Wait, why are they still here? Do they want you on their team? I mean, they never told you they were a team, but it seemed obvious. You stopped dead on your tracks and faced them. You watched them have a silent argument before Miguel rolled his head to the side in defeat, crossing his arms.

Jess took off her mask, which made you do the same, but Miguel kept his on.

“What was your name again?” Jess asked walking towards you.

“Oh right, sorry” you apologized, silly you, with all the flash news you forgot to introduce yourself. “I’m y/n” you said taking a step forward and offering your hand. Jess took it and shook it.

“Answering your questions, no, we are not from the same dimension, and yes we are a team, and we want you to be part of it.”

“You want to” Miguel mumbled, low enough to escape any normal human, but your ears caught it.

You both locked eyes, or you presumed. The more you stared at him, the stronger the burning of your right shoulder got. At the same time, Miguel started scratching his left side, as if something was bothering him.

You had to break eye contact because the pain was becoming unbearable.

“Ugh, damn” you exclaimed, clutching your shoulder and moving it, trying to ease the pain.

“Are you okay?” Jess asked.

“Yeah, I think I just got hit with something during the fight, when I crashed into the car. It’s probably nothing”

“Let’s get you checked up at HQ” Jess proposed

“Jess…” Miguel started, but was cut off by Jess looking at him with a death stare.

You switched your eyes between them, feeling how the tension was raising. You could feel the anger and frustration inside of you, as if you were the one fighting silently.

In the end, Miguel groaned, shaking his head and pinching his nose.

Jess smiled brightly at you, signalling that she had won that fight, and you could join them.

“Let’s go” she said, and opened a portal with her watch, kind of similar to the ones you were experimenting on. You were definitely asking about them later.

Jess crossed first, leaving you alone with Miguel, who had his back turned to you. You eyed him up and down before taking and deep breath and crossing the threshold of the portal, taking you to a new adventure.

<Preview> <Chapter 2>

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OKAY!! Here we gooo!!

So sorry for the wait, I hope you like this chapter!!

I feel like the action scene is sooo dull, but well, it is my first time writing something like it. I'll get the hang of it. Besides, it served its purpose.

The tension has began.

Please tell me what you think of it!!

Tags: @oscarissac2099 @amberbalcom14 @glaciertea @cupcakeinat0r @greensagephase @pigeonmama @resident-clown

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #time for some soulmate action that may lead to some smooches

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.20<< >>Ch.22

Notes: You and Miguel talk about what's next.

CW: Arguing

Chapter 21: Do We Get What We Deserve?...

Word count: 6K

You inspected the bag one last time, triple-checking that everything was placed on the coffee table and ready to go.

Peeking at your phone for the hundredth time, your body was littered with nerves, those annoying jitters not budging the second the number changes on the clock.

You weren't expecting him to come by later in the week, as you deemed it way too soon to see and confront him. But when you re-read those messages, you clearly were possessed, as you agreed to let him come by Thursday. And that day furtively found itself right in your doorway and into your humble abode.

Your legs shook with every fiber of their being, waiting for it to turn to 7 p.m., his items staring you in the face as you did your best to gaze at your now clean apartment.

You debated leaving it a mess, but you didn't want to go down a rabbit hole of him dwelling his altruistic ways on you. Oh, no. It was much easier to make up these facetious falsities that you manifested into this illusioned wellness that you're clearly in. You refused to let him care for you, and that will still continue until he's fully out of your life. Whenever the hell that may be.

“Where the hell is he? I want to get this over with.” 

You scrolled over your messages, the last one being sent nearly thirty minutes ago by him stating he's on the way. Despite it being five minutes away from the desired time, he should've been here. He always arrives before the planned schedule, so why wasn't he doing it now? Just because you two broke up, does that mean the way he does things is going to be different now with you? Not that it matters, but he could still be consistent with it. So why start doing things out of the ordinary now?

A knock at the door halted you from falling faster into that hellish mindscape. He was four minutes prior. So not much has exactly changed.

You staggered to the door before breathing in one good swallow of air, swinging the door open.

You both just stared. Not one movement. You didn't want to break the silence. He didn't want to break the silence.

You both didn't want to break this barrier. But it had to be done.

“You can come in.”  “May I come in?”

You purse your lips, and he rubbed the back of his head as you stepped aside. Off to a very awkward start.

He slid his boots off and tucked them on the bottom rack, having them jut out just a bit. It was still relatively fresh, so it made sense that the habits wouldn't dissolve that soon. Well, that's the conclusion you decided to ultimately reach.

You both stood in the middle of the living room, several feet apart. Miguel's eyes were glued to his stuff on the table. Pajamas, extra everyday wear, his toothbrush, bodywash, the records—everything is next to a duffle bag. His duffle bag, to be exact.

“Is this everything?”  “This is everything.”

You both fell quiet. This was getting ridiculous. You can't share the same mind; you didn't want to share the same mind.

“I'm sorry that I...”  “I'm sorry that I didn't–”

You released a frustrated cry. “Will you stop?! I–”

Miguel stared as you paced around in a circle.

“In. Out. In. Out.” You were using your breathing techniques, but with a more speedy approach. “I'm sorry for snapping. And I'm sorry that I didn't put them in the bag. I wanted you to look over everything to make sure I got all your stuff.” You rubbed your temples, eyes squeezed shut.

You were very prepared to get this over with. Miguel didn't know what to do, well, besides gaze at you. He couldn't have it end on a bitter note like this.

So he made small talk.

“Yeah, from what I've seen, it's everything.”

You raised a brow, rotating your head towards his belongings, then back to him. “You didn't conduct a thorough search.”

He shrugged. “I know all my things will be here. I only had one drawer, and my stuff in the bathroom didn't overtake your items. So I know this is everything.”

“But what if I'm hoarding some in my other drawers?”

“Are you hoarding anymore of my stuff in your dresser drawers?”

“No.”

“Then this is everything.”

“What if they're under my floorboards?” You don't know where this ‘witty’ banter even surfaced from.

“These are apartments. Won't they just fall into the place below?” He was so far succeeding in making this interaction less… troublesome.

“Maybe? I never really put in the thought of how these places work.”

“Exactly. So, again, this is everything.” He smiled and pushed his hands into his pockets.

He missed this. He will miss this.

“What if I'm lying and I secretly do know the exact location? You must know how that goes. Keeping things so hidden while luring the person farther from the actual site. Saying all these other places to deflect from the true location...”

And you both flipped right back to that stagnant air.

You didn't know where that petty jab came from. Well, you did. You believed if you blurted out that off-handed comment, that sense of pride and taking that ‘control’ back would barrel onto you, having you appear as this all-mighty soul who was thriving. Instead, all you got was you subconsciously shaming yourself and more sadness.

His body felt as if someone was heavily crushing a steel building on him. The reminder of the interminable affliction that was provoked. That he inflicted. He needed to divert.

He turned his head back and forth to the clean home and then to you. “Ho-how has work been? How has Ronnie been doing?”

“She's been doing okay, still the same as ever.” You wanted to affirm how much she wanted to basically kick his ass, but you held your tongue back. “How has work been for you? How have Peter and Mayday been? Jess?”

“Fine. Things have been about the same. More new annoying recruits, but it happens. And they've been fine. Peter is still Peter, and Jess is seemingly checked out with the pregnancy. Well, checked out amongst other things too.”

“I'm glad Peter is still bothering you; I hope he ramped it up. And I don't blame Jess one bit for being tired of everything.” Your voice was letting that sour tone slip out.

He caught on, and it was gnawing at him. “How have you been?”

You wanted to scream. “Been fine. Taking it day by day. Been breezing along pretty nicely. You?” You wanted to kick yourself in the face.

“I've been… I've been about the same. Taking it day by day, just like before.”

He couldn't say more. He couldn't mention how much he missed you. He couldn't mention how much he wanted you. He couldn't mention how that itch swelled exponentially, to the point of no return, even though he broke it off with you. He couldn't mention why it was there if the problem had been fixed.

He was going off track.

“I have your stuff, and the key is on top.” He held out the drawstring bag you left when you first came to his job.

“Thanks.” Taking the bag, you tossed it on the couch and watched as he intricately placed his objects in the duffle bag, piece by piece.

You both kept to yourselves. This was going to be it. A relationship that went on for months but felt like it lasted for years. You felt a bit overdramatic having thoughts like that, but it's difficult when strong emotions are in play. Craving to hold onto that floating feeling of soaring in the clouds until you find yourself drifting into the endless beauty of space. You hated that he took you to that sensation.

Stacking the last bits, he was packed and zipped up, ready to go. At least in a physical aspect. Mentally, he wasn't ready to leave. The wound is still bleeding out, infected to the point of no return. But he will let it stay if it is to fully stop that incomprehensible tingle. He will let it stay as a memory to remember what was caused.

Hoisting the bag on his shoulder, he clenched the strap and bit his bottom lip, his fangs faintly peeking out. “I think that's everything.”

“It is.” You rubbed your arm.

“Like I said, all of your stuff is in the bag. Besides the records and record player, I will send them to you tommo-”

“Don't. Those were, and still are, for you.”

He nodded his head. “Right… right. Thank you for letting me keep them.”

“No problem.” You swayed from leg to leg, your arms hugging your body tightly. 

He eyed your figure one last time. He was a selfish man; he truly didn't deserve you. He was relieved for you to no longer suffer underneath his doings. You wouldn't even need to tolerate him anymore.

“I should probably get going.”

You looked up at him.

“I'm needed back at the HQ; I can't waste anymore time.”

You pressed your lips into a line.

“Thank you, mi corazón, for everything.”

You didn't want this, but you needed more. You needed something. You couldn't have it end this way.

“I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so sorry for hurting and pushing you so far into this.”

Your brain was boiling over.

“Goodbye, mi Luna.”

The lid exploded. 

“Why? Why?! Why apologize for putting me through all this when the answers you gave make no sense?!”

Miguel withdrew from the outburst, perturbed by the unexpected switch. “I-I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–” 

“What?! You didn't mean to what? Hurt me? Have me believe all these lies? Having me wonder, where did I go wrong? Or what did I do to be this surprising problem when, the more I thought about it, I may not have been a problem in the first place?! Or maybe I was! I don't know! I don't know!”

Miguel clamped up as he tried to keep his composure. “I told you, the canon—my canon—got knocked off course. I didn't mean for you to be a problem.”

“You didn't mean for me to be a problem? What does that even mean?!” You couldn't control that seething rage; you decided to let it take its course.

He balled his fist up. “I didn't mean you were a problem; you were just a problem for my canon event.”

“Canon this, canon that! I still don't understand what that means! You—you know what's so funny? I've been doing some thinking, a lot of thinking, and as I submerged myself in this dilemma, I discovered some very interesting and funny things.”

Miguel folded his arms in front of his chest; his body was heated but numb at the same time. He debated if he should even speak. Maybe it could clear up the confusion and give you the proper closure.

“Mi- I can explain it better if you let me–”

“Let's start with this ‘canon’ debacle. You told me that our lives are already ‘predetermined,’ that ‘there is a reason behind everything we do,’ right? And that when you seemingly walked out the doors at your job, everything coincidentally got knocked out of whack.”

Miguel went to open his mouth, but you kept going.

“So why did I step out of my apartment complex? Huh? Why was I at the park when you were there? Was that not a predetermined faith for me?”

“I don't know why you were there; I just know that it wasn't supposed to happen.”

“What wasn't supposed to happen? Huh?”

“You- you weren't supposed to-”

“Here, let me take some guesses. I wasn't supposed to be there. I wasn't supposed to have ever met you. I wasn't supposed to interfere with your canon. Oh! How about I wasn't supposed to exist? Could that be it?!”

You weren't done, as you immediately cut him off before he could open his mouth again.

“Oh! I know! I wasn't supposed to love you. Was that it? Was that the thing that wasn't presumed?!”

Your body was burning; that wave of exhilaration, resentment, fury, despondency, and all in between was slamming into you with full force. The more and more this marinated in your brain, the less and less sense it all made. You had the questions; you always did; you were just too afraid to let them out. But now, now you are going to get those answers, whether you both liked them or not.

“This is all so infuriating! How I was evidently the fucking source of the world being fucking destroyed!”

His eyes were drained and glossy. Hearing back, all he said was killing him more than before. He never meant to hurt you or leave you in this mentally mangled mess. But he couldn't have it infiltrate and shove aside the truth, and he had to get you to recognize it's for your own good. 

“Mi- I didn't mean for anything to come out the way it did. I never sought to make you out to be the main reason or burden for this… cataclysmic event that can transpire! Something that I frankly wish I could fucking control, but I can't.”

“But you did, Miguel! You. Did.” You knocked your bag to the floor before kicking it halfway across the room.

“You stood here—stood here—and basically pointed at me when my hand was nowhere near that cookie jar. You stood here and pinned all of this shit onto me. Barely did you even bother to take any of that responsibility on yourself!”

“I know! I shouldn't have done it. And I'm sor-”

“But when you did let it slip that you could've been at fault as well; you would turn that ship around and backtrack right onto me! You. Did. That. Consciously or subconsciously, I don't know at this point! But from that self-explanation, it had to be all consciously.”

Those iniquitous and revolting words he beseeched on you that night pummeled his body until he would end up as a bloody pulp on the freezing concrete floor. They haven't let up since the minute he walked out of your place, and now they have added bats and other weapons to the mix.

Miguel flung his duffle bag as a loud thump echoed in your ears. “I know! I-I was being a selfish man. I am a selfish man! Just please let me explain in a better wa-”

“An-and you know what makes this harder?”

Miguel's claws were running through his curls, trying not to break down in front of you. You didn't care anymore. Your brain, heart, and mouth were on a warpath, and they weren't stopping until that sliver of white was raised in the air.

“Me falling in love with you.”

Miguel felt his heart crack deeper into those webs.

“Maybe I shouldn't have fallen in love with you, but that's the hardest part. You said it wasn't right, that none of this wasn't right, then... then why did everything feel like it did? That everything aligned so perfectly?”

Miguel finally took the hint. He lets you keep going.

“The day I messaged you was one of my weakest moments. My hands were moving faster than my brain because I felt like I needed to have something, but I didn't know what it was.” Your brows furrowed, and your face scrunched up. “No. I knew what it was. No point in Iying. It was you; I wanted you. But now—now I don't even know if I want you here, but I still do! I'm just so confused!

“And I will never understand your spider stuff. I never did, and maybe I never will. I don't care! No, I do. I don't… No, I do. I don't know, I don't know!” You were a swirl of an inevitable decline. 

“I just want you! You say we should have never fallen in love, that I,” you thrust a finger on your chest painfully, “I shouldn't have fallen in love with you. Then what about you, then? Huh?! If you knew the earth was going to implode on itself, why did you have us continue if you knew we couldn't?!”

Miguel lowered his head in agony.

“No! You don't get to feel pity for yourself! Answer me!”

He snapped it back up, his neck catching a cramp. His eyes widening at that warranted yell. 

“I'm sor-sorry. I didn't mean to-”

“Because... because I hol- held the same affection for you.” His voice was hushed. Soft and on the verge of defeat, sparing the fact he already hit that low point.

You pinched your skin, refusing to collapse into tears in front of him. “You hurt me. I-” you ran your fingers through your hair, not knowing anything anymore.

“I believed everything. Every action and every word you spoke to me. I took it all in stride because I was so happy to know that I was yours and you were mine. That nothing could ever break us apart, no matter what. And I believed it. I still believe all of it. And I hate that I do. That I'm holding onto these inveterate notions because I still want to feel that way.” 

Your eyes were on his bag. “Maybe I'm being selfish. Maybe I'm gaslighting myself. Maybe I'm merely torturing my own heart and mind because it still wants to attach to that sentient that we are one. That we are still in love. That I still... I am in love with you, Miguel.”

Miguel's heart nearly crumpled all the way. He was curled up and left for dead, rotting away till he was a pile of bones. He dropped to his knees, staring at you but also past you.

He truly didn't know anymore. He was in the same boat, but you two were on opposite ends. Manning different emotions, or maybe they were the same. He could no longer tell. This was all he could do. Damage and destroy the ones he vows to keep safe. The ones who love him, and he can never understand why.

“I never meant to cause you any harm. Believe me when I say I didn't want to let go. I didn't want to lose you. Por favor, cree esas palabras.”

He flicked his eyes to stare at your face. “I wanted to distance myself to not hurt you more than I already had to. I tried to push away, but you made it so difficult to-”

“Fuck off with that, fuck off! No, no, no! You're literally doing it. You're pinning it on me again.”

“No! I don't—fuck! I didn't mean—I made it more difficult! My selfishness got in the way. I said things that I regret even throwing at you, but mi Lu- I needed to... I had to do it. For your safety. I didn't want to see you gone or hurt!”

He abruptly shot up from his kneeling position, storming back and forth in your living room. “I had to do what I had to do. To save us. To save you! I thought about only taking me and you away if it were to happen, and I really did. But I know you wouldn't have wanted that! She wouldn't have wanted it!”

“Please don't.”

“We have to comply with the canon. We have to follow what the models say. We can't disrupt it! We can't stray from it!”

“Please! Don't keep–”

“And I hate that I'm the one who has to fix it all, and I still manage to hurt others! I'm the one! It's not all your fault, but you shouldn't have caused—I shouldn't have hurt you, but I did it because we weren't meant to… I just want you to understand!”

“Just stop! Please just stop.”

“Mi Lu- coraz- I-I know it's hard to understand! I don't underst- I don't want you being involved and getting hurt even more!”

“Stopstopstopstop,” you sputtered in a frenzied repetition.

“It hurts. This hurts! All of this hurts because this is what I have to do! In order to protect others and defend you! I had to Mi Lu- cor- I had to-”

“STOP! Please! Just… stop. Oh, God, please just… stop.” A shuddering sob nearly escaped, your palms covering your eyes as your fingers harshly gripped the edges of your hair.

His face was red, his irises that crimson blood-red, as he eyeballed your quaking and hunched over frame.

“I can't, Miguel. This–this is torture! It hurts me because—because I trust you. And that's what's making this even harder.” You wiped away the attempting tears threatening to form. They stung, it burned, but not as much this moment.

Miguel's heart was now shattered completely. Whatever he was struggling to clutch onto dissipated as scornful ashes in the winds.

“I won't understand your work or the complete actions behind it, but you do. And… and knowing that I need to trust in your words because I love–” you pause and move on, not wanting to exhaust yourself even more.

“I only wish you were honest with me from the start. You dragged me along for how long? How long did you know that this,” you pointed between you two. “That this wasn't supposed to last?”

“Since… I knew when—when you first told me you loved me.” 

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Fucking liar.

“And you still,” you balled your hand and bit into your knuckles, having to force back so much. “And you still went on about it. You still went and continued it. This is why I'm conflicted; this is why I'm so confused.”

You crumpled onto the couch, your knee shaking. Miguel wanted to soothe it. “I trust you, but I hate how you went about it. I don't want the world to end either; I don't, but trying to convince me that I'm the only problem and it's all my fault takes a fucking toll on someone, Miguel. Especially when there are other players in the game.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“I know you're sorry, I know, but that's not going to fix all this! You are still refusing to take on any responsibilities yourself. You tell me it's for me; you're telling me it's to shield me from this inevitability, but you're still trying to shoehorn your way into pushing all of the blame onto me.” You felt your body slowly becoming fatigued, but you still had to persist.

“And I'm having to comply only with your life! What about me?! You tell me I shouldn't exist and I don't belong, but why am I here then? Why was I put on this earth then?”

He opened his mouth, but you raised your hand to stop him.

“You know what? I don't even want to go there.”

Despite being this huge figure, he couldn't feel more like a small child being reprimanded for the string of trouble they knew they caused.

“I have to have this faith in you. You possess a better understanding of this canon crap, because that's a thing in itself and something you have clear knowledge of. I just need you to tell me, and be straight up honest, is it—is it wholeheartedly my fault that the world was going to die solely because of me?”

“No. Most of it wasn't your fault. Because it is still my canon, I had a hand in it too.” He stuttered over nervously and peered down at the unoccupied cushion on the sofa.

“Yes, you can sit.” 

You were coming to a simmer. Your body slightly rose when he sat down next to you. You were sinking into the couch, head on the headrest, as you blankly stared at the ceiling. Now his knee was vibrating the couch, but you curled both your hands on a pillow you grabbed and kept them there.

“Mi Lu- I'm so sorry. I know it'll never be enough, but I just want to reiterate it a million times. I was thrown off track when you weren't saying a word. I was going to chalk it up to you taking it well, but I immediately threw that out the window.”

“Yeah, smartest thing you did that night. You used that interstellar spider brain for that split second.” You brought your thumb and index very close to each other.

Half a smile showed on his face before he wiped it away. “Yeah. I just… I-”

“You freaked out because it wasn't going as you expected? That need to control?”

“I- well, not really control. More of an, uh, need to intervene.”

You gave him an irate glare, sizing him up and down. He regretfully rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Okay, yes, technically control.”

“Not everything will go your way, Miguel. There's going to be days where things will not always play out as you want. Well, if the canon has anything to say, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Your eyes were back on the ceiling as he joined you. “Nothing? Cool.”

“That's not how it works; it's not something corporeal.”

“So a mystical God then, good to know.” You blew a frustrated raspberry.

Miguel kept his jaw shut, not wanting to disagree or throw more of the rules at you.

“I'm just so lost. I thought beating you down and having you crack into giving me answers would make me feel better, but it honestly left me worse off than before. Now I don't know where to go from this point.”

He observed your face and knew you still had more on your mind.

“I still want to be near you, but that's not going to help. It's only going to cause more heartache than anything else. We could try being friends, but that hurts my stomach thinking about it.” You groaned out loudly. “You big idiot! Why did you have to waltz into my life being this dumb, loveable oaf?”

There's so much Miguel wanted to say and needed to say, but would it have made it any better? Would it be best to let you go and let it truly be the end, or still hold on to that slither of something that is there but can genuinely never be? It's like the others. You were the ones who loved, the ones who ventured so far, only to trip off the side and plummet to the immeasurable end of hardship, affection, and so much more.

“Lo siento mucho.” He hovered his hand over yours. Not a sign of love, not even a sign of forgiveness. Just a sign that he will be there for you no matter what.

You hesitated. You've been seeking control, but at this stage, you don't even know what it is. You were mad, justifiably upset, and the more you leered at his clawed fingers, the stirring in the bottomless pit in your heart relentlessly swelled with that want. Despite what seemed like an eternity—most likely one minute—he never once removed his hand. Was it stubbornness? Endurance? You didn't know.

You took his hand and squeezed. You both stayed quiet, only the sounds of your breathing in sync filling your ears.

Was there truly nothing more to say? You don't know how much time has passed, but a long, streaming exhale departs from you.

“Maybe I said it too early.”

“Said what too early?”

“I love you. I'm debating if it was a 'spur in the moment’ ordeal, or was my heart absolutely secured when I spoke those three formidable words.”

Miguel stared out of the corner of his eye. Was he allowed to speak on that despite never uttering the words back to you?

“When I first told you that night, my brain had an ‘are you sure you want to continue? Are you really sure?’ But there was no argument when I decided to let it out. It felt right. There were no second thoughts, no doubts. It was right.” You chuckled some. 

“Love is such a weird thing. I thought I was in over my head, but I chose to accept that I wasn't. Were we rushing into something we didn't fully know, or was the timing just right?”

Miguel believed it was just right. Well, that's what he also wants to believe. To accept that he himself was going so deep into it, begging to escape these constricted ropes.

When he’s around you, those chains are unbounded, to a certain extent, but now he’s too locked up.

“Where do we go from here, Miguel? How close are we exactly allowed to be? What do we do?” Having to put your faith, this credence, in this unearthly cosmic matter was the worst, but what else could you do?

“I don’t know. That’s one thing I plainly have no precise answer to.” His fingers still didn’t leave yours.

“Could we at least check-in on one another? A text here and there? Nothing too grand. Maybe our feelings will dwindle in time.” Your voice shifted drearily, and your face was completely depleted.

He wanted to be near you. “Yeah, we can try that.” 

“Meager acquaintances. Great.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s… I don’t know. No, it’s okay. It will have to be okay.”

And that was it. 

You and Miguel remained hand in claw, hardly moving. Now there was positively nothing more to say. The red petunias and purple hyacinths won, and the fields that were going to grow with those beautiful marigolds and lavender were buried, tucked away to no longer be seen. You wanted to see them in that everlasting meadow. He wanted to see them in the everlasting meadow.

You still do. He still does.

After twenty minutes of lounging on the couch, gazing up with hands interlocked, Miguel’s watch began to blare. 

“Something urgent?”

“Name a time when it isn't with them.” He unraveled his fingers, grunting from the lost touch. He never forgot how much he missed your soft connection.

Pushing himself off, he stumbled over to his bag and picked it up, but took his time doing so. He still needed to be around you as much as possible. Scooting yourself off, you wavered over to the door and leaned against the wall, watching him. Belongings in hand, he made his way towards you and froze. You both stared at each other, trying to gleam what the other was showing in each other’s eyes. Melancholy? Longing? Forgiveness?

Love? You both couldn't tell.

“So, we're just friends going down to acquaintances to strangers once more?”

He mumbled something under his breath, but you suspected it was him agreeing.

“I will still check in on you until something fades away.” You pinched your arm. You have to constrain the tears.

“I don't… Yeah. Until something fades away.” He had to be strong.

A few seconds went by with his device going off, but it became background noise for you two. This was final. So why not do one more regrettable thing?

“I- may I… Can I have... May I-”

He waited anxiously.

“May I have a—can I have a hug?”

No hesitation; Miguel dropped his stuff on the ground and pulled you into a tight embrace. You were so gentle, so passionate, and so kind. He wanted you, and he never wanted to let go. But he needed to. He hates that he has to let go so others can keep going.

This was wrong, but you both had zero care.

“Mi Luna.”

“Mi Estrella.”

He stroked your hair and took your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head to look at him. Only him. Only those cerise eyes.

“Mi Luna.” He wanted you.

“Mi Estrella.” You wanted him.

His lips collided into yours. Your arms tangle around his neck as he picks you up and pins you against the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your tongues hungrily clashing. You couldn't stop it, and he didn't want to stop it. Your dainty fingers ran through his thick curls before they were pressed against either side of your head. He pries himself away, a trail of saliva stringing between you two.

“We shouldn't, Mi-Miguel.”

“Uno más. Lamento mucho ser tan egoísta.” 

His fangs extended as they grazed across the crook of your neck. You shivered and whimpered out, rediscovering that ethereal bliss you struggled to forget. His calloused hands and his sharp nails slinked their way under your shirt, sliding along your supple skin.

“So responsive. That's one thing I missed.” His husky voice sent electric waves from your head to your toes.

“We have to stop.” You barely fought back, but why would you?

“Lo sé. Lo sé.” Miguel left feathered kisses from your neck down to the collarbone.

You tipped your head so he could have better access. He bites down right near your shoulder, letting his fangs penetrate and marginally numbing you. Your soft moans of ecstasy riled him. His tongue whirled around and sucked profusely before pulling away, enjoying the reddening blotch. He brings you back into another heated kiss, your hands clinging onto his broad shoulders.

This was going to be a regret. One that you'll hate tomorrow and forever until you forget him, but one that you'll relish in this moment.

“Mi Luna.” He bunched up your shirt, ready to rip it right off, as the kiss grew sloppier when a voice blasted from his watch.

“Miguel! We can't hold off this Doc Oct variant! He's too powerful; please hurry up!”

You yanked your head away and shoved him back some, stiffly patting his chest. “I-I think it's best if you get a handle on that. It sounds like they really need you.”

“Yeah.”

Clumsily, you unhooked your legs and let them dangle when you felt your feet touch the cold floor. 

You both dared not to look up. You both only saw the ground and realized that's the way this will have to go. His device may have been a blessing in disguise for any future endeavors that would've potentially ruined what was already broken.

Miguel heard the faint clicking and squeaking of the door.

“Well, I'll check in from time to time. That'll be okay, right?”

“Yeah, I'll do the same.” He grabbed his bag and walked out the door before turning back to get one last peek. “You deserve nothing but the best, and I'm sorry that I couldn't have been the one to give it.”

“You did, and I would've loved to have seen more, but I guess it is what it is.” You tapped on the doorframe before extending your arm out. “Have a safe trip back home. And be careful.”

“Be careful with what?”

“Life. Just in general, be careful.”

He shakily took your hand, engulfing it with his. His hold was firm, but it was always gentle.

“I'll try. And you be safe too.” He plastered that neutrality in his voice.

You released and folded your arms. “I'll try. Goodbye, Miguel.” You had much more to say but decided it's best to let it go and have it wilt away.

“Goodbye, my moon.” 

You both nearly broke, but concealed it all in.

The night seemed endless. The moon was out, but not a single star graced alongside it. Whenever he would scope out a shimmering speckle, it would merely be a plane tricking him into believing one had finally found its way out. Even the sky above mocks and prods at his shortcomings.

When you closed the door for the final time, that was the curtain call. Knowing you both will have to move onto the next chapters of your lives was certainly not a whirlwind of an ending he would've asked for. 

But that's life. That's what fate decided. That's what the canon has chosen. 

At least for Miguel, that damn sixth sense or whatever could finally be off his chest. It was just a shame he had to lose a valuable significance to get rid of it altogether. 

Because these are the sacrifices that he has to make.

In order to protect, he must confine.

In order to love, he must let go. Always.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

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

@prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy @ella-janehaven

#tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #atsv #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.19<< >>Ch.21

Notes: Miguel reflects on everything and nothing all at once.

CW: Slight mentions of masturbation. Miguel is sad.

Artwork done by Cassandra_zim on Insta.

Chapter 20: Oh Father, Tell Me...

Word count: 6.3K

He did the right thing.

He had to do the right thing.

 It was the right thing to do.

He hated that he had to do it. He always hates making the most ‘moral’ of decisions because that's how it presumably goes. He always has to make these gut-wrenching sacrifices, all because he was forced into this position.

Your face was now forever engraved in his mind. Those last moments of torturous vacancy and heartache. That repentance he was struck with the moment you closed the door on him. He replayed everything he told you. It was to protect you. He didn't mean to yell. He didn't mean to get so heated. He never meant to hurt you. He never means to hurt the ones he cares for, but it always happens. Every. Single. Time.

It was difficult. He remembers heading back to the HQ after standing in front of your door for a few minutes, debating on knocking, before coming to the conclusion that he did not want to cause you any more pain. 

How he begrudgingly called up Jess and Peter to his office, alerting them of the new status of the relationship, and despised how pitying of a conversation that was.

“We're sorry, Miguel. We really are. Letting go of someone you care for is one of the hardest things to do.” Jess rubbed her stomach, her eyes staring into his tensed back. “You're not alone; we will get through this. You will get through this.”

Peter's arms were crossed, his eyes darting back and forth between Jess and Miguel, determining what would be the most crucial and befitting thing to say, but he held back to let Jess do most of the speaking.

“But things should be back on track, right? Time heals all wounds. It may take a while, but it will come.”

But he doesn't know when it will begin. Does it begin with him? Or will it happen on its own? What happens if it never comes?

Jess rambled off more tasks and briefings before voluntarily dismissing herself, leaving the two Spider-Men alone.

“I'm not going to continue judging your choices. This was the decision you felt as if you had to make, and I understand. I want you to know that it's true; you aren't alone. It's okay to be scared of the unknown and to run from things that you feel will hurt. I'm not going to give you the whole ‘leap of faith,’ ordeal. I just- I just want you to know that I've been down this road before. And... and I'm here for you, Miguel.”

Peter waited for any response, only to turn and leave in the end to give him space.

And that was it.

Days passed as he overworked himself.

Dishing out more missions for himself and others, more reports filled out, and his eyes rarely vacated those burning orange, iridescent monitors. Always watching, always viewing, always seeing.

He was running himself ragged into the ground because that's where he belonged. Buried alone and away from wounding others. His temper flared up even more from astoundingly new extortions and nuisances.

The anomalies were still rampant as ever, and Gwen's perpetual badgering and long-winded palavers about visiting him ceased when he finally snapped, compromising that if there's an anomaly in that universe, she can go. He knew there was a one in a billion chance of that happening, but she seemed content with that answer.

And that damming itch.

The biggest hindrance was that the itch was vexingly meandering. He took care of the problem; he removed himself from your life, so he couldn't comprehend why it was still stationary. Was it because he still had strong emotions for you?

He thought they would have shaved away the second things ended. Well, he struggled to convince himself that, but he was well aware that's not how these eventualities occur. Far from it. They don't disappear overnight as much as one imagines. They don't vanish in a day, a week, or even a month. Some may never disappear at all.

And he wasn't helping that wound. He was only jabbing and ruining it even more.

He keeps your messages open, rereading all of the texts several times a day. It was godly unhealthy, and he knew it, but he didn't give an ounce of fucks in the world. A part of that dignity died when he walked out of your building for the last time.

He holds those moments of weakness by wanting to text you random things, but always shuts them down and backspaces his thoughts. He would stay on your page, praying to hear anything from you. Even if it was a purely hateful message, he wanted something. The pressure of guilt and his sins weighed down on his back.

He stopped going back to his own apartment because he would replay all of the record albums you gifted, especially the Selena album. He resorted back to sleeping in his office, a habit he slowed down on when you two got into a relationship, but now that you're gone, his damaging routines throttled full force.

He hasn't felt this way since he lost Gabi. He hated how this was for your own good. For everyone's own good. His own good.

And as those days became two weeks, things have been even harder around the HQ.

Before, the other spiders hopped along, usually avoiding the broken eggshells and glass whenever they were near him, and if one managed to slip and step on one, they bore the pain for a second and continued on as if nothing happened. It was common practice for everyone. But now, the field has gotten broader. Along with the remnants of eggshells and glass, mines now lay next to them. A volatile war zone whenever anyone even dares to step into that domain. One wrong move, and it will trigger devastating explosions.

The office appeared more scarlet, while others believed it appeared to be a cobalt blue. Either way, it certainly matched his mood.

Now only a handful of spiders would be brave enough to speak to him, yet they would still be terrified of his reactions. Some would have competitions over who would have to converse with him, as their spidey senses never turn off when he's around.

His office was thrashed more due to his new charged-up temperament and impatience. Claw marks made their way onto machines, and his yells when a poor spider would accidentally make a mistake could be heard halfway through the establishment. 

Things have been very difficult for everyone.

It got to the point where E-616 Peter scarcely brought Mayday due to his offsets.

But the rumors were still spreading. Word got out about why he could be easier to provoke and how his short temper increased into utter wrath.

“I heard he was dating a Spider-Woman, but Jess fired her.”

