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tarjapearce · 7 months

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Strawberry Jam (Pt. 3 Finale)

Dad Best Friend! Miguel x reader

WARNING: FILTHYNESS UNDER CUT. P in v, unprotected sex, age gap implied, Dad Best Friend Miguel, breeding kink, wedding night sex, rough sex, manhandling, oral, m receiving, f receiving, reader is 21+ , pregnancy.

Summary: You've married Miguel. Celebration ensues.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 😊✨

If someone would have told you that you'd marry your dad best friend a few years back, you surely had believed them crazy.

Back then Miguel meant someone to stay away from, out of respect for your dad and the many years they shared as friends. But after that evening you had shared, with him buried deep inside you in the kitchen island, everything changed. And it went both ways.

It changed for good since there was no more restrictions and inhibitions. No moral code that prevented him for coming for you and sweeping off your feet. Your dad wasn't happy initially, and his anger lasted for a couple of months.

But slowly thawed when he saw Miguel also trying his best in being a good partner for you. His friendship was also put at stake and that took a while to fix as well.

Your dad was both disturbed yet relieved, to put it in words. Disturbed because one of his worst case scenarios had turned into a wicked reality. Something he had a hard time accepting, despite him telling you it was ok.

Being angry wouldn't make you both break up, and it only made his blood pressure to go up. But his role as a protective father had been long terminated ever since Miguel came to your life as your official partner.

He wouldn't have to worry for your wellbeing anymore. He knew you'd be more than fine with him.

It helped to soothe his nerves to see you close to Gabriella. Something that took you a while.

Gabi wasn't easily convinced, but seeing your unwavering and steadfast resolution to be with her precious Papa, and that you didn't want to steal him from her, made everything ten times better.

To starters, Miguel seemed happy that Gabi had accepted you, despite her initial doubts and complains. His relationship with Gabi was always a hundred percent honesty and trust. He could never hide something from his little girl.

Despite your age, and many people thinking you a gold digger, you remained on Miguel's side. Supporting him as he protected you from snide comments and jealousy from the people in Alchemax. While he got congratulated for finding such a lovely and delectable soon to be wife, you got the backlash from the women and upper boss' that either never had a chance with him, or were too much of a bunch of prudes to accept the fact you were marrying him.

He quit a couple of weeks later after you did. And no amount of money could convince him to get him back. It was simple.

"If you aren't comfortable working there, neither I am."

Of course he was tired of hearing things like 'I'll give them a year.' 'She just wants him for the money. Get him a richer dude and you'll see.' And 'She's so naive if she thinks he loves her. He's a perv old man.'

Only you knew how much Miguel loved you, and he knew you too well to pay attention to gossip and brickbats.

You both found a new job in a better place, even if that meant you'd move in definitely with Miguel.

You were concerned because no matter how many times he came inside, there was still no signs of a baby. To your relief, doctor explained that after many years of being in contraceptives your body would have an adjustment lapse for all the hormones to be flushed out of you. Pregnancy would come, eventually.

It was good and bad. Good cause Miguel fucked you dumb for hours almost everyday, and bad cause you couldn't wait to get a bigger family on your own.

Obviously you were excited and so was Miguel and Gabi.

But a new adventure laid ahead. Your wedding.

----

Miguel had invited a couple of his coworkers a woman named Jessica, and a couple of men named Peter and Ben. The only family worth inviting was Gabriel.

Gabi was the ring lady. It was a small and intimate reunion. Once you were delivered in the altar, Miguel held your hands. A sense of pride filled in his chest.

You looked absolutely gorgeous in that short silky dress. Like his own dream come true. And when the moment of saying 'I do' came, neither of you hesitated.

All the bad moments you both had gone through, quickly dissipated to be replaced with joy and love. He loved you.

Gabi loved you, and you couldn't be happier.

You were his queen after all.

----

After the private wedding you all went to celebrate to one of the most delicious and luxurious places in town.

"You better eat, mi amor. You'll need alot of energy."

He'd mumble in your ear as his hand caressed the suppleness of your inner thigh.

Gabi was left with uncle Gabriel, and with a final hug, your father let you go.

Your dad rolled his eyes and Miguel sniggered as you both went to his car.

"I'll take care of her."

"Shut up."

Miguel opened the door for you and kissed your cheek before letting his new wife to accommodate in his car. He then went to his seat and drove off.

"Bye dad!"

"Love you, cupcake!"

"We're married."

You giggled and he took your hand to kiss it.

The car stopped to a red light and he pulled your cheeks closer to give you a deep kiss. The kind of kiss that would mean he needed you. The kind of kiss that would turn into this raging ache for eachother that could be sated one way.

"Do you feel happy?"

"Obviously."

Your body shuddered upon the feeling of his dexterous fingers hovering your clothed pussy. Your legs spreaded for him to have more access.

"Can't wait to get to that hotel, preciosa."

Your hips humped softly his hand, earning a soft yet delicious friction.

"Pull that dress down, mi amor." He instructed as you quickly slid the straps of your silky white dress off your shoulders, spilling your breast for him. The idea of getting caught seemed even more thrilling when a group of people marched infront of your car. Of course they couldn't see what was going on inside.

His penchant for exhibitionism had rubbed hard on you. Just like his suck on one of your nipples. A wet patch filtered through your cotton panties.

Your hand wasted no time in squeezing his crotch. He gulped.

"I've always wanted to do this."

Your giggles increased as you unzipped his pants and peeled his cock our of his confinements.

"Are you hungry, cariño?" He heaved as you pumped him softly, earning a hiss and a low growl from him.

You kissed him once more before stuffing your mouth with his cock.

He threw an arm over your seat, relaxed as you sucked him.

"Fuuck- take deep breaths, Princesa" His eyes shut close for a moment, but the sudden mini concert of honks snapped his attention back to the road.

He drove carefully. Steady breaths huffed out of his mouth as you took him deeper. All that cock sucking training had been worth it.

"Jesucristo, hermosa"

His eyes drooped as your tongue focused on his tip. Wet sucking noises etched in his memory, and my God, he loved them.

"Lemme... lemme find a... Dios mío-" He choked as your hand pumped him faster as your lips busied themselves with his sac, "Lemme park. I can't-" He gasped when you took him whole once more, your throat shamelessly constricting against him.

"Yes~" He hissed as his hips bucked, trying to fuck your lips. You whimpered and let him go last minute. He took a fistful of your hair and pulled you to kiss him. Tasting himself in the process.

Smirking you went back to your seat after fixing his pants. Seeing him all rizzed and worked up made your boldness to spike. Your hips shimmied away from the cotton contraption, and you threw them in the back seat of the car.

"Miguel?"

His eyes immediately went between your spreading thighs. Your back rested against the passenger door and your fingers delved in between your slick folds.

His mouth gaped. His throat dried in dire need of a drink of you. A finger slid inside. The squelching sound it did sent shivers down his spine.

"Look at what you do to your poor wife, Miguel"

"That's so not fair, cariño. I'm driving"

He bit his lip at the sight. You were soaked and ready to be filled to the brim. Just the way he loved.

"Keep playing with it, though. Love hearing you cum"

Your soft moans and wet pussy made his insides tingle. All he had to do was wait to get to the hotel so he could actually get his revenge on you. And by God he would enjoy it.

