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karolamurdock · 9 months ago

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SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.4

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

Sinopsis: The year is 2106. By day, you work as the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology division at Alchemax. By night, you are the one and only Spider-Woman, fighting tirelessly to protect New York from the tyrannical clutches of crime and delinquency. Your days are spent in an ordinary, organized routine: it's just you, the only barrier between your city and oblivion, dealing with the violence and pain that comes with being a superhero.

Everything is just normal. Then your dead husband appears in front of you, talking about alternate universes, spider societies and canonical disasters, and you discover that all your sorrows, losses and failures were possibly always meant to happen.

What the fuck.

Notes: No excuses. Let this chapter, full of Miguel, make up for the long time I was gone. I will keep the reader's background rather ambiguous, but it is implied that they also speaks Spanish.

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild violence, subtle references to depression. As always, english is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 2.6K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Impassive white eyes stared back at you with disdain. You looked with abject curiosity at the spidery pattern on his red suit, the white glasses and the sharp claws, and you couldn't help but wonder...

Who makes a spider suit for a cat?

Undaunted, the animal yawned loudly and stretched lazily over the railing before leaping onto the pristine marble floor, completely silent and oblivious to your anomalous presence. He waved his orange tail and stretched the red patterns that hugged his hind legs.

You did not have the opportunity to entertain yourself with her pretty pink pads. A gloved hand brushed your shoulder, and you turned your masked face to observe your guide's own grim expression.

"Come with me." Miguel said. "I'll show you around before introducing you to the rest of Society."

Silently, you nodded. The man walked two steps ahead of you. His broad, imposing figure was like a bronze spur, parting the sea of arachnid entities that watched you with open curiosity.

As he made his way through the crowd, you quietly followed in his footsteps. Grateful for the foresight to keep your mask in place, you analyzed the discordant structure of the building that surrounded you. You noticed the long corridors and open configuration: designed to facilitate mobility for your kind.

Miguel moved forward, and you watched his impassive figure with stern eyes. You wondered if he too had become Orpheus in his willingness to claim you back, and now feared to look back and lose his Eurydice. Perhaps the anguish in his gaze would be enough to draw you into the shadows and lose you forever. Would he then be blessed to work and move the gods with craftsmanship born of his terrible grief?

Was it so for you? You could not claim that your deeds after his death were unselfish and sincere: you did not seek to soften the wind with your tender weeping, nor to drown the rushing waters with the song of your heroic prowess. The resolution of your vengeance was your reward: an analgesic balm to numb the turmoil of your burning soul.

Together, you entered the lift... You watched the changing landscape. On the glass, you saw Miguel's ponderous silhouette, stern and rigid. The pattern of his suit resembled your own. But your own profile was outlined with sharper lines, and your web shooters were not exposed, but hidden in the webbing patterns on your wrists.

The door opened, and you followed him through large, well-lit rooms, through huge recreation rooms, and through small, immaculate, familiar laboratories. You carefully analyzed the information he gave you along the way: where to find the scientists in charge of certain labs, the optimum hours for accessing the training rooms, the menu in the main cafeteria (a burger with Miguel's mask on it? Santo Dios...). Finally, he took you to his own office. On one of the top floors, of course. Just like your universe.

When the lift stopped in his office, your mask retracted. Miguel did a quick double take, pursed his lips and looked up; you followed his gaze to see a red light flashing rapidly on one of the screens above the platform.

You heard Miguel's grunt as Lyla appeared over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before turning to face the man:

"An anomaly is causing trouble on Earth-1048. Homeworld Spider-Man is already on the scene, but he's limited to minimizing the destruction around him."

"Copy that." Miguel said. He ran a hand over his face, holding the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut, and the gesture seemed so familiar that you almost let out the breath you were holding between your lips. "I have to deal with this. I'll talk to Jessica, she can show you the room you can use as your own."

"I can go with you." You finally spoke.

Miguel looked at you in surprise. But he quickly frowned and replied:

"No, it's too soon. I'll be able to show you how we deal with the anomalies once you're settled in and we know more about your universe."