“I heard it as a regular human from a whole different dimension. Very much a Romeo and Juliet story.”

“Don't they die in the end?”

“Oh yeah. So not like that, but similar.”

“I heard he would sneak her in here. I wonder how they got in without being seen. Surely more would've noticed.”

The telephone line never ended; they made sure to keep hush whenever he stepped out of his den, which became even rarer at this point in time.

But there was a reason for his increased fury. Miguel had that moment of impotence. That hint of shame.

The day he saw you at the park.

It was a quiet night in his office when he decided to drag the video of him and Gabriella into view. He wanted something to smile at, but only for a tiny bit. He chatted with his osita as always, asking about her football game or any ideas on what they should have for dinner.

It was going fine until, in the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you beaming into the camera before it shifted over to him as you both shared that genuine laughter. It was an ingenuous moment you created.

That's when he blanked, knowing all of that was too good to be true. His brain taunted him, whispering how he managed to not only trick you but himself as well.

His hands acted faster than his brain when he sent that money off to you. He had to give you something; he needed to. 

He waited for you to respond. It took several minutes before he received a message from his bank stating that the money he gave was deposited back in his account. 

He remained staring at that screen.

And that's when those dots finally appeared. His heart nearly leapt out. Then it immediately cracked when he read those words about how you didn't want or need him anymore. He was fully glazed over. He needed that fresh air. He wanted to go to the gardens but decided against it. 

He walked out the back. The correct way. He let the rain drench him; he didn't care anymore. The park was his escape from it all, but now it's only a crucifying, hollow memory.

He sat at the bench where he first accidentally laid eyes upon you. That first mistake. That one slip-up that caused the downfall. The one that nearly ruined and destroyed everything. The one who took the perils away from him.

Miguel stared at the streetlights, the empty pond, the violent rustling from the trees, the shrubs with flowers that were pelted by the rain and were likely going to lose their petals…

And you.

He was stunned the millisecond your eyes met. The adrenaline of terror and tribulation that coursed through him was miserable. Even in the pouring rain, you were as enthrallingly beautiful as ever.

How he wanted to rush over and keep you warm, to protect you and keep you dry. How he wanted to question why you were out in your pajamas so late at night and how you needed to get home before you caught a serious cold were all stuck in his throat. How nothing was the right thing to say or do deeply stabbed him.

The profound stares you gave each other as a sharp pang of self-reproach hit him harder than any punch he has ever received. He didn't even remember how long it lasted, but he knew he couldn't be around you anymore. He was hurting both of you; he was still breaking you.

He waited and waited for you to blink, to avert your gaze onto something else, but that unbending persistence you held was proving itself. That vice grip you had, so he had to be the brigade.

The minute you slipped up and released that unnerving cry, he used his speed to conceal himself in the trees as he monitored your well-being. He didn't want to evade your space, but it was required. You didn't leave immediately, but he didn't mind. He would sit for hours if it meant he got to be near your presence, even if it was from a distance.

He kept his eyes open for danger; he didn't want a repeat of the first night you two crossed paths. When you eventually did head off, he followed you until you were safely back. You were okay and free from any harm. Free from any uncertainties that would have jeopardized your life in any way or form.

That was when realization struck him, when all the detrimental waves crashed into him. You were truly free from him. Unimpeded by his marred claws, mind, and body—all of him.

When he returned to his 'safe haven,’ he yanked one of your shirts from your drawer in his room, cuddling it and smelling it. Hot tears flowed down as Santana's Love of My Life joined in with its own flow. 

Miguel was cracking each and every day.

As a new week approached, things were still the same. The increased anger, the despairing sadness, the rife of anomalies, and that gutting itch made themselves all at home.

Miguel startled himself awake. His vision blurred as he rubbed some crust out of his eyes.

“Mi Luna?” He gazed around the room, trying to get some of his bearings back. 

He was all alone. His moon wasn't around anymore. He hates that his own head would conjure up those nightmares to frequently patronize him. How they have to be nightmares instead of wondrous dreams.

He cracked his aching bones from the uncomfortable position he slept in again. His body was sore all over, but he, of course, didn't care. Allowing a minute to pass so he was semi-up, he stared at his main monitor, expressionless. The two smiles he misses. The smiles he missed making.

He expanded the recording of Gabi, mostly maintaining his focus on her, barely observing himself.

“Buenos días, osita… Espero que hayas dormido bien. Te extraño mucho… I—remember that very sweet person you met a while ago? Well, she and I will... We are no longer together.” Miguel balled his fist and achingly shuddered.

“No, no, no fue tu culpa; te lo prometo. Papa made a very...” he tried to find the right words. “He made a very bad mistake. It was pretty bad. Yes, that big of a bad. But I didn't want to hurt anyone else, like how I hurt you, mi osita.” He found himself caressing the screen.

“I don't know if she'll forgive me, but I know she'll remember you. You are stil- would've been the bestest of friends. I just wanted to tell you if you ever ask about her.” His workstation held a few droplets. “Yes, I will miss her... Maybe. It was still too early, but I would've loved to have made her your…”

He froze, but had to continue on.

“I would've loved for her to have been your new mama.”

He tried not to peek; he didn't want to see it. It was there, hidden in plain sight. His hand began to gravitate toward the video before he caught himself. Rapidly telling Gabi he had to go, he exited the recording and pushed the monitor away to the side.

His trembling fingers began to type and swipe around, surveying the spectrum of dimensions. The eternal vastness of such fleeting lives for those who experience the ordeal of not knowing they're being guarded. How lucky they are to live out their mindless days without a fear of knowing what's truly out there. How they can go about and love freely without the consequences of the world collapsing on itself.

The sacrifices he has to make for them. 

He went on about his daily tasks; no one bothered him unless he would specifically alert them to missions or other duties to fulfill. But for most of the day, it was noiseless. Nothing. Keep watch. This is how it's expected to be.

“I'm surprised your platform is on the ground instead of suspended in the air.”

So much for a quietude time. 

Peter charily bounded his way over to Miguel, taking heed of the many empty coffee cups, styrofoam take-out containers, and a lone red blanket hastily shoved underneath the desk.

“Jeez, Miguel, when was the last time you cleaned? Do you want me to send one of the janitors or no?” He leaned in a bit, getting a good glimpse of his friend's face.

Miguel hasn't shaved from the very noticeable five o'clock shadow that overtook him; he reeked of empanadas and one too many cups of joe. And he obviously saw that he wasn't either barely getting sleep or if any at all.

“Miguel, when was the last time you exactly moved from your station?”

He ignored the spider, his eyes still attached to the screens, doing his best to pretend that Peter didn't exist. He refused to allow any more distractions in his life. That is a lesson he must abide by.

Peter cleared his throat and scooted closer, bringing his voice up some. “Miggy, when was the last time you showered or had any other forms of healthy nutrients running through your body?”

Miguel didn't avert his line of sight, but the scruffy spider was still in his peripheral view.

Peter was becoming marginally irked by his boss blatantly snubbing him. This wouldn't have been the first time he's done this, and Peter wasn't going to have him surrender to his own self-imposing defacement.

“Alright, let's go. To my dimension.”

“Go away, Peter. I'm not playing your stupid little games.”

“You call them ‘stupid games,’ I call it, ‘helping out a good friend who is very distressed and forcing him to do some self-care.’ So stop whatever you're doing and let's go.” He began to fiddle with his watch, setting it up to go back to his world.

“I'm not going anywhere. Leave. Me. Alone. I'm not repeating myself.”

“I'll tell MJ to fix an extra plate. I think we're having stir-fry.” Peter was playing Miguel's hand by brushing off his words. Miguel knew the tactic, and it pissed him off.

“Peter, I'm not going anywhere with you–”

“Oooh, she's doing shrimp stir-fry and hot and sour soup? Man, she is pulling out the stops tonight.”

“I'm not going!” Miguel was about to boil over.

“Maybe we can throw in some desert too. I can order a molten chocolate cake with some vanilla ice cream we have–”

“Peter. I'm not fucking goin-”

“What type of drinks do you like? Do you like lime soda? A good red wine? You know, maybe we should stick with water to help cleanse your system.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Peter! What don't you fucking understand?!” Miguel raked his talons through his metal, creating that ear-wrenching, grating sound.

“I'm not going to stand here and watch you suffer again!” Peter slammed his fist down, creating his own deep indent in Miguel's desk, startling the giant man.

Machines, other voices from spiders, and heavy breathing whisked through their ears as Peter tried to control himself.

“I'm–I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-”

“Don't. Don't bother apologizing.” Miguel slumped down, with Peter sliding down right beside him.

The two sat shoulder to shoulder, both starting ahead at nothing. They were still for a minute, knowing someone had to break the ice if they wanted to get somewhere, and Peter was aware it was going to have to be him.

“I'm worried for you, Miguel.”

Miguel held that deadpan look to him but still heard him out.

“I've been there; I've been here before. When you're faced with a challenge you don't know how to handle, you could either face it head-on and fight it, or run away.” Peter stared at his hands before closing them.

“When MJ first said she wanted kids, I was so scared. I was so scared of bringing another being into the world because I genuinely didn't know if I would be ready to face such a huge responsibility.” He chuckled at the irony.

“So I ran at the first sign. I ran, and I was so afraid to look back. I told myself that it was okay, that this was the right thing to do and it'd blow over, and that no matter what, I would always keep getting back up because that's who I am and that's what I'm supposed to do.

“But there was… something so funny about that. Physically, I was able to get back up and up and up with ease, but mentally… mentally I was down. I was kicked and on the last leg, struggling to keep that stance. I lied to myself every day, saying to myself that I was in the best tip-top shape that I could ever be in and that all I needed to do was keep going.” Peter ran his hands through his hair.

“That was the most hurtful thing I could have ever done. I didn't care for myself; I didn't care about a lot, actually, but I kept sticking those white lies in my head to keep moving ahead. Those temporary markers that I would attach onto, and if one fell off, I would tack another right in its place.”

Peter hesitantly grabbed Miguel's hand, weary about the talons sticking out, but didn't care if he accidentally poked him.

“I'm not having you go through this agonizing pain again. You are hurt because you had to do what you believed was the right thing.” He squeezed it tightly. “I know you're scared, I know you miss her, and I know you love her–”

Peter felt Miguel's claws dig into the back of his hand, but he fought through the unpleasantries. “And she loved you. And I would like to believe that she wouldn't want you to rot away. Even if you aren't together, I know she would want you to take care of yourself.

“Others would want you to take care of yourself. Many may not show it here in the society, but it's there. I want you to care for yourself. So please, don't fall into the same despair. Let others help you, Miguel. You aren't alone; you don't have to face this alone. Even if it's just a smidgen, a peek, let those few see inside; don't try and keep it all in. It will only fester more sorrow than the lies of convincing yourself that you're okay.”

Peter saw right through the mask. Right under the engraved stoicism of a leader lies the dispirited hero, who's worn down, afflicted, and fearful of the outcomes that entangle themselves in his webs. For the ones who don't know the true faith that has befallen upon them when they get caught in it.

Miguel peered down at their entwined hands. His brain was in a frenzy. He didn't know what to do; he knew he shouldn't leave from here; that one step out of line will have it all cave in. Yet Peter's words rebounded in his ears and his thoughts. Has he not learned from you?

No. He hasn't.

“Only for tonight. But then you leave me be for the rest of the time.” Miguel removed his hand from Peter's, who was beaming and wiping that invisible drip of relief off his forehead.

“Deal. But I don't think you've had MJ's cooking; ah man, it's the best. And I'm still ordering the molten cake. She told me that we can't give Mayday too much sugar, but this is for a special night, so I think she'll let it slide.”

Peter rambled on as he thought about what Peter said about you. Would you still care for him? Are you still caring for him after all he did to you? He knows he would still want you to take heed of your health.

Disturbed from his thoughts, he peered up at Peter calling his name, and a portal opened up leading to E-616.

“I said, are you ready?” He nodded his head at the multitude of swirls and colors, confirming that everything was okay.

“Uh, I-I suppose I'm ready…” he stood up before gazing back one more time at the monitor. “Yeah. Let's go.” He plucked his phone up and gradually made his way into Peter's world.

• • •

“So that's when Webslinger went, ‘hands in the air, Parker,’ so me, and like thirty other Peters, we all threw our hands up and simultaneously yelled, ‘We're reaching for the sky!’ In the crappiest country drawl. And I swore I saw him die a little on the inside, but it was all in good, positive fun.”

MJ and Miguel nodded along as Mayday laughed while being fed by Peter. The two were uncertain on how exactly they got on this subject, but they spared him from the questions, not wanting to ruin any excitement or entertainment he was creating.

When Peter and Miguel strolled through the portal, MJ was ready with shampoo, conditioner, a strong body wash, fresh razor blades, and more for Miguel to go clean himself. He attempted to dodge the products, claiming he was only joining for dinner, but that stern, earnest outstare she presented and the assertiveness in her tone made him suddenly reconsider that a shower and other things were beneficial to him.

The water was nice on his skin, despite how he'd nearly towered over the showerhead itself. He didn't register how grimy he was on the outside, but he undoubtedly knew he was inside. The sounds of thunder rumbled along with the shower, Miguel being lost in thought throughout the duration as his mind kept leading back to you.

He dazed into the streams that rushed or trickled down the sky-blue walls, eyeing the inconsistent patterns in how they ran down the drain. He began to think about how you would see something as simple as water going down. Would it be grand? Or would it be that simplistic notion of water leading to the sewers?

He then ventured further downward. Those shower discussions would lead to scrubbing each other thoroughly as he imagined lathering your body, making sure to take his time running his calloused claws over each dip and curve. Purposely slowing his movements over your sensitive spots, hearing your soft whimpers and whines, bringing out that primal reaction from him. He would grope and cup every part of you, pushing you up against the wall and pinning you until you were fully trapped.

Hearing your needy moans, he'll bring his head down, crashing his lips into your soft, pretty ones, your nails raking against his harsh skin, your cries echoing around him, your gentle body pressed against his as you will beg out for more of him—

Miguel had to cut the shower short when he realized he was tugging and his body was hot and sweaty, despite the water being freezing cold.

He was still as disgusting as ever.

He was cleaned and given fresh clothes from Peter's dresser; they were a bit tight on, and he did complain, but eventually came around. When dinner was served, Miguel didn't eat much at first, but Peter coaxed him by dramatically saying the reason why Miguel wouldn't eat was that he was implying that his wife's cooking was atrocious. 

He only ate to shut Peter up.

But Miguel was appreciative, even if he wouldn't admit it. MJ was cool and collective throughout the meal. The two chatted about Peter's habits and other ordeals at the establishment, as Miguel helped out with May's not wanting to eat her vegetables. Peter was a bit jealous when Miguel got her to eat two-thirds of her carrots and peas, but held his tongue as he didn't want to snark on him too much.

“Oh, MJ, even though we didn't really talk about this, I'm ordering dessert—mmm, that's some good mushy rice, isn't it Mayday?” May babbled and wiggled her fingers.

“Peter, hun, we talked about this.” She drolly said, gesturing to May.

“Okay, yes, I know! But—and hear me out—special occasion.” His blithe tone and smile tried to overpower her while gesturing to Miguel, who wanted no part in this.

The two went back and forth in a lighthearted disagreement as Miguel awkwardly finished the rest of his soup. They eventually settled on a compromise that Peter will deal with May if she suddenly goes hog off the walls.

Another train of imagination rode through his head. Would there have been moments of you and him having silly debates about feeding the kids too many sweets? Would you have caught on if he snuck them a few extra? A dour look on your face as a roguish grin will be placed on his. But he will promise to handle them if they start ricocheting all over the place.

“Miguel!”

His head snapped out of his reverie, and attention was all on him.

“Do you like cherry vanilla or just plain vanilla?” Peter held up the tubs of ice cream, weighing them up and down.

“I- plain, please.”

Peter nodded and pulled out the ice cream scooper, blathering away about whatever as Miguel hardly paid any attention to it. MJ and Peter exchanged a shared glance as Peter went on, adding Miguel to the mix and forcing him to mingle.

Dessert went exactly as expected. Peter barely gave May even a teaspoon of ice cream and cake, and she was scuttling on the walls. MJ and Miguel examined the scene with plenty of amusement, as he did everything to wheedle her into her pajamas and to drink some water.

“Do we help?”

“I usually give it five more minutes.” MJ nestled herself on the couch, sipping her tea. “He'll learn one of these days. We'll get there eventually.”

Miguel joined beside her, still observing the humorous incident. “Thank you for having me over.” 

“Of course. I'm not going to let anyone suffer through something like this alone. Especially when one is a good friend.”

They listened to Peter cooing Mayday over, only for her to shoot a web directly at his face and scramble up the wall faster, screeching with laughter.

“Things like these have to pass, just as time does, but as someone who has been there, you start to lose that faith that it will never pass. Your days will still come by, but it will still dangle.” MJ kept a keen eye on her child as Peter began to shoot his own webbing at Mayday, but she managed to dodge every single one.

“Maybe this is how things presumably go, and you'll have to be forced to live with it.” She glanced down at her tea, staring at her reflection. “Or it can lead to more, and what you expect can lead to the unexpected.” She turned back to her husband and child, a twitch of a smile showing on her face.

“Okay! You win! MJ, please help!”

“Alright, I'm coming. Did you learn now?” 

Miguel blocked out the two and turned to the lone teacup on the coffee table. That is how the canon works. It dictates the outcomes of not just his life but the other spiders’ too. There are no unplanned paths; there's only a foreseeable future.

That's how it goes. That's how it'll always be.

Then, when he turns to MJ and Peter, cradling and soothing May down for bed, he floats back to you. You were unexpected. You were not meant to be, yet, everything fell into place, and everything was okay.

He needed to leave.

After MJ finally settled May into her crib, Miguel made an excuse about heading back to his post when Peter forced him down on the sofa with his strength, coercing him to spend the night and to relax. Miguel broke out in a discourse, and when he was met with two pointedly blazing looks, he figured he wasn't going anywhere, much to his dismay.

Peter and Miguel were slumped on the comfy cushions, senselessly watching some baseball game. MJ went to bed, and Peter decided to keep his boss company, not wanting him to sneak off or be alone with his thoughts for too long. Not many things were shared—a question and a quick answer—but that was about it. Peter tried to lure him out of that pit, but nothing seemed to work.

So he decided to try the worst of plans: small talk.

“Thanks for coming again. I hope the food was to your liking.”

“It was fine.” Miguel didn't bother to look.

“Just fine? Come on, there must be some other adjectives loitering around. It was only fine?”

“Delicious. Grand. Tasty. There. Does that satisfy everything?” He huffed and scrunched his face into a scowl.

Peter wasn't giving up. “How about the dessert? That cake was super sweet. My gosh, it tasted like they added thirty pounds of sugar! Maybe that's why Mayday went bonkers. I… should've seen that coming.”

“It was fine.” The water was already at the top of the pot.

“Come on, Miguel, there has to be more adjectiv-”

“What are you–!”

MJ flung a door open, a scathing glare directed at the two. Miguel knew that face all too well. The very iconic, ‘in the name of all that is holy, if you wake my baby,’ look.

“My… apologies. I'm sorry.” Miguel gave a remorseful nod as she slowly went back into the bedroom.

Miguel glowered at the man as Peter twiddled his thumbs, his eyes burning into the television. “What are you getting at here, Peter? I respect that you're trying to help, but you pressuring me into having dinner with your family and spending the night? Do you really think this is helping?”

A draining exhale releases from Peter. “I don't want you alone. That's all. Like I said, I've been here, Miguel. Secluding yourself from others and telling yourself shams that you're fine will destroy you.”

“I don't need the help. I am fine. This is what my canon says. I'm only letting you ‘help’ just so you can get off my back.” He muttered the last sentence.

“I swear, you are so stubborn. It's okay to admit you aren't fi-”

“Will—will you please just stop?! Just stop! This is how it's supposed to go. It will pass. She will pass! She will just be another thought. This was an error that's been fixed, so we can all move on.” Miguel's talons popped in and out, doing everything in his power to not slice the furniture.

Peter was ready to refute him about you being this ‘error,’ and how you're clearly more than just some drifting conception, when Miguel's phone pinged loudly and buzzed on the coffee table, startling Peter.

They both stared at the device before Miguel swiped it up and turned it on.

And that's when his heart nearly exploded. 

“Who texted?” Peter tried to pry, but Miguel didn't answer.

It was you.

His mind was instantly unbridled with floods of aches and emotional discomfort. His hands puppeteered to your name and clicked it. His fingers responded just as fast as he received.

Then he dropped the phone in horror. His ears rang as Peter patted and shook his shoulder, trying to bring him back, until he snatched up the phone for himself. His brown eyes nearly launched out of his sockets when he saw exactly who it was and what Miguel did.

“She's asking if you want to grab your things.” His head twisted toward his friend, who was having an internal panic attack.

Miguel was far gone. His eyes were bulging out, there was turbulent heaving in his chest, and his leg bounced crazily. Peter went between the cellphone and his boss on the verge of a full-blown breakdown. He sat it down and went to console his friend.

“Hey, it's okay; I'm here. Breathe, relax.” He hovered both his hands in front of Miguel, but created enough space to not overwhelm him further.

He tried to swallow, but a giant cork seemed lodged in his throat and head. He didn't know how to unscrew and pop it out without it rebounding all over, spewing the contents that'd been shaken in the already damaged and tenuous glass bottle. 

A mess that would manage to spray all over, and if he were to unlodge it, would the cork just fly off as streams of liquid words would pour out, flowing onto the floor? Or if the bottle would simply rupture, as hazardous shards and the stickiness would tarnish the surrounding area.

Miguel was stuck; he didn't know what to do; he didn't even know why he replied with zero hesitation. Peter never took his sight off Miguel; he carefully took his hands when he noticed that his own claws were penetrating the sweatpants and his thighs.

“Okay, here, big guy. Come on, I got you.” Peter scanned the holes and the impaled wounds. “Miguel, I'm here; you don't have to face this by yourself.”

He bit his lip when Miguel's talons pressed into the back of his hands, but he persevered through the excruciating pricks. “Ready?”

Miguel's irises were redder than anything Peter's ever seen, his pupils enlarged, and his face inflicted with tension and anguish. Peter began to inhale and exhale, letting Miguel take his time before he started to mirror. It took a few times, but he was able to get him to do it and calm him from his high.

“There we go. Okay, doing better?”

He could only nod.

“Alright, good. Good. Now tell me, did you mean to respond, or was it a spur of the moment thing?”

Miguel side-eyed him and sunk himself back into the couch.

“Right, stupid question. Well, do you want me to text her and tell her I can pick it up? I think it'll be easier for you both to not try and see each other, even though I would advise you to try and talk it out, but right now, I think it'll be-”

“Tell her I'll come by and pick up the stuff... And I'll drop her things and the key off.” Miguel didn't even bother to look at the screen.

“Are you sure? I really don't think that'll be healthy for you to try and see her no-”

He seized the cell from Peter, wrote the message out, and sent it. All Peter could do was quietly gape at how Miguel was acting out on impulse. Eyeballing his hands, he typed out a long-winded paragraph about something before deleting it all and returning a message with three straightforward words.

“I'm seeing her. I'm going to see her in the upcoming week. I'm–” Miguel's claws found his head, sharp stabbings in his skull. “Dios mío, Peter... ¿qué he hecho?”

The TV was the only noise in the living room as Peter cradled Miguel, fearing what could possibly happen next.

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

@elle-janehaven @sanguwuxyoonbummy @prozacgooble

#Spotify #tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #atsv #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader

[glaciertea]

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Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.18<< >>Ch.20

Notes: You reflect, you reflect on everything and nothing all at once.

Chapter 19: Entrapped Laments

Word count: 6.5K

That's it.

                     That's how it ends.

Grimly and anticlimactic.

You've been lying down, staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, days even.

You tried not to be shocked; you should've seen this coming from a mile away, but here you are, sobbing your tear ducts dry until you wilt to become a stale zombie.

You can't even recall how you ended up in your bed in the first place. The last thing you remember was being in front of the door, allowing the dullness of damn all to consume your inner torments. 

Your apartment is buried in the shadows of the night, and your eyes are glassed with endless sorrow. 

Why? Why did he end it? You tried not to believe it was your fault. You trusted your instincts into thinking it was other factors.

Well, it was mostly you skewing your mind in a direction where it was something you wanted to hear, not needed. You only did it to make yourself feel better. To give yourself this distorted narrative that things are just in a rough patch, but with a little care and time, they'll go back to normal.

Well, as plainly vanilla as it could get with someone like he is. 

Was. 

Having to start thinking of him in the past will be a strange, unaccustomed response. To think back instead of thinking forward.

Which is funny—how many forward-looking outlooks were there? You try to remember if there was any deliberation about a probable future between you two. You certainly know you've voiced your desire to stay together, but now that you consider it, were there any times he mentioned a foreseeable life for you both?

You really tried to dig into your memory bank. There was that conversation you had about how you'd both raise kids if you were to have any, but was that more of a theoretical train of concepts? Rhetorical inclinations because of the tender and vulnerable moment shared before landing on that subject?

Would he have wanted kids with you? Every time you have… had sex, he has… had those primal urges to finish in you. It was very rare when he pulled out.

But that could mean anything. Maybe he has a fetish for nutting in his partners to stroke that massive, dumb ego. Some sense of accomplishment knowing the person he's with will allow him to go ahead and release in them because ‘he's just so hot,’  ‘our babies will look so cute,’ or ‘he would be such a good father to my future kids.’

You weren't projecting.

Did he really want a life with you? Everything that happened seemed so authentic and full of bliss. Did he really want to be with you in the first place?

Well, he was the one to make the first move, so that had to be something. Or maybe he did that because of the vulnerability shared before it.

Was anything real between you two?

Glancing over your alarm, the annoyingly lit green numbers sting your retinas as you hurriedly wipe away the pathetic tears for that man.

It's a quarter to six, and you have work in less than two hours. You thought about sneaking in some sleep. And if questioned about your fatigued state, you could make up an excuse that it was a restless night because you were so excited to come into work.

You would've won the best costume award for your zombie-like appearance.

The minute you stepped in the door and up to the counter, one could immediately see the appalling anger ready to burst just from Ronnie's gaze.

“I knew it! That fucker!”

“Ronnie, I didn't say anything. It was a long night. Couldn't sleep. It happens.”

“That has you looking like you just stepped out of a grave after many, many years?!”

“Rough nights can spring up on anyone, Ronnie. You've seen them on me before, so this isn't a first.”

She scoffed. You figured she wasn't going to buy into it. “I'm going to kill him. Where does he live? I know he works for some shitty tech corporation. Which one? Which building is it?”

She banged on the counter with her knuckles, trying to calm herself. “This fucker. I told his ass—I told his ass to not drag you down on his ship, but he did it anyway!”

Your head slightly tilted up at that. “What did you tell him?”

“I wanted to tell you about Sunday, but I held off for your sake, which I now regret doing.”

Your weary eyes peered into her choleric ones. 

“He came by with the box of materials you gave him when he first came here. Asshole attempted to return them during your break, but I told him not to even think about destroying anything that was built up and that he better get his shit together.”

You felt your body want to give in. Crumple to the ground and slowly dust away until there is nothing left. 

He was planning this.

He was planning on walking away, but for how long? How long was this on his mind? How long did he have that wrapped and tucked like a gift you're trying to hide from a kid before Christmas? There's a singe in your eyes as you feel them threatening to well up until you roughly dry them away.

“Did... did he say anything?”

Ronnie shook her head. “Told him we had no space, and he just swiped the box up and left without a single peep, like the bastardly coward he is.”

You didn't know what to say. What thoughts can you even conjure up after being told something like that? He came here and couldn't even face you. It didn't help that when he was visiting your job during the last week of his weird state, he only stayed for less than thirty minutes. 

Not to even mention how he would stroll into your place for an hour, barely say anything, and then depart until the next evening.

You might as well have had your eyes ripped from your sockets to have not foreseen this.

“And the fact that he broke up with you knowing you had work. I swear, the nerve of some people!” Ronnie snarled and turned to her shattered and dispirited employee and friend. “I hate what he's done to you. I should've just thrown in my two cents like I always do. I should've done it. Did he at least give a reason as to why?”

Even though all he bitterly spewed was incomprehensible for you to digest, you weren't going to expose his other life, no matter how much misfortune he battered you with.

“He merely told me it would be better to go our separate ways.”

Ronnie tapped her fingernails on her tablet; the only sound was the clacking against the screen. “And?”

“And that's it. He wanted a break, and here we are.”

That answer wasn't acceptable to her. “You know it's easy for me to find him.”

“Ronnie, please don't.”

“Don't have the last name, but I can go off the first. I have a face to the name.”

You're too tired to draw your boss back down to earth. She can be very petty when a discrete occurrence permits it. And her pettiness is telling you that this was one of those times.

“It was messy. He came in, didn't sit down, and just blurted out that we needed to break up. He went on a tirade about something that didn't make sense and told me…” a knot tangled in your stomach as you rewound his comments and synthetic, devastating explanations. Your eyes were slightly sheening before you wiped them. 

Ronnie was tight-lipped, patiently letting you take your time, but bearing that crazed wrath for Miguel.

“He told… he–he told me I shouldn't ex-exist.” Even just uttering those words made you want to vomit. 

A fracturing crack came from below as Ronnie involuntarily smashed her screen. She was doing all in her power to not go full ballistic, her face puckering to stow it shut.

“Why I can't stand some guys. Always, always the luscious ones, isn't it?” She glared up, as she could tell how sapped and worn you were. 

“I don't know what to do, Ronnie. I know it's only a guy. I shouldn't be getting this upset over him."

“No, if he was nothing but a pitiful lover, then yes, I would've said move on and much more, but this dude came into your life and was beaming these contagious rays, then randomly closed that curtain. He was the match to your firecracker, but he seemed to have gone excessive and hosed it down at full force.”

She could see the deflation with every word she snared. She hated seeing her favorite this way. “Go home and relax for the rest of the week. I'm visiting you tonight after work with comfort snacks and ‘so bad, they're good’ films. I'll also close up shop early Saturday, and I'm taking you clubbing.”

You staggered at the freely given vacation offer. Shaking your head, you began to place your bag down, taking out its contents to start working. “No, it's okay; I'll be fine. You don't have to come over or give me the days off.”

“No, you're getting the time off, whether you like it or not.” Ronnie tried to enforce it, but you wouldn't listen as you pursued your incohesive blubbering.

“And besides, the rest of the whole week? You would have to deal with Freya and Jax, and I know you can't stand them. They don't do much to help you out anyway. I just need a few pick-me-ups, that's all!” You gathered up some magazines that were randomly piled on the surface, pretending to fix and stack them. 

“I can handle them myse-”

“And besides, my day off is tomorrow, so there's my rest day. And you don't have to come; I'll be okay. He's just a guy; things like this happen; it's all a part of life. Life!”

Ronnie narrowed her eyes, observing your erratic shift in movements and tone. 

“You know what's funny about life? Life has paths that can weave and swerve without you realizing it! There's so many ways it can go! Not just one! You may never know when things can have you on top of the fucking world before it yanks you right down to the pits of–!”

“Y/N!”

You yielded. Your chest was rising heavily, everything pounding from your head to your toes. Your items were strewn across the wooden surface, and a magazine you held was crumpled with tiny rips on the edge of the cover. You dropped the paperback and entangled your hands, digging into your scalp.

“I'm sorry, I'll–I'll pay for it.”

“It's a magazine. We have multiples of this issue.” Ronnie woefully eyed your current nature and tightly embraced you. “I'm coming over tonight with the best junk food; you will be taking this week off, and we will have a damn good time clubbing. I'm not going to sit back and have you slip and decay away. I'm not.”

You stayed muted, your lifeless eyes beginning to seep out tears. You returned the hug; albeit lackluster, it was still comforting. 

You knew it'd hurt. 

You knew the misery would arrange a huge, pleasant resting nest right in your gutted heart, mind, and soul, needing the full capacity of every centimeter of your being. The more you disjointedly vented to Ronnie, still trying your best to exclude the Spider-Man business, the more sketchy his excuses became to you.

Ronnie eventually sent you off; her blood pressure was skyrocketing. She felt her own heart crunch, and she wasn't even the one who received his horrible comments and arguments. She was ready to find him, tear him apart, and beat him.

It was difficult walking back, especially when passing the gardens. You made your best efforts to speedwalk by it, but that misery made sure to slam its brakes, forcing you to gaze upon a now squashed and destroyed memory. You had to choke back many more cries, refusing to garner even a lick of attention. You turned a fifteen-minute trip home into nine. 

You didn't bother to change out of the clothes you were wearing when he dumped you. As you wallow in despair on your sofa, half listening to one of the albums you gifted him, your brain reeled itself into rewinding last night, no matter how hard you tried to veer away.

A physical wound won't go away the next day. Most certainly, a mental wound wouldn't pack its bag and leave when one wanted it too. For some, it can come with ease.

You thought of Ronnie, an individual who can seemingly move on from one relationship to another. If someone breaks her heart, she will twist and snatch the pain out, gladly replacing it with a new one until the pattern repeats itself. It wasn't a very… healthy coping mechanism, as you expressed your concerns about it, but right now, you envied that technique. 

You envied the ones who could deal with heartbreak with such ease. That vicarious sense of seemingly disregarding the instigator as if they were just another snotty-filled tissue made you jealous.

Why must this hurt? Why can't you just let him go? You both barely dated for a year, so why was this such a difficult feat to handle? Why did he have to make every day feel so special? Was that simply the honeymoon phase? Was any of that true love or just a quick and simple fling?

Your hands found your face as you whimpered before bawling your eyes out. Your shuddering breaths filled the air as you rocked back and forth, trying to cool yourself as much as possible.

It was impossible. 

It's still too fresh. Straight-out-of-the-oven fresh, that will sear one's tongue if they bite into the meal. You thought about the five stages. Denial is the first, and you certainly can feel it raging within. Then your brain had an idea. Maybe you can speed up the process. 

You said it yourself with the advice you gave him when he broke down to you about all the wrongdoings in his life. 

The ones you took the time to hear out and accepted them because you didn't care. You did care, but in a way where one can acknowledge that humans make mistakes. You took them with so much propriety. 

You aggressively shook your head, not wanting to drive yourself down an irrational, winding mental rampage. 

Does healing begin with yourself? Does it come with time? Your previous relationships eventually did, so it has to, right? 

Right?

You stood up and stomped into your bedroom, knowing exactly what particular thing to grab. Scanning the room, your eyes landed on the vase with rosy, pink tulips and snowy, white daisies that sat perfectly healthy and radiant from the day he surprised you with them. 