"Wish it was you inside me" You whimpered as your fingers delved in deeper, tight hole melding at your finger's size.

"You'll have me, preciosa. Just wait."

Your soaked fingers toyed and curled on your insides, earning more coos and moans. His feet pressed the accelerator deeper as he drove through the streets.

"Faster, mi amor"

He instructed giving occasional glances at the mess you were creating between your legs. A mess he would love to stuff his face in right now. His cock twitched almost painfully at hearing you touching and toying with yourself next to him. He had ruined you in so many ways he couldn't help but feel pride. And now that you were his wife, none could tell him no.

A smirk stretched on his meaty lips when the hotel came into view

You quickly went through the motions, check in, people taking your luggage to your room and blah blah blah.

"Stop." You whined but complied. Your body could almost taste your orgasm. But seeing the hotel coming closer in your vision relaxed your aching cunt. You didn't care if he had to take you on the elevator, but he needed to do something, instead he took your fingers and licked them clean to then kiss you.

---

He locked the door after putting the 'Do not disturb' sign outside the door. A chill invaded you as his gaze fell on you. You ran with an excited squeal and he chased with a wolfish grin plastered on his face.

Graying strands bounced as he pounced on you. Hands took a hold of your dress and ripped it in half.

His lips mumbled desperately on yours as he removed his clothes. His hulking figure cornered you against one of the suit's pillars.

"Hey!"

"Cállate. Te voy a conseguir otro" (Shut up. I'll get you another one)

Hot and desperate mouth mapped your skin as one hand held you by the neck.

"Need you now, preciosa."

His tongue curled in your folds as his other hand kneaded your thigh, prying it open before he sunk his face in between them.

Your eyes clamped shut at the sensation of him prodding and tasting you. Spine arched against the column as he kneeled and ate you. His hunger grew urgent with every lick and lap he delivered to your quivering flesh.

You gasped as he placed you to sit ontop of your shoulders, your hand grabbing his hair to push him impossibly closer to your soaked and loved pussy.

One of his hands secured your lower back, as the other held tightly on your thigh, securing you in place as he hoisted you up. You rode his face eagerly, getting as much friction as you could from his lips and tongue. A firm slap on your ass encouraged you to ride faster. Your clit trembled with joy at every contact he did with his mouth. He groaned.

The low vibrations of his groans ignited the spark for your aching release. His slaps alternated between rough squeezes. Your thighs smothered his head, trapping him tightly. Lightheadnesss rushing through your brain, as your breaths turned shorts and shallow.

"I'm cumming!" You whimpered as your body went taut to then tremble. He drank from you, quenching his longing thirst. He placed you gently on the bed to then spread your legs.

The stretch his cock did inside felt deliciously painful. Legs wrapped around his narrow waist as he hoisted you once more against his chest to then hook your thighs on his forearms as his hands held you by your ass. Your arms went around his neck, holding onto him.

His hips rammed into you.

Your mouth went slack as your body trembled. Your insides kept constricting since you were still riding your high but he didn't care. He'd never get tired for the way your tight walls melted and shivered around him. It was addictive. Like the sheer and raw need for eachother you were basked in.

His hands guided your hips, a sweet and wet slap echoed into the room.

Your fingers sunk into his salt and pepper hair. His fangs pulling at your bottom lip. An iron grip squeeze and it was all he needed to rut in an air-knocking and jaw slacking pace.

Your head lolled to the sides, trying to grasp onto a coherent thought but none came. There was nothing but pleasure in your head. Each thrust reached deeper until his tip made out with your cervix. Nothing but the sounds of your drooling pussy taking everything he mustered at you and his low growls.

His pace increased into a faster tempo, and you curled into the crook of his neck, voice rasping and begging for him to not stop. The inside friction felt raw and hot, almost maddening at how well your walls welcomed him over and over. Inviting him to nest within them.

Sweat etched to his forehead and upper chest and back. Your meek attempts of marking him only added enough spice for his hips to keep wrecking your hole.

The feeling of your ass bouncing on his hands at every thrust he did and your breathless coos and begs, made him to grip tighter and fuck you rougher.

Mewlings turned into loud and choked wails as he drilled you through

"Give it to me, preciosa" He fisted your hair as he sheathed completely into you, and you creamed and gushed while your body convulsed.

"Such a fucking good girl,"

The contractions around his cock felt like a delicious kiss, just like the one he gave you.

He laughed softly at your state.

"You think we're done, Mi reina? How cute."

You panted like a fish out of water as he flipped you over on the bed and melded your body like putty.

His hand pushed your face deeper in the mattress as he planted his feet on each side of you.

"Levanta ese culo. Will fuck it like a husband should." (Raise that ass)

He slapped your quivering cheeks to lift your hips up himself. You were too high and cock drunk to listen to what he was saying. Your breast flattened against the bed, his feet planted on each side of your hips. One of his hands guided his tip inside you again to then hold at the metal headboard before him for leverage.

"M-Miguel!" You sobbed as he thrusted inside in a swift move.

"This is gonna be your treatment until you grow a fucking baby inside , sweetheart"

The relentless push had your eyes far far gone as he kept bullying his cock in such a brutal pace you'd thought he'd split you in two. He was so good at manhandling and stretching you open, and you were even better at taking it. Excelled even.

The constant slapping had you wheezing and your ass flushed. Your previous cum rolled down your inner thighs, it made easier for him to slid in an out.

And just when you thought he'd stop, he'd just slow down to unleash an onslaught of deep and merciless thrusts.

You clung to the sheets for dear life as meek and muffled sobs escaped you with effort. Your throat felt scrapped raw, he smirked at feeling your walls twitching again.

The bead and headboard creaked at his rutting. Your toes curled in and your jaw clenched at the force you crashed down. You soaked him, making a hot mess of your cunt. But that didn't stop him.

He pushed deeper a few more times before holding your hips in such a steely grip you were sure you'd get bruises and spilled into you. Hot and thick blobs of his cum painting your walls white.

He clawed at your skin as he panted and growled. One of his hands slicked his hair back and sighed with a satisfied yet wicked smile, but frowned upon watching his cum rolling down your clit.

"No no. it must stay inside." He grumbled as his fingers collected his cum to push it back inside and then slapped your ass. Earning another whimper of you.

His arms cradled you as his body smothered you. His lips showered your flushed face in kisses.

"Te ves tan preciosa así." (You look so beautiful like this)

You couldn't help but squeal while you hugged Miguel upon seeing the two parallel lines in the pregnancy test.

You scooted closer in his arms with the little energy you had left. Letting your shaken brain to finally take a rest, letting his hushed 'I love yous' and his gentle caresses on your hair lull you to sleep.

----

All the raw fucking had finally paid off. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

"Told you I'd make a mami out of you. preciosa"

You giggled as you texted your dad.

He chuckled and kissed you again.

"What are you doing?"

"Making my dad feel old and giving him the news."

He placed a hand on your lower belly and smiled.

"Wait til Gabi finds out."

"I hope it's a girl"

-------

"Are you happy?"

"More than happy, yes. I'm gonna be a mom!"

"A wonderful one, for sure."

