Bittersweet Devotion pt.2
Pairing: Miguel OโHara x fem!reader
Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any.
wc: 9.3k
Previous
Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616โs world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.
You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didnโt exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peterโs universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse.ย
The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs.ย
Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse.ย
They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some youโd personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what youโd heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.
You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadnโt truly grasped -ย different, yet similar. You hadnโt given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.
Perhaps that was the reason why you hadnโt known your universe had its own Miguel OโHara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything youโve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.
Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.
It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved.ย
He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you wouldโve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXXโs Miguel OโHara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.
He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemaxโs building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well.ย
You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay.ย
You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadnโt felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades.ย
The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeterโs devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms?ย
Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)
You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times.ย
The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadnโt attempted to smell his pants, you thought it wouldโve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater.ย
Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes youโd been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed.ย
โI hope you donโt mind hot chocolate,โ he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. โIโm not one for tea.โ He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage.ย
His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh.ย
โThank youโฆโ you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.
โMiguel. Miguel OโHara, โ he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. โWhatโs your name? I canโt keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.โ His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that youโd comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.
You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadnโt seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults youโd hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him.ย
โThank you, Miguel,โ you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. โThank youโฆโ
Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguelโs den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.
โDifficult breakup?โ His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home?ย
โHowโd ya know?โ
His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldnโt tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father.ย
โBecause I know how it feels,โ he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake.ย
โWhy?โ You croaked.
โWhy?โ he parroted, frowning at your question.
โWhy did you invite me in? Iโm a- a stranger to you, you donโt even know me. What if Iโd been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? Whatโd you do then, Miguel?โ
โI know the risks, but you didnโt, didnโt you? And wouldnโt, you donโt look like the person to harm another.โ
You scoffed at his words. Didnโt and wouldnโt didnโt mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naรฏve idea that you didnโt look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didnโt mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had.ย
โThatโs naรฏve,โ you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat.ย
โIโm confident in my ability to read people.โ
He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadnโt gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel OโHara in all universes he existed in.ย
You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:
โYeah, what gave it away?โ
You thought it would be the last of him youโd see in your life, you wished it wouldnโt, that youโd see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word.ย
You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasnโt misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you heโd feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasnโt too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasnโt warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt.ย
You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. Youโd crash into Miguelโs open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXXโs Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didnโt miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine youโd formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything youโd done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.
Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.
Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a godโs beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguelโs face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: โDonโt forget about next week, I miss seeing you.โ
His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldnโt be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it.ย
โChocolate.โ
The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguelโs cup, and drank down to the middle of the container.ย
โThank you.โ
He probably wouldnโt let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didnโt seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed.ย
โHow are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you mightโve needed the time alone.โ
You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge.ย
โโM doing better. How- and how are you?โ
He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe youโd learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasnโt painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldnโt drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial.ย
He wouldnโt let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadnโt relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, heโd invited you to his flat, youโd seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.
โGreat so far.โ
His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes.ย
Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that youโd become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:
โAye, finally. I thought youโd never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.โ
It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldnโt exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).
Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the otherโs presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after youโd gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.
The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television youโd ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that youโd found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes.ย
Youโd taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. Itโd been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then itโd be about how the sky was grey this week, there werenโt any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or itโd be about the distasteful cut of a manโs moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.
Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.
You wonโt - canโt - deny that youโve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldnโt let yourself love him. He didnโt deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didnโt deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasnโt a Spider, he wasnโt a superhero, and he wasnโt a vigilante. He was Miguel OโHara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart.ย
You cherished every part of him. Thatโs why you canโt let your heart lead, dedicate how youโd react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldnโt tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heartโs cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-
โI- what?โ you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.
โI love you.โ
His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.
โYouโฆ love me?โ
He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.
โYes, is it so hard to believe, chica?โ
He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you.ย
It mightโve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, heโd be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasnโt a lightweight anyway.ย
You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldnโt do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped?ย
โYes! I love you too!โ
โOh, Miguel, I love you too.โ
โI- I love you as well.โ
There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier.ย
So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.