You took extra time caring for them. You wanted to see them keep their beautiful colors. You wanted to see them strive and keep that potential they had in their lovely fragrance and presence. You took every second, minute, hour, and day to make sure they knew their value and worth. You wanted to be there for them. You wanted to be there for him—them. 

You wanted to be there for… them.

You hastily yanked it up, making your way back to the kitchen, and ripped them out of the vase, dumping them right into the trash bin. This was certainly a faster way to get to the second stage of grief. You were speeding up the healing process by beginning it with you.

But then you found yourself immediately pulling them back out, washing any food off them, and muttering apologies about how they didn't deserve the treatment that he caused. How they don't deserve to suffer the fate you’re going through. You tried to rearrange them neatly and prettily. It wasn't as plausible, but it was still decently okay.

You sank to the damp floor, clutching on the vase, slumped yourself on a cabinet, and stayed there. Even when the record ended, you didn't budge an inch. Not even when there was knocking at your door and a call of your name, not a speck of movement. The knocks eventually became banging, with Ronnie exclaiming it wouldn't be her first rodeo entering a locked place with only a credit card and bobby pin.

You stumbled up and wobbled to the door swiftly to prevent your irrepressible employer from having the cops gang up on her. She held up a giant fast food bag in one hand and desserts and snacks in the other. She did seek to interrogate you about the vase you held, but held off as this was a night for you to ease some burdens.

That night, you and Ronnie laughed and yelled at your TV at the ridiculousness of the films while stuffing your faces with fries and your favorite ice cream. You talked about everything under the moon, excluding him, even though he lingered in the corner of your mind. You shoved it there, but he was hidden in plain sight.

Ronnie made herself even more comfortable by spending the night, cuddling, and chatting in your bed. 

“You know, I haven't been in your place in so long. I have forgotten how much stuff you got from the store.” She stroked your hair, scanning the cozy abode you had made throughout the years.

“They are interesting. And besides, it's fun digging into things from the past. Remember that one time I dressed up in clothes from those Leopard Tunes magazines?”

“My God, how could I not forget? You did look good in those camo pants.” She wanted your mind anywhere else. 

Eventually, you began to quietly weep until you dozed off. It felt nice at the moment, but even with the rest of the week off, you were still alone.

You mostly slugged around your place aimlessly, letting your music override your endeavors to forget him. It wasn't easy at first, due to the fact that you purposely kept choosing the records he was supposed to have, looping them non-stop, when you finally found the strength to shove them back into his drawer.

You remember the first present you snuck into it. It was a gift card to a restaurant you discovered that made killer empanadas and other delicious cuisines. How he swung himself to the establishment and purchased a week's worth of food, as you playfully chastised him for spending it all in one day, as he munched on the fried pastry with muffled praise. 

“Stop it!” You nearly snapped your own personal vinyl before carefully placing it down next to the turntable.

You prefer silence now.

The couch was your only security. Or that's what you like to tell yourself. 

The only time you got up was to use the bathroom or grab another bag of fruit gummies. You didn't even realize Saturday night had rolled around when you heard the shout of your name and the thumps on the door once again. Ronnie nearly keeled over when she registered that you haven't changed out of your clothes since Tuesday (you caved in and told her the exact day)  or how the ghostly stagnant space never left.

After using her work hierarchy, she had you take a nice, hot shower. She dolled you up with makeup and picked out some tight jeans and a red tank top she brought for you. She wanted to accentuate your figure, and it surely worked. She boosted you up with all sorts of compliments all the way to the club. At the moment, it was nice, but he was still there.

The entire time, you tried to have fun. You didn't want to ruin Ronnie's efforts at cheering you up, but it was difficult. The strobing lights and new-age techno music didn't exactly match your solemn mood. You tried to follow along to the tunes, but nothing came of it. 

You observed the scene, eyeing your boss hitting on some guy before she pointed to the booth you sat in. You clutched your drink as they made their way over. With another man in tow. 

You considered giving the ‘moving on quickly’ a chance.

It didn't help.

The two dudes were overall jerks. It started off with normal conversations asking about how you and Ronnie met, your job, and how long you've stayed in Nueva York. The basics. Then it started to snowball when every other word out of their mouths was how you and Ronnie were lucky to be “the winners,” as they skimmed over all the other “fine babes” for you two.

It only made you think of the first encounter with Miguel. How awkward he was, but still so pleasant. Well, as pleasant as one could be after being lunged up onto a bed that's less than twice his size. 

Ronnie snapped you out of your daze and took a hold of your wrist, irate at the now overly befuddled guys, practically screeching about how they're being pigs and not one woman would sleep with them even if they were the last ones stranded on earth. You were just as hazy, but you took the spontaneous escape with a stride.

“The two were such bastards. Fucking lowlife degenerates!” She dipped and weaved you both out into the cool and humid bustling outside of partygoers trying to enter. “And I saw him in your eyes.” 

You didn't mean to make it obvious. You didn't want to. 

Ronnie offered to take you home. You slowly nodded, with no other words exchanged, and made your way to her car.

Your head was against the cold window glass the entire ride, viewing the twinkling lights as the city passed by. Ronnie spied on your deteriorating state, suggesting that she spend the night again. You deny it, thanking her for all that she's done for the past week.

“These scars will just need some time, you know?”

“Just… I'm here for you; remember that, alright?” She parked in front of your apartment building, the pitter-patter of rain plunking against the vehicle's roof.

“I know. Thanks, Ronnie. I'll see you on Monday.” 

“Here, take my umbrella.”

“I'll be okay.” You opened the door, wishing her a good rest of her night and a farewell.

You went straight to your bed and laid there. Time will heal all. It has to. It must.

Days turned to hours. Minutes into seconds. Hours into days. Everything has merged into one. 

You would come into work late, appearing frail and worn. You would make up for the lost time by overworking yourself to consume your brain with other insignificant images and thoughts. 

You would go until you were dead exhausted, go home, sleep in, come into work, labor away, and repeat the process until you decided when you were feeling better. You have to heal. This was the only way. 

You were managing. Lies. 

You were fine. Lies.

Ronnie was severely worried about your mental health, but you were surviving. You were okay. Lies. Lies. Lies.

It was going smoothly. You had your routine. Nothing was going to break you from it, and nothing was going to deter you from this healing.

Then one night, right as you were ready to fall asleep, a slew of cash was randomly deposited into your account. Perplexed, you texted Ronnie, pleading that she doesn't need to boost your pay and that you'll send the money back. She was confused, more so when you told her the price, and then she was really flabbergasted.

And that's when it popped up. That's when his face appeared.

‘I’m sending you this for the bedsheets and mattress. I hope you've been doing well.’

This bastard.

You wanted to throw a fit. Nearly two weeks. You were doing so well for that long. Now he has the nerve to arbitrarily become this mindless ‘sugar daddy?’ He was arrogant and dense. You directly sent it all back, along with a message stating you don't want or need his money.

‘I've already replaced the sheets and all. I've survived before you, and I can continue on without.’ You didn't replace the mattress.

‘Right. I'm sorry.’

‘Yeah.’

You needed some fresh air. You had to get away from it all. Why? Why would he randomly text you? Especially when the first message back is him sending cash for something so fruitless as linen? Why did he mosey along, ruining these moments of alleviation? Why couldn't you hate him? That would make things much smoother. But here you are, heart drumming unevenly after seeing his name and stomping out of the building to escape from it all. From him.

Rain. How fucking cliché.

You began to wander aimlessly until you found a destination. 

Why does the sky shed its lament for you? You didn't want it to pity you. You needed it to pity him. He’s the root. He's the one who put you both through this.

You released a shaky breath. Who were you fooling? Why couldn't you be angry all of a sudden? Why couldn't you scream? Kick? Anything?

The rain was masking your tears, as you couldn't tell the difference. You felt so numb. Lying and suffocating all these thoughts because you didn't know how to open up the lid.

Is this how he goes about life every day? Suffering from your own inner demons all because one can't face them? You knew you certainly couldn't, no matter how much you toiled on convincing yourself.

You continued your walk when you began the descent into that hellscape rabbit hole. You slithered back to that night, triggering everything he threw at you unanticipatedly instead of the usual waves. You hated how that endless loop occupied your mind. You tried to bluff your way through, but you knew you were trapped.

You shouldn't exist because you're not ‘part of his canon?’ You need protection? From what? Him? Others? Yourself? That whole canon debacle?

You didn't necessarily get a full answer. All those reasons he dropped didn't add up. You don't understand his Spider-Man drivel; you never could, but you withhold the judgments because that's who he is. Though he seemingly couldn't separate or differentiate the two lifestyles.

He lied to you. He lied to both of you. You contemplated if he was forced into a corner to bite that intractable bullet. You desperately craved to believe that, but from how it deteriorated, he made an unbending choice for all, the royal we.

You tried to make sense of the logic behind it, but every turn was a dead end. 

You're an anomaly? You shouldn't exist?... Why were you born then?

You debated if that was existential. You concluded it was, and that was the last thing you wanted when attempting to solve a puzzle with different pieces from an overflow of different boxes. You can't make it work.

Or maybe you can, and it'll be this beautiful, monstrous amalgamation.

The rain picked up; maybe it understood something you couldn't feel. Your clothes were heavily drenched as you journeyed onward, but you didn't care. Ronnie offered that you show up during later hours for the next week or two after demanding that you participate in more self-care activities. She's sympathetic to the ones she loves and takes pride in helping them. 

You don't know how long you've been going, but you came to a halting stop in front of a certain bench. You desired to venture to the gardens but didn't want to take the risk of explaining your situation to an employee or passerby about why you were soaking in your pajamas.

Yeah, your nearly seven-foot-tall now vampire ex-boyfriend dumped you, hollering how you essentially shouldn't exist and that you'll only be there to self-reflect on your true purpose in life. 

Surely it wouldn't raise any concerns.

As you sat, the raindrops were sticking to your rear, dousing your already ruined bottoms. A flash of lighting and timid rumbles of thunder settled into the skies. You wrapped your arms around yourself in a feeble hug, discovering how alone you truly are in this moment. You appreciate your boss, but there's only so much she can feasibly accomplish on your self-guiding voyage. 

You can't casually go into a full, unambiguous conversation with anyone. This is an inescapable burden you have to face by yourself. How you must bear that information that you were going to be the cause of the world seemingly perishing away. 

How he left all that on you.

You were the reason, not him; even though he was in the relationship too, it was somehow your fault. 

When a star dies, it explodes into a supernova, turns into a black hole, or can create new stars.

This one became a black hole.

He was destroying it all. He did destroy it all. You shouldn't have fallen in love; then what were his actions conveying? It doesn't make sense. If life is basically predetermined, why did he start a meaningful connection with you? Wouldn't he also effect that canon event situation? How did your existence become an inconvenience to him?

You don't belong here. You still couldn't cloak your head around that; in fact, you couldn't do it for none of it.

You were his scapegoat. How he blamed you for doing normal, everyday things. You aren't some form of destiny, and you aren't a puppeteer. You're just an individual who wanted him to be okay, to have him forget about his worries, even if it was for one measly day.

Or maybe he was right. 

Maybe your relationship wasn't meant to be. It doesn't excuse him tacking all the blame on you. He was going all in as well. You sink your back on the bench, knowing you're going to catch a cold, but you didn't care. 

Your eyes start to scan the scenery. The burnt orange dims from the streetlights, the pond with no animals, the shrubs with blooming flowers being pelted with water to keep them going, the trees sweeping alongside the battering rains, and...

And a familiar figure in a Spider-Man suit sitting on a bench across from you. 

Miguel appeared as a child with his hand in the forbidden cookie jar. A deer in headlights. The night you accidentally first saw him in that get-up.

Despite the heavy rain, you both managed to catch each other's gazes. Your heart nearly blasted out of your chest. Not even the speediest racecar could compete with how fast it was racing. You closed your eyes, then pinched your arm, breaking a bit of skin, hoping you were just dreaming, and once again overslept. But when you opened them, he was still there, visible as can be. 

With a stroke of horrible luck, the rain began to let up, seemingly mocking you. You hated how clearly you could see his face now. He was gawking, his mouth agape, like he was trying to speak to you. 

You wished for him to say something. You dared him to express anything with the blazing leer you directed towards him. You refused to remove your inhospitable attitude.

You wanted him to do it. You desperately wanted him to call out for you.

You're still staring. Why is he such a coward? Ronnie was right. Yet, you're one to speak if you couldn't do what you wanted him to do. 

His lips move once more, but he catches them. You wouldn't know what to say or what questions to ask. Well, you did, but you didn't have the willpower to achieve it. 

You doubted that you would both move. You learned that you're both very headstrong, unbending to crack, and will hold your stances. Rather, it was for something as simple as spoiling one another while the receiver tried to deny it or as big as someone who would try to wedge in between you two.

How ironic that the one who did successfully wedge in between was the one you trusted most.

You both were stuck in a staring contest as your eyes started to sting. Was it from not blinking or the tears threatening to well up because of him?

Say something. Say anything.

You could tell his talons were digging into the wooden seat; you surveyed that knee vigorously judder. You gripped onto the edge of the bench, repulsed that your own hand wanted to help soothe and rub the troubles away.

His lips were pursed firmly as the rain stopped. You could hear the grating emitting and the sweeping winds whooshing in your ears, but they were also stinging at your eyes. You fought to keep them open, your eyelids twitching uncontrollably. He wasn't moving. He was straining himself, and you knew. You wanted him to break first. You needed him to.

But you broke and shattered all over.

You yelled out and slammed your eyes shut, rubbing them fiercely. Blinking rapidly at the wet, muddy ground as you attempted to get some moisture back into them. You jerked your head up as a scowl formed on your face.

He was gone. 

You hated how he continued to prove Ronnie's point over and over. He is a coward. Running at the first signs when things go downhill.

You refused to cry. You refused. You stayed seated for the next twenty minutes, until you finally opted to just go home. 

When you made it back, you stormed straight into your bedroom, not even remembering how you grabbed one of his shirts, but you did. You hugged it close to your chest and fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to you, he was still there. He was there, making sure you were safe and okay. That he will still care for you even when he's not there with you.

As another week passed, you lazed on the couch swiping through online dating profiles, another attempt to rush the healing business. This was a way for you to get some control back, whatever that may have been.

It hasn't been the best of luck, especially when you jumped the ship for the first guy who swiped right on you. He wasn't that bad-looking, and the conversations you held were decent, so you decided to meet him at some restaurant downtown. 

And it was a horrible time. 

It didn't help that you technically didn't really get to know him. It was only enough to clear your mind after the park incident, but you regretted your poor intuition and lack of judgment due to being desperate.

He was more of a talker, which didn't seem bad at first, but he wouldn't allow you to get a single word in, and he nearly ate all the food off your plate. You couldn't remember the rest as it was a blur, but you recalled texting Ronnie to save you from it.

She rescued you after paying for your meal, and you both went to get ice cream fudge sundaes. You didn't mention him at all to her. Rambling about everything, how it was a silly date, and you'll discover a better pick.

But you didn't want to pick another. You didn't want to mindlessly search over and over because he still lingered. No matter how much you persist in trying to remove him from your thoughts, he always finds a way back.

You needed something back. Stumbling up to your feet, you slogged through the clumps of candy wrappers and bags from cheap snacks, clothes you mindlessly tossed on the floor, not even bothering to pick them up, and several empty soda cans and half-finished or barely touched water bottles.

In your room, you eyed the flowers, whose petals began to fall off. Grabbing a water bottle, you poured the liquid into the vase, gently stroking a tulip.

“It's okay. Just because I'm withering doesn't mean you have to as well.”

Satisfied with the given amount, you flopped to your knees and eyed a certain drawer you left untouched. Taking a hold of the handles, you wrenched them open and absently glared at the clothes and objects, daggers of grief and solemnity cascading on your heart and mind.

Pulling each item out one by one, you ridiculed yourself for reminiscing. Have you forgotten the words he spoke to you? What all he threw at you that night? The actions he took upon himself that led him up to those final moments?

You needed something back, and you were going to get it.

Gathering up all the records, fabrics, picture frame, and the lavender spray bottle, you marched out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, right up to the bin. You were ready to take it all back. You were prepared to sonic boom your way to a mended soul. You are ready to take back that control. You needed this.

You were ready.

Suddenly, you were back on the couch, his contents left sitting on the coffee table as your thumb hovered above his name. You were dazed as you clicked it and began typing.

‘Hey…’

Don't. Why are you doing this? You know this is wrong; you didn't want to.

‘Hey.’

Why did he respond so quickly? Don't, don't. You needed to take back that control.

‘I forgot you have a bunch of stuff still over here. Do you want to pick them up?

Stop. Stop. You know what will happen, so why are you trying to give in?

‘I will come by and grab them. And I'll drop off the key and your things.’

Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck you. You shouldn't be crying; you can't, but you couldn't stop the endless, flowing streams.

‘Okay, just text me when you're coming by so I can have them ready.’ Your eyes darted up to the table, then back down on the screen.

You remembered during your schooling days when you learned about the dark, blue parts of the ocean. If you accidentally fall into one, you get sucked into an abyss. They warn you about avoiding them by staying in the light, crystal-blue parts. But those parts have been tainted. Why would you ever want to be near a singular spot of transparency if you know that there is more out there to be discovered? Even if that small section is open and clear, what about the others that are purposely hidden?

He's still texting. The three dots have been going on for over a minute now.

You shouldn't be curious. You shouldn't care. You don't want to care. You won't care.

‘Okay, I will.’

Your phone slipped from your hands as you gripped your hair.

“Please tell me, Miguel. Please tell me your true thoughts. Please tell me you still love me; even though you never spoke those words, every action you displayed said it for you.”

You can't feel your face anymore. Was it from the tears? Or the lack of emotions?

At this point, that split second of control you audaciously acquired was snatched. Snatched away like a thief to a jewel.

What have you done? What devastation have you scorned upon yourself?

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

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#Spotify #tales the songs weave #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.17<< >>Ch.19

Chapter 18: To Bring You to that Other Place

Word count: 3.4k

Your eyes shoot open as you examine the still room with the occasional muffled car horn blares or morning chirps from birds draping in. Dimly rays of golden yellow filled the parts of the area, leaving gorgeous streak patterns on your walls and furniture.

You groaned out from the achy, tender stings flooding all over and rolled over to an empty, torn bed. 

“Miggy?” Your voice was very gravelly. He really did a number last night.

“Mi Estrella?” No response.

It wasn't bizarre for him to be gone before you awoke at times, but when it comes to an extreme moment similar to last night, he normally waits to check if everything's fully okay with you. It was odd that he rearranged your guts and then dipped. Even more so, as you wanted to express your concerns about his new out-of-the-blue habits. 

Deciding to strain yourself, you reached over for your phone when an excess amount of medicated pain pill bottles, your heating pad, and a glass of condensed water sat on the bedside dresser. 

Snatching the phone up, you began to scroll through the texts he sent before the crack of dawn. “That’s odd. Why so early?”

‘Morning. Sorry for leaving before you woke up. Work needed me.’

‘I left some pain relievers and other things. I also put money in your bank account to cover the deliveries for breakfast and lunch. If you need extra for dinner, let me know.’

‘And I’ll replace the sheets and mattress again.’

‘Enjoy your day off.’

You sat up quickly, flinching at the sharpness from your hips downward. Pulling the covers back, you staggered at the many welts and blemishes. He enjoys leaving markings on you to boost his ego and self-pride, but not to this degree. Furrowing your eyebrows together, you reread the messages, and ran your hand through your hair in complete and utter disbelief and bewilderment.

There is something going on, and he’s trying to run from it.

All day, you've been messaging him, only to be met with lackluster responses or barely any. You tried to get a hold of Ronnie, but she was too distracted by the business to give any sort of feedback besides, ‘I’m here for you, remember that.’

You refused to believe what your boss was implying. Simply denying it all. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Overworked and spent, obviously. That was the only explanation that made the most sense.

It couldn’t have been anything else.

Yet, as two days passed, nothing changed. Miguel still answered with those lifeless replies, and the scarce times he did visit your place and job, you were met with forlorn stares and that freezing embitterment.

You and Ronnie conversed during the slow hours of work, as Ronnie did everything in her power to not drive to the point that Miguel was maybe trying to wedge himself from you on purpose. 

It did, however, go south when he showed up Sunday with a box of gears he wanted to return while you were out on break. Ronnie nearly wrung him a new one, spouting how dare he try to pull a stunt like this while you weren't here.

“I don’t fucking know what the hell your problem is, but whatever it is, you need to get it fixed and not bring my girl down in your sinking ship.”

She rejected the tools, spitefully mocking him, saying that she had no room to store those supplies and that he ‘better’ keep them. So he snatched them back up and left without speaking another word. Even at your job, he couldn't escape the boorish judgment.

Miguel was catching flak on both ends. Peter was pleading and bargaining not to call it quits with you, to objectively take a peek into the others to find out if he was missing something. Jess was back on his ass, wondering if he had broken it off, in which case he would furiously dismiss them.

No matter what happened, it was destined for failure. He couldn't make anyone pleased. 

And the one he wanted to please was originating destruction upon the world.

The more he isolated himself, the more you would communicate. He was stuck. He struggled to keep away so he could figure out what to do, but you always made it so difficult with that magnetized, gravitational pull you held.

It's hard to keep pretending not to want to be near someone you want to be around. Especially in his case. 

He hated this. He hated himself. He hated this whole thing.

Trapped in this cell. A bandage he didn't want to rip because he knows that wound will never heal; it'll only sit there bloodied and pained—an unsettling integrity. 

When he left the shop, he went back into his office and on his platform. He yelled and catapulted the pack of trinkets everywhere, letting them shower all over the cold, metal flooring.

“You know you don't have to do this. There could still be time to fix this-”

“I'm ending it when she doesn't have to work the next day. It makes things easier. Now leave, Peter.”

“Miguel, things like that don't magically become easy. I would know. You would know.” 

Peter began to clean up the tiny cogs, placing them back into the box. He wanted to try one last, final time to steer him away from this decision that may impair him even more than he already is.

“Nothing can be done, Peter.” 

He could hear the cracks in Miguel's heart.

And that's when he understood his friend was set in stone. Sacrificing that slice of what everyone else gets to have because that's how it goes. They have to listen to this entity that predetermines their lives.

Peter once again has to merely sit back and watch Miguel's world slip through his fingers. He is the hourglass that holds the sands and can only watch the particles trickle beneath his feet before being swept away by the winds.

“I'll… I'll alert Jess about it.” Peter turned his back. Reeling his head to his depressed friend, he opened his mouth, but immediately closed it and gripped his empty chest, silently leaving him to his own devices.

Miguel waited until the sounds of Peter's footsteps faded away. He was alone. How it's truly supposed to be.

All he could see were the twines of enshrouding twilight. No light, not even his own, could be seen by him.

You glanced over your phone for the millionth time today. Miguel hasn't texted a word all day. Which didn't help with your anxiety because he somewhat chatted with you the last few days. But today, you didn't even receive a ‘good morning’ or a ‘how are you?’ 

Your mind went down a rabbit hole of scenarios about his job—that something drastic happened to him, and he's gravely injured somewhere out there in the billions of universes. Or, a better option, that work was crazy today and he had to haul around non-stop. 

You endured to keep your thought process on the second path.

Checking the time, you typed a few messages, hoping to get something from him. “If he doesn't respond by eleven, I'll give another call. Yeah, that's reasonable.”

It was less than five minutes away, so you put on a song and slumped on the couch. Closing your eyes, you allowed the notes to flow over your anxious body, soothing your jittery knee and overloaded conscience from indulging in any more negative notions.

Inhaling and exhaling out, you were beginning to find that inner peace when a knock snapped you out of it.

Fluttering your eyes open, it took a second to regain your bearings when the rapping at the door got louder. You didn't order in and weren't expecting any guests to come over. Stumbling off the couch, you looked out the peephole and nearly gasped.

It was strange for him to be out this late today, but you chalked it up to him coming over to clarify why he couldn't respond. Clumsily opening the door, you beamed at the giant man.

“Miggy! I was just about to call you! Come on, don't be shy now.” You sang out and teetered out of the way with an arm outstretched.

Miguel nodded and slogged in; the heavy weight on his shoulders seemed to only worsen. He barely had any sleep, going over a script on how this would go and how fast he wanted to get this over with.

He scanned your place, and the memories of laughter and admiration directly flooded on him, which wasn't helping with the tons of grief and weariness settled upon.

“I was so worried about you, you know?” You locked the door and gave him a warm hug from behind, triggering him to stiffen immensely. “I thought something bad had happened. I wanted to keep other options on the table, of course, but your line of work makes it kinda tough.

“And I can't believe you used the door. You didn't use your key, but hey, this is a step in the right direction!” You snorted and giggled, then abruptly paused, noticing the melancholy on his face and in the air.

“Mi Estrella? Everything okay?” You pulled away and seated yourself back on the couch. “Is it time to talk about what's been going on in your mind?”

He didn't sit down along with you; he only towered in the middle of the apartment, feeble and inconsolable. Everything he practiced went out of the window. He couldn't explain this to you; he couldn't do this to you.

And yet, he had to. He had to be one to turn this wrong into a right. The wound is there; it's hidden under that patch. Does he rip it away painfully quick or tenderly slow? Either way, the damage will still be in the open.

You firmly tightened your lips into a thin line. Your heart suddenly began to race, nerves were blasting off all over, and your body began to burn up.

“Mi-Miguel? What's… what's going on? Is everything alright? You know we can discuss it at your own pac-”

“We need to break up.”

Quick and painful won the round.

You blanked. There was not a single noise. Not even from the outside. Maybe you misunderstood him. That had to be it.

“I-I'm sorry, I don't think that I- maybe I misheard what you sa-”

“You heard it.” He didn't mean for it to come out brashly. “We… we can't be together anymore. Lo siento mucho.”

Miguel glazed down on the floor as you remained motionless. Your brain was trying to comprehend where this surfaced. It could explain the weird detaching, but it still makes no sense.

“I-I know it's coming out of nowhere, but there's multiple affirmations behind it. They may not make sense in the beginning, but the logic and justifications when I explain down the line are all there.”

You didn't know rather to hear him out, dissociate, or evaporate into thin air. You picked the first and second options.

He has disdain for this, but even when he's the one creating pain, you are still willing to be patient and listen. 

He was certain he didn't deserve you to begin with.

“Okay. You know that there are infinite universes. I told you that, and I don't think I need to go over that again. Right? Right, no. No. I don't think so. Yeah, I think.” 

He was off to a horrible start.

“Remember that day you wanted to know about how you and I were in other universes? Wait, no, that's—that's too early, I think.”

His thoughts jumbled as you stared at him to continue.

“The night we met, I went to the park, but when I did, I didn't go out the back; I went out the front. You may not see it as nothing, but it isn't. That isn't like me going out where I can be seen in this sort of manner. It isn't a canon thing for me to do.”

“Canon?” You held some sincerity, but mostly hesitancy.

“Yes, canon. I remember the night when you told me you lov-” he choked before clearing his throat. “You looked into the idea that life doesn't have a road and that it can take you anywhere. But, from what I've learned, life is predetermined no matter what. There's a reason behind everything you do. Like a beautiful web.”

You didn't say a word.

“And my canon got knocked off track when I walked out those doors. Now, you're thinking, what does that mean? Why is that a big deal?”

You only nodded.

He took in a huge gulp and exhaled loudly. “It's a huge deal because... because this... because this world is... it's unraveling. It's being destroyed as we speak.”

Your eyes broadened and your throat parched as you clenched onto the sofa until your knuckles turned white. 

“Yes, it is a terrifying thing to think about. One moment everyone is here and the next,” his eyes glassed thinking about Gabi. “The next... they're simply gone.”

“And that's why we have canon events to make sure things like that won't ever happen. To prevent a catastrophic devastation such as that.” He balled his hands up.

“Is there a way to stop it?” You whispered, eyeballing the floor.

Miguel bit his tongue to hold back the tears. “Yes. My canon shows a major flaw in this world. There's a flaw that's detrimental to us all... and that's us being together.”

Your shoulders slumped down as you tried to retain all this new, strange information.

“We aren't meant to be together. Remember when you asked me to check out the other versions of our relationship? Well, each and everyone I saw, you were either with someone else, we didn't know each other, or we did date... but none ended well.”

Words got caught in your throat. What if you never made that request? Would things have been okay? Would the world still have been destroyed?

“And that's when I realized it was happening again... You loving me was wrong to begin with.”

Your head snapped up, accidentally pulling a muscle, but you didn't care. You leered at him bug-eyed, as he was alienating his brain to wanting to end this as swiftly and fluidly as possible.

“When I walked out and met you, that's when the world started to glitch. The new waves of anomalies, this strange gut feeling, and how things were seemingly going too well. The world was knocked out of place, confused about what was going on.”

He shook his head and wiped away the threatening tears that wanted to leak down. “We shouldn't have ever met. We shouldn't be together. And the only way to stop this universe from being consumed is for us to stop... to stop what we have going on.”

He turned to you with that stupid pouty face—the face you grew to admire and fawn for. The face that showed you true love.

“So... what I'm hearing is that what we did was for naught? What we had was all just… nothing?”

“In a way. No, wait, not like that. Yes, but no. Mi Lu- look, ever since that night, I've been doing things I would never do in a million years. Yes, I have things I enjoy, but this,” he gestured at everything between you two, “This isn't me. This was never me.”

“Are you serious?” Your voice full of disbelief, trying to hold back a scoff.

“I'm not joking; this is all serious. Our world is dying because you wanted to become attached–” 

Miguel dug his talons into the side of his hip. You gawked over that incriminating stance, nausea taking over your stomach.

“I shouldn't have said it like that. I-I didn't mean for it to come out that way.” He roughly ran his claws through his curls.

No response.

“Look, just listen; if you didn't—if I didn't—if you didn't cause me to step out, we wouldn't be in this danger. We wouldn't–”

Crickets.

This isn't how it was supposed to go. There was supposed to be a back-and-forth conversation where he could steer it in a way that it could've gone through effortlessly. But you weren't saying anything; you barely spoke a word. 

You barely even expressed any emotions, unless he somehow missed them. But he has to keep going. He has to shove all that guilt aside for your protection… And for the others.

“Please say something… I know–I know it's hard, but it has to be this way. It has to. I have to—I need to protect you. And I know my Spider-Man work was always confusing, but please just... please give me something.”

Hushed. A blank glaze.

“Don't—don't make this more difficult than it already is. I know it's so sudden; that's why I tried to distance myself, trying to give you the last few good moments together. I know, it's hard, but for the canon's sake, we have to go through with this.”

You crossed your arms and stared ahead. This was all too much to take in. Many questions scrambled in your head. Why was his work unexpectedly a huge interference in this relationship? Why is he haphazardly saying something about this to you now? Why is he making this decision for the both of you?

But you kept listening to this whole nonsensical, pious conception.

Miguel paced, anticipating something, anything. The only sentences that are repeating in his head are his own, and they aren't clear-cut winners.  

“¡Por favor! Please! Say something! Anything!”

Not a single peep.

“Look! I know it's hard! You don't think this is hard for me?! Knowing that the person who I lov- the person who got attached to me—shouldn't even be here? Shouldn't even be with me?!” His eyes were blurry as droplets of tears and snot dripped onto the wooden floor.

“Excuse… excuse me?” You straightened up your back. “What… wha-what did you just say?”

Miguel recoiled, agitated, and vexed with himself. Regretting this whole affair that he still wants.

“I shouldn't be here? I shouldn't be here?”

Your words were low but penetrated deeply. Miguel's own heart pounded in his ears at that.

“I… I'm the one who shouldn't be with you? Not you. No, no. Me. Only me.”

“I- you…” He trailed off, his voice inaudible.

“What?” Your tone slightly increased.

“You shouldn't… shouldn't-” 

“Huh?! I can't—I can't hear you!”

“You–you…”

“Speak. Up. Speak. Up!” You tried to control your rage, but it faintly seeped out. 

“YOU SHOULDN'T EXIST!” He roared out, grasping his skull to prevent himself from breaking something in your apartment.

“You—you don't belong! You don't—you don't belong in this universe!”

He was losing his mind but managed to lower his voice, yet he still had it marginally booming. “You... you shouldn't have fallen in love with me! It's wrong! It's all wrong!”

He plopped down on his knees, rocking and shaking as you mournfully gazed at an empty rift.

“You're an anomaly in this world! The others... the others didn't fall in love…”

He stained your dusty, wooden floors as he strangled those wails he didn't deserve. This isn't what he imagined. He thought more words were going to be shed, but he only heard his.

His vile words that he stormed onto you.

You were ready to flatline. There was too much given, and there was no way to properly handle it. You didn't want to cry. You don't want to shout anymore. You didn't want to do anything. You wanted to daze ahead in a white space for hours.

“Please... please just say something.” His whimpers were pathetic and he knew it.

Your head turned down as the shriveled, broken man curled up. His eyes are red, either from sobbing or whatever his spider condition is. It took you a minute—a good, long minute—as Miguel dreadfully sat still, forced to endure this pitiless, silent void, but you did find the right words.

“I have work in the morning. There's the door.” You spoke in a scathing, withdrawn way, standing up to open the exit.

He froze at the mistake he had caused. Not knowing what to do anymore, he obeyed, stood up, and lumbered out the door, capturing the jaded fuzziness plastered all over you.

“I'm so sorry…”

“Yeah.”

And that was it.

You closed the door on his face and instantly collapsed onto the ground, scorching, broken tears now flowing down your face.

The light will shine no more. The dark side of the moon and burnt-out stars form nothing in the damaged skies.

Both now completely bound by the twines of endless heartache.

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

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.16<< >>Ch.18

Notes: Miguel isn't taking things very well.

CW: Rough sex, markings, oral sex (both giving/receiving), PinV, overstimulation

If anyone can tell me the name of this artist, please alert me so I can give credit where credit is fully due.

Chapter 17: I Can't Do Anything...

Word count: 7.5K

Things have certainly been off as of late. 

You picked up on it when Miguel suddenly showed up to your place around two in the morning after not hearing from him regarding the other relationships in the multitude of dimensions. You probed at him, curious to know about his search and discoveries, as he only slipped into your bed, wrapped his arms around your waist, and held you close.

Not many words were spoken that night, as Miguel only mumbled praises in Spanish against your shoulder, kissing the puncture wound, and refused to loosen his grasp.

You were lost, but you allowed him to continue as you gave admiration and affection back. 

And that's when you also noticed the regression in Miguel. 

Whenever you throw a compliment at him, he immediately dodges it or completely denies it with the most sincerest of despondency, proclaiming he isn't anything positive that you commend him for.

You would knit your brows and counterattack his negative views on himself, which only rifted him farther.