Taglis

@um-well @capmedusa @migueloharaslxt @thbidkbutok @joestarbitch @angelarcheangel @ewan-tef @gejo333 @hyunrelics @topreice @luvstich@loonalockley @allysunny @punk-22 @jesterglitch @sc4rltwitch @roselove105 @spikedhe4rt @tallmanlover @elfwoodfae @miaasmf @lainekyuu @keiva1000

@nianawrites @leviathxn @tatatida @gabrielarose29 @pedr0swh0r3 @

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #dbf miguel #Dad best friend AU #Older! miguel o'hara #smut #atsv smut #miguel o'hara fluff #t writes✨

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 1 month

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HC the only reason Miguel gave Hobie a watch in the first place is because he genuinely doesn't know what Punk is

Miguel most likely thinks Punk is just some really old Boomer style that Hobie is WAY too into.

Cause like let's be real, he's from 2099 - he probably can't tell a punk from a greaser from a grunge person from an emo. To Miguel

He probably looks at Hobie the way WE look at Noir.

He probably can't even understand Hobie.

Pop Quiz!! If you met someone from like 1915 RIGHT NOW would you know if they had electricity and phones and photos and radios yet? Were they still using telegraphs? Could women vote yet??

I don't know!!!!!! Couldn't tell ya!!!!!!

Now apply that to Hobie and Miguel

The thought of Hobie being able to reverse engineer his watch didn't even pass his mind cause Miguel's most likely like 'When are you from? 1978? I'm surprised you even know what a computer is. Did you all even have electricity then? Cars? Don't look at me like that - I'm a geneticist not a historian, Brown.'

All he knows is that in Hobies world cars don't fly and therefore he is Ancient and Old™️

We all see Noir as like an old geezer regardless of age but no one ever suggests that how Miguel sees Hobie vjhoohchvoh

Like Miguel completely disregarding Hobie cause he's like 'Hobie? That Boomer? Sure. His generation can't even send an email without downloading a virus. What the hell is he going to do? Put my calculations on a CD-ROM? A floppy-disc?? Lyla, be realistic.'

SO REAL. Cause let's be honest HOW ELSE IS HOBIES STORING ALL HIS DATA 😭😭 He has no SD cards!! Only these!! Floppy Disks!!!

Thousands upon thousands of these

Like what other explanation is there 😭😭 HUH??? Why else would Miguel disregard him so hard!!

Everytime Hobie talks instead of being like 'this snotnose kid-' Miguel's more like 'sure like imma take pointers on how to run a society from a fucking Boomer yeah right I saw what you all did to the economy'

Hobie probably be playing punk music and to Miguel it sounds like old show tunes coming out a vintage tin radio

Hobies music is so old it's 'classical' now 😔

Miguel has absolutely no idea what punk is and tbh???? He doesn't fucking care. Why? Cause that's some old people shit.

#Y'ALL HOBIES 'OLDER' THAN HIM #how was he supposed to know this ONE boomer is somehow A COMPUTER GENIUS #NOT HIS FAULT TBH #if your whip don't fly he thinks you're a barbarian #Hobies like the same as like a little newsieboy from 1920 is to us #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara

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turrondeluxe · 10 months

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Gabriel about to get jumped because of Green Goblin ptsd at spidey hq

#I FORGOT TO UPLOAD IT HERE. CRIES #anyways miguel is canonically a protective older brother in the comics so im making atsv miguel be even More of one #vigilante duende verde au #gabriel o'hara #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv #my art #animatic

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scoobysnakz · 3 months

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heyy girl i think if u haven’t what abt u write a dbf miguel x reader ik i see so many but theyre so gd to read they get me so invested every time🤷🏽‍♀️

summary: you’ve just come home from college for christmas but there’s a stranger in your bedroom

a/n: dbf as in dads best friend or dad boy friend? 😭 i’d do either but for this i’ll do dads best friend bc… yh. also tysm for the request it means sm 😚😚😚 also I guess this is a fic now? Bc I kinda hate one shots bci can never cut down on lore and stuff.

❤️

You hadn’t realised how easily college had managed to seep its way into every aspect of your life, pulling you away from both your family and social life, until you came home for Christmas.

Everyone looks so different, your mum is more colourful and chirpy, your father is healthier and your brother is surprisingly mature. But what takes you most by surprise is the lack of silence that has taken them by storm. When you had come home for the summer most of your stay had been filled with an uncomfortable but unfortunately familiar silence following you around but now, you can’t shut them up.

The entirety of the drive home from the train station is full of chatter, and for once they include you. They seem so genuinely invested about you that you don't even question the randomness of their questions, ranging from the journey home and the local shops that surround your campus.

“I heard that there's one of those pretentious, hipster coffee places nearby,” your dad claims from the driver's seat, not bothering to look around at you.

“Vegan?” you offer dryly, unsure of it he knows you work there or not.

“That's it!” he clicks proudly, resulting in both you and your brother sharing a sigh.

Part of you hopes that it’s because of you; that maybe they realised how much they loved you while you were gone and now feel overjoyed at your return. There’s a feeling of doubt floating around in your mind, telling you that this is just a random occurrence, but you push it to the side, wanting to focus on the positive and unrealistic.

***

Your brother helps you lug your suitcase into the house claiming, ‘It’s the least I can do’ which is surreal coming from someone who hasn’t written to you the entirety of your time away. You hand him your antler clifton all the same, glad you didn't have to carry it across the drive as well as up the stairs.

The warmth from the house welcomes you in, the softness of the heated air a stark difference from the harsh bitterness from outside. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread candles lures you in so soothingly that you don't even notice the extra pair of shoes neatly paired together with the rest by the front door.

“I'll leave it here,” your brother mutters before sliding across the floorboards towards the living room on the heels of his feet- not as mature as you presumed. You smile half-heartedly with a small nod, jealous of how easily he can dismiss himself.

And suddenly you’re alone again, left to your own devices as your parents go start dinner and your brother now yelling into his mic from the living room. It hurts slightly, moments ago they were all over you, so invested in you and your life that you forgot what they're truly like. It's the way it always been and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.

You scold yourself for being so naive as to believe that they'd changed, that they weren't as self-absorbed as they used to be, before pulling yourself away from your sea of negative thoughts.

You stare at your suitcase, bright white light shining on it from the lamp hanging above your head, and decide to leave it there, too tired to carry it upstairs to your room.

The steps creak under your weight as you slouch up the stairs, one hand idly dragging across the chipped bannister. You can't count how many times your dad’s tried to repaint it, how much money he's spent on overpriced glosses and varnishes, how many hours he's spent sanding the thing down.

As you cross the landing, thick carpet dampening the sound of your steps, you the bathroom door left ajar and the soft heat emanating from it. Which is… weird because both your parents and your brother are downstairs. But you shrug it off, too fed up to care, and drag yourself over to your bedroom, head drooping downwards with fatigue.

Casually, you push your door open, expecting the room to be empty and your bed freshly made as it often is when you come home for the holidays. Except it isn't.

Soft jazz music hums throughout the room, playing from a speaker you can't quite place, and the smell of an intoxicatingly strong aftershave clings to the air. Your walls are still decorated with the wallpaper you had when you left but it's covered in various posters. Some are boring and presumably scientific based on the array of symbols, whereas others are insanely niche but you don't really put too much effort into trying to understand them- you're too distracted by the man standing in the middle of your room, half naked and dripping with water.