Your universe. Like a wave crashing against rock, you felt heat coursing through your veins and burning in the pit of your stomach. You felt that in your rage, the marks on your suit might be burned into your skin forever.

You blinked. Ignoring the fire in your chest, you responded:

"I could settle in better if I knew what I was dealing with."

Miguel studied you. His red eyes scanned your face: your steel eyes, your unbending brows, your closed lips, and he said no more. Sharing a last look with Lyla, he nodded with finality, and she took it upon herself to open the portal for the two of you.

"Let 's go, then."

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

It was a cold morning in Harlem. The white sky barely hinted at the day's pale rays, and the streets were shrouded in a thick, damp gray haze. As you and Miguel landed on a lamppost overlooking the East River and the small buildings lining the street, an ominous silence settled over the scene at your feet.

You sat back on your heels, scanning the nondescript landscape, and Miguel followed, his back stiff and his hands clenched into fists as he exhaled:

"The signal seems to be coming from this warehouse." He gestured with his chin, and you peered intently at the gray silhouette of a building surrounded by tall grills and long containers. A cloud of gray smoke rose through the haze, and with a mighty leap you launched yourself in its direction, hearing Miguel's nets snap past you.

Soon you were perched on the railing of a neighboring building, with a clear view of the ruined courtyard. Sparks rained down from the ruined batteries; small fires burned and cracks in the concrete marred the once peaceful scene.

Rubble crunched beneath your feet as you landed in the courtyard. In the distance, you heard a muffled, heavy thud. You glanced cautiously at a large metal curtain to your right as a deafening screech pierced the jealous silence. Beside you, Miguel brought his knees to his chest and the two of you jumped away just as the door shot in your direction.

A red figure flew through the air. With a start, you threw your nets around the man's torso, jumping just in time to catch him before his body slammed into a large metal container.

"Nice catch." Gasped the Spider-Man in your arms. "Rhino's got an arm."

"Does he throw you often?"

"Well, yeah." The young man cleared his throat, pulling himself to his feet with a little help. "But I don't usually get caught by..." He tilted his head to the side, curious.

"Spider-Woman." You conceded.

Her white glasses widened comically as he whistled under his breath:

"Awesome!"

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Miguel's orange nets wrapped around Rhino's massive arm, and you spun on your heels as the beast slammed into the tower Miguel was standing on.

"He's really mad!" Spider-Man exhaled as he rushed to your side. "I don't understand, according to my intel, Aleksei's transfer still hasn't been coordinated. He is still in the custody of the police."

"He's not Aleksei Sytsevich!" Miguel shouted. He had dodged a large stone and landed next to you. "His name is Alexander O'Hirn. He is the Rhino of dimension 26496."

"Oh!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "I knew you weren't my Rhino! We've always had this connection, you know?"

The man lunged at you, furious. You caught a glimpse of a crane with a container suspended in the air, and you pulled the arm of the crane just as the man was passing underneath the box. The container landed on top of his armour with a clatter that made your ears ring.

"Watch out!"

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you out of the way of a huge chunk of concrete.

"Not one, but three Spider-Creeps!" he growled.

"Hey, that's not very nice of you." Spider-Man landed a kick to the chest, but Rhino didn't move. He grabbed the hero's legs and slammed him into the wreckage of the crane. Taking advantage of the distraction, Miguel jumped up and punched him in the face, the only exposed part of his body.

Rhino let go of Spider-Man and took a step back. With a leap, you stood on a low beam and surveyed your surroundings. As the man jerked and rammed into Miguel, you activated your drones; small winged spiders that flew over the villain's head, firing electric shocks that immobilised him with a scream.

"His face!" you exclaimed, and Miguel leapt to your side to dodge the rocks Rhino dropped as he stomped on the concrete.

Spider-Man, snapping out of his daze, noticed the same thing you did: the small visible part of his face was hyperemic and sweaty. "His suit must be restricting his ventilation!"

So this would be a battle of endurance. Good, you thought to yourself. You've been doing this for years.