He's been hanging around your job, nearly from opening until it closed, for the past few days, doing tasks here and there that even Ronnie couldn't help but comment on. She was joking around about it first, that her underuse was finally understanding his potential as a true employee for her, but it started to slowly freak her out.

It then took a sharp turn when Ronnie arrived one hour early to work, when a gigantic, broad brooding figure loomed by the shop's door. 

Customers don't usually line up for anything here. Especially before the crack of dawn.

“What the hell?” She slowed her steps, hand in her bag, ready to mace whoever was lurking near her place of business. 

Each tread seemed heavier than the last, her eyes squinting when the sturdy physique intensely wheeled its body towards Ronnie as a pair of glowing scarlet iris sharply stared into her soul. Yanking the small bottle out, she held it up and got into a defensive stance.

“I’m not afraid to spray! So I suggest you back away, and this is my only warning!”

The character shuffled around a bit, forcing her to lift the bottle higher. “Alright, you dumbass idiot, you asked for it!”

“Sé que no tienes ninguna duda. Watch where you're pointing that thing.” A familiar voice grunted out before pushing himself off the wall.

“Miguel? What the hell, man? Why are you here so early? And why are you ominously in front of my store like some creepy stalker?” Ronnie huffed out, stuffing her weapon away and pulling out her keys.

“I'm here to surprise her before she comes in.” He slogged in after Ronnie went inside.

“By being here an hour early before her shift? If that’s the case, you could come—oh, I don’t know—five minutes in advance?” She snided, settling her things behind the counter. “So why are you really here at this forsaken hour of the morning?”

Miguel placed his sunglasses on when Ronnie strolled over and turned on all of the lights. He didn’t have a clear-cut reason as to why exactly he was here before she even clocked in. He knew he should be spending these last several moments with you, taking in any time that is left before the sand trickles to the last drops of the glass. Maybe it was for the reminiscence that would ensue once that end struck, leaving only those memories of laughter and enjoyment from this cozy premise. 

“I also wanted to do some of her tasks as well. I can help out with some organization or cleaning. I want to show my gratitude for all she’s done and... and will continue to do.”

Ronnie couldn’t help but scrunch her nose up. She was highly aware of how ridiculously cordial and fond you two were of each other, but there was something about that particular answer that set flaring alarms off in her head, and she did not enjoy it one bit. But she decided not to dawdle on it too much, for her sanity and potentially yours and his. 

“Alright then. But as this is my place and my business, you are the lowly worker who will follow and do everything I say. Got it, peasant?”

“Ay, ¿en qué me he metido?” Miguel muttered under his breath, rubbing his scalp roughly.

“You got yourself into a load of hell, that’s what.” Ronnie retorted back, making him roll his eyes. He certainly would miss this banter.

The two spent the time going through materials and antiques, with Ronnie directing Miguel on what to do and where to exactly place certain items. There were moments when they began to clash, asserting their points in a very tolerant yet quarrelsome manner.

You tiptoed in, catching the middle of the mayhem, troubled by who Ronnie could exactly be disgruntled with already. Neither of the other two employees should be in this early, so you chalked it up to Ronnie oddly squabbling with herself until you caught wind of the second voice.

“Miggy? Miggy!” You squeaked, jogging up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

He returned it, but to you, it felt unfamiliar. The hugs that used to be toasty like freshly baked cookies near a warming fire on a lightly snowing winter night were polar stiffness. Numbness of distance that you haven't seen since your first encounter. And this coldness seemingly won’t melt away.

“Mi Estrella, is everything okay? Have you been feeling under the weather as of late?”

Those eyes. Those earnest and patient eyes that you give to him whenever there is something wrong. He didn’t deserve it; he never did in the first place. But he knew it was coming; he would receive the well-deserved punishment he corroded on you and the ones that surrounded you. 

“Ah, no, mi… Luna. I’m okay. I have a migraine at the moment, so that's making me a bit sluggish.” He brushed the side of your face; your unsullied, delicate skin being touched by his horrendous, murderous claw seemed as if it were a  privilege for him. 

He will make this wrong… right.

You gave him a slight smile, kissed his arm, and knocked your head on his solid biceps. From the morning until the afternoon, Miguel barely moved away from your side. He would only leave you when you used the restroom, merely to be right back over you. 

As in the previous days, he assisted by doing heavy lifting, restocking and rearranging objects, cleaning, or whatever ridiculous projects Ronnie had him do. You couldn’t understand where this sudden altar of behavior occurred, and frankly, it was throwing you for a loop.

He trudged around, picking up the vintage items, ignoring the other customers when they would come in. Lost in his own subconscious, you wearily peered in his direction, outwardly dazed just as he was.

“Yeah, you're not the only one.” Ronnie placed her tablet away and situated her elbows on the counter. “He's fighting something; I don't know what, but whatever it is, it's kicking his behind.”

A waft of air exhales from your nostrils. What could you do? There was only so much that he allowed himself to say, but now he's been virtually distant. Yes, he's been visiting more than before, and even so, something made it appear disingenuous in a way you wouldn't be able to unravel.

“I wonder if it's something I did. I mean, I know he will usually tell me when he's upset with something, but it's that internal instinct, you know?”

“Nah, I can definitely clarify that it isn't you. It has to be a job thing or a random slump; he is a very broody and moody one.” 

“Ronnie.” You shot her a weighty caution not to continue.

“I'm just saying.” She threw her hands up in a defensive stance.

“I'm sorry, I'm utterly stressed out. I don't know what to do.” You rang up a customer and wished them a great day.

“Hey, don't be sorry; not good timing on my end.” Ronnie slouched on a wooden stool and crossed her arms. “I'm having a weird feeling. A hunch. I want to say that this doesn't concern me. I should only express so much, but I have a million and one opinions that are eager to yap and scream about this situation.”

Ronnie eyed your miserable and despairing state, taking the hint. “However, for your sake, I won't say anything. I'm sure things will be okay; maybe it's just that entire ‘bump in the road’ thing. Gotta do the whole, ‘be there for him,’ ‘time will heal and prevail,’ yadda, yadda, all that crap.”

She was trying to form that reassurance, the persuasion you acknowledged, but nonetheless, it fell completely flat on its face. 

“Look, know I'm here for you. Things like this happen, and even with my involuntary comments, you guys will push through. And besides, I don't like my favorite being down in the dumps. I can whack his senses back for you if you want.”

Ronnie alluded to a certain bat, and you couldn't help but chuckle as your boss joined in, nudging you a few times. 

“Nah, I don't think that's necessary. But, I'll let you know. Thanks, Ronnie, I appreciate it.”

“Of course, I have your back.” She gave you a side hug when Miguel meandered his way back up to the front, his eyes landing directly on you.

“I hate to go, but they need me at the HQ, mi… mi Luna. I will pick you up later on tonight, and I'll order in for us at your place, alright?”

“Yeah, that'll be good. And mi Estrella?”

Miguel forced himself to not snatch his hands away from yours when you stroked his knuckles with your thumbs. He hated this. He hated that you still give him these fragile touches, as if he's some glass waiting to break at the seams from the lightest of blows. 

Because he knew he would fracture any second.

He swallowed thickly and stared into your eyes with his cowardly, shaded ones. “Ye-yes, m-mi Luna?”

“I love you. Remember, I will be here until those lavenders and marigolds are there, and all you do and continue to do will always be enough.”

Miguel's unrelaxed mannerisms weren't subtle. You carried on that set of sparkling kindness, not allowing it to fade, and he detested it. He gripped onto that animosity; you shouldn’t merit him with that patience. That tenderness. That smile. That beautiful smile. 

“Thank you, mi luna. I will always treasure you.” Miguel pecked your forehead as his watch went off. “Tonight, see you later. And have a good day, Ronnie.”

“Yeah, thanks. Miguel.” There was a twinge of malice as she barely tilted her head in return, pretending to be busy with her tablet. Miguel scowled but immediately deadpanned. He didn’t need to cause you more pain.

You knotted at the sudden uncertainty and traction weaving through the air. You simply gave a faint simper and a courteous nod to try and falter the situation. “Miguel. Tonight, mi Estrella, tonight...”

The minute he stepped out, you groaned and reprimanded Ronnie, questioning if that was necessary, to which she responded, unapologetic, that it wholeheartedly was. 

Miguel soberly trailed back to the HQ, his sight on the piles of buildings, businesses, and citizens marching along as if all was okay. 

He was hindering this. Putting it off for as long as time will allow. The paranoia made a cozy nest; he had no plans on retiring off his brain anytime. More thoughts, more unsettling concerns, and more problems. His psyche races, speeding along to that oasis, until he hits it, only to reveal that the mirage was a cartoonishly painted brick wall of inevitability. 

He pauses in front of a certain entrance. The twists and twines of ivy, the plethora of colors burning brightly into his gaze. The low-hanging flowers were beckoning him to remember how it used to be. 

He took a singular step forward. 

Then he drew back and faced the other way, proceeding to the HQ.

Several new strings roped themselves around him.

Teeming as usual, Miguel made his way to his domain, dismissing any others who scrambled their way to him and babbling on about mindless stories or questions. Passing the many anomalies that stockpiled because of him, because of you.

That tingle was not leaving until he had to fulfill that consequence. He leered up at the monitors encapsulating the glorious hell of the multiverse. The trillions he must protect are the ones he must sacrifice his time and days for to keep everything as it should be. Climbing onto the platform, he pressed a button, eyeing the screens as he gradually ascended.

Getting back to work, disapproving of any distractions, Jess’s voice snuck up to his ears.

“Did you do it?” 

“No.” He carried on with his work, paying her no attention.

Her lips tugged into a frown, her hands in a prayer as she brought them up to her face. “Miguel, I understand this is hard for you; trust me, I do, but if we’re essentially on a timeframe, you will have to get this done.”

“I’m working on it.”

“And I get that. This must not be easy for you, and as a friend, I am truly sorry and sympathize with your pain.”

Nothing from his end, as she released an exasperated sigh. “Miguel, you have to do this. If I could, I would have helped in a way to ease the blow, but this is all on you, Miguel-”

“I know.” The pot began to bubble.

“And if what you said about your world is slowly collapsing, you have to work fast to undo this.”

“I. Know.” The water is rising.

“As much as Peter and I want to intervene, we can’t handle third parties like this. We’re trusting you. You can't dwindle.”

“I. Know!” It spilled over as he punched a hole right in his desk.

Jess closed her eyelids and fluttered them back open. “Peter and I are worried, Miguel. We are putting this faith in you. It's hard to hold onto confidential evidence as heavy as this. So, please, not as a boss but as a friend, we understand your pain, and we will be here. We just want you to make the right decisions, not wholly for us but for you as well.”

The right decision. The one he doesn't want to let go of but has to. Why? Why did this have to happen? 

Miguel dug his talons right into the bed of his hair and into his scalp. Jess only studied the broken man. She saw the signs of him drifting, but she recognized this was the only way if it was to save them all.

“You could explain why it has to happen. I don't personally know her or how much you talked to her about this, but if she's been sticking around you for a good minute, she has to be understanding.”

Jess deduced that no matter what advice she utilized, it wouldn't change anything. She originally needed to discuss Gwen's insistence on visiting the boy, but figured another day would have to suffice.

“Take it easy and ease her in. We know you can handle it.” Jess strived for that upfront attitude, a conflict swelling, but she entrusted that blind eye to him, hoping he would do the right thing.

He didn't bother to dismiss her, as she took the cue and left without another sound. He snagged the other video out from the corner, despondent by it. 

He was happy. He was loved. It was his fault for wanting to relive it. He was the fool in his own court.

Strings bounded more on his body, tightening their hold.

The room is nearly back in the lone void with that flicker of a dying light.

You and Miguel slouched on your couch, carelessly watching a random bad action film you threw on. The flashing glows from the screen were the only thing casting any light in the living room.

Half-eaten pancakes sat in two clear containers as you decided on breakfast for dinner, but you both couldn't digest them due to how hard they were on the stomach and the discomfort cramming in the air.

You did your best to bring in some enthusiasm, but ultimately stopped trying. Your energy was depleted, yet you still gave him space and warmth. Not much was exchanged during the duration of the film, and when he held you, that glacial contact wouldn't unfreeze at all.

“Miggy?”

“Yeah?” He barely looked downward to face you.

“Talk to me. I noticed things have been running through your mind as of late. Hell, even Ronnie detects something is up. I'm wondering if everything is okay. Is your job giving you crap again?”

Just as the first night you hung out, that pang of perturbation surged through him; you could feel it. You suspected it dealt with his work, and that reaction proved that you were on the right track. You tested to see how far you could stick yourself into the compacted cage he's in.

“After all this time, still? You are allowed to do what you have to do.”

“It's partially my job.” Lies.

“So they're not giving you a hard time?” You glide your fingertips up and down his arm, trying to subdue whatever was stirring in him.

“No, they are, fortunately not as much.” He hated this.

“That's good; that's good. I want to make sure you're okay. I've been worrying about you. After you crawled into my bed that night, it seems things have taken a turn.” You kissed his forearm. 

“If you're in a slump, know I'm here, alright? We will work through this. Days like these happen, but we will go at your pace. Life is taking that unexpected turn, but we will find a way to that destination.” Your giggles flowed in his ears, nearly creating a knee-jerk reaction to move you from this position.

He hates this. He despises it so much. You don't deserve this, but he keeps giving in every time. Your comforting comments have him crawling back; your gentle nature. He needs to let go; he has to for this world. 

But what has this world done for him? He gives, gives, and gives, and all it does is take, take, and take. 

Yet, that's the harsh reality. It's a give-and-give with zero receiving. Not one.

He refused to open his mouth, burying his face in the crown of your hair. The room was still chilly, but you noticed the tenacious grasp had loosened some, so it was a good start. You remained this way for several minutes when you were smacked with a thought.

“Hey, mi Estrella?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you peek in your drawer? When I did some washing the other day, I think one of your shirts shrank down a bit. Can you double-check for me?”

He only nodded and untangled himself, scooting off the sofa. You waited until he was nearly in the room and leaned against the doorframe. Miguel didn't think too much of it. Kneeling down, he opened his personal drawer, ready to see the shirt on top, when his eyes suddenly cast a blank gaze.

Records. Music that he enjoyed from his childhood, in general, and ones he learned from you, and an empty picture frame with marigolds embedded in the molding.

“Surprise! I had to hunt down some of these in the shop; it was crazy. And the other week, we got a bunch more but never looked through them. But I deliberately and thoroughly took extra time, and this batch was a really good one.”

You shifted from leg to leg. “And the framework was so pretty when I spotted it as well. It reminded me of you, as corny as it sounds. You can put whatever you like in it! Maybe a stock image of empanadas.” 

Your joke didn't even gain a smidge of a smirk as you ungainly crossed your arms.

He removed them one by one when another item rolled on the side, tucking itself into a corner. It was a dark violet bottle with lavenders decorating the paper wrapped around it.

“It helps ease the mind. A single spritz or two, and it should help with the aches in your brain. I tested it out when I woke up feeling off one night, and it made me feel so comfy, it startled me,” you chuckled. “Felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.”

Crouching next to him, you placed your head on his shoulder. “I hope you enjoy these. I thought maybe a few presents can be a pick-me-up, even if it's just for a few minutes.” 

Those soft eyes. That smile. That patient smile. Why? Why were you so gentle? Why were you so kind to him? He did damn all to deserve these moments of clarity. 

He held the items in his destructive claws and only dazed off. Why were you making this harder? Why did you have to be the one to find him that night? Why did he have to abandon his realm for this new one?

Burning blood-red eyes that have witnessed so much hatred, pain, and grief peering into ones that hold compassion. That admiring charm. That relentless amount of love.

Only for it to be gone.

A troubled look made its way onto your face. You did have second guesses about the gifts, believing it was too early to purchase things such as this when he's not in the best mindset.

“Do… do you not like them? I was thinking that it might have been bad timing, but I wanted to make sure things were oka-”

His lips were on yours. His claws energetically roam your curves and softness. Your unruly tongues collided as you enfolded your arms over his shoulders, locking your hands in place. 

Miguel pulled you both to your feet, hoisted your legs up, and forced them around his waist. He easily steadied you up and onto the creaky bed, still connected in that fierce duel. You do all of this for him. So much for a disgusting creature who is greedy and unmindful of others. 

It's only fair.

It was only fair to give you the last bout of tenderness, lust, and passion. To give any final positive emotions he had clinging onto the edge. To give it all away before it becomes another cautious tale for others to heed and understand.

It's only fair that you are granted one last act of affection from him.

You were sweet; you smelled so divine. The sugary syrup was still fresh on your lips, and your soft moans grew as Miguel grinded against you, his length growing under the fabric of his suit. He wanted to take his time. He has to; this is for you; you both will never have this again.

You pull away, sucking in an abundance of air. Your lips were puffy and red, while Miguel only watched. You started to speak until Miguel took your back in, nibbling your bottom lip, his tongue down your throat, and whirling it madly. 

Miguel has never acted this way before. You would joke around about how he's a predator who is delightful and soft to his prey, but now he evidently might have stripped away that title to be a full-blown predator. You were frightened, though highly aroused. Your hands massaged his shoulders, but it was nearly impossible to get rid of any tension in them. Finally, you managed to pry away from the starved kiss and gulp down some more air.

“Miggy, are you stressed out? If this is your way of saying you want to take out some frustration on me, all you had to do was ask.” You laughed, nudging your forehead into his.

The joyous sounds began to die down when Miguel didn't make a single peep. Those intense irises were all you mainly focused on. You were seriously fucking worried. 

“Is... Miguel, is everything okay? You haven't said much, and I want to help, but I don't know how much I'm allowed in for this-”

“I want to make love to you. Will you allow me?” He said it in an unsettling tone.

That caught you off-guard. You gaped, your mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. “I-I, I mean you can. You are allowed, yes.”

“Will you allow me to fuck you?” He commanded, but he also sounded distressed.

That severely caught you off-guard. There is something going on. Miguel is a straightforward man, but not excessively concrete when it comes to intimate moments. You primarily decide to discuss whatever was going on after; even though now would have been better, there was a desperation in his eyes.

“Yes, mi Estrella, you can, but please know we should tal- mmph!”

Once again, you were cut off by the lip lock, as it somehow amplified. His conscience was growing berserk; he had to please you. He needed to. He had to.

He ripped off your tank top. You wanted to protest, impishly pretending to be displeased, but stayed hushed. Your back arched when he harshly groped your breasts, tweaking and squeezing the nipples. He tugged and pulled them, his unsheathed claws carefully dragging against the smooth mounds, taking in your faint moans. 

Circling the areola, he bent downward, taking a hardened bud in his mouth, sucking and greedily gnawing at it. Your fingers stroke his hair, releasing a comforting sigh. 

Maybe it was the mass of stress from work catching up to him. It explains the haziness and absence in his eyes whenever you observe him in his current condition. Tapping his head, you pulled Miguel out of his trance of mindlessly moving back and forth between your breasts.

“Miggy?”

“Yes?” He popped the right nipple out of his mouth and scanned your face to see if something was wrong.

“I was thinking… When was the last time I’ve gone down on you?”

He froze. No, this isn’t what was supposed to happen. He was going to only take care of you because you needed this. He shouldn’t receive any treatment from you. 

Yet, when he stares into those tempting eyes, he wanders in, adoring the feeling of becoming lost in them.

“I-I can’t remember. Maybe a week or two ago? I–I don’t know.” He was being selfish. This is for you, not him. He fought and shoved those malicious thoughts of your lips around him. 

How your pretty little lips will engulf each inch for him. 

He mentally shook them aside.

“I want to care for you. Will you allow me to, mi Estrella?”

Internally, he's shouting, dismissing any variety of pleasure that he shouldn't rightfully have. But, to make you happy, he will do whatever pleases you because you're the one who is truly deserving.

“Ay, si, mi… mi Luna.” With no hesitation, he swaps positions, mounting you on his stomach. 

“Suit, mister, I feel you poking me with that stick.” You grinned, eyebrows wagging flirtatiously. A rising quiver of a smile nearly trailed his lips until he dropped it. 

“Don't worry, mi Estrella, I'll make sure you feel extra, extra good.” You rubbed his unseen chest, igniting that excitement in you. “Now, the suit, Miggy.”

This was your rule, and he must follow through no matter what. Removing the gear entirely, he powered down, detached his communication watch, and tossed it on your nightstand. Nothing will deflect him from this.

“There we go. Let me value and dedicate my devotion to you.” Your fingers drifted across his pecs, the curves and indents of his muscles, your mouth watering at this marbled bronze beauty of a man who lay underneath. 

You wondered if you had unknowingly sealed a deal with the devil. A contract you'll never break.

“What did I do to get you?” You tried to knead any strain from him, “Tell me what I did to get an amazing, gorgeous man like yourself on my bed, lying beneath me?”

You left feather-light kisses anywhere you could on his scarred, tanned skin, your tongue occasionally dipping into the nicks of his rough skin and creeping up to his neck, nibbling the brawny flesh. Your warm breath sends prickles down his spine, gaining a ragged grunt.

Miguel caught the rebuttals that were ready to tumble out. He’s not entitled to spoil this for you. His brain was a broken record; he replayed one thing over and over, skipping over the other lines that got lost in the track: ‘For her. This is for her. All of this is for her.’

His shaft ached for you; he tried to keep the begs in, but they taunted him. “Mi… Ah- mi Luna... por favor, necesito que me toques—I need you to—”

“Shh, yes, mi Estrella. I will take care of you.” You whispered against his chest, edging yourself down tantalizingly slowly.

He had to prevent himself from bucking and compulsively rushing you down with his hands. He could only observe your engaging lips making their way down until you finally made it to his pulsating, raging erection.

“Whoa, Miggy, I don't think I've ever seen it this prominent. Everything about you is so beefy.” You snickered, eyeing the phallus. His tip was red-hot; thick heaps of transparent fluids smothered most of the firm length, veins webbing from nearly all sides. 

“Let's see.” You tapped the glans a couple times before brushing your fingertip over the body to the base and back up. You were the paintbrush, and Miguel was the canvas. 

Sucking in air through his teeth, he keenly watched you stroking him, adding finger after finger until you wrapped around him. “You're so big, mi Estrella. I love this cock so much.”

You hummed, leaving random peppered kisses, before pumping in a steady manner. He groaned, his head writhing on the pillow. 

“There it is. Don't hold back, okay, mi Estrella?” Your hand held that rhythmic motion as the other crept its way up his meaty thigh and began to palm at his balls. 

Miguel pursed his lips as your wispy digits generated electrifying jolts. He was unfit to be touched by you. The twisting on his cock and the cupping on his sack sent his brain into a fever. 

He couldn't control his moans when your tongue found his balls, flicking and twirling between the two. He gripped the linen at the vibrations when you purred and lifted your head back up.

“Joder, Luna mía, por favor, por favor no, necesito poder cuidar de ti—Aah!”

You enveloped a quarter of him, noisily slobbering as many fluids drooled down your chin and on his trimmed pubic hair. Bobbing up and down, you cautiously squeezed his scrotum, moaning to send exhilarating thrills to him. 

“I- fuck me, I-I need, I can't-” Miguel gasped when you swallowed more until he reached the back of your throat.

You were on a mission to have him submit and relax. Placing both hands on his thighs, you sped up. Your hooded eyes peering up into his hypnotic, mesmerizing iridescent ones. Your tongue glided and swirled in spirals as you sucked in your cheeks to have it rub against them.

Miguel groaned at the warmth of your mouth, tangling his fingers into your hair, and bucked his hips. Tears rushed down as you deep-throated him like your life depended on it. 

He was so big, but you didn't care; it was just you and him, no one else. You were determined as you moved quicker, gagging yourself as the suction got louder.

He was prepared to burst; your muffled moans and his were harsh in his eardrums. Your nails pricked his tough skin, imprinting markings on them. Pushing your tongue out, you uncontrollably bobbed your head, tasting the delectable saltiness from his pre-ejaculation.

Your palms caressed his abs and proud V-line, not lessening your immediacy and craving for him to spill over, when you were hastily moved away from his cock and twisted on your back. 

His eyes were glowering, a darkened red, as he took in your disordered, foggy state. Drool and his filth were running down the sides of your mouth. 

“Mig- mi Estrella, you didn't get to—wait, wait! Miggy, let me- Miguel!”

He tore your pajama bottoms and panties off in one fell swoop and stared. It was perfect. Your murky juices shimmered on the sheets, seeping out, as you clenched at nothing. The pride that usually swarms through his veins was blocked out. He couldn't be proud of that anymore.

He moved himself between your legs, spreading them all the way, and bound them to the bed. You fidgeted, poking at the silky netting, before he took your wrists and pushed them over your head. 

“I will make you feel a way you never felt.” He snarled on your neck, forming goosebumps all over.

“O-okay.” Was all you could squeak out.

He traced phantom lines and circles against the inner thighs and outer folds, concentrating on memorizing your delicate skin and listening to your sharp breaths and drawn-out moans. He alternated between light touches and firm pressure, letting your wetness soak his fingers.

“Mi-Miggy.” Your eyelids waned in anticipation, his darkened gaze having you timidly shiver.

He brought himself to his knees and dipped his head, the air dense with temptation. Nipping and biting the soft flesh, he worked his way up and reached your heated sex as streams of wind came from his nose onto your sensitive, swollen clit. The need in your loins and stomach was heady in temperature.

“Mi–Mi Estrella!” You blurted that out louder than you thought. 

“Sé que sé.” Licking the outline of your pussy with his tongue and along the slit. Your chest heaved, hands running through his curly locks, whimpering out from the lazed movements. 

You were enjoying yourself; that’s what he wanted. What he wanted? The mental feud began to sink in.

No longer taking his time, he dove in, lapping up your sweet nectar. He slurped and flitted at every tender spot he found on your folds and labia. 

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the sudden change of mood. He is a sheer predator at this moment.

“Oh, Miggy, this pussy is all yours–mmn! 

You squeezed around his tongue as Miguel switched between rolling your clitoris with his teeth and fingers, operating in an uneven pattern. 

He melted into your sopping pussy, swashing the juices as he buried his head, wagging it fanatically. His claws penetrate your skin, generating his own engravings.

His grunts sent sparks shooting up your spine. You were in space; you could see the whole infinite universe. Your raspy pants picked up when he devoured your vagina, trembling over every sloppy taste and lap. 

“Miguel, I'm close!” You slurred in that drunken blur. Your walls tighten around the invasive, ravaging appendage.

Increasing the intensity, he sucked harder, your nails clawing his shoulders as your back curled off the bed when he pushed three of his sheathed, long digits into your hole, pumping wildly.

“Mi-Miguel, OH SHIT-”

“Mmph! Mmmn!” 

His tongue wriggled over the throbbing nub, his fingers spraying out your creaminess over his palms whenever they came into contact with your folds.

White was the only thing you saw as a powerful climax washed over. Your figure trembled as your muscles quivered and pulsated.

Hoarse cries escaped, your body shimmering in sweat, mouth open, and eyes glazed over. You are an angel to him.

“Holy- holy shit... Miggy, that was... You were an animal, I-”

You were disrupted when he intrusively gave you a rough kiss, tasting the tang on his tongue. The mesh was removed, and his sheathed hands clumsily roamed, pinched, and grasped any part of your body, wanting to savor these last moments.

“Miggy, everything will be okay. Whatever is going on, know I'm here.” You pecked his check, leaving even more on his neck.

He nearly strangled out a sob. You were so generous. Unselfish. He needed you. He wanted you one final time. 

Why was he so inconsiderate? 

“I need… I need you; please let me…”

“You can have me, mi Estrella. You always can, because I trust you.”

Several strings snapped in place.

Grabbing your leg, he bent it up to your chest, and wrapped some web around your ankle. He shot the silk to the ceiling, tugging it a couple of times to make sure it was in place. You trembled, looking up at Miguel. The fervid stare wouldn't disappear; your vision was hazy. You were displayed as he raked his eyes over your panting lips and the sweat dribbling from every gland. 

A glistering art piece in the infinite night's heavens. Art that is being defaced by his corruptive hands.

Squeezing your grappled thigh, he positioned himself once more, taking the other leg around his waist and shoving himself in one go. He rutted into you, and the bed impacted into the wall repeatedly as it clashed with your cries and shouts of pleasure.

“Mi-Miguel! Slo-slow down! Slow–ah!”

His cock was rubbing up your walls, taking in every squelch, every squish, and every drenched slapping as you constricted, squeezing the thick, veiny shaft as he thrust with his crazy speeds.

Your wetness sloshed out on his lower abdomen and thighs with every bullish lurch. The sheets were defiled with murky blotches as Miguel dug his talons into your outer thigh, a few trickles of blood seeping out. Your screams could be heard from the whole apartment floor.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

That hammering pace never lets up, his length throbbing as he remembers every part of your velvety pussy fluttering and tightening. Every cry you made, every euphoric moan because of his cock molding and overwhelming your loving, yearning sex.

The bedframe cried alongside you. Shocking jolts coursed through your veins, and drops of tears ran down your cheeks, nose, and mouth as you tasted the salty water. Miguel grunted close, nipping your earlobe and feeling his fangs graze against it.

He heard his and your hearts beating irregularly, his hip bones buckling into yours, which would surely leave bruises in the morning. The engorged cock bulging you with each fill. He needed to remember all the senseless garbles and whimpers.

This beautiful face.

Enclosing your arms around his taut, damp neck, you croaked and gasped out vulnerable and cherishing remarks.

“I love you, mi Estrella! Oh–mmn, you are wonderful to me!”

He clenched up, his hips involuntary picking up more momentum.

Don't say that.

“You deserve the world; you deserve this! You deserve it!” Your whines chimed louder.

He growled out, leaning down, and rolled his pelvis into yours uncoordinatedly and immoderately. The floorboards groan with each jolt as the bed legs scrape against the wood.

No, I'm a monster. Don't say that.

His arms crash down to each side of your head, his razor-edged fingertips slashing up the fabrics underneath. Your fluids covered both lower regions as they dripped down to your bottom and splattered on your stomach and his abs.

With foggy vision and a heavy head, you couldn't handle the overstimulation. Your brain was so far gone that you could hardly continue the enchanting praises. Eyes flickering in the back, you sink your nails in his skin, your bounded leg losing its feeling, but the battering from Miguel overwrites it as his bulbous tip abused your cervix, refusing to hold back.

“So- so good—so, so, amazing.” You slurred as he found the right spot once more. “Ah! Don't stop! Oh, Miguel, I love you!”

Why?! Don't say that! Why do you make this so damn difficult?!

A guttural, animalistic noise reverberated from his chest and throat. He tore right into your blankets and mattress. He yanked one claw out of the tattered furniture, slicing the web, as you yelped at your limb suddenly collapsing back on the bed.

“Miggy!”

He picked you up by the sides, propping himself on his knees and lodging his clawed feet in the bed. He hooked your legs around his waist and lower hip. You didn't loosen your hold on his neck, as his robust arms kept your back sturdy, his chest against yours.

He pressed a kiss against the puncture wound, erupting back into his beastly action.

His balls striking against your ass, your melodious moans and raw whines, his low groans and husky rasping, and the crashing collisions of your sticky, soaked bodies resounded all over the rooms.

You would put any orchestral symphony to shame.

You took every inch. You were able to be molded by him. He will look back on your beautiful expressions from every passionate session. He will think back on how he was the one to make you float and feel these incredible sensations.

“Miguel! Mi Estrella! I-I can't keep–Aah!”

“Fuck—mmn- fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Those screams, those dilated pupils, the dribbles of spit, tears, and sweat raining down on your face and body.

This body. He will never forget your body.

A carnal, maniac tempo set further, his cock ramming into your insides. He will recall how you perfectly squeezed for him or how he rubbed your g-spot so nicely to elicit more raspy wails for the Gods above.

“I love you! Oh Miguel!”

I'm so sorry.

He will never forget your love. He will never disregard these tender and compassionate moments with you.

He captured your lips. Your tongues in a slow, mellow waltz, despite the contrast of the barbaric movements. Placing his forehead on yours, he choked back another sob. He will miss this display of affection.

“I'm close! I'm close! I'm–I'm- Miguel!”

You screeched out, shockwaves convulsing from head to toe. Goosebumps took over as you shivered and clamped around Miguel, whose thrusts were irregular as he neared his release.

He will miss you taking every drop of him. He will miss how you devoted a part of your life to him.

He will never forget the kids that ran through his head. In that ever-growing garden of beauty and goods, with your smile and his eyes.

Miguel shuddered and roared out, shooting thick webs of white deep into your core. He didn't stop until he was empty, and every vile string painted and coated every part of your walls.

You whined when his fangs pricked your neck, essentially stabbing at it. He didn't let up either. He remained this way for a few moments as blood ran down your shoulder. You were fully immobilized.

Pulling out, he licked and cleaned the wound, slowly laying you down. Streams of his essence spilled out until he forcibly gathered a satisfying amount and shoved it back into you.

“Mi... Mig... I love... you... you are a... laven…”

You couldn't move a single thing, not even your eyes. He inserted a good amount. You listened to your heart palpitate in your eardrums. In the morning, things can be discussed and disputed.

He only stared at your spent and limp body, covered in bruises, marks, scratches, and hickies. He skimmed over at the shredded covers and mattress, and dents now left on your wall. The floor must be damaged and streaked.

There was no clarity. There are no remedies for this tormenting misery. Only disgust, bile hatred, and disdain for the cardinal sin he imposed on you.

Strings covered his legs and lower torso.

The intoxicating aroma lingered in the atmosphere, his nose picking up every scent of your lovely fragrance and his putrid stench.

He slid off the bed and into the bathroom, coming out with freshly dry and damp rags and a tube of pain ointment. He intensively wiped and cleansed your body, applying the cream over the scars he caused.

You evidently appeared relaxed. Your chest was rising in a gradual, even sequence, as you were fast asleep. You're at peace. You've been tainted for the last time. 

Miguel snared, then went vacant. That itch was heightening, or was that guilt? He imposed an act so heinous, an act so atrocious for his true motives. He couldn't keep doing this to you. Disturbing you with his recklessness in a falsified manner that he disguised as devotion, fondness, and appreciation…

I'm so sorry, mi Luna…

He stroked your cheek, hot teardrops streaming down from the tip of his nose onto your beauty. He took in every feature, from every lash to every perfection you found imperfect. This is what he wanted to retain the most of. Being able to gaze upon this gentle, compassionate, and divine soul one last time. 

Especially after such an undignified exploitation.

He leaned his forehead on yours and let a tortured cry out. 

“I'm so sorry, Mi Luna. For all the burdens I have borne. You won't have to bear them any more.”

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

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

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#miguel o'hara #tales the songs weave #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel smut #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv #miguel o'hara x you

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.15<< >>Ch.17

Notes: Miguel takes a look into the other universes that you both reside in.