He's tall, intimidatingly so, but the soft dimples that form in his cheeks as he smiles down at you soothe your nerves- slightly.

“Hey,” he grins down at you, head now cocked to the side and pats his ear causing water droplets to drip onto your carpeted floor.

You blink at him, completely dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. “What the fuck?” you breathe shakily, palms clamming up as your brain desperately flickers between arousal and fear.

The man’s brow furrows at your anxious tone and his smile falters slightly. “I think I should be the one cursing here,” he jests, tone annoyingly light, “you’ve just walked into my room without knocking or anything.”

“You're room?” you scoff, arms folding across your chest. “You're the stranger here, not me.”

He grins at your attitude, those dimples presenting themselves again. “I’m offended, has it been that long since you've last seen me?” he questions, large hand splayed across his chest feigning offence.

You pause for a moment and let your gaze scan him for a moment. He looks familiar, dark slicked back hair and mahogany eyes that are simultaneously scrutinizing and sympathetic.

“A la mierda, querida, have you really forgotten me?” he teases.

And then it clicks. You feel so embarrassed now, for not recognising him. Miguel, your dad’s best friend who you haven't seen for years, is finally visiting again.

He does look different now, though. He's still tall and his face is as chiselled as ever, though there are creases in his skin from when he's smiled too often or squinted too hard at the sun, but he's bulked up a considerable amount. His biceps look bigger than your thighs, tensing and relaxing with every slight movement and shining with the shower water in the yellow light of the evening sun. In fact, his entire body is covered in muscles, and what you can see of his lower half is toned, covered in dark tufts of hair, yes, but the curvature of each muscle is still visible.

He clears his throat and you realise that you’ve been staring longer than intended, shame burning hot on your neck.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “about not recognising you.”

He shrugs off your apology, which irks you slightly but you push past it, and smile once again. “I look different, old age is catching up on me.”

That's definitely what's different.

> next

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel au #dilf miguel #older Miguel

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kitklone · 5 months

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90s comic miguel aka biblically accurate miguel aka white miguel

#spider man 2099 #miguel o'hara #marvel 2099 #this is older I'm just trying to catch up on posting my art on here #2099 #my art

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movedtodykedvonte · 10 months

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People write Miguel’s character wrong cause the guy is not some grammar, syntax super genius he is like intelligent but bro literally tells his in universe Alexa to do the thingy when referring to explaining the multiverse and how fragile it is. Bro has a brooding platform. Y’all write him the way he wants to be seen when in all actuality he talks like every other Spiderman. He’s like a Twilight character.

I read a fics and y’all have him speaking like a Victorian noble man, he called a multi-dimensional travel device a fucking goober for Peter's sake! This asshole would be like "this thingumabob sure is complex" while getting shot at.

#he uses conjunctions and what not #he uses slag #like hes older than the teens but younger than peter still #technically hes like 27 or something due to comic age #very early thrities otherwise and hes from the future #have fun with him use the scenes before the chase when he calm and snarky cause thats likely his real personality or closer to it #hes not always pissed #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv spoilers

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anonymousqualities · 6 months

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Late To The Meeting

(Post canon, canon divergence, few years after BTSV, cross posted on Ao3)

At Spider HQ, one of the many meeting rooms was being used. The soundproof walls keeping out the chatter of different spidermen walking by or portaling in and out to their respective missions.

It was 30 minutes into the meeting with Miguel at the front. In the middle of presenting a new anomaly to a zoned out group of spiders, they all jumped as the meeting door shot open.

"Sorry! I'm here, I'm here!" Panting, Miles shuffled into the meeting room.

Trudging over to the table, Miles didn't hesitate to shove an amused looking Hobie's legs off the only unoccupied chair. Hobie used the momentum to lazily swivel side to side, his color palette glitching to a pink as he took in the other's presence.

Hobie tsk'd playfully "Brooklyn, thought I told you I'm only allowed to be fashionably late?" Miles scoffed as he shrugged off the baby bag into the seat.

"Whatever, Punk" he readjusted a squirming Billie who was giggling as she looked at all the shocked faces in the room. Spotting a familiar one, she clumsily waved her arm showcasing her guest wristband at a smiling Gwen.

"Hi 'wen!" Ghost spider cooed as she mimicked the toddler who stopped waving and was trying to reach gwen in a weird imitation of the creation of adam.

Miles grunted in frustration as he almost dropped the container of yogurt melts. Adjusting his grip to keep the 3 year old from face planting onto the table "Gwen! You're not helping, I gotta get her snacks out"

Hobie sat up straighter, ignoring Gwen's 'hey' as he swatted her hands out the way and gestured out to Billie "give her here, love"

Miles happily lowered her to His boyfriend. With both hands free, he began searching with more vigor. He gave an 'aha' as he pulled out a reusable pink ziplock filled with fruit and set it on the table.

Settled into Hobie's lap, Billie blinked up at her new captor. Hazel eyes lighting up at the grinning brit "Obie, Obie!"

The punk snickered. Raising her higher to blow a few rasberries to her tummy eliting a round of giggles. "Did you miss me, billy bills?" He got another giggle in response as he settled her back down occompanied by a few tummy tickles.

Gwen frowned as her view got upstrucked by a unicorn case covered tablet and then by a container of travel wipes "Hobie" she whined glaring at the man who opened up and offered Billie her Yogurt melts. Moving the tablet to block gwen's face, hobie intercepted cat-ear headphones from Miles. Placing them over Billie's head before turning on the tablet.

Billie cooed around a mouthful of melts, her attention now fully on the brightly colored screen.

Gwen threw a pen at a smirking hobie, who only responded by turning on the shows Closed Captions. Just as engrossed, if not more, with the talking anthropomorphic dog family on the screen.

A sigh of relief made Gwen look over to Miles, watching as he relocated the bag under the meeting table before collapsing into the seat. His hair coils bouncing slightly as he dramatically face planted to the table.

The other occupants had since gotten over their initial shock and chuckled at the display. Their attention back on their on personal headspaces as they waited for the impromptu meeting intermission to end. Some trying to hide their smiles as they glanced at a not too pleased looking Miguel.

Gwen being one of them as she sat back in her seat "Umm, Miles?" Gwen watched in amusement as the other's head shot up. Miles blinking in shock as if just noticing the other occupants in the room.

"Oh! I uh..." he chanced a sheepish glance at the front to where miguel stood, arms crossed.

Clearing his throat, Miles sat up straighter in his seat " y-yeah, sorry! Sorry for being late, Miguel"

Hobie scoffed cupping some of Billie's yogurt melts into his mouth, eyes not leaving the tablet screen "No worries Love, mans was rambling on anyways"

A snort came from the spider man sitting at the front. Immediately clearing their throat at their boss' glare.

Taking a deep breath, Miguel gestured to the holograhic screen "may I continue the meeting?" He rolled his eyes at the muted nods. Muttering a slew of spanish curses as he went back to his explanation of a new anomaly.

Yall ever had yogurt melts? They good as hell for no reason.