โAye- would it be better if I called you โmi tesoroโ instead? Itโs more straightforward, no?โ
Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you.ย
โOr maybe-โ
Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didnโt stop Miguelโs initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something.ย
He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you.ย
His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguelโs adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didnโt know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him.ย
โThatโs- thatโs one wayโฆโ you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.
That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldnโt be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.
Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidonโs rage and violent storms the strength of Zeusโ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldnโt be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence.ย
He hadnโt followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadnโt seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that heโd forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldnโt fix his first mistake, whoโs to say he could fix this? He couldnโt save his first daughter or his secondโs universe because it was falling apart. He couldnโt save anyone because he hadnโt realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldnโt stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him.ย
Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didnโt know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyoneโs words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you wouldโve reacted more strongly and aggressively if heโd contacted you after leaving.ย
So he watched.
You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldnโt stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten.ย
So he watched.
Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you werenโt alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasnโt part of the canon.ย
So he watched-
Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breathโs distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking.ย
He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud youโd complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the otherโs place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he wouldโve given them to you. He wouldnโt dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it.ย
He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasnโt. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel OโHara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldnโt, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he couldโve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he wouldโve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man.ย
Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didnโt depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldnโt sacrifice for his whims.
So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.
He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he couldโve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him.ย
He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldnโt be reached unless there was an emergency.ย
โMiguelโฆโ
Heโd forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didnโt mean that she wasnโt privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universeโs screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there.ย
He couldnโt look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didnโt deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more.ย
โMiguel-โ
โDonโt- Do not say another word.โ
For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure heโd taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply.ย
Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything.ย
If your love was a tangible thing, he wouldโve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. Heโd lost something he couldnโt gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.
It felt surreal until it wasnโt until it all sunk in. He truly couldnโt grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel OโHara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves.ย
Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldnโt he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other OโHara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spiderโs. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were.ย
Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -ย he couldnโt see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldnโt be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasnโt only the result of what heโd done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didnโt seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what heโd done. Miguel simply didnโt have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.
If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?
Did you still love him?
Miguel didnโt know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place.ย
He hadnโt moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldnโt be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him.ย
You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive.ย
โMiguel,โ you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.
He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldnโt have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern.ย
He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights.ย
Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. Thatโs something he always appreciated about you.ย
โI-โ Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldnโt get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. โIโm sorry, (Name).โ
You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadnโt uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly.ย
โI know- I know it doesnโt mean much now, but Iโm really, really sorry, mi vida.โ
He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else.ย
โI acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesnโt mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, moreโฆ aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didnโt deserve any of that and I canโt always blame it on my mutations. I shouldโve been able to control myself. I shouldnโt have lashed out at you in those ways.โ
He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didnโt dare look up and see the face you were making.ย
โI was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. Iโm- Iโm not asking you to forgive me, I donโt want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I donโt know what else to do, I donโt know how to fix this.โ He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. โIโm sorry, mi cielo.โย
He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadnโt realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance.ย
โIโm really sorry, mi cielo. Iโm so, so sorry.โ
He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled peopleโs end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasnโt prepared for it. He truly didnโt know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.
โIโm sorry too, Miguel-โ
The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.
โ-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- โ
The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasnโt worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadnโt committed.ย
โ-but, I canโt.โ
The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moonโs bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.
โI canโt love you anymore.โ
It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love.ย
He wished that he couldโve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he wouldโve burned the world for. In the end, after everything heโd done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness.ย
My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:
@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully
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โคทโฟ.๏ฝกSince you voted yes to commissions, so here we are. I was a little unsure about the price, so I researched and tried to make it as fair as possible. I hope you agree with this! โค๏ธ
Also, this is completely optional! If you don't want to, you don't have to request a commission! All the other requests works the same way!!
โคทโก.+ n a v i g a t i o n.
What I would write
I write for any gender, both character and Reader/OC, be it female, male, neutral transsexual. Any.