Chapter 16: Then You Dream Awake...

Word count: 7K

As days coasted by, the agitating feeling never deserted its place. It stationed and wedged itself so deeply that roots began to sprout out in all wavering directions. Not only down under, but also creating these rhizomes above.

Miguel was irked to no end by this strange instinct. 

He would disregard it by piling massive loads of work on himself or others, a way to keep his mind churning on extra things.

Or his favorite distraction: spending time with you.

At one point, he offered to have you spend the week at his apartment. An excuse to be closer and keep his brain at bay instead of questioning the inner mechanisms continuously running because of this unfound cipher.

You gladly accepted it in exchange that he brings you into work without generating major whiplash if he uses his Spider-Man abilities.

It only lasted one day. You decided to start calling a cab in advance.

Patting your stomach, you lay aimlessly on the wooden floor next to his mattress, head turned towards the metropolitan lights that are ready to overtake when the dusky skies vanish into the dark, as Selena's harmonics naturally echo all around.

“Mi Luna? Why are you lying down there?” 

“I don't know. Decided on a whim, so here I am.” 

You stood up and teetered over to him. Wedging your face in between his pecs, you release a lengthy sigh.

“Everything okay?” His tone brimmed with concern.

"Yeah, everything is fine; I'm feeling absolutely cuddly. I'm surprised you're here early; you usually come in around one.”

He would end up getting caught up in his labors, rushing to get back to you as swiftly as humanly possible. However, without fail, there was always a circumstance that inconvenienced him, prolonging the unwelcome separation.

How the other spiders managed to have piss-poor timing whenever he was ready to leave infuriated him to the point of no return.

"I decided to give myself a second break to eat dinner with you. I asked my secondary to take over for the next hour.” He caresses his retracted claw through your hair.

“Jess, right?”

“Yes. Jess.”

“Did you ask?” You took his hand and brushed your thumbs across the back.

“About?”

You poked his nose and grinned. “Her pregnancy; remember the deal we made?”

Miguel creased his lip in a thin line, sheepishly scratching the side of his stubbled cheek.

“Uh. Yes?”

“It's always good to check in on your employees, Mr. O'Hara.” You caroled out, tickling underneath the left side of his abs.

He started to squirm, wanting to hold on to that roar of hysteria. He regrets you finding, and now exploiting, his weak spots so easily. You couldn't help but smugly blow a raspberry, giving a chuckle under your breath.

“Now, hopefully that'll be a good reminder for you, mister.” You poked his stomach a few times when you noticed he wasn't saying a word.

“Migu- Miggy! Put me down! White flag! I wave it!”

Miguel slung you over his shoulder, smacking your butt a few times. Slapping his back a few times, you giggled like a mad woman.

“Punishment, mi Luna. You try to utilize my weaknesses, so you have to face the consequences.” He pushed his bedroom door wider and carried you over to the couch.

“You know, this is also a great view of your behind. It's so well-defined.”

You lightly bounced on the sectional couch, your eyes longingly gazing into those brownish-cerise ones.

“You really like looking at it?”

“I have my secrets that I prefer to keep.” 

“Then I'll be taking that answer as a yes.”

His lips were on yours, tongues lazily winding around as Miguel's hands found your wrists, pinning them to the arm rest. Lowering his taut body on your softer one, he placed kisses on your forehead down to the chin.

“Eres hermosa, ¿lo sabías?”

“As much as you say it, I may start to believe it. But I know I'll never reach that beautiful Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes and pried you into his lap. “You are the most beautiful being in the multiverse, and that is final. Yes sir?”

“Sir, yes, sir, mister boss man, sir.” Your tone deepened to mimic his voice, giving a mock salute as Miguel griped about how he doesn't sound remotely like that.

The routine you two created flowed so smoothly; even in a different environment, it fell so easily into place.

Miguel brought two containers of empanadas and two glasses of red wine over, settling right next to you. You chattered about his job and about how you spent your day off.

“I did some cleaning up in here; you don't mind, do you?”

“Isn't that something that should be asked first? You disorganized my organization.” He smirked before taking a giant bite out of his pastry.

Your eyes widened in horror as regret washed over you. Did you actually screw up and mess up his pattern? Was he keeping all his stuff scattered about on purpose?

Dropping your meal in the to-go box, you started to scramble up to go toss his stuff all back around before his burly claws sturdily held your waist.

“Cálmate. Estoy bromeando; I'm joking. I never have the time to clean, so I appreciate it.”

“Right, sarcasm. It nearly gave me a heart attack.” You whined, plopping yourself back on the couch.

Miguel's smirk never dropped as he chewed. "So, what did you do?”

“Well, I washed your clothes and folded them up. I even made a drawer for some of my stuff.” 

“That's reasonable. Maybe I'll start leaving surprises in it like you do for me.”

You beam and munch on the fried goodie. You cleared out space for him in one of your dresser drawers due to how often he stays over. And there will be times you'll pick up his favorite snacks or small everyday items you'd believe he'll enjoy.

Just the little things that bring him comfort.

As the album continued on in the background until reaching the last note, you and Miguel ate in comforting silence. Inner peace slithered in his soul. Your presence was enough to wash away a bit of grief from the workdays.

How he loves it.

Peering over at Miguel, who was too busy chowing down the rest of his food, a lightbulb went off in your head.

“Hey, Miggy.”

“Mhm?” 

“Want to see this cute spider I found online the other day? They were so adorable!” 

“Sure.” Miguel glanced to see you pulling out your phone, pressing the touch screen a few times with a gigantic grin on your face.

Bringing the phone video out of sight, you pretended not to know where you exactly saw the photo when the timer indicated it was recording.

“Okay, I found it. Ready to see? It reminded me of you.”

“It did; did it now?”

Dragging yourself over to him, you held the phone up so the camera was on the both of you. “There he is! The cute spider! Isn't he the most endearing, loving creature you've ever seen?”

Squirming, you kicked your legs jovially as Miguel posed a sulking leer towards the device, but the edge of his lips quirked up, giving away his phony act.

“Come on. I know you wanna smile! You walked right into it, mi Estrella!” You nuzzled yourself into his neck, gleefully kissing it a few times.

He broke and began to let out a few snickers until it turned into full-blown laughter. “Alright, alright. That was a good one, mi Luna. I guess I'm a cute spider, as declared by you.”

You squealed at that. “I now have that officially on video of you saying you're cute! I will never get rid of it!” You both share another laugh before simmering down.

“You are a minx, you know that?”

“But you like it. You can't deny that.” 

“I'm neither confirming nor denying it, mi corazón. I have my secrets I prefer to keep.” He steals a kiss from your soft lips, pressing his forehead on yours before pulling away. 

“That's also in the video.” 

“Bueno.”

Your smiles never leave as you end the recording, promptly sending it to him. The minute he received it and downloaded it, he called out an unfamiliar name.

“Lyla!” He yelled out.

“Ly-Lyla?”

In a split second, the tiny hologram appeared out of thin air. “Yo.”

You yelped before your mouth parted, blankly scanning the small woman who emerged out of nowhere.

“The video that was just sent, upload it to my main monitor.” 

“Can do, boss.” She waved her hand before tilting down her heart-shaped glasses and releasing a low whistle. “So this is the beauty Miguel has been ravaging over for the past few months.”

“Lyla, don't start–”

“It's finally nice to meet you! I'm Lyla, but I'm sure Miguel has told you all about me.” She batted her eyes, her interlocked fingers placed under her chin.

You shook your head back and forth, still awe-struck by the floating woman.

“What?! You've mentioned Peter B., but not your faithful companion?! I take full-on offense to that!”

She stuttered over to you, eyeing you up and down, causing Miguel to pinch the bridge between his nose and growl out.

“Look, I'm sorry. Please upload the video and go."

“It's uploaded, you old man. Let me get a good look at ya. How did you manage to snag this one, Miggy? She's obviously out of your league.”

You wrinkled your nose at that. “I like to think it's the other way around.”

“Nah, you are definitely a ten, and he's about a two on a good day.”

“Lyla!” Miguel swiped at her, only causing her to jump closer.

“What? I'm purely telling the facts. Hey, Miguel, did you finally clean your place? It's about time. Oh, wanna hear a fun factoid about spiders?”

“I will shut you off in the next five seconds if you don't leav-”

“Did you know spiders are fastidious creatures when it comes to cleanliness? They take pride in it. It's also not the only thing that they're exact about, if you get what I'm saying.”

She wags her eyebrows as you shrank into the sofa, clearly taken back by the vulgarity of the woman. It was now time to add Lyla to the list of people—well, people and seemingly A.I.—not to have in one room.

“Lyla, leave! You're making us uncomfortable.” Miguel held back, knowing she was being vindictive and using you as a shield for herself.

“I'm solely assessing who she is. That's all, Miggy. If he ever bores you, you can always eat him. The female spiders gracefully kill the males if they are not feeling their dosage of satisfaction.”

You didn't know what to do at the moment. Miguel was swearing at his creation in Spanish, two seconds away from activating sleep mode on her.

“She isn't a spider!”

“I know! I'm just teasing. Joshing with you. You know this, Miguel. But fine, I'll go; next time, sprinkle a few things about me. Bye now, gorgeous.” She winked over in your direction as your torrid gaze barely dropped.

“Goodbye. Lyla.” Miguel hissed through his teeth, baring his fangs.

After a few seconds of quietness, Lyla opened her mouth one final time. “Also, spiders are some of the freakiest sex deviants you'll ever know. Okay, bye!”

Miguel slapped his claws over his face as a groan of anguish muffled through him. “¿Por qué yo? ¿Por qué creé eso?”

“She is quite the… character.”

“Quite the annoyance. I have days when I regret creating her. She's so set in stone, I keep forgetting about wanting to rearrange her coding to be less... that.”

“I wonder if the other Miguels made Lylas precisely like yours.” You rested yourself on the back of the cushions. “I've been thinking about that lately. What the others are like in their relationship.”

He decompressed into the sofa as well, winding down after that ordeal. He eyed your face, waiting for the thoughts to trickle out some more.

“Ever since you told me that it's possible that there are others like me, I wonder what their personalities are. Are we similar? Or is it way different? Would it be rude to snoop? Take a quick peep into their daily lives, even if it's for one day.”

Miguel wasn't alone in that circle now that your interests are seemingly peaking about the different variants. Maybe he will glimpse into it now that you're in his life.

“I can do it and tell you what happens.”

“You can?” The excitement radiating off you was strong.

“Si. Remember, I keep watch of the multiverse.”

Your giddiness ramped up as you rambled on about the potentialities of what he might discover. He got lost in you and your tendencies, which sparkled in those wondrous eyes. He couldn't lie; he shared the same eagerness.

For the entire rest of the evening, you envisioned what they'd be like–if they were going to be as cheesy and romantic as you two. Maybe even deeper into the domestic lifestyle.

He wondered if there were any kids in those realms.

When the week was over, Miguel safely walked you back to your apartments, per your request, with him promising to check in on Jess and search for alternate universes of the relationship.

However, an entity severely wanted him to suffer. It was horrendous to find any time to do any research for you two. Whenever he was primed to start, an anomaly would abruptly develop. Or Gwen would burst through his office, pleading to visit him, causing a full-blown meltdown of arguments. Or Jess would come in being strangely cryptic while lending out daily reports.

Or that huge, gut-wrenching sense that would not go away.

There was always something. The never-ending hell.

Whenever he needed a mandatory cooldown, he turned to two special videos.

Him and his osita. And him and his Luna.

If he couldn't text you or you were overly busy, his eyes were glued to that screen when permitted. The ones who kept him going. The reason he's doing this in the first place. The motives to continue on. Seeing those smiles never failed to warm his heart.

He is truly devoted.

Then finally, the day arrived when his office was completely noiseless. Devoid of any interference or laborious activities, he checked his surroundings one last time, completely determining that all signs were clear for him to safely check.

He sent a quick message to you, prompting that his investigation was now ongoing, and you excitedly couldn't wait to hear the outcomes.

Beginning his search, he typed away until he located ones that contained both him and you and what would be interesting to share. He stumbled on a good chunk of you existing across a strew of dimensions. One was the owner of a bakery and bookstore; another was a substitute teacher for kindergarteners who was begged by the students to be full-time (how befitting); and one was a freelance programmer who does impromptu jobs whenever she wants to help her community; that would certainly catch your attention. Yet, the one that caught his eye was one where you're a STEM employee for Alchemax. 

Even in other worlds, you were finding ways to spread compassion.

Diving in a bit more, he decided on checking in with the scientist variant.

“Working for Alchemax in this one. She will definitely be in shock.” He chuckled, clicking around the screen some more and bringing up files and video feeds. “Though I don't recall if this one is dangerous.” 

Locating live footage of her, he was absorbed in her movements, watching her pour liquids into vials, taking notes, and ripping back and forth. She was on a roll.

“She still has that high-spirited energy.” He grins to himself, shaking his head.

Eyeing her for a few more minutes, the lab door for the room opens. The body was covered by the barrier, but with how she began to positively react, Miguel took a wild guess at who it might be.

“Guess I'm working for Alchemax. Though I swear this variant left this place, I wonder if he saw her and wanted to come running back. I wouldn't blame him.” His eyes were permanently glued to the screen.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, ushering for the person on the other side to come in.

Miguel, who was ready to cringe from seeing himself in that stupid lab coat that was always too tight for his body, intently surveyed the scene as the figure stepped more into frame. His heart raced, a smile taking over his usual grouchy demeanor.

He was going to see his moon and him together. Knowing he is admired, seen, and wanted by her–

The man who trudged in didn't even look remotely close to him.

He was tall, yes, but he was more slim and toned. Shaggy hair and big round glasses. He was okay, appearance-wise. He wasn't a ‘handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway;’ it was some arbitrary average Joe.

“¿Qué demonios?”

Maybe there was something wrong; obviously, this version hasn't met Miguel yet, and their affection will surely blossom in the future. So, he checked in on the others, and the results were staggering.

Your teacher variant was single, with no signs of having any acquaintance with him. He hunted through that version's contact list, and nothing arose from it. The freelancer knew of him and was made aware when they collaborated on a project together, but yet, those copies barely picked up any forms of communication after it was completed.

The more and more he searches, the more confusion shoots up. Where is he? Where was he? Each one he surveys exhibits that there are Miguels in the universes you both reside in, so why aren't any of them with you?

Something isn't right. Something wasn't right. Something was wrong. This was wrong.

He frantically tapped away on his keyboard. Holo-screens swiped left and right in a deranged manner.

Not together. With someone else. Negative. Not close. Never met. So near, yet so far.

Wrong.

Wrong.

WRONG. This was all WRONG. 

Searching. Locating. Pinpointing. Uncovering. There's nothing. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING.

He found one. One more. One last one. You worked in a small sandwich shop. He frequents this restaurant in this dimension. Surely, surely, this would calm that itch. That sixth sense.

Please. He prayed. Please.

They do. They thankfully speak to one another. He eavesdropped.

One. Only one.

He needs one to help solidify it all. To help ease him. To do what he believes could be causing that to happen. Go. Away.

They seem oddly distant. Is it an ordinary, basic customer and employee interaction? Though they seemed to know each other well, the air was tense and cold. Weirdly stressful.

“Lyla! Turn up the volume!”

Your voice filled the space, strained and full of melancholy.

“Here you go.” 

“Thank you.” Miguel grabbed the bag and awkwardly stood in place.

“So, how is your day treating you?” She pretended to act busy by straightening up the counter.

“About the same as every other day. You?” Miguel eyed her, a glint of longing in his hold.

“Same on this end. Still taking it day by day, you know?”

“Yeah. I get it.” 

Dreadful silence.

“Um, how is she?” She restocked some cookies, doing everything in her power to not cry.

“Who? Oh… we're fine, I guess. Three months? I think.”

“Four months. You've been together... four months.” 

“Right. Four.” Miguel's shoulders slumped.

More silence.

“I should be heading out. Thank you for the sandwich. Are you sure you don't want me to pay?”

She waved her hand and stuck out her tongue. “Nah, it's only a few bucks coming out of my pay. I'll survive.”

“You say that every time, but they're going to start adding up.” He smirked, moving closer to the counter.

“Ooh, four dollars and some change. So much, oooh.” She giggled, making him laugh as well.

“Hey, that could go towards milk. I'm completely letting you know that four dollars could go a long way.”

“Like for a sandwich?”

“Like a sandwich.” He shook his bag.

They were suddenly an inch apart.

Miguel could feel their hearts beating.

“Right. So, I'll see you tomorrow?” She was ready to cry.

“Yeah. Tomorrow, mi gati- friend. Tomorrow… friend.” He had to fight the urge not to stroke her cheek.

“Yeah… friend.”

Miguel turned it off. He couldn't take it anymore. It couldn't be. There was no way. He refused to believe it, but it made perfect sense. That hunch. That itch. That feeling…

It was for you. For this relationship.

It explains the anomalies—why things were going too well for him but not around him. They were warnings. But he ignored them. He was selfish and disregarded the clear-cut signs.

You aren't supposed to be together. You never were. 

This isn't canon.

He knew it. That was the sixth sense.

Miguel suspected it had to start when he randomly left the HQ during the system maintenance check. He would never leave like that. Never! Clearly, something was knocked off course when he did that.

So why? Why would he randomly step out? He would have gone back to his room and prepared for the next day. Miguel's mind was on a rampage, with many questions being formed but no answers being given.

He messed up. He fucked up. He thought it'd be okay if he didn't say those words; everything would have been fine. Everything should have been fine.

His scalding, distressed eyes landed on you. That smile. That merriment you hold. The patience. The care.

That love. The love was all wrong. That love that's not supposed to be.

It's happening again. He's killing them again.

His body shook, and his talons grated the desk harsher than before. His bags, the fear if anyone saw him in plain sight. Hot tears threatened to prick from the side of his face. Was it for him? The world? You? Or all three?

“Miguel.” 

He stiffened. He didn't need this. Not right now.

“How are you doing, Miguel? Everything going well?” Jess aimed to sound comforting, but it was too lukewarm.

When he didn't reply, she pursued it, needing to get this out of the way. “I was going to ask how the coding and inventions were coming alone. I know I've said things like that take time, so I'm here for any sort of upda-”

“They're fine. Now leave.” His tune is colder than ever before.

Jess rubbed her stomach to console her nerves. She wasn't trying to attack; she only required facts to help him out. Not because he was her boss, but because he was also a friend.

It was time to rip off that bandage.

“When are you going to tell us who she is?”

Jess leaned on the nearby wall, crossing her arms. Buzzing and beeps swept along the room.

“What?” Miguel suddenly seemed warm and clammy.

“Here, let me rephrase it. When were you going to tell us who she was?”

Miguel knotted up even more at the words, as if someone had jabbed him with one thousand knives.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Nuh-uh, no. Don't play me for a fool.” Jess held her hand up, the other firmly on her hip.

“I'm going to skip right to the point altogether, for both of our sake.” A tired yet merciful exhale escaped from her. She regrets not having Peter with her.

“Over the past couple of months, there have been recent sightings of you bringing in an unknown woman into the facility. As you know, Miguel, we try to keep up to date with who visits and exits the building as much as possible.” Jess brought her watch up into view, her fingers moving at quick speeds.

“Searching through, I took note of her and came to the conclusion that she was never seen entering the front. Although there are many instances of her coming in through another way.” 

“How's your pregnancy, Jess?” There was viciousness, a cutting malice in that question. And she knew. 

“Fine. Almost seven months.”

Not even Miguel's talons could sever through this tensity. 

“Miguel, you're going to have to talk about this.”

“Why the hell should I? What is even there to talk about?” 

He knew he shouldn't stall. He shouldn't bother. There was essentially no point anymore. Yet his pride, his dignity, and his need to still protect you from any type of risk slunk into the depths.

"Miguel, we both know. There's video footage of you sneak-”

“Why are you so motivated to check those cameras all of a sudden? How do you know it was even me?”

“Miguel, don't make this harder. Even a rookie caught you bringing the woman in.”

“Why the hell was that rookie even going back into a restrictive area? You're declaring all these damn rumors like they're facts, but not once have you shown any evidence proving that any of that facetious gossip is even blatantly tru-”

“Oh, you want the proof? I have the proof. Here, let's start with that little slip-up of the restrictive area comment.” 

Miguel punched his desk repeatedly. There was no way off this long-winded hellscape of a ride he's been forcibly strapped in. 

“I didn't specify where the rookie had seen you tiptoeing around, but I will happily correct you. They caught you sneaking her in on your floor near your room. They couldn't remember the layout of the guests hallway and would accidentally take the turn too late. And they told me for those two weeks they kept getting lost; every other day, there was you and some ‘Spider-Woman’ sliding into your room when you believed no one was watching.”

“Who told you?”

“To protect them from you, I'm not saying a word. Now, to the restrictive area. You seem to have forgotten some things, Miguel.”

She clicked her watch as a recording of you and Miguel in clear view, making your way towards the hidden door and strolling in. 

“That's only one instance.”

She flicked to another clip. Then another. Then another. 

He turned back towards the monitor, eyeing that video of you two. 

“Miguel, there's a security cam that you personally installed back there. Even though you didn't add any more to the rest of that area because you and I were the only ones aware at the time, you did that for reassurance.”

He hated this. He was loathing this.

“Why the fuck do you have access to this?” His voice gained that grief-stricken anger. 

“You told Lyla and me that if you ever were to leave, I would access nearly everything with a few exceptions. Me being given rights to security footage is not one of those exceptions. And you've been leaving a lot as of late.”

He threw a monitor a meter behind Jess, glass broken into a million shards. He was pissed at himself. Pissed off at Jess for snooping into his business because, God forbid, he lives a normal life in a normal relationship once again.

He wanted all of this to stop. How he hates that he still wants you. That he still misses her. That he still wants to build up the apocryphal fairy-tale that latently roams.

“Look, if you want to be with her, that's fine, Miguel. That's your outside life and personal business.” She let her arms down in a way to tell him that she didn't want any harm. That she wants him to be straightforward and honest with himself and everyone else.

“But what you won't do is disregard your work, but ridicule and attack us when we do the same. That's not how it's going to work.” Jess checked her watch. She sent a message to a certain spider during her presentation, praying that he'd be here soon.

Miguel didn't say a single word, which made Jess grunt out in frustration, but she tried to cling onto that wink of patience.  

“So, what we can do is start with your classes that you never took. We can get you in there and maybe bring her up as well, or hand her guides and pamphlets, giving a quick run-down on how these things will g-”

“It won't matter.”

An eerie stillness pricked the air as Jess’s spider sense started to tingle.

“Miguel… what do you mean it won't matter?”

You were beautiful. He was happy. A strong happiness he hasn't had in so long. Your laugh. The way you looked at him. Full of want. Full of love. Love.

Love.

A connection he isn't supposed to go through. Happiness, elation, and being wanted are one thing. Love. Love is all of it combined. Love is at the center of everything.

And now that love is once again going to be their death.

He glanced over his shoulder at Jess, a vigilant, nervousness engraved on her face as she was met with a dismal yet mournful gaze from him before he turned back.

“Miguel. What is the problem? What the hell is happening?” Jess's eyes jutted to her device, then back up to him. She should've had Peter here from the get-go. Not when it's too late. She invoked whatever Gods was listening to have him swing in any minute.

Miguel stood contemplating. Maybe it could be the death of others. These spiders could leave whenever their senses would go off, so nothing was preventing them from escaping. His vision stayed affixed to your face. He could find a way to save you. Just you and him. 

He could create a watch for you and transport you both into another universe where no one would bother with what you both built. You two can be happy somewhere else. You both could go anywhere. As long as you were together, that's what would matter. That's all that will truly matter. This was his second chance.

Then he heard the laughter from her. From his Gabi. The main reason.

He couldn't do it again. He couldn't bear to go through it again because of his selfishness. Even though it wasn't his fault. He didn't know it would happen; he didn't mean for it to happen.

But it did. He did cause it. They're gone, and she's gone because of him. And he refuses for you to be in that same boat as well.

“Miguel, answer me. What is going on-”

“I messed up. It's happening again.”

“What is happening again? Why are you suddenly being cryptic, Miguel?”

He balled his claws up, the sharp tips digging into his palms. As he fully turned his attention towards a now overly concerned Jess.

“The world... this world is unraveling as we speak.”

Jess felt her heart suddenly stop and crumble into her stomach. Surely she misheard him. He was clearly mistaken. She was clearly mistaken.

“Miguel, I think I might not have heard you correctly.”

“No. You heard every word. My world is slowly dying, Jessica.” 

Jess knew he was being serious.

“I shouldn't have started anything with her. I shouldn't have given in, but I did. I was inconsiderate. I was self-centered, self-inflicting these pains because I only wanted to experience them. She made me feel it again. She did.”

Jess desperately needed Peter. “Miguel, please just tell me why this girl is connected to your world suddenly unraveling. Is she an anomaly? Is she exactly from here?” 

She hated how his platform was elevated to the highest point. She wasn't like E-616, who would fling himself up all willy-nilly; she would never go to him, but in this moment, she was prepared to break that stance.

Miguel wanted to weep. Not for him, not for the world, but for what will have to happen.

“She is from this world, but that's the problem. What she did doesn't align with my canon. So now the world doesn't know if she's supposed to fit with my canon or not.” 

Jess furrowed her brows together, contemplating what was frighteningly warned. “Miguel, do you know this for a fact? Have you looked into any of this?”

“I've seen this, Jess. You know I've witnessed this first-hand.” 

“Yes, but have you specifically checked? Are you absolutely sure?” 

“I don't need to check to know it's happening. I knew something was wrong the moment I left. Everything that's been happening isn't on track anymore.”

“But there isn't definitive, concrete proof, Miguel. If this girl you've been seeing is from here, in this dimension, then why would she be the one to cause a catastrophic event such as your world unrav-” 

“Because of the others, we aren't meant to be. We never were.”

She gave a dejected look, or maybe it was masked to contain the pity she truly felt for him. Her mouth tightened thinly, her eyes pretending to observe everything around her, but she refused to fall on him.

“Miguel, maybe there's a miscalculation. There has to be something you missed.” 

“I know what I saw. I know what it's trying to tell me. I should have listened from the start.” Miguel thought he could hold back. He sincerely believed that he could hide those miserably painful emotions he's suffering through. 

“I have to make things right... I have to fix this, always. I always have to–I have to get rid of her. It's the only way.” 

Jess was stunned as she impulsively grappled her way up to him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hey, hey! Miguel, let's not do anything regrettable now! That's not the Spider-Man code of ethics. We don't-”

“I'm not going to kill her! You honestly believe I would stoop that fucking low?!”  

There was an artificial, livid veil impressed on his face, but when she stared into his sunken eyes, there was a paranoid, repentant gloom. She saw the visible heartbreak in them, as if he was struggling to hide it or not. 

For a split second, her eyes traveled to the glowing PC. Two videos were played, but you were the ones in main focus. Jess hasn't seen him laugh like that. A smirk here or there, but nothing to that extent. 

“Miguel, I-I don't–”

“No! You don't know! You won't know!” The sudden visible switch. 

His eyes were crazed and widely dilated, training that ballistic aggression all over her. “That experience, this agonizing pain, this—”

“Jess, I'm here! I got caught up in trying to put Mayday to sleep, so that took longer than... expected.” 

Peter shriveled at the jarring, bitter cold nuances casting throughout.

Miguel's head circled over to the spider before his attention was directed back to Jess. His sanity was slipping away. Millions of convictions and assumptions stormed through every fissure and rift in his head. The affliction resonating for his secondary was boiling over faster than he could contain it. 

“What the hell is this? Why the hell is Peter here?”

“Miguel, please listen. Yes, this may come off as distasteful, but I told Peter to come here when I needed help–”

“Needed help with what?! Cornering me and intervening in my relationship?!” Miguel smashed his control panel, forming perfectly ruptured webs on the surface.

“No, that is the last thing I wanted to do, Miguel. I wanted to help you make it work.” 

“¡Maldito mentiroso!” He ripped cords out of nearby machines and threw a few monitors at the walls.

“Miguel! Jess wanted to talk to you about finding ways for you and your lovely girlfriend to stay togeth-”

“She's not my girlfriend.” He rasped. A sharp pain skewered through his heart when those damned, cursed words left between his lips.

Deaden nothingness. A stifling grip caught them all by the throat.

Peter's brown eyes widened in blatant shock, a hint of skepticism within, knowing that what Miguel announced was a bold-faced lie. 

“She. Isn't. Anything.” He failed that reiteration as his voice cracked.

“I-I can't, no, I won't believe that, and you know this, Miguel.” Peter straightened his back, raising a shaky but determined finger at his lovestucken boss.

“The times I have come in here to you going back and forth, anxiously wanting to visit her, with a blazing passion for wanting to do these amazing things for her, were nothing to turn a blind eye to. Miguel, you love this woman; we both know this. To the point where you were leaving your post to see her! You've never done anything like that before her!”

“And that's the problem!” Miguel marched dementedly on his platform as Jess managed to vault carefully off the metal platform, landing safely next to Peter. 

They watched the grief and panic emanate. Peter hasn't seen Miguel like this since the incident. He conjured up ways to talk him out of this high, but nothing could specifically be placed into full sentences. Jess didn't even know how to handle this, and she usually had a hold on him when he started fuming up into these paroxysms of blowouts. 

The two side-eyed each other, reading one another's thoughts on what to exactly say or do next that could even slightly help their friend out. But nothing they could think of seemed like the correct response.

He was heaving uncontrollably; anxiety settled and took over. Everything was a fog; figures and objects seemed distant and rippled. He was eyeballing you again.

That laughter. That smile. Your beautiful smile. 

That warmth. His smile. His laughter. 

That warmth he feels. He felt. 

He can no longer have it. He can no longer feel it. 

He can't lose it. He doesn't want to. 

He has to.

“And why is that a problem, Miguel?” Peter found that courage, sensing that spiral overbearing his boss. His friend. “Why is it that all of a sudden doing normal, everyday things unexpectedly becomes a problem, Miguel?”

“We aren't supposed to be together! We never were!”

“Says who?!” 

“The canon! My canon! I looked and looked and looked, but in each universe, we aren't meant to be! She is—it's unraveling my world as we speak because I'm with her.”

“How do you know it's unraveling for sure?” Peter wasn't backing down. He refused to back down, prepared to oppose any premises Miguel would throw. “Have you looked into this?”

“You've seen this, Peter! You, of all people, have witnessed this. Do not try and sit here and act like-”

“So you're just going to take this at face value? You're allowing this certain concept to win? This particular predestined faith is saying you can't be with her because other Miguels aren't with her?”

Peter hurtled himself up to Miguel, Jess alerting him to quit while he's ahead, but was downright ignored. 

Both spiders stood ground, encircling one another until a singular point was made. A spurning endeavor befallen. Peter wasn't giving in to that. Miguel wasn't giving into him. 

“I'm not going to have you tear something like this down, Miguel. I'm not.”

“Peter, you don't get it. It has to be done.” Miguel's fangs revealed a cautionary hint for him to stop now.

“Nothing has to be done just because you've only seen a narrow path. You basically said you didn't even check to see if it was true! Maybe there's a reason you two aren't together yet in the others. Keyword–yet.” Any threat was brazenly overlooked.

“You don't understand!”

“Then what do I not understand, Miguel?! Tell us what we're not understanding!” Peter argued back, generating a vicious, choking growl from Miguel as he shoved his main screen in Peter's face.

“I got too attached! Just like with my osita! I. Got. Too. Close!” His voice swarmed the office as Jess faintly blenched at the wrenching roar.

“I got attached and- and this is what caused it. This is what caused her world to disappear. I can't show any signs, or it'll be gone. This will all be gone! She will be gone! I've already lost her! I can't lose her. I can't lose her, Peter. I can't do it again; I don't–I can't do it, Peter. She- I lo-”

Their faces dropped. Peter's into sorrow, and Miguel's into hopelessness.

He didn't know what to do. Drained brown eyes glazed over at the video of you and Miguel. He's so happy, full of this vigorous spirit that he doubtlessly kept buried for so long out of full view. Into the shining cast for one to see. But when Peter stares into the ones in front, he only sees the imprisonment inside those impending claustrophobic walls, managing to crush him even more than before.

“I- Miguel, we... That's not- we…” loss. A loss for words. Peter didn't want to give into this, but he knew and sensed that this was how it was supposed to be. How things are supposed to go.

Supposedly.

Jess rubbed her temples. This wasn't the route she expected any of this to take. This isn’t what she wanted, but the outcome has been essentially made. She didn’t want to ask this next question, though she knew she had to.

"So, what's going to happen next?”

And that's when Miguel cracked. 

In his mind, he was broken, groveling on the bitter ground, tattered and alone. His bloodshot, red eyes were on you. Peter only backed away, aware of how it would end. How it’s going to end because of this faith. Because of this rigid concept, this inscrutable credence.

The strings that lay snipped, the ones that were declared to be dispersed and unchained, crept back into their place. Stitching him back into his webs of despondency. The life he knew. The life that he felt he deserved. 

The life he does deserve.

The flame dwindled, and the droplets that wanted to help guide him faded into the dark. He couldn’t leave; he couldn’t escape. 

Whatever was to be shown has now, once again, disappeared into the bleak oblivion.

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

@prozacgooble @ella-janehaven @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#miguel o'hara #tales the songs weave #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel x fem!reader #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n

[glaciertea]

I'm so glad this story made you violent in a good way! I was literally rolling on the floor gushing when I saw this!

Spoilers below

And I had to give some grievances to all these characters, but they made it through!

And I love Ronnie so much too, she's ready to beat down anybody who even looks at reader in a funny way!

EVERYONE THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

I REPEAT.

THIS IN NOT A DRILL.

TALES THE SONGS WEAVE BY @glaciertea JUST UPDATED ON AO3 (I saw the notification just now 👉👈)

ANYWAYS I WILL REBLOG WITH MY THOUGHTS ON IT-

OMG I AM CRYING OF HAPPINESS- THERE IS A GOD AFTER ALL.

#tales the songs weave

[glaciertea]

Hahaha, we're almost to the end! The goal is almost in reach!

EVERYONE THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

I REPEAT.

THIS IN NOT A DRILL.

TALES THE SONGS WEAVE BY @glaciertea JUST UPDATED ON AO3 (I saw the notification just now 👉👈)

ANYWAYS I WILL REBLOG WITH MY THOUGHTS ON IT-

OMG I AM CRYING OF HAPPINESS- THERE IS A GOD AFTER ALL.

#tales the songs weave

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.14<< >>Ch.16

Notes: Miguel is having a bit of a comeuppance within the society.