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loganlermanstanaccount · 4 months

Note

How old do you imagine RM Miguel as? 🤔

He is 25! I actually have a very complicated and detailed (scribbled on a napkin when I was drunk and eventually converted to my notes app) timeline to make sure reader and mig's ages match up 💪

#reader is 23 #mig is 25 #both older college students!#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #rigor mortis 😼#kat_asks📝📝

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thefangirlfever · 5 days

Text

DBF! Miguel O'hara x reader (part 6)

Tags: F/M, age gap (reader is 28 and Miguel is 48), taboo relationship, mention of medication, depression and racial prejudice, reader is a woman of color, angst, mention of death and grief, slow burn

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

See the end for notes.

Words count: 6503

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Miguel and you had come to an agreement. You were in charge of the dinner from Monday to Thursday and he took care of it the rest of the week. But even like that, he couldn’t help but intervene into your cooking; no matter how many times you’ve told him to “trust the process”.

“But how can you be sure that it’s gonna taste good if you don’t even follow the recipe?”

You rolled your eyes, amused by his comment while adding a last spoon of spice to the boiling soup on the stove.

“Who needs the recipe when you got vibes and confidence?”

He was now the one rolling his eyes. He hated to admit it but your recipes always managed to taste edible, good even, despite your inability to follow a recupe. You should have already been responsible of a food intoxication but you didn’t. Cooking by your side was always an experience, truly. But it also managed to help him relax after a long day at work. You even looked more relaxed while doing so.

You turned toward him, holding a spoon of soup and asked him to try the soup with a small grin. Miguel could only oblige when you looked at him this way and so he leaned forward to sip a bit of the soup. And just like he had guessed it, it was delicious. He may not be the most objective taster out there but it was still good. The creamy and rich texture made him think that you must have some hidden talent because he has seen you cooking without a recipe and there was no other logical explanation for it to taste that way.

“So? Not that bad, huh?"

It was nice to see you were feeling better now. After only a few days of his attention, you were already back on your feet. His gaze traveled down your figure, noticing your now rosy cheeks and the way you looked generally better. Maybe the countryside had a better effect on you than what you could have expected? But he couldn’t ignore the tired lines on your face, meaning that you were still sleeping poorly.

“Miguel…” Your soft, questioning voice took him out of his thoughts and he blinked twice, collecting his thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

“Do you...still have trouble sleeping?” The sudden change in the conversation surprised you but you didn’t immediately deflate the conversation or tried to run away, which was a progress in Miguel’s eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

“Have you considered taking something to help you fall asleep?” Miguel wasn’t surprised when you shook your head no. He still asked: “Not even melatonin?”

“I used to take some when I was in high school but...it wasn’t strong enough.”

His eyes opened wider and he stuttered: “In high school?”

“I was an anxious kid.”, you simply replied. He didn’t have any trouble believing that.

“I could get you something more efficient if you want…” You turned off the stove and shook your head.

“I...I don’t have a good history with strong medications.”, you simply replie. Most doctors you’ve met so far were quite insistent, always trying to convince you to take those type of things. But speaking from your personal experience, you didn’t like how they made you feel. And in general you’d rather avoid any type of medication.

Miguel didn’t insist, thankfully, and he simply nodded.

“Well...if you need anything, you can always ask me.”

“I think I’ll stick with herbal tea for now but thanks.”, you replied while smiling. And he gave you back your soft smile. You seemed in a great mood and he thought it was not the right time to ask anything about your history with medication. Plus, he was not on duty anymore. He could simply enjoy this moment with you, without thinking about anything related to his job.

The two of you were setting up the table and he had to remind himself to leave a good distance between you. Nevertheless he still looked at you from the corner of his eyes, watching every movement you made, from the very tip of your fingers to the way you balanced your weight on your feet. It’s been a month since your arrival and Miguel has felt something changing inside him ever since. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but he has been waiting with so much enthusiasm for every chance to see you. Every moment you shared had become the highlights of his week. And you were more present in his thoughts than he wants to admit it. Your father had told him how much of a nice girl you were; saying things about how the two of you would get along so well. But Miguel had this feeling that your father may have underestimated just how good the two of you got along… Because he had the feeling that was he was feeling when you were together had nothing to do with friendship or what he was supposed to feel.

You have also noticed how closer the two of you seemed to be. It’s not a bad feeling but you would have never guessed the two of you would feel this comfortable in the presence of each other. Maybe Sarah was right. There was nothing wrong in asking for help… And Miguel has been a great help so far on so many levels. He didn’t just help with the house; you have the feeling that he helped you personally.

You’re taken out of your thoughts when you hear Miguel saying: “That color looks good on you.”

You looked down to where his eyes were. He was looking right at your sweater, an old one that you have found this morning in the back of your closet. You couldn’t remember exactly when was the last time you wore it or even when you bought it, probably during one of your phases in high school. It was bit loose on your shoulders and it hung loosely over your clavicles but the soft fabric felt like a blanket and the color really appealed to you when dressing up this morning. It was a soft lilac, almost the same shade as an aster.

“Oh thanks. It’s just an old thing, I guess…”

Miguel’s eyes have been nothing but locked on the way the fabric exposed your clavicles or the slope of your neck; especially with your hair tied up tonight. That color reminded him of a flower but he was not sure which one exactly. You reminded him of some flower. As embarrassing and corny as it may sound. He thought he was way past this at his age but it seemed like he was wrong. The mohair wool had caught his eyes ever since he came in the kitchen and he couldn’t stop wondering just how soft it acutally felt, how easily his fingers would slide through it…

He promised himself he would not look at you like that. He can’t do this. You trust him. Your father trusts him. He knew better than this and he didn't want to be that type of man who pried on younger, inexperienced and fragile women. He swallowed back the rest of his compliment, which turned into a lump in his throat and he looked away; just when your father called for you.

The three of you were sitting around the diner table, chatting lightly, joking from time to time. It’s been quite a long time since you shared a real meal with anyone. Since you began living alone, you were usually relying on take-outs and would eat in your bed in front of a show, enjoying the calm of your apartment after a long day at work. Your apartment… You had left a double of the keys to Sarah like most people would do so their plants would be watered and all these kinds of things. But there were no plants to water at your place, no animal to take care of… Sometimes this place didn’t feel like yours. But you had to move quickly after and that was the fest thing you had found. It was not objectively bad but...it was not your home.

The conversation had slowly shifted toward the topic of your school years when Miguel told your father about the restoration work that would begin soon. You still remembered vividly the walls of red bricks with the wine climbing on them, the windows decorated with the drawings of the students, the ugly yellows wallpaper… Maybe it was not a bad thing that this place was going to be renovated. It will be safer at least.

“It will be for the best.”, your father declared before taking a sip of his coffee. “Those buildings were already there when I was a student after all.”

“So they must be really old.”, Miguel joked and your father laughed heartily.

“Are you implying that I’m some type of dinosaurs or something?”, he asked with a grin and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling too. It was nice to see him laughing around. Miguel’s presence only did good things to him.

“I would never.” You looked at Miguel’s expression and he had the exact same grin on his face. But when he was the one smiling, your eyes would linger a bit longer on his face, on the curve of his smile… He caught you looking at him and you were suddenly very invested in the appearance of your cup of tea. Your father didn’t notice anything and kept joking:

“Well, you’re not getting younger either, my friend.” He added with a knowing smile in your direction. “Poor Y/N, you’re stuck here with those two old men…”

“You’re not that old.” You protested weakly and you were not sure who you were trying to convince of that and if you were only speaking about your father. Your father sighed and his smile looked a bit more contrite.