With a nod, Miguel and Spider-Man squared up firmly and jumped into the fray.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

As the portal to your dimension closed behind you, silence fell. Michael's gaze was on the horizon, and yours was on him. It was not his red eyes that you caressed with your thoughts, but you could taste the sweetness of his cheek beneath your lips. His hair was shorter, but his curly eyelashes were thicker than yours: a feature that made you playfully envious in the past.

In the warm, brief light of the streetlamps, his face was just as beautiful. His bronze skin was a ghostly contrast to the impassivity of the bustling nightlife, a backdrop to his stern profile.

He looked at you too. And his pupils wandered over the arch of your lips, your eyebrows and cheekbones, the slope of your neck and your bare ears. And you thought he was reflecting the same doubt that plagued you: because he is Miguel, but not your Miguel. And you were never his wife, but your smile is the same, and he only replaced your name with silence, and the space he occupied with you was filled with melancholy.

"You did a good job." Miguel said after a prolonged silence.

"Thank you." You replied with a small smile. "You weren't so bad yourself."

"Hm." He snorted. With a hand on his hip, he arched an eyebrow and looked you up and down, half mocking, half stern. "Now you know what we're up against. You can run away now. We won't blame you. I certainly wouldn't."

You moistened your lips and took a slow breath. So close, your arm inches from his shoulder, you felt his warmth, the energy of his holographic suit, his solid build and musky scent.

"You wouldn't reach me." You finally replied, and your heart skipped a beat as a grin revealed his sharp fangs.

"I already did."

"I was distracted."

"Sure."

He straightened up, and you took advantage of the brief appraisal that he was giving to the red horizon to revel in his presence... just one more time.

In your solitude, his face is your guest. With his presence, an outdated image shatters beneath your feet. This new precision is yours. And even if he were to leave you that night, his voice muffled by the wind, Miguel would not leave you. His eyes would remain in the burning sunset and his posture in the steadiness of the stars.

When he looked back at you, your expression was already composed. Silently, you tilted your chin in the direction of the busy streets, and when he raised a questioning eyebrow, you spread your arms wide and threw yourself into the void.

Your mask returned to your face and your wings spread from your arms. Behind you you heard a faint scream and a short curse in Spanish. You felt, before you saw, his broad, imposing figure leaping from the edge of the building, and you used the air currents to move across the city with ease.

The buildings blurred at the edge of your vision. Though your mask filtered out the piercing whistle of the air, you still felt the pressure in your ears; and you didn't look at him, but felt his presence, imagining him dodging antennas, aerial surveillance and flocks of birds skimming skilfully across the crowded sky.

You locked arms and landed in a somersault, legs cramped and right hand braced against one of the buildings, halfway across a complex of tall glass towers.

"Look."

Below you, the city lit up like fireflies in the night. Thirteen hundred feet away, the cars and streetlights looked like tiny fiery wisps traversing the busy, colorful streets. And in the distance, the black silhouette of Alchemax stood out against the red horizon.

"I recognise this place." Miguel said, leaning over to stare in awe at a small purple-roofed shop on the side of the road. "It used to be a very popular artisan bakery in my universe."

"It's quite popular here too."

"I still have fond memories of their vanilla cake. I would get it for all... my events." He finished lowly.

"I used to buy the orange bread," you hummed understandingly, shaking your head disappointedly. "And now I can't eat citrus."

He looked at you in silence... and then laughed, shaking his head in astonishment, "Neither can I."

In the privacy of your mask, you smiled back. And with the first dark brushstroke on the horizon came your resolution.

"I can help you." You began, looking away from the night to stare at his cloaked profile. "But I will not be part of the Society."

He bowed his head, listening.

"I have work to do here." Your work at Alchemax; the company you were leading was just beginning to take a course that you could be proud of. Being Spider-Woman; a full-time job you couldn't give up: you were already the symbol of your city. An embodiment of hope, perseverance and goodness. "But... I understand that your work with the multiverse is an even more arduous and complex task, and I offer you my services as an advisor. If you ever need help... you know where to find me."