CW: Morning sex, fingering, penetration, PinV

Chapter 15: You Let Me Fall First...

Word count: 6.3K

An alarm began to beep, rudely awakening you from your comforting dreams. Groaning out, you rolled over, only to groan even louder.

“Man, I am sore.” You snuggled up closer to him, locking your arms around a bit of his torso.

“Means I did a good job.”

He kissed your shoulder, and then the marks from his fangs lingered on it.

“Mm, is that going to be permanent?” 

“Depends. It's going to remain for a good several days, but I can make it permanent if that's what you prefer.”

His voice dropped, tightening his grasp on your waist, spinning you on your back, and squishing his body mass on yours.

“Miggy! Bleh! You're too heavy!”

Your head was buried in his chest, swatting anything your palms could. “Off! Off, I say!” 

Ceasing your attack when the rumbling from Miguel's laughter juddered your body, you flopped your hands down in defeat.

Taking in his scent, you closed your eyes. The cedarwood and the smell of your union attacked your nose as you drifted into the future.

Waking up to him every morning to him spooning you, or you spooning him, dallying in bed for an extended period, aware that work or household chores have to be done, yet you neither bother to budge.

Knowing that you're able to be by his side, engulfed in a warmth so prominent, you would never ask for anything again if it meant you got to be by him.

All you would want is to stay in that moment. At this point, at this instant, nothing would wedge you two. Nothing could break this or the future that will bestow.

“Mi Luna? You okay?” Miguel himself shifted off to give you some breathing space, until you shoved yourself back in-between his pecs, muffling.

“I can't hear you, mi corazón.”

“Why do you have better boobs?”

“Huh?” 

“Better boobs! They are just so mesmerizing! Impeccable!” You giggle at the pun causing him to groan out.

“I swear… but I don't know about that; I think yours are pretty amazing. If not better.” He hauled you up, eyes on yours.

Entrancing. That was one of the many words to describe whenever he admires those glistening eyes. He admired you, and for the first time in years, he faced sincere peace and authentic love. Dawning how much he pined and ached for this.

Knocking your forehead on his, you joyously grinned. “Let's say it's a tie, with you slightly closer.”

“Deal.” He grazed your lips with his.

You stayed that way for a minute. Your alarm goes from the irksome beeps to the relaxing notes of rhythm and blues. Dulcet breathing is shared between you.

“I have to get up for work.” 

Miguel gruffly scoffs, turning you both onto your sides and holding you more firmly.

“Miggy, don't you have work as well?”

“Si.”

“So we have to get up.”

“No. Let's stay here.”

“You know we can't, mi Estrella.”

Caressing his forearm, you slightly turned your neck to peek behind, and you were met with that endearing pout and baggy, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“Come on now; don't do that. You know I can't…”

They seemingly got bigger.

“Damn it, Miggy. Fifteen minutes, but that's it. If Ronnie finds out I'm late because of canoodling, she'll have your body as a display mannequin.”

“Now why am I the one going to be punished?” He smirked, lapping the base of your neck.

“Because she says you're a bad influence on me. And you know, maybe she's onto something.” 

“Aw, do you really believe that, corazón?” His tone is harsh and gravelly, yet he holds every bit of that sexy hold that you don't bother to escape.

"I—ah—I think you are. Fu-fuck, Miggy. You have too much- ah, too much ascendancy on me.”

His long fingers found their way in between your thighs as he glided his pointer and middle digits up and down your already dampened sex.

“Mm, I feel as though I don't have that much. But we both know I can strive to add a lot of… guidance on the matter.”

He teased your clit, gently tugging and pinching it, his finger barely pushing into your entrance, evoking a whimper.

“Wha- ah! What more could you want–fuck!" You cried out when Miguel gradually drove his sheathed finger into you.

“I'm a very selfish man, mi Luna.” He emphasized your nickname. “I will find a way to get what I want.”

He propelled in and out, spreading your legs to provide better access, and plunged another deep into you. Your walls cling as he brushes against your g-spot repeatedly.

A strangled cry broke free when he began to scissor. Your slick was dripping down, and the noises emanating from you overpowered the music.

“And from the way you're reacting, I think you like me being a bad influence on you.”

“Miggy!” You drawled out, fidgeting under his touch, ashamed of how you could crumble under his touch so easily.

His palm rubbed against the stiff nub, twisting with each push. His length was pressing against your inner thigh.

“Tan agradable y húmedo sólo para mí. Mi hermosa Luna haciendo esos sonidos solo para mi.” 

He frantically pumped, biting down on your neck and leaving fresh, new hickies. You rolled your hips with him, adding more stimulation. Throwing your head back, you covered your mouth to prevent any loud sounds from leaving.

“Luna mía, no los escondas. Hay ocasiones en las que quiero que otros escuchen quién te hace desmoronarse una y otra vez.”

He fingered you faster, his appendages working in a hasty motion, your muscles feeling every satisfying breach, juices smearing and coating his fingers with every stroke.

Slamming both hands over your lips, your head was in a full whirlwind of ecstasy.

“¡¿Qué dije?!” He barked, tugging his fingers out. “Let them hear you!” 

He grinded his cock against you before burying himself to the hilt, your wetness melding. His ragged breath sent sparks down your spine. Taking tantalizingly slow bucks, you sob out.

“Mm! Don't do this! Please, please, faster.” You tried to press down against him, only to have him grip and hold onto your waist.

“Will you scream?”

“I-I can't be lou- aah!" His clawed hand wrapped around the sides of your throat as your breathing picked up.

“Will. You. Scream?” He snarled, fairly squeezing.

“Ye-yes! I will!” You garbled out, hot tears streamed down, your vision foggy from the immense burning passion.

“Bien.” 

He thrust at an intense pace, your back dragging up and down his hard abs and chest as you wailed out.

His balls slap against your folds, adding more to the already noisy orchestra of thrills. The engorged tip strikes the top wall as you flutter around his length, feeling every vein and drive.

“Oh Miguel! So big! So good with your fat cock!”

His ego shot up. Gripping your neck tighter, your mind began to race.

He could easily snap you in two if he wanted; in a split second, you could be broken into nothing. How exposed you were. Yet he's so rough, but gentle, that he's holding back so much just to bring you these fleeting experiences.

And that aroused you further.

You shrieked his name, begging him to go faster, and Miguel happily obliged. He pulled out, briskly moving you into your stomach, shuffling around until he was behind. One leg planted on the ground, the other perched and bent up next to your leg. 

Propping you up until your ass was in the air and spreading your legs, Miguel grunted at the sight of the glistening streams of your shared fluids.

“Oh, mi Luna, I will devote and admire you and your body until the end of days. And even that wouldn't suffice for my needs and wants for you.”

He started to handle himself, pumping a few times, and began to slip back into your tight entrance. His hands massaged your back, sliding down until his talons groped your rear, making you whine out.

Sweaty and disheveled, you awaited in anticipation when he penetrated, filling and stretching you back up.

You sharply inhaled at the suddenness, shouting as Miguel rolled his pelvis into you, watching your behind bounce back whenever he rocked forward.

“Such a nice ass that only papi gets to see.”

“Miggy, you are so–fuck–so untamed!”

“That's right. Take it, mi Luna, take it all.”

Clenching onto the sheets as tight as your heat, the bed lurched against the barrier, embarrassed at how you would have to really apologize to your next-door neighbors now.

Pushing you down even further, he found the right spot that had you screaming your head off. Your heart pulsed, your brain was heavy, and your body was flaming hot.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your skull, your tongue flopping out as saliva ran down your chin and onto the pillow. Miguel strummed your stomach, hips, and thighs, stopping right over your clit and stroking it with figure eights.

“I love hearing you scream; everything about you is so good, mi corazón.”

“You're so wonderful to me–Mmm! Fuck, fuck! Right there!”

The tandem syncing of each push drove you two delirious. Your words were incoherent, with every slap and squish holding that daze deep in them.

He was drunk on you. Drunk for it all. The pooling from the sweat and your slick as he smelt your heady release was edging its way up.

You eyed the clock and internally winced. Your little rendezvous spilled into overtime. Ronnie would survive.

“Close! I'm close—mi Estrella! Cum in me! Fill me up! Give me every drop!”

Miguel moaned out, the fuse ready to explode from your needy cries. Digging into your hips, he sank in as much as possible, nearly slipping out from his violent thrusts and your drenching cunt.

“Take–take it. So tight for papi, so good; such a good girl, mi Luna.”

His mind floated back to his kids. A vivid scene of them jumping on the bed, wanting you two to wake up and make cinnamon waffles for breakfast, as you try to scold them but end up laughing at the silly situation. 

You'll turn and kiss him, rolling out of bed to put your house slippers on, as he’ll carry the little ones as they crawl and swing all over his body.

“Mmmph!” 

Miguel spilled out and bent forward. You felt his hefty chest on your back, convulsing madly and milking nearly every spurt and every drip. There was so much shooting deep in your core.

You whimpered as a certain set of fangs found their way back into your neck. Miguel held you securely when realization snuck up on him.

“Fuck. Luna, mi Luna, corazón, stay awake. I didn't mean to bite. Mierda, shit, shit.” 

He pulled himself off you, shoving some of the stray strands of ejaculation back into your opening, satisfied with the result. Flopping you on your back, he stared at the stickiness of your body and your glossy, fulfilled eyes.

Leaving the room before coming back, he began to dab you with a clean, damp towel, sheepishly grinning at his interim paralyzed partner.

“Call… Ronnie… gonna… late…”

“Do you think I'll look good as a mannequin?”

A shiver of a curved smile appeared on your numb face before Miguel kissed you tenderly.

He did get an earful from Ronnie, nagging and demanding to know what he did to ‘her girl,’ and how she was going to stuff him to be a display dummy. Luckily, Ronnie had a severe hangover and had a special guest over, so the shop was closed for the day.

Taking advantage of that, he assisted you in striving to reduce the immobilization timeframe. While ordering breakfast and cuddling you, you eventually regained your voice and chatted about everything and nothing at the same time while awaiting the meal.

“You know, I was wondering why I didn’t scream; you caught me before it could come out. And my poor neighbors. I hope they’re cool like the downstairs one.”

“What was that thing they told you?” Miguel scratched feather-light touches with his claws along your back.

“That you were stirring my meals all in one pot.”

“I still don’t understand what the hell that means.” 

Stifling your giggles, you exhaled a content sigh. “Also, thank you for calling Ronnie. Sorry she cursed you out like that.”

“I’m used to her diablerie behavior by now; she is basically your version of Peter. And speaking of Peter, you met him the other day? I'm surprised you didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh yeah! That was an hour of… irrefutable absurdity. I was tempted to call you and beg you to come over, but I held my own.”

Miguel rearranged the positions so you were eye level with him, interested in hearing your side. 

“What all happened? What all did you talk about? Peter didn’t harass you, did he?” He glowered his eyes, nearly awakening a new wave of desire from you.

“N-no. He was fine. Though a bit overzealous, he was very sweet. And that Mayday is such a sweetheart, but you can definitely tell that she is his daughter.”

“Did you show her around?”

“I did. We played with some of the toys and read some pop-up books together. We had a grand time.”

A quiver of a smile nearly glinted on him. “I would’ve come by, you know.”

“I know, just didn’t want you to experience Ronnie and Peter under one roof yet. I was the guinea pig for us. And it went entirely as we expected. It was a R-rated Ronnie and PG-Peter story; one was more brash and the other modest. But one day you will succumb to the eccentric extravaganza.” 

You simultaneously grimace at the thought of all four in the same room.

“I also heard you talked about me.”

“Of course, why would I not? You are amazing and deserve to be gushed about. Even though I have moments of me being a bit selfish and wanting to hog you all for myself, I know that at the end of the day, I’m yours and you’re mine, and that I will always get to be around you. Well, not always around, but you know what I mean. But yes, I do want to shout from the rooftops and yell, ‘hey! That’s my handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway lover. Let me give a bazillion reasons why he’s the best!’”

His pulse raced, and his cheeks crimson like his eyes. The compliments and unfeigned love from you still shocked and bemused him after all this time. You never saw him as this tainted figure; you accepted his flaws and the mistakes that he wanted to better and mend with open arms and patience. And you didn't uphold any ridiculous standards or expectations for him.

Thud.

He dropped his forehead down for that welcoming sign you both knew, and pushed his lips into yours. He was hungry and ardent for you. He would devote his time to you at the drop of a hat, and he wouldn't let anything or nothing hold him back from it.

“Me traes muchas cosas que pensé que nunca podría volver a sentir.” 

“I love you too, Miggy.”

Interrupted by a buzz from the doorbell, Miguel scowled and stumbled out of bed, ready to tear apart whoever was at the door. After inadvertently frightening the delivery person, Miguel helped you sit up against some pillows and mostly fed you.

“Hey.”

“Yes?” He held up a fork of eggs and brought them to your mouth.

“How is–this is yummy–how is Jess doing with her pregnancy? How far along is she?” You swallowed and opened up for another bite.

“Jess? Well, she's okay. She's going pretty smoothly, I think.” Miguel picked up his toast and chomped down on it before turning back to you.

“It's okay to say you don't know, Miggy.”

“I don't know. Is that a bad thing?”

“I wouldn't necessarily say bad, but they are still your workers who have feelings and probably suffer copious amounts of pain. It'll be good to check in on her. Especially if she's working so hard, it could be taking a toll on her.” 

“But she's a spider; she can handle it.” He took a sip of your orange juice before leaning toward you.

“Thank you. And not exactly the external aspects; I'm sure she is a strong woman, but the internal ones as well.”

Trying to lift your arm to point at your brain, it promptly plopped back down. “Gosh, your venom is strong. Back to the matter at hand. Pregnancy is a tough thing. Well, I wouldn't know, but I've read the stories. You're carrying another being in you, creating a new life. A baby deriving one's energy is a lot to handle.”

Another bite. “So simply see how she's doing in general, deal?”

He smiled and munched the rest of his bacon. “Deal, mi corazón. Also, I see you eyeing my potatoes. I'll give you some in exchange for your strawberries.”

“You know, potatoes aren't even that delicious. They're the weakest of all the vegetables.”

“¡Oye! Weak?! You know, I take offense to that. You're making my ancestors weep.” 

“Ah yes, I don't want to upset the potato ghosts, do I now?” Your voice was innocent, but the outspread grin was crafty.

“How very stereotypical of you. For that, you will be disciplined.” He plucked one of your strawberries up and ate it, leaves and all.

A rasping stutter of squeaks and other noises came out of you, causing you to full-stop at the sounds you somehow managed to produce. Staring at one another, Miguel began to choke on the fruit as uncontrollable howls of laughter escaped.

“Oh my God! I can't even hide! This is clearly the worst punishment. The worst timeline!”

You bickered frivolously as Miguel gave in and fed you some of his potatoes, much to his amusement.

With the sliver of sunshine on your bed, dust particles suspended in the golden pigment, the soft melodies from the alarm clock, and your beaming smile and snickers, Miguel completely forgot about his straining life. His taxing “job.”

You were really good at doing that.

He thought about how he'd be prepared to trade nearly everything to preserve these moments with you forevermore. And it wasn't the first time these convictions came to light.

“Miguel… Miguel, where are you? We need—hey. Hey! Be careful with that! I said, be careful! He'll kill us if it's- Miguel! We need you here at the headquarters. We caught two Electros, and they are trying to mirror each other's attacks, but they're messing with th- put it down! Hey, hey, no! Miguel, please hurry!”

His watch blared from the floor. He forgot that he threw it off last night in the heat of the moment, but he didn't turn it off.

“Tienes que estar bromeando, ¿por qué estos idiotas no pueden hacer nada?” He sneered before tidying up the area.

“I'm assuming it's a big danger?”

“Doubtfully. They're sadly too incompetent to get anything done for themselves.”

“Hey, there are some days we need extra help. I mean, you literally had to feed me.” You gave a lopsided smile.

“Yes, but there's a difference. I don't mind doing that. In fact, I would do that all day, every day.”

“So you'd rather shove spoonfuls of eggs down my throat forever than fight electric people?”

“That's exactly right. Especially shoving more than eggs down your throat.” He winked, gathering up his underwear.

“Hey! No! Stop that!” You were flustered by the accidental innuendo you made and his cocky response.

“You brought that upon yourself, mi corazón.”

You blew a raspberry at him and tried to cross your arms, but to no avail. He smirked, grabbing his devices as his suit began to materialize. Your eyes glanced down as the digital outfit hugged his general buttocks area nicely.

“Even got a better ass; now how is that fair?”

“I heard that.” He perched himself on the edge of the bed and stroked your face.

“Good.” You puckered out your lips as he inclined inward, giving you a sweet kiss.

“How did I get you? Me of all people.”

“Simply by being you and this handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway, but mostly you.”

Those genuinely compassionate eyes had him in that trance. If given the opportunity to become trapped in them, he would purposely avoid the exits.

“Do you want your shirt back?”

“No, leave it on. I don't want mi Luna to get cold.”

“It's almost summer.”

“Right. You justifiably look cute in it, and I now have a newfound obsession with seeing you in my formal clothes.”

“Leave your clothes; I'll wash them. I may even be wearing that blazer when you come back. Just the blazer.” Your eyes were heavily hooded at the thought.

“Don't tempt me, mi Luna.” He tilted your head back and growled down your neck, obtaining a hushed moan.

"Ah- ye-yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He simpered, appearing pleased at the response.

He settled you back in bed, making sure you were comfortable. Ready to doze off, you quickly halted him before he climbed out the window.

“Miggy?”

“Si, mi Luna?” He phased his mask on and turned back to you.

“Do you have a thing for Peter? I'm validly curious; I wouldn't even be mad. So is it on the down low or…”

You blink as he narrows his eyes. You couldn't exactly see them, but his mask did it for him.

“Ay dios mío. You're lucky I find you wonderfully beautiful and amazing.”

“I love you too!” You yelled out with the last bit of strength and fell right to sleep.

Miguel shook his head at your ridiculous Peter comment, flinging himself around his city. If you were going to start joking about that, he wouldn't mind. He imagined him chasing after you as you teased him, wiggling your cute bottom and sticking your tongue out, taunting that he couldn't catch you.

He'd take that challenge, catching you off guard with his speed, and begin to mercilessly tickle you. Your shrieking laughter will fill the room until you'll cry out for mercy before catching him off balance, attacking him into submission, rolling around, and play-fighting before one thing may lead to another.

He never wants this to end.

Down goes a string.

The arrival of summer was a welcoming one this year. The leaves are now a richer green, the air is heating up, and above all, the skies have been fair.

You decided to take advantage of this day and scroll down to a certain park, especially since you got an extra thirty minutes added to your usual hour break.

“I wonder if it'll be crowded. I hope not. School should still be in session for the next couple of weeks or so.”

Arriving at the spot, there were a few picnickers, joggers, and a couple of teens probably skipping classes.

“Well, I'll have to make do. I can't have this lovely day all to myself.”

Scoping out for a place to lounge, you caught wind of a certain person in everyday wear, whose head was thrown back, body stiffer than a metal pole, likely due to the quantity of people, and seemed more tired than usual, despite the shades disguising his eyes.

Bounding your way over, you made sure to stand a few inches aside to not be caught immediately.

“Is this seat taken?” You shrouded your voice, trying to bring it down as deeply as possible.

“¡Ay dios mío! ¡Sí, este asiento está ocupado! ¡No! I'm not interested in-”

Miguel frustratingly snapped himself up, ready to tell off whoever was harassing him this time, when he caught himself.

“Luna? Mi Luna!” His strident tone instantly dropped as a zealous perk drifted out instead. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working around this time.”

Wriggling yourself next to him, you took up any room, sitting arm to arm. “Usually, but Ronnie allowed me to take my break early today and gave me extra time, so I decided to use it wisely. And boy, did I use it well or what?” 

“Or what?” He smirked and gruffly chuckled, receiving an eye roll and a jab from your elbow.

“Haha, so funny. I'm shocked to see you out here. From the way you flared up and nearly barked at me, I'm assuming others have been taking an interest?” You roamed over potential scouters who made an effort to play their hand with him.

“No creerías la cantidad de personas que no aceptan un no por respuesta. Es increíble, si te digo que no me interesa, déjalo pasar, ¡¿por qué los idiotas insisten en ir más lejos?!” He spouted out so fast that you got lost in a vortex.

“One of these days I will learn all of that. Mark my words. Mark it!” Your finger aimed at the sky in determination.

“Ay, sorry, mi Luna. And yes, you will. I just don't understand why people can't leave me alone! Why must they persist in any sort of advancement? And it's worse when I tell them I'm taken and they still try.” He jeered out, nearly grating the bench.

It was difficult for him. There were even points where some would try and hit on him when you were right there. They were very seldom, but when they happened, it was never fun. Miguel would shut it down, but in the most Miguel way possible. His towering stature and that unnerving presence he seemingly always has.

And it really shows when someone tries anything with you. He's a formidable person, but it seemingly ramps up to the point of no return.

Nonetheless, you could imagine how much worse it must be when he's by himself.

“They probably have this idea that you're saying that just to say it. The ‘well, I don't see them here,’ thought. Or some genuinely don't understand.”

“More likely the latter.” His snarkiness jumped out at no one in particular. “Tengo momentos en los que quiero darles un espectáculo. Inclínate y-”

Your eyes flickered to his face, cocking your head to the side.

“Nevermind. Ranting at this point.”

“Alright, what's going on, mi Estrella? You gave yourself a sporadic moment to recuperate, so something is bothering you, somebody made you upset, or the mixture.” You swirled yourself so one of your legs was on the wooden seat and the other swayed, your attention all on him.

You've been able to pluck up details about him effortlessly over time. With his usual stoic attire, many have a strenuous time depicting what exactly could be wrong with him, to the point that they eventually give up. Yet he allows his barricade of stoniness to partially crumble around you, so you don't face as much strain from getting a reading as much. He doesn’t feel the need to only sanction his two main emotions, stern and militant, toward you; he can express a handful with zero inconvenience.

And he plans on leaving it that way.

“Jess’s little rookie. She's been testing my patience as of late. Very, very thin ice she's been skating on. Les dices una cosa, pero siguen insistiendo, siguen intentando insistir en un punto que no se tendrá en cuenta, pero persisten.”

His knee hastily jittered, nerves and aggravation coursing through his veins and blood. All over. Your hand hovered over it and waited for the signal. It took him a minute to pacify and decrease the jerkiness, but he felt that hand massaging his joint.

“The ghost teen, right? What has she been doing exactly?” You spoke in that serene way that soothed him temporarily.

“She’s been wanting to see this ‘friend’ of hers. She’s been pestering me non-stop about it, but she knows she isn’t allowed, yet keeps fucking insisting!” He impaled his talons into the bench, overextending his very little patience from stripping any wood off it.

“Ah, yeah, teenagers don't take it kindly when third parties tell them who they can or can't hang out with.”

“But I gave her a reason! That should be enough, and I talked to her without yelling. So I don't understand!” 

“It can go a bit deeper. If she has a strong, established bond with this person, reasoning and logic can sometimes be thrown off the table. Yes, they may understand what you're saying and may see your point, but when emotions get involved, it can be a bit finicky.” 

You mindfully removed his claw from the seat and took the other, rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles.

“Take us, for example. If someone were to forcibly tell one of us to break it off, even with or without reason, would you do it?”

Miguel furrowed his heavy brows in deep thought. “Yes? No. Maybe? No. Yes? No. I don't know.”

“Mhm, there it is. You know the logic is still there, but it's on the floor, out of sight. The emotions are still on that table.”

His hidden eyes observed your gentle hands. “Would you?”

“No. Maybe? Well, honestly, no. It depends, but I'm pretty obstinate about what I care for. It takes a lot to dissuade me, but once I have that vice grasp, you'll need an entire brigade to move me.” 

Miguel smiled, but it faltered just as fast. “I don't know what to do. I had Jess try and discuss it with her, but that fell flat. I tried to listen, but she would try and pick an argument when I gave her the known causes. It's never good enough.” He didn't bother to mask his scathing crabbiness.

You licked your lips when an idea struck. “How about you have a compromise?”

“What?”

“Compromise with her. Maybe have someone watch over her, a parental figure or guardian, when she visits him.”

“What if she gets too engrossed when we need her? Or try to do something more?”

“Keep her preoccupied, so she isn't that distracted, even though she's a teen. Well, it can help her learn balance in a way. Maybe have her sweep the area; uh, are they from the same universe?”

He shook his head.

“Well, tell her to keep an eye out for suspicious activities and document tabs to immediately give to you. She could still see him and be kept busy as well. Also, like with any teen, give her a curfew. She can dwindle and hang, but not for too long.” 

The cognitive gears in Miguel's mind began to bustle and turn. “I could—I think I can work with that.” 

You watched the inquisitive thinking process take over before he feverishly nodded his head. “Yeah, I can do something like that. I can work something around it. Are you sure you aren't a spider with that beautiful, smart brain of yours?”

He swamped you in a strong embrace. A sign of affection and a sign to make sure others stay the hell away from you two.

“Miggy! Nooo. I try to see what can fairly work, if it could work, and hope that it makes sense.”

“Well, whatever it is, don't get rid of it.”

“That's the plan. And also, you're conflicted about wanting to keep me around?” You mischievously hummed out, nestling your head in his chest.

“No, no, I'm stubborn. And even if I were to say yes, I'd still find a way back to you. You have this magnetic hold that if I were to pull away, I would come flying back right to you.”

“Now that's very sound and reassuring. And I'd say you're more iron-willed. You don't back down at all.” You smiled so largely that it seemed as if your mouth took up most of your face.

“I certainly don't. Well, maybe there's an expectation.” He stroked your hair, scratching and massaging your scalp.

“And what's that?”

“I wouldn't mind giving in for you. You, the commander, and me, the lowly, humble subordinate. Whenever you tell me to jump, I'll question it at first, then immediately do it mid-sentence. Tell me to rollover; I may. Tell me on my knees… you know, I wouldn't mind that one at all.”

Blowing a raspberry, you covered your face from the sheer implications. “Oh my gosh, Miggy. I swear you are so indecorous, I wouldn't know what to do with you!”

“I can think of many things.” He pinched your inner thigh, making you yelp and playfully chastise him as a few shifty and nosy eyes cast their way towards you two.

You wasted some time mindlessly rambling back and forth about how the day has been treating you two, from people to unremarkable tasks. The normality that he adores so much. Eventually, you both had to get back to your respective jobs. To Miguel, it was his penitentiary. He posed innocence, asking if he could take you back to your job, but you insisted that he go back so he wouldn't get in trouble.

Then he strained his eyes by giving that endearing puppy-dog look, and somehow, it ended up with him walking you halfway back.

“How are you doing, Miggy?” 

“Huh? I'm fine. My mood hasn't changed in the past five minutes.”

“No, I mean in general. It's been a minute since I asked you that, so I'm just interested. How are you feeling?”

Peering up at the partly cloudy blue sky. The moon was slightly visible, but still enough to be seen by many. 

“In general?” He had to really think.

Things have been seemingly off-putting for the past couple days. With Gwen being so keen on visiting him, the sustainable mass of anomalies surfacing frequently, and more random hounding from Jess and other spiders, he evidently cannot catch a single break. More so than before.

Even with himself, he’s been feeling weirdly skittish as of late.

“I’ve been busy, to say the least. There is more frustration dealing with missions, as you know, and things have been... abnormal. I can’t exactly explain it.”

“Right. One of those occasions where you can’t pinpoint the exact emotion. I had many moments like that, even some that came at the most inconvenient of times.” You swung your arms back and forth, jumping over some cracks in the sidewalks.

“That’s the thing, mi corazón. I feel the usual annoyance and tiredness, but there is still an unspecified emotion that I know is there. Maybe I can’t pinpoint it like you stated, but what I do know is that it’s bothering me to no end.”

You faltered a bit in your steps. You wish you could understand what he does slightly more. Being on the outside and only allowed peeks from shreds of slits in the wall isn’t the most instructive and fortuitous way of receiving information. Especially when that tall crack only opens up so much to be viewed. Maybe you could ask for him to go further into specifics or get a personal tour of the teeming headquarters itself in the near future.

That would certainly help out a lot more. However, knowing him, would he even dare to allow it?

Miguel is very acute when it comes to separating the workplace from you. Well, not fully. He purposely makes sure to not let many things slip. He's particularly precise about what he gives away to keep you in a loop and still out of it for your safety.

“If only I were more helpful to you. It sucks hearing you have to deal with all that and have so much fallback on you.”

“Ay, mi Luna, you already do so much for me.” He halted in his tracks, lightly grabbing your arm. “You bring me serenity and this sense of openness whenever I'm around you.”

He still saw the self-inflicting guilt on your face when Miguel bent down until his forehead plopped on yours.

“Want to know how else I'm feeling in general? Happy. A scarce emotion that I haven't felt since mi osita, Gabi. I honestly thought I wouldn't have ever gotten to experience it again, but here I am. So trust and believe me when I tell you, mi Luna, you have done and do so much.”

Wiping away the tears threatening to form, you smile, kissing him with tenderness and love. “You big, loveable, gorgeous oaf. Don't make me cry before work, or Ronnie will think you made me upset.”

“Ronnie doesn't scare me. I'll show her the true reason why that'll make her recoil deep into her office.”

You share an earnest laugh before leaning in for one more deep kiss.

A string snapped.

“I love you, mi Estrella.”

“Y te adoro, mi Luna.”

When you reached the midway mark, he slyly tried to escort you all the way, but you caught on and ordered him to go back to work.

“At this moment, I'm the commander, and you are?” You folded your arms and tapped your foot, throwing back what he proclaimed at the park.

“Ay dio—I'm the lowly, humble subordinate.”

“Mhm. And as your commander, I am commanding you to go back to work before they harass you any further, and that I will be okay.” You grinned; the patience and affirmation in your pitch said it all.

“Yes ma'am. I will go.”

“Good boy.”

That definitely stirred something in him.

“I'll see you later on, Miggy. Bye, mi Estrella!” You blew a kiss and strolled away.

He hated to watch you go, but he knew that at the end of the day, you'd always be there waiting. He turned and began to trudge back.

Back to that place. Back to the hellscape. The plague that never ceases. The turmoil that will never stop. Just like this itch brewing deeply. What was it? What was this incarnation dwelling inside?

The fact that he had no control over it or any logical insight into it drove him insane. Was it a guttural reaction? Was his own body betraying him, refusing to gift his mind with information that loomed on his already pressurized shoulders?

He can't sense much. No spider sense. So why was he so hunched over this? Why does it seem that there's an arbitrary danger lurking somewhere?

Did the room become faintly... dimmer?

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

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#Spotify #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x you

[glaciertea]

Prove It

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

summary: after being a part of the spider society for months without being sent on a mission and endless amounts of pleading, miguel finally gives you the chance to show yourself.

a/n: i've been working on this for sososo long and am so super excited to finally post it!! a HUGE thank you to @opaloharas for all her help as i was writing this and giving me so much motivation to complete it <3

quick tw for heavy angst and imagery, if i missed any that you feel need to be added pls lmk!

---

"Come on!" You huff out a frustrated sigh as you struggle to keep up with Miguel as he walks down one of the many hallways in the Spider Society HQ at a speed considered too fast for everyone else, but totally reasonable for someone his size.

"I'm not sure how many more ways I can say it before I resort to violence. For the last time, the answer is no." Miguel shoots you a look over his shoulder filled with annoyance and anger, but you don't back down. You manage to pick up the pace to a jog and stop in front of him, making him pause his tirade to look down at you as he crosses his arms.

"Just give me one chance to prove myself, please." You look up at him, your gaze loaded with determination. He scoffs and pushes past you, but you grab his wrist which makes him turn around, his gaze locked on your hand.

"You haven't given me a single mission and I've been here for over a month! Why did you even recruit me if I'm just going to wait around doing nothing?" Your hope starts to dwindle when he moves his wrist from your grasp and you break eye contact, beginning to turn and walk away before he finally speaks.

"Fine. You wanna show yourself? Earth 347-B has an anomaly that needs to be dealt with. Lyla will send you the details on it, you leave tomorrow morning." Your defeated stance shifts to its usual cheerful nature as you turn back to face him with a smile.

"Really? You mean it?" You beam as he nods. "I won't let you down! Thank you, Miguel!" You turn and shoot a web to the ceiling, swinging away with an eager and radiant energy that almost makes him feel bad for what he really signed you up for.

The anomaly that has been terrorizing Earth 347-B is known amongst the higher ranked spiders as one of their strongest, most difficult anomalies yet. Unlike anything they have ever seen before, this creature is able to use their enemy's insecurities and feelings against them by taking on the form of another person, someone close to them to really drive the pain home. Even Miguel had to take a mental health day after the creature took the form of his late daughter to taunt and remind him of the worst day of his life. You didn't stand a chance against this monstrosity.

---

You hardly slept that night, rereading the details Lyla sent you over and over until you could practically recite it from memory, relishing in the feeling of finally being useful and having a purpose. When morning finally comes, you're out the door bright and early, swinging down the hallways of HQ before you reach Miguel's office.

Once you've made it, you're practically jumping up and down with excitement as Miguel debriefs what you'll be doing on your mission. Your mission. Too caught up in your elation, you almost miss his next words.

"You're sure you're up for this? I'm letting you know now, it's not going to be easy." His arms are crossed and he's got that stuck up smirk he wears when he's trying to be condescending. He's looking down on you.

Your brows furrow in slight irritation and you cross your arms in a pitiful attempt to mirror his intimidating stance. "I've got this, Miguel. I'm not weak." Your cheery tone deteriorates into something more serious, something Miguel isn't sure he's heard from you before.

He holds his hand out as if to silence you, his eyebrows raised slightly. "I never said you were weak, I asked if you could handle it. You don't have to do this, I can get someone else to-"

You cut him off, extremely pissed off at this point. "I can handle it, Miguel! I don't know why you have this idea in your head that I'm not good enough to be a part of this, but I'll prove it to you!" You end your rant by opening a portal and stepping through it, leaving Miguel stunned. Lyla appears on his shoulder, filing her nails and pushing her heart-shaped glasses up her nose. "She's gonna get herself killed, ya'know."

Miguel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while turning back to his desk. "Yeah, I know. And I'll be ready."

---

thank you for reading! part 2 should be out very soon!

#go on...Prove it! I double dog dare ya

[glaciertea]

Silly little comic I started yesterday. I plan on posting more parts sometime tomorrow.

Next

Please don't repost

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.13<< >>Ch.15

Notes: Lovely date night at a very sensual and romantic spot.

CW: Hot and steamy, but passionate and longing sex. Oral pleasure (F receiving), PinV, light spanking, the neighbors will hear, smut... and maybe slight drama.