“Well, I’m not getting younger for sure…” He looked at the cast on his leg with a look you've been catching more frequently on his face recently. He was in pain. Not physical pain. But he had to come in terms with his mortality, with the fact that he was growing older...exactly the same way than when your mother died. “I just think you would maybe enjoy more the company of people of your age.”

You were not sure of where this is coming, so you slowly took a sip from your cup, waiting for him to finish talking. Miguel was also waiting.

“Why wouldn’t you try to link up with some of your old friends? You know, most of them didn’t move away.”

Miguel suddenly looked more intrigued and interested by the conversation. It was true that so far, you haven’t mentioned any of your past acquaintances. You couldn’t be this antisocial truly. With a shrug of your shoulders, you replied as casually as you could:

“Well, they must all be busy.”

“I’m sure they would be glad to see you too.” His soft tone didn’t fool you. You know how stubborn he could be when he had an idea in mind. So you asked: “What did you do?” His satisfied smile proved you that your assumptions were right.

“I called one of your best friends and asked her to come visit over. And she gladly accepted.”

“Who did you call?” Miguel watched your exchange like one would watch a tennis game, his head swinging from left to right.

“Actually I called a few people.” Your father said with a bright smile and that was when it hits you. He genuinely thought he did something good. As much as you appreciated his effort, you couldn’t help but groan, slightly annoyed. What were you supposed to say to your old friends? Would you even be able to talk with them or link up the way you used to? Would they even recognize you?

***

The next day the living room was filled with laughter and the faint sound of chit-chat. Sitting on the edge of the couch, you quietly observed your friends from high school. The atmosphere in the room reminded you of the time you would all have slumber parties in high school. Except that it was only 4 in the afternoon and that you had traded your snacks and corny movies for homemade cookies and old album photos.

The three women facing you looked nothing like the pictures you were watching and at the same time they couldn’t be more themselves than they were now. On your right Jane was no longer wearing the thick glasses she used to have when she was younger, having them replaced by lenses but the movements of her fingers reminded you of how she would always adjust the frame of her spectacles back then. She had already apologized three times for being late but who would blame a business woman like her to have more important meeting in her day? Assya’s cooking skills were still unmatched and you thanked the Lord for her cookies, delicately wrapped into a pink paper. Her calloused hands from all her work were still looking rough but your eyes could’t miss the wedding band on her finger. A bright diamond on top of a silver ring. And there was Margareth, Mag as she’d rather have you calling her, whose athletic silhouette was now draped under a delicate green tailor suit. Even under the large jacket, she couldn’t hide the impressive bump of her stomach.

And there was you who was giving “I peaked in high school” energy compared to them. But none of them seemed to address this or even wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. They seemed to respect your silence and they ware graceful enough to not comment on your tired face or rub too hard their happiness on the said tired face. None of them mentioned your mother as they keep flipping the pages of the album. Assya even slided a new box of cookies toward you when you were finished with the first one. So...it was a bit better than what you were expected.

Jane pointed at one of the pictures and started telling a story about this day. Her memory was quite impressive to you. You barely remembered that day. The four of you were looking at the camera with a bright smile. You were all sitting in your bedroom, during one of these infamous slumber parties. The more you looked at the picture, the more you realized that your friends were not the one who changed. You did.

The four of you were still down the memory train when the front door opened. It can’t be your father. As soon as your friends came in, he disappeared into the patio, saying that he wanted to give you as much space as possible. It could only be Miguel. It was a nice surprise for him to be here this early. There was something comforting into knowing that he’ll be back after almost every day...

You turned toward the door, a bit too enthusiastically, and watched him making his way toward the living room. He was the one in charge of the dinner tonight and he was carrying a crate full of fresh vegetables. His forearms flexed slightly when he lifted the box and for some reason, you couldn’t take your eyes away from this sight.

“Doctor O’hara, I wasn’t expecting to see you there. Is this where you’ve been hiding all these weeks?” Assya asked with an amused smile while crossing her arms over her chest. She had told you she’s been working as a nurse at the clinic but it was only now that you realized what it meant. She knew Miguel. For some reason the small grin she gave him annoed you, wedding ring or not.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you there either. Do you guy know each other?” Miguel asked with a polite smile and all the women nodded in unison. His eyes stopped on the silhouette of Mag and he asked in a caring voice:

“How are you feeling today?”

She slowly patted her stomach and replied: “He’s been really quiet today. No nausea whatsoever.”

“Good. If you need anything, my office is always open.”

It was your first time seeing him interacting with his patients and colleagues, and again, you could’t believe that people like him actually existed. People who were so selfless, people who cared and who could genuinely talk to other beings. And for a second, you could picture him at the clinic, working, giving orders, taking care of his patients… Just how many parts of his life did you actually ignore?

Miguel was slightly amused by the sight of all four of you reuniting in the living room. Once again, it seemed that you have underestimated yourself and your social skills. Everything seemed fine. His eyes trailed over you, taking in your polished appearance. You tried to make yourself look a bit better for today and he actually realized that it was the first time he saw you wearing some make-up. It was just a bit of blush and lipstick but his eyes are drawn to the shape of your lips tinted in a deep carmine. The same color rushed to his cheeks and he looked away before saying in a firm voice:

“I’ll let you to your memories now, ladies.”

You watched him going to the kitchen, a bit disappointed. You were not sure of what just happened because it lasted only a millisecond but if you had listened to your body, you would have followed him into the next room. Instead you just sat there, quietly, while your friends started giggling. Assya was the first one to break the silence:

“I know I’m married but…”

“Please, don’t finish this sentence. I already know what you’re going to say.”, replied Jane with a growing smirk.

“Come on, you can’t blame me. He is fine.”

The two of them whispered in order to not be heard from him and you felt like you were back to your high school years when you would all tease each other about your crush. So, it looked like you haven’t been the only one noticing that he was attractive…

Mag gave you a knowing look from the other side of the couch and your eyes were drawn to the shape of her stomach. While Jane and Assya kept bickering around, you decided to shift the conversation away:

“So...when is it due?”

She must have sensed your uneasiness because she chuckled softly. You have always been awkward around children and maternity, so it was not a surprise. Again, her hand gently patted her stomach.

“In two months I think.”

“It’s a boy?”

She quietly nodded and as soon as this conversation begins, you found yourself unable to ask anymore questions. It’s not that you didn’t care but the topic of motherhood made you feel uncomfortable, even more so these last years… Hopefully she changed the conversation when sensing your discomfort.

“So...it seems that he comes here often?”

“Who?”

“Doctor O’hara.”

“Ah...yes, Miguel...well, he is here to help my father. They’re good friends and I think it’s good that they are hanging together.” It felt like you were trying to justify yourself or something. You cleared your throat and grabbed your coffee while Mag kept looking at you with a knowing smile.

“He is nice, isn’t he?”, she asked after a few seconds and you simply nodded slowly.