Yandere!Character x Reader, Yandere!Reader x Yandere!Character, Yandere!OC x Reader and Yandere!OC X OC.
Dark!Au, Gore, Disorders, Smut/NSFW, explicit language, soft!yandere, alternative AU, Horror, Age gap (depends on how much).
Romantic, platonic and general Yanderes, as well as more specific themes; example: yandere x depressive!reader.
Stockholm syndrome.
Pregnancy, childbirth and death in childbirth.
Non-Con, Dub-Con, BDSM.
Fluff; non-yandere.
Monsterfucking, specific kinks.
Angst.
What I DON'T write
Any kind of NSFW content with children, anything with children will just be platonic.
I don't write NSFW with characters that have a childish appearance or personality, just platonic.
I don't usually write ships because I consider it something personal, but I can do it if someone wants to.
Age play, scap.
Minor x Adult (only platonic).
Prices (in $ and R$)
Headcanons
2,00 $/R$ 2,00 for 500 words;
6,00 $/R$ 6,00 for 1000 words;
12,00 $/R$ 12,00 for 2000 words;
NSFW content adds an additional charge of $3,00/R$3,00.
Imagines, Scenarios, Reactions, Oneshots, Prompts
3,00 $/R$ 4,00 for 500 words;
10,00 $/R$ 13,00 for 1000 words;
18,00 $/R$ 18,00 for 2000 words;
20,00 $/R$ 20,00 for 3000 words.
NSFW content adds an additional charge of $5,00/R$6,00.
My list of current fandoms, but I can always add more:
Anime
Attack on Titan, Amensia, Death Note, Demon Slayer, Diabolik Lovers, Fruits Basket, Haikyuu!!, Hakuoki, Hunter x Hunter, Jujutsu Kaisen, Kamigami no Asobi, Naruto, Mirai Nikki, One Piece, Blood of Zeus.
Books
Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, A Song of Ice and Fire, Pegasus and The Flame of Olympus (series), IT., A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR), The Bridgertons, Twilight, The Lord of the Rings, The Cruel Prince: The Folk of the Air, The Bridgertons, Twilight.
Games
Genshin Impact, Detroit Become Human, Mystic Messenger, Time Princess Dress Up (TP: characters), Yandere Simulator, My Candy Love (Amour Sucrรฉ), Arkyos Angel, A Plague Tale.
K-Pop
BTS, BLACKPINK, GOT7, EXO, BIGBANG, TWICE, AESPA, Stray Kids, ITZY, Hyuna and Dawn, Red Velvet, NCT, Monsta X, Taemin, Dreamcatcher, LE SSERAFIM, (G)I-DLE.
Series/TV Show
Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, Outer Banks, Friends, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Euphoria, Reign, Bridgerton, The Flash, Supergirl, Outlander, American Horror Story, Wednesday, Riverdale, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, The Sandman, Lucifer, Winx Club, Ragnarok, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, Invisible City (Cidade Invisรญvel), Shadow and Bone, Adventure Time, The Witcher, Rebelde MX (RBD), Heartstopper.
Movies
Disney Universe, Marvel Universe, DC Universe, Maze Runner, Halloween, Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Transformers, How to Train Your Dragon, Miraculous, Ever After High, Monster High, Barbie Universe, Christmas Movies, Maze Runner, Avatar, Twilight, Star Wars.
K-Dramas
My Demon, Bussiness Proposal, Doom At Your Service, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, Crash Landing on You, My Name, Mr Queen, King the Land.
Mythology
Greek, Egyptian, Norse Mythology and Brazilian Folklore.
Historical Characters
Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar and etc...
Additional Information
I accept payment via PayPal and Pic Pay only (PayPal = Ko-Fi)
Payment must be made before I start and I will always send you updates if you ask me.
I write in English and Portuguese.
I have a deadline of 5 to 10 days to complete your commission, however, if something unforeseen happens and it ends up being delayed, I will inform you.
If I write more than what was asked, obviously there will be no additions.
If you are interested, DM me with details and feel free to ask me anything.
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