Chapter 14: Every Time I Get a Bit Inside, I Feel it

Word count: 9K

Zipping back and forth from your bedroom to the bathroom, you stumbled over your two feet, desperately locating the other thigh-fishnet stocking while trying to put toothpaste on your toothbrush.

“I just had it right here! Did it fall into the freaking void?”

You dipped and scrambled all around the floor near the bed.

“You know what? I’ll come back to it in a bit.” You darted back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Tonight was a special night for you two. It was your first date as a 'semi-official' couple, and you had no clue where exactly he was taking you. All you know is that you woke up to a text specifying what would be the best attire for this particular outing.

A lovely, formal casual is something you could manage. A form-fitting, long-sleeved mini dress, wedges, and your fishnets, if you could find the other one.

Not a single word could describe the anticipation that was bubbling inside. You skipped around, singing your heart out as you got ready, only to lose track of time from bumbling too much. Spitting out the toothpaste residue, you rushed back to the room, aimlessly scouting for that missing piece. 

Bending down on your knees and laying on your torso to search under the bed, you heard the bedroom door squeak open.

“Mm, this is a delightful sight to walk in on.”

Repositioning yourself back up, you twirled your head and gleamed at Miguel. “Miggy! My gosh, every time you dress down, you always have to put me to shame, don’t you?”

“Too much?” He peered down at his tight white button-down, black jeans, and opened blazer.

“No, no, está bien.” 

You rose to your feet and drifted towards him. Noting that one of his arms was behind his back, you closed off any space left between you two. “Going to tell me what’s hiding back there?”

Miguel smirked and leisurely revealed a beautiful bouquet of pink tulips and white daisies, evoking a squeal from you.

“Oh, Miggy, thank you! These are gorgeous. I’m going to quickly put these in a vase right now. Also, can you help me find my other fishnet stocking? The moment it’s found, the sooner we can leave.” You cradled the assortment.

“Si, mi Luna. And take your time; we still have forty minutes left until our reservations.”

“True, but I know you like to be punctual. Gotta have that jumpstart!” You sang out, stepping into your living room to find a new home for the floral.

Miguel smiled and scanned your room. “By the way, you look radiant.” He called out to you, spotting the lone material, loosely tucked underneath a pillow.

“Thank you, but not on par with you." You held the vase before placing it right on your dresser.

“Hey, you emit more beauty than all the moons in the entire universe. And more than me, mi hermosa Luna.” He handed you the fishnet, gazing longingly into your eyes.

“Do you always turn up the charm whenever you're near me?” You slipped past, leaning on your bed to put the tight on.

“Possibly. I will never tell.”

A grin snuck its way up on you. “Thank you for finding it. My shoes and purse are all upfront. Are you ready to head out?” 

Without another comment, Miguel offered his arm, and you gladly took it. 

The night’s sky was clear. A full moon was shining ever so brightly as Miguel hailed a cab for you two. Miguel handed the driver a piece of paper as you questioned where exactly you were headed, but he kept it hushed, saying all would be revealed in due time. Opting to be compliant, you went with the flow as you chattered about whatever sprung up in your minds.

Arriving at the place, you gawked at the corner brick building. Stringed maroon lights suspended down the windows and doors as two granite pillars erected proudly, displaying the entrance sign in brilliant neon cerise, reading Dusk N’ Twilight.

Miguel paid the driver and trekked his way over to your side, opening the car door for you. You took his hand, your eyes fixated, exuberant stare not leaving the exterior.

“Do you like it, mi Luna?” 

“Do I like it? I love it! I've never been to a jazz club before, so I am super excited.”

You shuffled from one foot to another, wrapping your arms around his muscular one.

“Though, I would've expected more people. Especially on a Saturday night.” Wheeling your head back and forth, focusing on the lack of traffic for such a swanky establishment.

“Vamos, mi Luna. Let's not stand out here forever.”

You nodded, and together you took even steps, with Miguel showing off his chivalry by holding the main entry door open.

“Such a gentleman.” You winked and sashayed in, putting on a show for him by wiggling your behind a bit. 

Miguel eyed your figure, his fangs drawing out as he licked them before retracting them. “Cálmate, cálmate. Acabas de llegar.”

Miguel stepped behind, and you took in more of the interior. An erotic, deep red inundated around, even spilling into the hidden crevices. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and a lone piano perched in a corner, with a giant stage loaded with different instruments and a microphone adjacent to it. Loveseats, booths, and regular tables lined up, taking up the unoccupied spaces.

You scratched the top of your head in confusion. At the moment, there were only four people, excluding you and Miguel. The waitress and a man maintaining the bar, which was stocked with fancy alcoholic beverages.

Where was everyone else? Was this place exclusive or a gem so hidden that no one has ever heard of it?

“You must be Mr. O'Hara?” The waitress politely smiled at you two.

“Yes.” Miguel pulled his phone out as the waitress glanced down and nodded.

“Alright, perfect. Follow me.”

Grasping your dainty hand once more, you and Miguel traveled near a table less than fifteen feet from the stage.

It was already set with fine china, a bottle of wine chilled in an ice bucket, and rose petals garnishing the silk tablecloth.

Miguel pulled your chair out as you dumbfoundedly plopped yourself in it, bewildered eyes observing all that surrounded you.

The waitress poured the wine into your glasses and rested two menus in front of you both. “My name is Cheyenne, and I will be your waitress this evening. The live music will be out in a few minutes, and the bar is, of course, unlimited. I will give you a bit to glance at the menus, but I'll bring out fresh bread in the meantime. If you need anything, simply call out for me.”

“Thank you.” Miguel bowed his head in acknowledgment as you gave a weary thumbs-up.

“Tha-thank you.” You gulped.

The second she trailed away, you pinned your hands on the surface.

“Miggy, what the heck?” 

Caught off-guard, he planted the menu down and removed his shades, concerned. “What's wrong, mi corazón?” 

“What's wrong? Where is everyone else? Unlimited drinks? Personal service?” You waved your limbs, gesturing to it all.

“It's only going to be me and you tonight, mi Luna.” He plucked the menu back up, skimming over it once again.

Muddled, you flickered your eyelids open and shut before shaking your head.

“Miggy! You didn't have to dip in so much for all of this! How much did this cost?! I will help pay it back if need be; you didn't have to do all of this!”

“Mi corazón, payment wasn't a problem. Everything is okay. Don't worry, mi Luna.”

“Payment wasn't a problem... Mi Estrella, this clearly would have cost a pretty penny if you seemingly rented out the entire buidling.” 

Miguel only shrugged. “It wasn't, honestly, that pricey. It was only a few thousand, nothing too bad.”

“Nothing too—nothing too bad?! Only a few thousand?!” you exclaimed before you caught your tone.

Beginning to sort out any confusion, he was interrupted by steaming, toasted bread brought down and a bowl of whipped butter.

“There we go. Are we ready to order or still need more time?”

“More time, please.” Miguel picked up the serving tongs and placed some bread on his plate and yours.

“Alright. And the entertainment is on its way.” Cheyenne scuffled back into the kitchen, fairly intimidated by Miguel's presence.

“Now, as I was saying, I wanted this to be special, and…”

He was forcibly cut off once again when an entourage of people in button-ups, unraveled ties, slacks, and spiffy dress shoes marched to their respective instruments and took their spot.

The band waved at you two as you meekly bent your fingers, trying to copy the eager motion. And Miguel only gave a half-wave.

Tarrying on the musicians for a bit more, a woman in an off-the-shoulder sequin gown swayed out and took the mic in her hands. Her hair flowed elegantly as the red highlighted the dress, giving it that flare.

“Welcome to Dusk N’ Twilight this fine night, lady and gentleman. Tonight is a very special one, as we have a stunning couple out in the audience. So let me take you two on a magical voyage of velvety wine, shimmering stars, and melodies to fuel that insatiable appetite for love and lust.”

Notes from the saxophone, bass, piano, and singer enriched the scenic environment that connected the two.

“Mi Luna, mi corazón, please let me treat you. You've done so much for me; let me return it by giving you a night to look back with amazing memories.”

That entrancing hold—how the hue blends in with his crimson-brown ones—yet you still see the raw, passionate scorch in them.

You couldn't help but smile.

“Okay, mi Estrella. I'll let you spoil me. Only–only for tonight. But I still have some questions.”

His face crinkled into a high-cheekbone grin as he showed off his pearly whites. You adored every line and scar on his earthy face.

“¿Cómo tuve tanta suerte? ¿Yo, entre todas las personas, terminó con un alma tierna como la tuya? But yes, I will answer whatever question you have; after we order, mi Luna hermosa e iluminadora.”

Wiggling in your seat, you picked up the menu, glancing at the yummy items available. Placing your orders, you both leaned forward, dreamingly, captivated by each other's hypnotic gaze, letting the songs whisk you into the infinite galaxy.

Taking a few sips of wine and bites of bread, you smacked your lips and laid your elbow on the cloth.

“Alright, now tell me. Since when does...” You scrunch your eyes, finding a way to prevent his hero identity from slipping out. “When does your, dutifully, work pay? I thought you did that just because.”

“It doesn't pay.”

“So how the heck did you manage this?”

“You are aware that I have a good amount saved up?”

Miguel could almost see the malfunctioning error processing in your brain.

“No?! How? I know you have that other job, but that doesn't explain much because it's dealing with something in a theoretical sense.”

“A theory that has been proven.”

“Right, right, but it still doesn't explain the seemingly vast amount of, you know.”

“I did tell you I was the leader and founder of the organization, correct?”

You bobbed your head. “Yes, but not the founder part. I don't ever remember you mentioning that you're the creator of it.”

“Huh. I didn't? Strange. Guess I'm fittingly comfortable around you that my brain believed I told you. And I also assumed it was a given because you need permits for properties such as that, and you've seen my high-rise apartment.”

“Yes! But you live there! I'm thinking it's paid for in return for your work!” 

Miguel picked up his wine glass, swirling it. “No. Yes, I live there, but I'm the one who wanted it so I could be closer to my job. It's easier that way.”

He mindlessly took a sip. “There's also the fact that I'm essentially a retired geneticist as well, so I get a pension from that. An evil company, but weird ethics when it comes to rightful pay.”

His eyebrows scrunched, and then he fixed his attention on you. “Didn't I also tell you I made codes and a few inventions that are used throughout parts of the city?”

You were helplessly bemused and overwrought by the newfound information that had been casually lobbed at you. Your fingers tensely gripped at your hair, mortified, both elbows now on the table, as your eyes nearly popped from their sockets.

“Mi Luna? You okay?” Miguel dwindled his head down to meet your flushed expression.

“Have you been telling me, all this time, that I've been dating a suave, millionaire CEO man? Oh my God, oh my God, if Ronnie ever finds out—if my family ever finds out! Oh my God, can I disappear? Maybe, just maybe, if I contract so hard, I can blip myself out of existence! Yeah! That can work!” 

“I'm not that rich.”

You immediately clenched up and began to strain your body.

“Mi Luna.” 

Miguel gave a remorseful look. His eyes glazed, wondering if any of that was appropriate to tell you. He wanted to answer your questions, but not if it'd upset you.

Abruptly stopping, you noticed his reaction. Getting up from your chair, you made your way over and plopped your forehead on his.

“I'm so sorry, mi Estrella. I didn't mean to make you feel so disheartened. It was unanticipated news I wasn't expecting; there is still no excuse for my behavior. Please forgive me for that heinous response.”

Miguel pulled you in for a deep kiss before moving away. “All is forgiven. I know there wasn't any ill-intent; you were surprised. It wasn't the reaction I wasn't expecting.”

Sharing a laugh, the two of you embraced closely, praying it would never end. Eventually you broke away when the meals arrived, as you both began to chow down.

Enjoying each other, you two chatted non-stop. Learning more and more about one another.

“So, as you are a handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway, have you ever had fair gents or maidens run to you with open arms?”

Miguel suppressed a snort and took a swig of his beverage. “Is that what I am to you? A Renaissance marbled what now?”

“A handsome Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway.”

“I'll make sure to remember that. And yes, I had a few one-night stands with both. Nothing too crazy. What about you? I don't think I've ever asked about all that.”

“Nothing too crazy here as well. Had two partners before hand, sexual relations with the first, none with the second. He apparently was getting too cozy with others and ended up leaving with something. So, I dodged that bomb there.”

A contemptuous scowl appeared on Miguel. “¿Quién engañaría a alguien como tú? A veces, no entiendo a los idiotas tontos.” 

He angrily chewed a piece of his steak.

“Everything okay?”

“Si, mi Luna. I'm trying to wrap my brain around why anyone would treat you so lowly.”

You gave a simple shrug. “It happens. It did sting at the moment, but I moved on. Very indifferent a month after the breakup. So, it wasn't a complete loss.”

“Still. Ay, you are so gentle, I swear... hey, mi corazón?”

“Mhm?” You glance up from your food.

“What is your family like? I tried not to speculate on what they’re like, so I am curious about them.”

“Mom and dad are living in some other state, I think Washington? And I have an older brother. Barkley. Exactly six years apart. I’m close with my parents—not too close. And my brother. We were super attached growing up. He was my best friend. Then something happened when he went to college, cut us all off with no explanation, and then vanished.” You traced the rim of your wine glass.

“Last I heard, he left the states and is doing odd jobs now.” Your face fell, melancholy rupturing the more intimate jazzy sounds.

Guilt plastered over him. He pressed his lips together as anguish washed over him for bringing up a sensitive topic. He imagined that by bringing up Gabi in the past, you would be ecstatic to ramble on about your family too. Even at the end of the day, he still inferred something about your personal life.

“Mi corazón, I-I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

A lopsided grin upturned on your face. “Hey, you wouldn’t have known; it’s okay. It does hurt, still to this day, but I try to carry on. I do think about him a lot, and I have a bunch of repressed feelings that go deep within, so what I try to do is help the ones around me and myself from time to time. Show that generosity. It may be altruistic to some; who knows? You can’t always have that pep, but you can try and kindle kindness.”

“I don’t think that's altruistic.” Miguel said it sincerely.

“I would say you're being a bit biased, and I could agree with you, but let's take a look at your job. It's a much grander scale of helping people, so wouldn't that make me a hypocrite?”

“How so?”

Your smile never leaves. “We both use our energy to seemingly help others. So I can't say that me specifically going out of the way to aid someone doesn't have any altruistic undertones. Yours is just…bigger.”

He shook his head. “Maybe I am being biased. But from your view, it comes from the heart.”

“And yours does too.”

His heart thumped. You were perfect for him in all shapes and forms. He knew if he were to declare that, you would instantly deny it. Maybe there was a reason why you would, but even with your flaws, he will still be there. If times get hard, he will still be there. He would follow you for an infinite amount of time, and it still wouldn't be enough for him.

“Ay, eres perfecta, mi Luna.” 

And you shook your head.

“I'm not perfect; I still have things that may bother and upset you.” You teased him, eyeballing him as he got up and came to your side.

“That may be true, but I know I will still want you.” 

“And I will still want you, mi Estrella. I know if challenges were to hit us, we wouldn't back down.”

Three strings popped.

“Dance with me, mi Luna.”

Surprised by the suddenness of the request, you let him take the lead, swaying to the satisfying and powerful vocals that wreathed the tender love you two shared in the middle of it all.

The rest of the night went on without a hitch. Nearly finishing the wine bottle, you were slightly tipsy, and Miguel was still functioning as if he didn't have three glasses. After finishing the three-course meal, you both gave a standing ovation to the performers.

Tipping the service well, Miguel hailed another cab. Giving the driver your address, you both slid in one after the other.

You were both giggly, doing your best to hold it in and not be too loud. Miguel would sneakily glide his hands up your dress, as you would pretend nothing was going on.

Scooting alongside you, his unsheathed hands caressed your body. Biting your bottom lip to stifle any moans from escaping, you gazed at him from the corner of your eye.

“Ay, mi corazón, wait till we get back to your place. I'm not ready for this night to end.” He whispered low enough so only you could hear his husky, seductive voice.

His watchful eyes observed the driver, making sure he wasn't peeking as one of his talons scraped over the inner thigh and right in-between your legs. By subtly parting them, you allowed him to leave ghost-like circles over the dampening undergarment.

A sharp inhale nearly made its way out as you pretended to cough to mask it. A single sweatdrop rushed down your face as he continued his treatment on the spot. He then prodded the nub with a sharp nail.

“Not one sound. We don't want to get caught, do we, mi Luna?" He nipped at your ear before glossing his tongue down to the lobe.

Your heart was in your eardrums, teeth refusing to leave the bottom lip, to the point where you believed it was bleeding.

Eventually reaching the front of the building, you quickly paid for the fare as you both staggered out of the vehicle and hobbled straight towards the elevator doors.

The anticipation rose as you anxiously eyeballed the yellow light trickling down each number so agonizingly slow.

4… 3… 2…

The second it reached one, you clambered in as you impatiently pressed the close button, silently begging it to go faster.

When the lobby was out of sight, Miguel swept you off the ground, pinning you to the wall behind.

You immediately encased your legs around his waist, your tongues attacking as you bruised each other's lips. Your hands roamed all over his strong shoulders before Miguel seized them and slammed them over your head with one claw. His other hand delicately punctured some skin on the outer thigh, making you moan in sheer ecstasy.

The elevator dinged as Miguel swung you onto his shoulder, making you yelp at the action.

His calloused fingers gripped close on your behind as he dug for his key in his pocket. Eventually finding it, he fumbled with the lock. You offered to have him let you down so he could open it, until you heard the click.

He nearly broke the door from opening it, pulling you back down, retaking your earlier position, and ramming your lips back on his. Kicking the wooden door shut with his foot, he took off his shoes and made his way to the couch, flinging you on it, as he kneeled in front. 

His hands roamed over every bit of your draped body, tongues in a sloppily dance. You tugged at his hair, grinding your hips up to him. He pulled away as you both took in heavy breaths of air, as if you had gone without oxygen for days.

“Mi Luna, mi corazón, I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to take so much care of you. I want to make love to you. I will make love to you. Will you allow me to do that, Mi Luna?”

All you could do was nod.

“I will only do it if you say it, mi Luna.”

“Yes! Mi Estrella, yes, please make love to me! Por favor, si, anyth-”

Miguel cut you off, his tongue nearly sliding down your throat. Restlessness took over as he hauled your dress over your head and threw it over the sofa. 

You reached down and started to take off your wedges when Miguel shoved your arm over your hair.

“Leave your fishnets and shoes on.”

Miguel dipped down, a carnal growl making its way from his throat as his tongue teased and explored your neck and collarbone.

Whining out, your back arched into his warm, wet appendage, loving every nip and bite from him. You moaned as his teeth gently clamped down on the crook of your neck. You felt every suction, every stroke from the tongue, and the vibrations whenever he groaned.

Your panties dampened even more. He was voracious with his mouth, his hands moving to firmly grope your breasts, hips, and thighs.

“Oh, mi Luna, la única para mi. Eres tan bueno, tan bueno conmigo.”

He peered into your lustrous eyes, his blazing ones never fleeting as his thumbs parted your lips, talons brushing against your tongue. You wrap it around one of them, sucking on it, not wanting to break contact, until you get lost in it. Lapping the digit in circles, you bob your head back and forth, causing him to purr and tug your head back.

“Such a naughty girl, making papi hot and bothered like that.”

Heavy pants heave out of you before you take Miguel back into another amorous kiss. You latch your tongue around his, your squeaks filling the room, causing Miguel to groan, squeezing your chest.

Moving away, he peeled you off the couch and hoisted you in his arms, bridal style, carrying you to the bedroom and dropping you wearily on the bed.

“I'm going to devote every second to pleasuring this body.”

“I know you will, mi Estrella.” You contentedly sighed out.

Claiming those sweet lips one last time, he tears the bra off your body.

“Miggy! You have to stop ripping my clothes!” You squirm and pout.

“You know I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you an entire new wardrobe if it means I get to see this body.” He kneads your breasts, pinching the nipples and receiving a gasp.

“So responsive. One thing I adore so much about you.”

Taking your left nipple in his clutch and chewing on it as his fangs threatened to draw out, he had to consciously keep them in check. His tongue lapped and sucked the bud as trails of spit leaked down your breast.

“Oh, Miggy. So good, that feels so good.” You shuddered at the feeling.

Pulling back with the areola still in-between his teeth, he released it, then delved into nibbling the valley of your bust, leaving faint traces up and down your stomach and thighs.

Your whimpers drove Miguel up into the stratosphere. His jeans were unbearably constructive, and his body was burning with full lust. He removed his blazer and tossed it, his mouth not once leaving, wanting to mark all over you. Your body relaxed, humming at the nips and laps from his tongue.

“You are so amazing, mi Estrella.” 

He smiled, popping your right nipple out of his mouth. “And you are even more so, mi Luna.”

Surveying the purplish-red bruises, he nearly patted himself on the back, prideful over what he did. He leaned up until your face was in view. You couldn't make much out, as the room was dark, with only a shimmer of lights protruding from your window. 

The one thing you could see was the fiery, vermillion irises feverishly longing for you.

Grazing your luscious figure, Miguel trailed his hands down to your panties, stroking and playing with the waistband. “Mi Luna. Don’t think I didn’t take notice of you shaking that perfectly cute ass for me at the lounge. You wanted to rile me up; I know you did.”

His heated breath on your chest and neck made goosebumps spring all down your body. 

“Mm, you were such a gentleman; it was only fair to reward you with a little something, papi.” 

“Now let me reward you.” Miguel pecked at your collarbone.

“For what?”

“For being you. For being so amazing to me and taking the time to... care for someone like me.”

Your hands brushed along his neck until each one was placed on either side of his cheeks. Raising him to you, you displayed your love.

“You deserve it all. You are worth it all.”

His stomach and chest fluttered as the kiss he gave held so much devotion, fondness, and ardor. He wanted to give you everything—to give all of him to you.

Bracing himself on his knees, he speedily unbuttoned his shirt and paused.

“Sit up, mi Luna.” He commanded as you followed the direct, confused.

He wrapped the fabric around your backside, took each of your arms, and slid them into the sleeves.

“Fóllame…” he croaked out.

It was loose on you, as one part drooped off your shoulder. Seeing you like this made something tick. A carnal desire. A primal rage.

The wedges, your wetness leaking down, messing up your thighs. The love-bites on your perfect breasts and neck. The fishnets have tiny, damp spots, and you're wearing his shirt. Your scent mixing with it.

The image alone nearly made him explode.

"Miggy, are you okay?” You tilted your head.

And that was it. That innocent call of his name. You checking in on him. That lovely voice. That voice he always wants to hear.

He slumped on the floor, grappling your legs and anchoring them over his shoulders.

“I want you to scream out. I want them to know who is making you feel so good, mi corazón.”

Arousal and fear settled in your eyes—that blazing desire you saw within. How you craved it so much.

“I want you, Miguel.” 

He dove in.

His tongue lapping up the streams that trickled from your inner thighs, making sure to leave love-bites in his tracks.

“Mines, you're mine. Eres mía. Eres mía.”

You wail out, grasping onto your bedsheets. The firm push of his tongue against your clothed opening had you spying stars. The cotton becoming slicker and stickier with each lick around the folds nearly had you releasing.

“I need these gone.” With a swift rip, your underwear was torn off, and you couldn't help but snarl at him.

“Miggy! No more ripping—oh fuck!” 

You cried out. Miguel plunged deep within your damp opening, jutting his tongue in and out as he felt every clench of your walls around the muscle.

A possessive, guttural growl reverberated from his chest, making your legs tremble from the resonance.

“Miggy! Take your time! Oh fuck! Please take your time!” Your hands gripped your face, raising your upper torso.

“I'm sorry, mi corazón; you're so good. So, so sweet.” His tongue swirled around your labia in rapid succession, provoking a screech.

“Ple-please, Miggy! Slo-slow down!” 

He had to force himself away from his delicious meal. His claws pierced into your thighs, and he fought to regain his breath.

“Te pido disculpas, mi Luna. You just taste so good; you are my addiction. But for you, I'll go take my time. I'll start when you're ready.”

An admiring smile embellished on your face. How it managed to elevate your beauty even more, he would never know.

“Gracias, mi Estrella. I'm always ready for you.” You stroked his soft curls before Miguel took his claws and interlocked them in your fingers.

Lining himself back up, the tip of his tongue carefully lapped around the edge of your folds, taking in every whimper and mewl leaving you, blessing his ears.

Relieving all stress, you relaxed your body, yearning to feel every part. The passion from every glide over your vulva to the flicks on your clit sent you to a blissful heaven. Your defenseless moans of intimacy ricocheted off the walls. Miguel battled the inner frenzied side wanting to unleash its assault on you as he steadily made eights around the clitoris and entrance.

“Mi-Miggy.” You slurred out, “Go faster. You can go faster.”

His eyes glinted at you, a fierce scarlet, as that beastly part didn’t take that request for granted. Miguel took a hold of your legs, pushing them up a bit more until your wedges dug a bit into the upper part of his back. A few sweat drops ran down the side of you, attempting to backtrack, but it was too late.

Miguel shook his head briskly, his tongue wiggling madly, making out with your pussy. His mouth engulfed you, and a raw scream of his name departed your lips, having your neighbor knocking on the barrier in-between.

“Mi-Miggy! I can’t be too-”

“What did I say? Let them hear you. Let them know who is doing this to you.” 

He slurped and sucked on your cunt, letting the murky fluids leak from the sides of his chin. He devoured every inch of you as you desperately bucked your hips up to his face, sobbing out.

Miguel came to a sudden halt, his tongue still buried deep in you. With a disoriented gasp, you jerk your head down, bewildered by the sudden stoppage.

“Keep going! Why did you stop?” You sobbed.

Yanking his tongue out, a wicked grin appeared along with his pearly, razor-sharp fangs. 

“I sensed your desperate rocks. So, mi Luna, you’re going to do some work as well, as much as I love to worship my prey.” 

Rising to his full height, he removed his jeans and the confining briefs, the glistening shaft springing out, throbbing madly. You immediately clenched around nothing, a longing gasp huffing out.

Crawling near you, he unceremoniously guided you towards the headboard as you nervously shuffled until your back hit the cool wood. You gulped loudly while one of his knuckles stroked the side of your cheek.

“I'm going to fuck your little pussy until you fall apart over and over.”

Clinging his claws to your waist, he flipped positions in such a way that he was on his back and you were straddling his waistline, feeling him poke against the cusp of your bottom.

“On my face.” He ordered with that husky grunt.

You hesitated when a firm hand smacked your left asscheek. A surprise cry left as Miguel spanked it again.

“No stopping, mi Luna. On my face, por favor. And remember, you're going to go at your pace.”

Squirming your way up to him, you hovered over when Miguel dropped you down. Kissing the crevice around your folds, he plugged his tongue in your hole, not moving a single inch. 

Luckily, you connected the dots, rocking your hips in a circular pattern. His muscular arms kept you sturdy as your velvet sex squeezed and squished around it. Miguel's nose swiping your stiffened nub whenever your hips propel forward.

Throwing your head back, you felt the release creeping up, and you pressed on more and more.

With him allowing you full control, Miguel lays there as your fluids cover the bottom half of his face. You whined out, tears pricking in your vision, your mind in a frenzy.

You didn't want this to end. He wasn't doing anything, and he was still making you feel like your head was in the clouds. 

You were on top of the universe.

His hand roams up your soft thigh. His thumb and pointer pinching, rolling your clit in between, creating a split low moan between you two.

“I'm going to—I'm going to cum, Miggy!”

Deciding to help you out, his tongue drove into you with immense momentum. You squished from every thrust, your juices splashing about, and your walls squeezing tight.

“Miggy, Miggy, Miggy, close, I'm close, I'm- I'm-”

Rasping out, you bucked alongside. When his tongue dipped in, you'd dip down. A shrill left you and your body maniacally spasmed.

“Miguel!”

Your orgasm was potent. Digits curled in his hair, your body slightly curved backwards before slumping over with hard, heavy breaths. He cleaned up a bit of the mess, wanting to still keep some as a remainder.

“Mi Estrella… fuck me. You are too good at that.”

Plucking you off and settling you on your back, he nuzzled his face into your chest, before enveloping his lips around yours. You waltzed your tongue around, tasting all of you.

“So sweet; how fitting for a woman like you.” He kissed your cheek multiple times.

“I think it's more tangy, so someone's taste buds are broken.” You both laugh, placing your foreheads together.

“¿Estás bien, mi Luna?” He trailed a line of affectionate pecks from your cheek to the crook of your shoulder.

You nodded your head, your upper limbs entwined over his thick neck. “I'm always okay whenever I'm with you.”

A coy smile spread on your inviting lips.

“Mi corazón, I'm going to worship every inch of you. It's just me and you.”

Miguel leaned downward, catching you in a fierce, sloppy open-mouth kiss. You gladly returned, your body the hottest it has ever been.

He cast you back up, hitching your legs around his waist. Rotating so your head would prop up against your pillows, he sank his body weight down, entrapping you.

“Las cosas que me haces, Luna mía. Las muchas cosas.” Miguel muttered in your ear. 

“Are you ready, mi Luna?”

“Always.”

Lowering himself, his erection rubbed against your folds, lubricating you both as much as possible. You croon, eyes half-lidded, leaning up to suck and lick the crook of his neck.

“I'm going to start pushing. Relax, mi Luna, relax.” 

The tip lined up to your entrance, gently nudging it in to stretch you. Groaning out together, Miguel's compulsion nearly took over from your tight heat clenching him for dear life.

“Ne-need to adjust. I'm sorry!”

“Shh, it's okay. Your pace, corazón, your pace.”

Miguel slid further in, your walls pulsating with any single shift. Half-way, you grinded up against him; loosening yourself. Miguel gritted his teeth, taking every inch of your reaction.

“Go–go ahead. All of it, please!” you cried out.

When he bottomed the rest in one go, you both froze. Every twitch against your fluttering, wet muscles causes cascades of heavy grunts from him and sultry moans from you.

“Apretado, apretado a mi alrededor. Muy bien, eres muy buena mi Luna hermosa.” 

He starts to pump. Withdrawing himself to the head before ramming it back to the hilt, contouring it until it was perfectly molded. Flinging your head back, a lusty moan leaves your mouth.

His hips smacking against your hip bones, your painted nails digging into Miguel's back, leaving more marks and scars that will bring loving memories instead of anguish. Your whines are bouncing over the bedroom walls, driving him wild.

Slightly angling your hips up some more, Miguel found that sweet spot as those more modest whimpers devolved into pure, lustful adulterous screams. Miguel took pride as you squelched with every thrust, your juices covering his entire length. 

“Music. Music–ah, fuck. Such a beautiful song leaving that alluring mouth.” 

“Mi-Miguel!” You wailed his name like a trance you couldn't escape. The only word you moaned as he relished it.

“Yes, my moon, speak only my name. How did I get you? How did I get so lucky to get you?”  

Bodies coated in sweat, some of Miguel's trickling on you as he pressed his forehead on yours, gazing longingly into those fervent eyes.

He never wanted this to stop. He never wanted it to end. He didn't want to lose you.

Because at this moment, nothing matters. At this time, he only focused on you and your shared admiration.

It was only you two.

“Only us, mi Luna. I need to... I need you.” 

Miguel crashed his lips into yours, muffling your cries, tongues whirling in a wild duel. The bedframe creaked aggressively, his sharp piston humping causing the headboard to ram against the wall, provoking a knock from the neighbors, but Miguel didn't care.

Your arms cloaked around his backside, dragging your nails all over. The wedges chafing against his lower back, as his tip brutally assaulted your cervix.

“Mi Estrella! I love you, mi Estrella! Oh fu-fuck!” Your head turned towards the side of the pillow, causing a growl to rumble out of Miguel's throat.

“No, look at me; let me see that gorgeous face.” He forced your head back.

Flushed and flustered, your mouth opened, your tongue flopped out, and saliva dribbled down the sides. Your pupils dilated, with more tears welling up in your lashes and staining your face.

His tanned cheeks were red as you locked on to his hungry, driven, and lustful stare, yet you could make out the authentic love. Your heart swelled, and your affection, passion, and love for him rang true wherever he was around.

You never wanted this to end.

“I'm close. I'm so close, mi Estrella!”

“Yes, mi Luna. Let me appreciate you. Cum for me, cum on this cock, corazón.”

The sweet musk and strawberry champagne perfume radiating off you attacked his nostrils, his brain swirling with lascivious urges. 

His penetrating eyes appeared redder than ever. His member was pulsating with every plunge. His balls snapping against your folds sent you in a spiral.

"S-so tight! Tight only for this cock destroying this—Ngh, this beautiful pussy?"

"Yes! Just for you! Only for you! Miguel!"

Your senses blurred, and the coil finally burst.

Your back arched off the bed, your chest squishing into his as your legs trembled wildly. Shrieking his name violently, there was another irked knock, although it went unnoticed.

Miguel grunted as his length was vehemently squeezed from the intense orgasm. His claws were harshly clutching the bedsheets, leaving tears.

Attempting to come off your high, you shivered, still sensing the palpitations from Miguel's shaft. Your emotions were going haywire. You moaned in his ear.

“Come for me, Miguel. Please, mi Estrella. I need you. I need you rooted deep in me!”

When those words flowed out, he grabbed your ass before yanking you up into his lap. You yelped, your hands clutching his broad shoulders.

“Be careful with what you ask for.” He licked your earlobe before kissing your sweaty forehead. “Te voy a dar exactamente lo que quieres. Tú. Son. Mía.” 

Checking to make sure your legs were locked and steady, taking your behind in his gigantic claws, he pulled out until it was just the tip before shoving it back in one go, vigorously impelling you down on him.

You screeched, your toes curling, still very sensitive from your previous climax. You kissed his bulky chest and shoulders in no particular order. Taking in his heavy musk, the cedarwood aroma from him. It was so intoxicating that you could be addicted to it.

The air filled with gushing, wet slaps as it harmonized with your and Miguel's moans.

“Mi corazón, my moon. You are the only one. Mines... nunca querrás perderte.”

“I'm only yours, my star! I will always be yours!”

Miguel released an animalistic growl as he nearly pounded into you with his inhuman speed. The wooden legs holding the bed up threaten to snap. The headboard surely left streaks of chipped paint after this.

Miguel would drag you down while simultaneously pushing his pelvis up to meet your behind, and as you shamelessly dripped onto the torn sheets below, you added more to the murky puddle underneath.

Your bodies collided in a rhythmless dance of lust.

“Mis ojos adornados por la Luna. Para bien de mí, no te merezco. ¡Joder, corazón!”

Miguel was reaching his limits.

He thought of you together, far away. Happy, full of felicity and hope. Trying for the first child, the first one who will have your smile, that will have his ruby-red eyes. The one with your caring personality. The one with his head-strong personality.