The rest of the afternoon went by pretty fast as the four of you got lost again in your memories. Assya was the first to leave because she had to pick up her kids at daycare and Jane and Mag followed quickly. Once they were gone, you let the silence of the house wrap around your and youfinally rested your face against the wooden panel of the door for a few seconds with your eyes closed. As much as it was nice seeing them again, you feltl drained of all your energy and you would probably need a few days to recharge your social battery.

The sounds of footsteps made you turn around and there was Miguel, looking at you from the end of the hallway, a soft smile on his lips.

“Are you alright?”

You leaned your back against the door for a few seconds as a migraine started hitting your head. He could sense that something was off and that you needed to rest despite your attempt at reassuring him. He slowly moved closer to you and only stopped when he was a few feet away. He didn’t exactly know what made him act this way but there was again this lingering need to take care of you in ways that would make him feel ashamed if he could admit it.

“I can leave you alone if you want…”

“No it’s okay.”

Your eyes trailed up and down his figure in the dim light of the corridor and your eyes locked on the apron he is wearing. The white fabric had turned yellow at some point and the blue flowers on it looked withered. On one of the pockets there was a small heart. You had embroidered yourself when you were younger, as a gift to your mother.

Miguel seemed to realize his mistake and he started to untie the apron. He didn’t mean to offense you by taking this memory of your mother out of the cabinets. He just took the first thing he had found to cover himself. He was about to apologize when your hands stopped his movements, holding his wrists firmly.

“Don’t take it off.”

Your voice was only a murmur but he clearly heard you. With a soft sigh, he intertwined his fingers with yours while your two bodies got a bit closer. The mere light from the window of the door looked like a halo around your hair and he has to catch his breath. The room suddenly fels like it had been completely deprived of air while he got lost in your eyes. What if he got closer? What if he held you in his arms, only for a few seconds? What if…

The questions rushed in his mind, pressing him to decide what to do. But he had the feeling that none of this is what you need at the moment, nor what he should do. The grip of his fingers on yours finally loosened and he stepped back.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.” You watched him slowly walk away before leaning back against the door. Your body slowly slid down the panel and you end up sitting down the floor, a mix of boiling, raw emotions that you couldn't identify lingering inside your chest.

When you were finally back inside the living room, you noticed that Miguel had left a glass of water and some aspirin for you. You smiled at the sweet attention and immediately swallowed one pill. He also had cleaned up a bit the room and yet, all the album photos were still out. Your father was sitting down the couch, absorbed in the old pictures, so much that he hadn’t notice your presence at first. You didn’t need to look over his shoulders to know what, or rather who he was looking at. In fact you’d rather disappear from the room rather than bring the attention to this topic but he caught the sound of your footsteps as soon as you started moving

“Hey…” he gently called you out. When he turned around, you caught a glimpse of the picture he was looking and you were unfortunately right. It was a picture of you and your mom. It had been taken the first year you all went camping in family. “How was the afternoon with your friends?”

“Good. Thanks.”

He was smiling in a way that would break even a heart of stone. With a tired sigh, you dragged your body to the side of the couch and sat by his side.

Your mother was holding you in her arms on the picture. You zere both wearing matching green windbreakers, an idea from your father because he was wearing the same one on the other side of the picture. There was something so comforting about staying in her arms like that. She was not a frail woman with he square-shaped shoulders, her burly arms tanned after hours spent in the garden and she was always carrying around her a scent like the one of a fireplace. You were sure that it was how a mother’s hug was supposed to feel for a long time in your life, strong, maybe a bit rough in the beginning like a mama bear holding her cubs. It was the only kind of hugs that could chase away the monsters under your bed or in your heads once you grew up.

Your father’s fingers glided over the page and you felt a bit uncomfortable. You squirmed over your sit, not knowing what to do. Should you offer a few words of comfort? Hug him? It would be quite appropriate but you were not sure your hugs would feel as comforting as hers.

He sensed your discomfort and flips the page. A large smile slowly crept up his face and he started laughing. It was a picture of you at a dance recital, around age 8, dressed as a large daisy. You cringed at the picture. Your chubby cheeks were squished by the fabric of your corolla and you were all red and sweaty, because of course the taffetas of the dress was too hot for the month of May.

“Dad, can we please ignore that?”

“No way, you’re looking adorable. And your mother spent so many time on your costume.”

The sound of your banter had attracted Miguel and he smiled when he seed that you seemed to feel a bit better. When your dad called him in, you felt a cold sweat running down your back.

“Dad, no.”

But the catastrophe happened too fast for you to react. Miguel sat on the other side of the couch and as soon as he looked at the picture, a goofy smile curled up his lips.

“No wonder you enjoy gardening. It’s like your natural habitat after all.”, he teased you gently. Your father laughed loudly at what you would have considered a pretty lame joke if it wasn’t for the adorable smirk that he was wearing. On the next picture, you were dressed as one of the rats for the ballet Nutcracker and you thought that you might actually die of embarrassment right now.

Miguel was having a blast seeing all these pictures that your dad always commented on with a funny story. Not only did he get to see an other side of you but he also caught the blush that crept up your cheeks and that slightly annoyed pout you were doing. Ever since he met you, he had never seen you embarrassed or really flustered. This might be the most emotions you’ve shown in one time and he quickly diverted his attention from the picture to your profile. After seeing the pictures he could clearly see how well of a mix you are between your parents. You got the lanky silhouette from your father, his long and thin face with the sharp eyes and pronounced chin. And from your mother, those curly locks, your nose with the high arch and those cheekbones… The said cheekbones were turning more and more flushed, their shade according well with the one of your tinted lips.

"Stop looking", he taunted himself.

As the pages kept moving and your dad talking, you slowly relaxed and your arm was now resting on top of the head of the couch. Just like Miguel’s. You were still trying to act unbothered the first time his fingers brushed against yours, thinking it might be an accident. But when it happened again, you were not so sure anymore that it was a mistake. Your two hands were resting behind the couch and your fingers were brushing from time to time, especially when Miguel was laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. At some point his forefinger brushed against your wrist, right against the edge of your sleeve.

You quickly pulled your hand back to yourself. Not out of discomfort but because you felt confused. This was not an invitation from your part...but you wouldn’t have minded for this contact to last a bit longer either…

Miguel didnn’t dare thinking that he was disappointed. Touching an inch of your skin even for a few seconds was still worth every hour of hesitation and turmoil that would come after it. How could your skin be so soft? So tempting? All when he had seen of it so far was your hands and a bit of your neck?

Still unaware of what was happening behind his back, literally, your father turned to an other page. It was a picture of you on your last recital. You were around fifteen years old, dressed in a dainty pink tutu, glitters sprinkled all over your hair. You had spent hours cleaning them off with your mother afterwards...

“This was your last recital?”, Miguel asked but it was your father who replied.

“She had to stop after that. You know how it is? High school, college entrance exams…”

Miguel didn’t reply but he did furrow his brows and nodded with a serious look on his face. He would have liked to ask more questions about this part of your life that looked so surreal. How come this little girl with that bright smile and her face covered in glitters turned into the woman you were today? He could’t also help but wonder if you still remembered a few dance moves…

But your father had flipped the pages once again and now there was an other picture of you with a boy around your age. His skin was the same shade as yours and brown curls flowed down to his shoulders. The two of you were standing close to each other, at a respectable distance with a shy look on your face. Miguel knew too well this type of picture and when he looked back at you, he was expecting to see some reaction on your face. Maybe you would be a bit embarrassed, flustered or at least nostalgic? But to his surprise you had a blank expression on your face. He didn’t know if it’s good or not. Before he could ask anything else, your father said in an obnoxious voice:

“You were such a cute couple together, David and you. You remember that day, Y/N?”