And as the snow turns into flowers and the green leaves transform into many shades of warm colors, there will be more. More with his glimmering, crimson-eyed and your smile running around full of that love and compassion. Maybe wrestling, or doing fun experiments, or in the mini-farm picking those fresh fruits and vegetables.

He will finally be happy with his family once more.

Three more strings snapped.

His movements grew sloppier. His mind is only on filling you up. He grasped the back of your head, carefully wrapping his long appendages in your hair, and tugged you close to his mouth.

“I want you stuffed. Seal you to the brink with my seed.”

“Yes! Yes, yes! I love you! I love you!”

His name was heard for all of Nueva York.

Miguel's fangs snuck deep into the side of your neck. Snarling, he coated your heated, moist cavern with thick, heavy spurts, threatening to leak out.

Talons pricking your bottom as a bit of blood colored the tips. Even your blood was sweet. Still very fitting.

You shivered at the pleasurable pain from your crashing finish and his bite. How easily it was inserted into your skin made you hum with delight. The venom coursed through your bloodstream as you began to lose mobility in your body.

Miguel idly opened his eyes before a short burst of panic forced them wider as he promptly retracted his fangs.

“Mierda. I'm sorry, mi Luna, I-I lost control and-”

With the last few bits of strength, you uncoordinatedly and gently whacked his shoulder before it flopped down.

“It's okay. All okay.” You slurred with a grin on your face.

Miguel searched for any discomfort before a smile was placed on his lips.

He licked the puncture wound clean; he gradually pulled himself out as a satisfying pop rang out, causing him to grunt and you to groan.

“You're going to be immobilized for a good minute. I injected a bit too much.”

He pulled your shoes and fishnets off, but decided to leave his shirt on you. You couldn't move a thing, but you did not mind. In fact, you accepted that this may have been a new experience you will thoroughly enjoy in the future.

Your eyes glazed over, observing Miguel assiduously clean you before your eyelids grew heavier before shutting them all the way.

 

A piano and saxophone blended within the stars. You pivot back and forth, only to see him there. He shimmered more than the ones penning against him.

You floated over, taking his harsh claw into your hand. But yet, it was pleasant and gentle. 

His arm around your waist, he gazes at you as you spin around the skies, the stars, comets, and planets.

The illuminated dance and song of naturalism and intimacy swirled alongside you both. 

You are the moon and he, the shining star.

• • •

“Pete- E-616 Peter!”

Jess waved her wrist, refusing to go through the ordeal of having a bunch of Peters point at themselves, deducing who she wanted.

“Hey, Jess! What's going on?” His short, shaggy hair, five-o’clock shadow, and huge, but tired, brown eyes popped into frame.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Her head whirled back and forth. “Privately.”

Peter scratched the back of his perplexed. “Uh, okay.” 

He lagged behind her, seeking out any answers to the questions he imposed, but she stayed hushed until they reached a hallway that he was highly unfamiliar with.

“Is this part of the medical bay?”

His head rolled back and forth between the white panels and blue tiles.

“No. This is a restricted area that not many know about. There were only supposed to be two people made aware of this location.”

“But with me here, I'm the third person who knows of it.” He leaned against one of the walls, still lost on where exactly he was and what Jess exactly wanted.

She shook her head. “You're the fourth person who knows of it. Can you guess who the others are?”

Squinting his eyes, he began to conjure up suspects. “Well, obviously you, so that's one. Me being two. Miguel! He created this, so it makes sense. And the fourth?”

Creasing his brows, he went through the list of potential candidates before swaying his head after a minute passed.

“I got nothing for the last one.”

Jess tapped her foot and nodded her head. “Okay, let me get this out of the way. I know you have a soft spot for Miguel, and like myself and others, you want the best for him.”

“Yeeess?” Peter crossed his arms, wondering where she was headed with this. 

“And we want him to be happy. Well, as happy as this man can possibly reach, which isn't high.”

“Jess, I'm confused.” 

“Over the past week or so, I've been gathering records and information on where Miguel goes and the people he's been bringing here.”

She taps away on her watch, pulling up an undisclosed document. “You have your officials, building regulators, the usual. But there's one person, specifically a woman, he's been ‘slyly’ bringing into this establishment.”

Jess closes out the file, then plants her hands on her hips. “With that newly added info, care to take a gander at who the fourth person is?”

Peter bit his lip and stumbled on his brain to object to any of that.

“Still no clue. And come on, Jess, keeping track of where he goes and who he invites is a bit… of a helicopter parent move. He isn't a teenager; he's a full adult with a life to live. So surely it shouldn't be anything bad.”

“Peter, I'm not trying to helicopter him, but when he's being more sneaky about what he's doing more than usual, that's where we have to draw the line.”

“Is it still about the paperwork? I thought you all caught up with that?”

“It's not about the paperwork, Peter! It started with that, but it descended into more when he would randomly leave his post for hours on end, lying about making codes and inventions, or bringing in some random woman who isn't a spider!” 

She threw her hands up, slapping them back down to her sides.

“Well, he might have reasons for them. He can do what he likes, you know? Sure, he's been slacking a bit, but we all have our slump moments.”

He pushed his shoulders up before bringing them back down.

“Peter–”

“I have moments where I disappear. I do it all the time, and I still get my work done. Maybe that's where Mayday gets it from; it might be a Parker thing, but still, all goes well! And besides, I think she's good for him. But what do I know? I mean, I remember when Miguel blew a gasket over some harmless prank E-573 and E-25667 did. My God, that man needs some type of break, like all the breaks–”

“Wait, wait, backtrack. Did you just say she's good for him?”

Peter's eyes squeezed tightly, ‘ah, fuck me,’ on loop in his brain the second he slipped up.

Jess sucked in her teeth and bowed her head. “You only get one. One. One chance to tell me where he is right at this moment.”

Her arms connected over her jutting stomach.

“Forgive me… He's on a date with her. That's all I know. But, I don't know where they could be at this very hour.” Peter scrunched up, discomfited.

A critical laugh escaped from Jess. “Wow, okay. You knew exactly where he was and who he's with, and still tried to play dumb with me?”

“And that was wrong of me, and I'm sorry, Jess, but he's a grown man. He's allowed to also go out and enjoy himself as well.”

“I'm not saying he's not allowed to do any of that. If he wanted to go to a damn nightclub five times a week, then whatever, it would be his life!”

“I feel like a lounge would suit him more…” he sardonically mumbled.

“PETER, I-”

Jess brings her hands up to her lips in a prayer position to calm her nerves.

“I'm trying not to be the bad guy here. We all have needs and things we want to do, but skimping out on tasks he highly enforces and expects us to do? Sneaking an outsider into the HQ like he is some goddamn teenager, Peter?”

Peter lowered his head, pretending that Mayday, his source of comfort in these distressing times, was right there.

“Who's to say what trouble that would be put on us if it was someone else attempting that? He needs to be able to also balance this out, but that's the problem!”

He pressed his lips in a thin line as he allowed her to continue.

“This man is so unstable that he doesn't know how to exactly balance these things! We all went through the training and council meetings for these reasons. To understand the situation we are in. We did, Peter.”

She firmly pointed at herself, then at him.

“Yet him?” She's turned toward Miguel's office. “Not even once, yet still expected and expects every one of us to do it.” She spun her pointer finger.

“Well, Jess, how would you exactly know that?”

“Lyla.” Her voice was assertive and full of control.

“Yo, yo.” She pixelated between the two.

“Give me the file for Miguel's family training, counseling sessions, or anything in that department.”

Lyla opened up a screen in front of her. A minute passed as Jess patiently waited, and Peter stood awkwardly until the monitor disappeared.

“Uhh, yeah, so about that. They don't-”

“They don't exist. Thank you, Lyla; you can go.”

The A.I. left as quickly as she arrived.

Peter glossed over, having no more rebuttals. "So, what's going to happen?”

Jess’s shoulders slumped. “I'm going to talk to him,” she held up her hand when Peter tried to interject, “And find a smart resolution on how he can still do his job and still see this girl. I won't go hard. He will have to face repercussions, but it'll only be temporary.”

His eyes lowered to his fuzzy, pink slippers, eliciting an exhausted sigh from her. “And if I need help, I'll call for you.”

“You think he will take it well?”

“Depends. How much does he like this girl?”

“Enough to get you on his tail more so than you regularly are.” He joked, gaining a smirk from her.

“That's a lot. But I won't do it immediately. I still need to know what I want to say and make sure all things are in order.”

Jess clicked at her device, dragging items into folders.

“Promise you won't go too hard on him. It's nice seeing him happy.”

“I'll try not to, Peter. I'll try.”

• • •

“Hey.”

“Hm?” Miguel stroked your back, his eyes fluttering open.

“The solace reached a hundred percent.”

“It was already there, but what makes you raise it all the way?”

“We're the neighbors who found it within each other.”

You felt the vibrations in Miguel's chest as you both huffed out a chuckle.

The light continues to glow; it continues to shine on the object that wants to be seen. He's able to sit up. 

But the strings can reconnect.

And the darkness can still swallow that light whole whenever it wants.

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

@ella-janehaven @prozacgooble @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#miguel o'hara x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel x fem!reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #read on ao3 #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x y/n

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.12<< >>Ch.14

Chapter 13: Every Time I Look into Your Eyes, I See It...

Word count: 4.9K

Miguel was always in his element. Handling anomalies, keeping the other spiders from straying off a beaten path, and having everything follow on that continuous track.

His operation of guarding the multiverse was priority number one.

However, that has slipped off the radar by a notch or two.

Now it was you.

You managed to wiggle your way to the top spots, and he would turn a slight blind eye to his work. You just happened to be as important to him.

You were the undisturbed composure he didn't know he truly wanted. No matter how bad the day was going or has gone, you would be there with that gentle, patient smile. This domestic lifestyle you present and bless him with.

It still baffles him that you chose to be with him among all people. That a person who is the elation of life and a soothing paradise picked someone who is as grim and disparaging as him.

You were someone who loved him.

A sentiment he hasn't encountered in any capacity since Gabriella. He replays the moment he finally found the courage to ask you about how you drowsily revealed that you loved him.

Miguel lied on your couch, listening to the sounds of your humming and clanking from pots and utensils. His mind was floating back to that night. Those three little words clung to him, daring not to evacuate.

“You know, I've been thinking of getting a pet. Maybe a cat or a parakeet will make the place a bit more lively. Do you think you're more of a cat or bird person? Well, you strike me as a cat, but a bird could also suit you.” 

He didn't catch anything that was said; he was still stuck on that confession.

Confused, you turned your attention to him when he didn't respond.

You eventually caught on that he was in an inattentive state, and you knew that once that mindset settled within him, you could only wait until he left the realm he succumbed himself to.

Piling his plate with risotto, you tip-toed by him and slid the food on the coffee table in front. You were cautious about not wanting to disturb him when, suddenly, his hand wrapped around yours.

His claws were drawn back, and those usual heavily bagged, fatigued red-brown eyes had an extra layer of passing curiosity. You stepped over until you were in front, pulling both hands in yours and loosely lacing your fingers in his.

“Did you mean it?” Miguel curled his down, fully interlocking them together.

“Did I mean what? Getting a pet companion?”

“No, no, when you said you…”

You blinked several times, staying hushed. Miguel veered his eyes away from yours but placed them back, wanting that gentleness.

“When you said you loved me, did you mean it? Or was it sleepiness? It must have been, right? I've been telling myself that the night you uttered that phrase, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Surely it was the tiredness; it had to be! My brain is convincing me that's the reason, but another part is saying that it's not–”

Thud.

Miguel stiffened at your display of affection. You moved his hands to your hips and yours to his shoulders.

Your comforting gaze melted away his spew instantly. Your nose rubbed against his—that beautiful smile he adored being blessed with seeing.

“Yes. I meant every word, Miguel. I know it's such a strong thing to say, but I feel that bond whenever I'm around you, mi Estrella. That love, that bliss, that safety, and so much more that you give. I always wonder to myself how I got so lucky to have someone like you in my life.”

Miguel gave a tilted smile. “That's what I should be saying about you. How did I get you?”

You both share a quick laugh, dwindling it faster than it began.

“Miguel, with all my heart, you mean everything to me, and if you also allow it, I want to be with you until the end of our olden days. Even when those marigolds and lavenders have bloomed, I will want to trek onward, finding more flowers just like them with you. Maybe even growing our own.”

“I-I…” Without fail, you made him speechless.

“And I will say this, I love you so much, truly, but you don't have to say it back if you're not comfortable. It is a terrifying yet amazing thing, so I understand if you don't. But I do know that what you've shown me and continue to do is enough for me.”

You moved your forehead and replaced it with your lips, grasping onto this for as long as you possibly could before moving away.

He could only gawk. Not a single sound left him, but you didn't mind.

“I love you, mi Estrella. Don't ever forget that.” You whispered and gave one more kiss to his lips. “Now, let's eat this risotto before it gets- Miguel!”

The next thing you knew, your back was on the sofa cushions. Miguel, with no hesitation, hungrily snatched off your pants and tore your white shirt to pieces.

“I think I'm craving something else. Something sweeter, something that brings sensations in more ways than she can count, mi Luna.” His hot breath pricked shudders from your head to your toes.

That night, you learned that it was possible for a couch and wooden floors to squeak and creak when exerted with too much pressure.

That, and you had downstairs neighbors to apologize to.

A complacent grin snuck its way on Miguel as he remembered every scream and cry of his name from your pretty little lips.

Shaking his head clear from those heavenly thoughts, he trailed his mind, wondering what the other yous were like in the multiverse. Was each one as sweet and compassionate as you? Silly and full of that lively energy?

Did they love him just as much as this one did? He would check on that soon enough.

Glancing over to check the time, he realized his 'mandatory break’ (a break he rarely even acknowledged until you) was creeping up.

“I can take it now.” 

He leapt off the platform and strided towards the exit of his office, debating whether he should surprise you at work. Would you enjoy that? You've dropped hints that you fancied when he makes random visits and how it brightens up your day.

He could make the trip and back before anyone noticed.

Passing by the many caged anomalies that've been accumulated, it was distressing how many have started appearing more frequently, but he calculated it up to a new wave of spiders being made within the multiverse, especially with the new rounds of drafted ones.

Stepping fully out of his domain, he didn’t take into account how crowded it was today. He had to be creative with stealthy sneaking out, but he would make it work. Determining which route to ensue, he made a sharp left, recalling that there were back rooms located behind a sector where the cameras were scarce so that anyone with vital awareness could know their locations.

And he was the one to have that necessary information.

Avoiding all sorts of traffic and calls for his attention, he took a quick glance behind, ready to disappear into the next section, when two certain voices made their unwelcoming appearance.

“So I finished that book you wanted me to read. I did skim through towards the end because it got too intense, and that’s saying a lot.”

“The intense parts are the ones that speak the most truth and show the true nature behind it all, Gwendy. It’s good to have the requisite facts; you don’t want Big Brother to know all that goes on behind. And speak of the main man himself.”

Miguel came to a halt, an immediate scowl on his face as Hobie placed his hands in his vest pockets and Gwen folded her arms.

“What are you two doing in this area?” He hissed at them, gaining no reaction from Hobie but an eye-roll from Gwen.

“If it’s allowed to the public, then there is nothing stopping us from exploring what goes on deep in this establishment.” Hobie retorted.

“This place is off-limits.”

“Since when?” Gwen raised her brow in a quizzical manner.

“Since now.” Miguel snapped back.

"Nah, mate, being a bit dodgy with that.” The Camden punk leaned against a nearby wall, entrapping Miguel from moving forward. “Where you headed in such a rush?”

“Don’t worry about it. Don’t you two have anything important to tend to?” Miguel casually side-stepped towards the walkway, eyeing his escape.

“Aren’t you the main one to, you know, give out the tasks at hand?” Gwen blocked him as well, unknowingly making Miguel’s left eye twitch. He was fighting everything in his power from violently raving.

“Yes, but right now I’m on my break, so you can communicate with either Lyla or Jess.”

“You take breaks? Well, from how Jess complains, I think you indulge in one too many.” Gwen mumbled under her breath, making Miguel give a hostile leer at the disinterested teen.

Didn’t he resolve that issue with Jess? All the reports were caught up, and most of the anomaly tracking was redirected to him 95 percent of the time. There was no reason for her to still be dissatisfied after all that they'd caught up on. He mentally pinned it so they could discuss what could be the problem now.

“Look, go find something to keep yourself busy, or just stay out of the way.” 

“We weren't in the way. We just happened to stroll out of the same place you are going, so shouldn't it be the other way around?” Hobie probed at his ‘leader,’ gaining a balled-up fist from him.

“Hobie.” Gwen elbowed him, shooting a grave look. A warning to quit while he was ahead.

“I’m just curious why he’s attacking us for just scouting the building he enforces us to know. Ya know what I mean? If it were off limits, wouldn’t there have been a sign up to direct us away from this particular area?” He poked the lion in his absurd, pseudo-dependent den, not caring about the aftermath that could potentially follow.

“If I said it’s off limits, it’s off limits. End. Of. Discussion.” 

“Hobie, please.” Gwen’s voice increased, only to fall flat.

“Why so sudden is what gets me. Just because you think you’re the ‘big boss,’ you believe that you can switch and swindle the rules around whenever they're applicable to you. So what are you trying to hide?”

 

WHAM.

 

Gwen flinched and silently sighed out as Miguel’s curled fist slammed against one of the support beams, leaving an indent on it. His breathing was uneven as he calmed himself.

“In. Out. In. Out…”

Gwen's face creased, and Hobie was stolid, though marginally baffled at the display in front. Miguel was crossed. His dreary eyes glazed over as he removed his fist to his side, still inhaling and exhaling sporadically.

“Can we leave? Please?” Gwen nudged Hobie, making him bow his head.

“Yeah.” 

And with that, they pivoted forward into the depths of the HQ, leaving the internally exhausted, battered man to himself.

“Was that really necessary?” Gwen furtively murmured to her friend.

“Yes. There’s something going on, whether he knows it or not. Only time will tell. I’m just giving it a kickstart.”

She could only groan at her instigator of a ‘mate’ and began to swing away, with him close behind.

He couldn’t understand why they couldn't leave him alone. Why couldn’t he just do the things they do on a daily basis? Why couldn’t he leave this hellhole of a life and go to someone who wants to participate in normal activities such as listening to records from decades ago or eating cheesy pizza while watching a cheesy film?

Why is that too much to ask for? Was it too much to ask?

Not seeking to remain any longer or allow that punk to get under his skin anymore than he already has, he headed towards the secret doorway, even more primed to spend the entirety of his break with you.

You bustled back and forth, arranging new clothing and novelty goodies all over the shop. It’s been extra busy, and it’s been taking a toll on your body. 

Ever since Jax and Freya, your other two co-workers, decided to simultaneously take a week and a half off, you had to pick up the extra hours to fulfill their duties.

“I swear they are fucking on the side, because this is ridiculous! Whatever you stack up is coming right out of their paycheck.” Ronnie nearly slammed a box of fragile ornaments on the counter before you rapidly caught her. “This is what happens when you hire lazy ass part-timers!”

“Ronnie! I’m upset too, but don’t take it out on the items, please.” You removed the package from her shaky hands into your still ones.

“Ronnie nearly breaking something? Sounds on par with her.”

Whipping your heads toward the voice. Miguel waved at the two, causing you to nearly drop the box on your foot until Ronnie took it back.

“Oh haha. You think you’re so funny. Where have you been these last few days? We could use the extra hands, you fuckfa-”

“Ronnie! Go in the back and take a breather; I can handle the register for a bit.” 

You patted the counter to alert her to leave the knickknacks, which she happily followed. Without saying another word, she stomped to her office and closed the door behind.

“I have never seen her that cynical and furious.” Miguel leaned against the wooden surface, planting a kiss on your forehead. “And why are you working again today? Aren't Thursdays your off days?”

“Two other employees dipped on us at the exact same time, and it’s been crazy busy, so the stress has been catching up to both of us.”

Miguel peered into your eyes and noticed how weary and depleted you were. You only told him that work had more customers than usual, and you would leave it there. 

It did make more sense now that he had context, as you were too tired to hang out or even stay on the phone because you would randomly pass out during the middle of a sentence.

“Ay Luna mía, ¿por qué no me dijiste que te estabas agobiando así? I would’ve come by and helped you relax these past few days. That explains why you told me not to come last night.” Miguel brushed your hair with his palms, making you shake your head.

“I didn't want you worrying. You already deal with so much; I don’t want you piling on more things, especially revolving around me.”

“Oye, no, no. You deserve to be worried about. I’m not going to have mi Luna beat and tire herself down. We can only have one of us doing that.” You and Miguel snorted at that before laying your foreheads on one another.

“I don’t want you doing that either, mi Estrella.” Your thumb caressed his sharp jawline.

Miguel planted a kiss on it. “Let me treat you, mi corazón.” 

There was no hesitation in that. He peeled his shades off and set them on the table. You timidly tilted your head, holding that adorable confusion that nearly broke him. 

“Treat me? No, you have to treat you! You go through more than me.”

“I’ve already made up my mind. This Saturday night, I’m taking you on a proper date. We haven’t really had one since the garden, so let me tend to you. Allow me to spoil one of the very few things that brightens up my life and sky.”

Now it was your turn to be left speechless. “But, but, I can’t leave Ronnie by herself.”

“If you don’t say yes to that date, I will take it for you!” Ronnie pulled her dull ginger hair into a messy bun, accentuating her gray, baggy eyes and square face.

“Besides, I’m closing the shop up early to go clubbing that day anyway. You can’t be the only one with eye candy all over you. So go.” She cheekily wiggled her eyebrows; that smug grin sat too comfortably on her face.

Miguel sauntered behind the counter and carefully squished your cheeks together.

“Por favor, mi corazón, permíteme hacer esto por ti. Por esta única noche. Déjame tratar mi cautivadora y brillante Luna."

“I-I took French…” You were greatly bashful.

“Just say yes, my girl!” Ronnie smacked a bare display model.

“Si, mi Estrella.” Your voice was hushed, but enough to be heard by him.

Two more broke on the floor.

His lips found yours for a brief second, until a rubber band was launched between you two.

“¡Oye! Sé que eres mezquino, ¡pero vamos!” Miguel growled at the owner, only receiving her tongue sticking out.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. No snogging in my store! If I can’t do it, neither can you two, so break it up. So nasty!”

Ronnie and Miguel went back and forth as you rubbed your lips with a coy smile dancing across them. Your brain was in space as you gleamed upon the one you were deeply in love with. He would always surround you in the galaxy, no matter what. That you were so lucky to have him.

That you two were lucky to have each other.

You regained your bearings when Ronnie began threatening Miguel over something nonsensical. You ended up separating the two when Ronnie plucked the undraped dress-form mannequin, nearly whacking him with it, as Miguel’s feet were planted proudly, ready for the strike.

You humorously scold the two, bossing Ronnie to take her break early.

“Fine! Not because you told me too.” She gathered her windbreaker and purse from behind the register.

“And no fucking in my store!” She snapped her fingers before darting fully when she was halfway out of the building.

Appalled by that declaration, Miguel shouted, and you eyed the register, intrigued if it could knock you out in one fell swoop. 

“Ay coño, I swear she is like a more vulgar version of Peter!” Miguel grumbled and rubbed his temples in a discontented way.

“Maybe I should meet Peter. Balance each other out.”

He scoffed at that. “And have you succumbed to that faith? No way, mi Luna, you are not suffering more than you already are.”

You blew a raspberry at him and knocked your hips into his. 

“I could handle one at a time, just not in the same vicinity.” You examined the fine figures after releasing them from their boxy prison.

“Now that I’ve witnessed Ronnie’s… tumultuous tendencies and principles, I wouldn't have them in the same proximity.” You and Miguel winced simultaneously.

You bantered back and forth, Miguel periodically slipping into the back when you had to handle a customer, appreciating the hoarded collections accumulated over the decades. Though he would get an occasional distraction when a shopper would flirt or chat with him, only to struggle when they were faced with an agitated frown or an empty glare and darkly tinted sunglasses.

When confronted or questioned about that ‘daunting, behemoth of a man’ in the back, you defended him by stating he isn’t much of a people person, and he prefers to be by himself. The few shrugged it off, refusing to go deeper, but one or two jostled, nearly causing a commotion, only to scurry when Miguel spooked them away.

How thankful you were for him.

“My break is nearly up; as much as I don’t want to leave, I have to before Jess comes at me.” Miguel checked his watch and tutted in resentment. “Will you be okay, mi corazón?”

Sprawling your arms, you dangle them off the edge of the counter.

“Nothing I can’t manage. I’ve been doing this for almost four years and I have the bat, remember? And besides, Ronnie will be back soon, so yes, I will survive!” You copied along to the song blasting overhead, tossing one arm in the air, and receiving a chesty laugh from him.

“Fair. That is fair, mi corazón.” He lifted both of your hands near his lips, grazing against them. “Saturday. I will pick you up around seven, and I will use the door.”

“Oh, you’re going to use the door? This is how I know it’ll be very romantic.” You both beamed and moved into your affectionate stance. “I’m excited to know what you’ll have up your sleeves, or should I say suit?” 

Miguel stole a kiss from your lips, triggering you to mildly quake your head back and forth on his forehead, getting him to grin even harder. “Mi Estrella, I love you so dearly. You be safe, okay?”

“You know I will, mi Luna. Now, tomorrow I’ll text you the details on what to expect without going too much into detail, got it?”

“Sir, yes, sir.” You saluted, earning a grunt from the spider.

“Mm–right. Saturday at seven, I’ll talk to you soon. Te adoro, mi Luna.” 

And with a wave and a blow of a kiss, Miguel was traversing back to his wretched domain. The spot where he isn’t warmly welcomed. Only dreaded or inwardly and outwardly met with snide remarks. Harassed constantly for tediously, miniscule activities.

He already missed you.

Friday managed to approach faster than he expected, as monitors surrounded him as he requested (mostly demanded) Lyla to search for fancy restaurants or romantic spots.

“Okay, this restaurant has four stars and serves Mediterr-"

“Too low! Higher, Lyla, she deserves only the best!” Miguel distraughtly swiped one screen away to the next.

“I found over fifty places, and you turned down each and everyone! I’m done, Miguel!”

“Maybe if you found better picks, I wouldn’t have to do that.” He snarked back at the A.I. companion.

She gave a dismissive scoff and tossed the tiny screens around her in an animated trash can.

“You know what? I am done with this. Good luck, boss. You are definitely going to need it.”

“Wait, where are you going?!” Miguel drove his talons down into a screen, creating spider-web cracks in it.

“All the luck!” She finger-gunned at her creator and blipped away back into her cyberhome.

Miguel hardened for several seconds and launched the screen he was holding at another one. It was nearly midnight, and for the past hour and a half, he scrambled to locate the perfect destination for the upcoming date.

And so far, luck has refused to be on his side.

Unleashing a cultivating yell, footsteps caught the rest in his throat.

“You know, I really have to stop coming in when something is going down with you. Or maybe it’s a sign that I have to be in here when you’re distressed in a high capacity.” Peter flung himself up to Miguel and scanned the iridescent PC displays.

Various restaurants, dinner cruises, and wineries with high ratings were showcased throughout. “Ah, doing something intimate with her. That’s why your suit is all up in a bunch. When’s the date?”

“Tomorrow, and I still haven’t found the right one for her.” Miguel mumbled behind his clawed hands.

“She doesn’t strike me as one who cares for lavish things. She definitely gives off those down-to-earth vibes, that no matter where you take her, she’ll be fine with it as long as you’re together.”

“But that’s why she should only get the best. She does so much and–wait. What did you just say?” Miguel whirled his neck in Peter’s direction. He didn’t discern himself from Miguel’s wary eyes as his brown eyes continued staring ahead.

“She wouldn’t care where you brought her. You all of the spiders should know, even with or without spidey senses.” He scrolled down some, clicking random tabs.

“And how would you know that?” Miguel’s fangs bared as his claws uncomfortably sank in and out.

Peter slumped his head, wishing Mayday was here to help with this blowout. “I accidentally met her at the job she works at.”

Miguel’s jaw dropped before his face twisted in outrage. “¡¿Por qué estabas en su trabajo?! ¡¿Estás acechando a mi paraeja?!”

He shriveled at his leader's vexing response. “No, I'm not stalking your girlfriend. Every time you would bring in those boxes with the goobers, I would always catch the name on them. So, I decided to go check it out. That's how I saw her. Now here, let me help you find something.”

That didn't sway Miguel's seething mood at all, as Peter sulked back from the monitors. He then tried to deliberately pull his puppy-dog eyes on the scorching, taut red ones before him, but that changed nothing.

Without even needing to utter a single phrase, Peter took the hint.

“Fine, the full story. Look, you live in the future, and where I'm from, antique shops are common. During my break today, I moseyed on down, curious if any items we had were considered ‘ancient’ here, right?”

Miguel crossed his arms, his brow jutting up, suggesting Peter keep talking.

“And as I was there peeking, I saw her in the back labeling, and then something in my brain went off! I remembered this girl, and I couldn't figure out why.”

He knocked on the side of his head. “I had to jog my memory on why she was so familiar when, I guess, she caught me staring and asked if everything was okay. I mean, everything was okay; I told her I was just browsing; I didn't want to come off as the weird guy–”

“Get to the point, Peter!” Miguel pounded his work desk after each word.

“Hold on! I'm getting there! So, after that, she gave a thumbs-up, and that's when it came all rushing back. I recalled her picture icon from your messages! She seemed shocked at first, and we awkwardly shuffled to the front. I still don't know how we exactly ended up there, but, yadda yadda, things in-between, I dropped your name, and she caught on to who I was!”

Peter's arms were outstretched after performing a one-man show replicating the events he experienced earlier. Miguel's shoulders collapse as he is suddenly overfilled with lethargy. He pinched the bridge of his nose, Spanish trickling down faster than Peter could translate, as the fuzzy-robe-wearing spider fidgeted with a loose string.

“Ay, Peter, I pray you didn't harass her. Please tell me she had a pleasant time.”

“We did! And she loved Mayday! Also, I'm actually talked about outside of work? I knew you were secretly fond of me.” Peter lifted a leg, his eyes twinkling, and clasped his hands together.

Miguel's body twitched.

“You took May with you?”

“Sure did! And she played with her so much while we all talked. She seems to know a thing or two about kids—well, enough to keep them entertained.”

His mind raced to you cuddling May, her big smiles as you cooed and giggled with the baby. Your gentle hold, letting May look at the wonders that held so many memories as you would lightly bounce her on your hip, taking the time to give a story behind each trinket, acting it out in an engaging manner as May would squeal with delight at the cute, dramatized acting.

Then his mind meandered to his kids. That same enthusiasm you’ll share with them as you unveil the phenomenon behind the world's creations. From a plain, shiny stone to a prehistoric fossil or an old CD player to a turntable. 

The smiles and giddy glee, the exhilarating hops, and the glinting awe they'll have with his red eyes.

A string lies snapped.

He tuned Peter back in, catching whatever he was rambling on in mid-sentence.

“And that Ronnie person—she reminds me of someone. I can't put a finger on who exactly, but man, she's a rambunctious individual. The amount of times we had to catch her from letting some non-PG things slip was astounding!”

Peter flailed his hands in exaggeration before being face-to-face with Miguel's withdrawn gaze. The usual fierce, no-nonsense commander appeared as a beaten and lost puppy.

Peter's nose flared, and he snatched up one of the monitors, typing away at the screen.

“Look, Miguel, you don't need to stress over this. She will still love you no matter what, you know.”

His ears perked at that. “She told you she loves me?”

“Yes! When I said the first syllable of your name, her face lit up as if millions of fireworks went off at once! She spoke fondly of you. Saying that there was this devotion that drifted whenever your name wormed its way into the conversation, words cannot describe. It was staggering to witness that glow whenever it happened! It reminds me of when Mary and I rekindle that flame.”

His lips quivered upward, then he shoved the screen in Miguel's face. “But, enough about that. If you're so keen on impressing her somehow more than before, then take a look at that.”

An unsure stare ran across Miguel, tearing away to look at what Peter had searched for.

A jazz lounge.

A lounge complete with multiple performances from singers and musicians, a sensual and inviting aura, comfy furniture, and savory cuisines. Just an overall quintessential venue.

It was perfect.

“From what I picked up, this seems to be up her alley. Take her there. I'm sure this would be a great time for you two. So no more worrying, please. I beg you! You over-thinker.”

“Peter, I don't know how to thank you."

“Thank me by going out and having fun.”

Another snapped string.

The spider companion nudged his shoulders with his as he viewed Miguel making reservations to it.

This was going to be a night you would never forget.

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

@prozacgooble @ella-janehaven @sanguwuxyoonbummy

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #tales the songs weave #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel spiderverse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv

[glaciertea]

Baby boi

(2023) bowser juniors

[glaciertea]

Ahh, yes, the angst, how wonderful.

“𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝐻𝒰𝑅𝒯 𝑀𝒴 𝐻𝐸𝒜𝑅𝒯”

.ᴀɴɢꜱᴛʏ ᴍɪɢᴜᴇʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⋆☀︎｡٠ ࣪⭑₊˚⋆☀︎｡٠ ࣪⭑₊˚⋆☀︎｡٠ ࣪⭑₊˚⋆☀︎｡٠ ࣪⭑₊˚⋆☀︎｡٠ ࣪⭑˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

‼️TRIGGER WARNING‼️

It’s sad.

.

.

Miguel hasn’t been back to his universe since, well..forever. All the pain and anguish he felt was slowly pushed to the back of his head and nearly forgotten if it wasn’t for lyla mentioning every now and then that he should probably go and check on his original universe, seeming it was his duty to be the Spider-Man there until the multiverse (AKA Spiderverse.) faltered, anyways. When it came to that ‘every now and then’ Miguel was heavily reluctant, scrambling to find an excuse but Lyla continued to push him, because not only was he suffering she was too, she missed home and her home was of course, you. Which leads them to now as they stood at the edge of front of your grave, your gravestone crumbled due to the uncare for it, Miguel tried so hard to make it look pretty but he never could.

“Oh y/n…” he mumbled underneath his breath, his heart thumping from beneath his chest. “Not only did you steal my heart, but you’ve hurt it.” His voice was shaky, he cleared his throat wanting to say more but he decided it would be a waste of time, you weren’t physically here, so what was the point? He put the small bouquet of flowers down onto your dusty old grave and went to leave, Lyla tried to get him stop desperately as she wanted to stay for a little while longer but he wouldn’t have it, it was too much for him mentally so of course Lyla ended up losing this argument and they left you again, who knows how long this time.

#angst #gotta wipe the tear away