“Mhh...not really.” You seemed pretty unaffected by the picture, which was not something that Miguel was expecting from someone who just saw such a memory.

“Oh come on...you really don’t remember? It was for your birthday. You remember that nice necklace he gave you?”

You nodded without saying anything. You knew it was useless to argue with your father over this topic. He had always loved David, almost like a son. The fact that his parents were from the same diaspora as your father only made them get closer and your father had always assumed that you would end up with David. He was a nice guy, sure. But there was a reason why you never kept seeing each other after high school and you remembered it while looking at the picture. There was no chemistry between you, even a blind could see that, whatever your dad liked to think.

Miguel’s eyes were still locked on your profile and the more you were looking at the picture, the more anxious he was getting. Why were still silent? How was he supposed to understand the way you were looking at this picture? Was this good? Bad? Did you miss that David guy? Why was he suddenly just realizing that you must have had former partners? And why did he make him want to take your hand back in his, to pull you closer to him?

Your father didn’t seem to realize that there was a slight tension because he kept digging his own grave:

“It’s been a long time since you saw each other. Did you even call him? You know, I think he would be really happy to talk to you…” and with what was supposed to be a playful nudge, he added: “And I heard that he is single.” Miguel quickly caught the pink hue on your cheeks and it made his stomach twist as if he was sick. Were you embarrassed? Or was there more to this reaction? God, he hadn’t realized until now how hard it was to read you and he wished he could ask you directly. But...he was not entitled to ask that of you. Who was he to think that?

“Dad, I’m not going to call him.”, you replied while organizing the albums on the coffee table. “We had a good time and now it’s over. What happened in the past belonged to the past.”

Miguel almost sighed out of relief but your father was quick to reply: “Maybe you should start thinking about the future...I mean, you’re almost thirty and I haven’t seen you with anyone in a few years now.”

That was a low blow.

Even if it had been said in a rather understanding voice, you couldn’t help but feel your blood boil. This was the last conversation you wanted to have with your father. Miguel felt like his presence was unwanted and he tried to make his way out of the living room as quietly as possible. He would be in the kitchen if you needed help but there was no need for him to make you feel like he was prying on this delicate moment.

***

It was not your first time having this argument with your father. In fact, you remembered the last time it happened. It was a few years ago when you decided to move with your last boyfriend. Most parents would have welcomed such a good news but your father wasn’t too happy about it. First of all, he never really liked this man. History would prove him right, but it was not for the good reasons that he disliked him.

“He is not what I imagined. He is..."

Not like us.

That cryptic sentence took all its sense when you introduced your boyfriend to your father. He didn’t fit in. Your father wanted someone who could speak his language, who could share his memories of the country they left…

“And you’re living with him without even getting married?”

“You know what the people will say!”

“I raised you better than this…”

Hearing him screaming was somehow less hurtful that his resigned voice. He could sound so disappointed sometimes that you almost wondered why you even kept trying.

But at least at the time, you had your mother by your side. She always knew how to calm him down. She was like this bridge between the two of you and somehow she was the only one who would manage to help you find a compromise.

At least when she was alive.

***

You couldn’t run to your mother after an argument anymore and you’d rather stay alone than talk with anyone else. At least, that’s what you used to think. Now that you were back in this house, you might as well go and see her.

The next day, you grabbed your windbreaker and headed out of the house before your father had waken up. You had spent the last evening, alone in your room. It’s been so long since the two of you fought; you had forgotten how bad it could hurt sometimes. The thought that Miguel could have heard your argument made you feel so embarrassed. What was he thinking now?

The air around you was crisp and you could feel the scent of the pines and the muddy ground this early in the morning. It was a perfect day for what you were about to do… The gates of the cemetery had barely opened when you walked inside. It was a few days before Halloween and a few people would come and clean the graves soon, change the flowers… Seeing all the decorated graves made you regret not bringing anything. And given your father’s state, no one probably brought anything to your mother’s grave.

She was right where you remembered her. The plaque with her name stood at the foot of a small hill. A vase with withered flowers, a decoration with a dove...exactly how you remembered it to be. You carefully sat in front of it and watched the black marble. A few remaining raindrops from the night slid down the material, on top of her name engraved on it.

“Beloved mother and wife.”

Finally, some peace and some silence.

You didn’t know how long exactly you stayed there, sometimes contemplating the grey sky, sometimes the delicate intricacy of the letters of her name. Next time you would bring some flowers you promised as much as her than to yourself. At some point while looking at the build-up of stormy clouds in the sky, you noticed a large silhouette, all too familiar, moving down the hill.

What was he doing here?

You tried to get up despite your numb legs and the silhouette seemed to walk faster in your direction, his long coat flowing behind him. It was only when the first raindrops fell down that he managed to join you.

Miguel didn’t even dare asking you anything, if you were feeling alright, who you came to visit… the answer to each question was obvious. Instead, he simply offered you shelter under his umbrella and a tissue for your wet eyes.

“Do you want to stay a bit longer here?”, he finally asked after a few seconds. You shook your head and the two of you made your way out of the graveyard. His arm was holding yours, guiding you gently toward the exit, his sturdy shoulder brushing against yours from time to time.

When you reached his car, Miguel opened the door for you and then sat in front of the stirring wheel. But he didn’t feel like taking you back home now. And neither did you.

The rain was hitting the roof of the car in a loud, discorded melody. You could barely see the world outside through that much rain. A slight fog had covered the windows with the warmth of the heater, and yet your shoulders don’t stop shivering.

Miguel’s comforting hand gently squeezed your shoulder as he tried to make you look this way, a vain attempt to anchor you in the moment.

“Hey…”

He was slowly getting a bit more worried that you’re not responding but he doesn’t dare insisting. His hand stopped at a few inches from your face before he slowly leaned back into his seat. The silence inside the car was only troubled by your heavy breaths as you tried to compose yourself. After a few minutes, he couldn’t hold it anymore and asked: “Do you want to talk about it?”

You were not sure if he was talking about the argument with your father or your visit to the cemetery but you still shook your head. He felt a bit relieved when he heard your voice, even if it was barely a whisper:

“I’m fine, Miguel.”

An other heavy silence filled up the space inside the car and quite surprisingly you were the one breaking it this time, again.

“Why were you here?”

His eyes seemed suddenly very focused on the stirring wheel and he absented-mindly started rubbing his pointer finger with his thumb while looking for his words.

“I needed to visit someone.”

===============================================

Notes: This was a pretty messy chapter, so I want to thank anyone who took the time to read this.

I'm currently working on the seventh chapter and just so you know, I'm very impatient to write it.

Taglist: @safixiovi @laysmt @reverieblondie

My Masterlist!

< part 5 / part 7 >

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv #astv miguel #miguel 2099 #fanfic #spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #dbf!miguel #miguel angst #daddy issues #older dad bf #this fic has turned into my therapy #i'm sorry

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