A hero must be impartial. And to you... his mere presence would be a constant challenge, an exercise in moral skill tested in the crucible of your everyday life. How could you not choose him? The strange man with your husband's voice. The friend whom you love the most, the one who lives in the moments of your delirium.

Because, after him, living seems distant. You have no anger left... only pain. And although your better judgment led you not to get involved with the Society, you could not find the strength within yourself to ignore him. Even though this Miguel is not yours, letting him go is almost like losing him again.

His mask pulled back and you watched him run a hand through his hair, tousling his auburn locks as he nodded slowly.

"I understand."

He stood to his feet. He held out a hand to you, and you followed as he took one last, searching look over your city.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He seemed to hesitate for a moment. He gave you a long look, and in the end he just said:

"Then I'm counting on you."

You remained standing, staring at his silhouette, even as the portal swallowed his dark figure.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" you whispered into the empty air.

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#marvel #miguel o'hara #atvs #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #oscar isaac #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #itsv #spiderman itsv

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karolamurdock · 1 year ago

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Heal the body, and the spirit will follow. It’s the other way around.

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karolamurdock · 1 year ago

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SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.3

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

What the fuck.

Notes: It has been a regrettably long time. Not much Miguel in this chapter, but the next one should make up for it ;) This chapter has not been edited.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, mild violence, subtle references to depression and self-harm. Read with caution. As always, english is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 3.5K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

You asked him for time.

Distantly, you noticed his searching gaze. Your eyes scanned every monitor, every screen, every door, window and vent, and you contrasted the image with the memory of your own office. Same proportions, same subdued light. Different set-up. You had no platform in the air.

You clenched your teeth and soon your mask was back in place. You saw him purse his lips; the brown skin of his Adam's apple quiver as if preparing a retort, but you turned away and asked him for a portal to your dimension before he had time to regain his wits.

Your nerves itched. Your mouth felt furry. Your head, full of cotton. If you didn't leave this anomalous office quickly, you'd end up tearing your hair out with your claws. You could already feel your fangs nipping at the tender skin of your lower lip. As if you could change the composition of your venom, making you vulnerable to its hypnotic effects.

"I'll be back in 3 days. Take some time to think about what we talked about." He finally said. After a long static-laden silence.

As the man fiddled with the gizmo on his wrist, an image bled across your unfocused vision: you saw a healthier version of yourself, a gentler version of yourself, frivolously capturing his lips in a parting kiss. Sliding her hand over the spider on his chest, caressing his pulse beneath her clawless fingers, tracing his lips with her tongue and inhaling his scent.

By the time the portal formed in front of your rigid form, your lips were dry and your eyes burned with the sting of pent-up tears. Your temples pulsed to the rhythm of your grief-stricken heart, and you resisted holding Miguel's intense gaze as you took a few experimental steps near the portal.

"Three days." He repeated. You nodded, silent, and finally looked at the blue skyline of your city. The tall buildings, with the incessant traffic and the train rising into the exosphere.

Your city. Your home.

Your responsibility.

Then you took three steps backwards, ran towards the portal, threw your arms behind you, and fell swiftly into the new day of your own dimension.

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

To say that you only became a celebrity after your 'incident' is an understatement. After the doctors on the board had declared Stone as "mentally unstable" and he was removed from his position on the board, the company was looking for a new director. And it was not surprising that the board's eyes were on you.

Under your leadership, your department had made impressive progress: from laudable milestones in gene editing in agriculture, to new advanced gene therapies, personalized and regenerative medicine, and even therapeutic cloning of cells and tissues on a much more accessible and effective scale.

So you knew it was only a matter of time before you were appointed Director. Everyone knew it. You knew it.

It was the morning after your atypical encounter with Spider-Man. Behind your dark glasses, your hands smoothing the edges of your white coat, you watched the crowd of young people milling about the isles and cubicles of the Molecular Genetics Lab. You approached with a practiced smile, catching the pleased expression on the tour guide's face before she turned to greet you properly.

"Dr (L/N)."

"Dr Rizik." You acknowledged, nodding in her direction.

"Welcome to Alchemax," you said, turning alternately to the enthusiastic crowd. The startled young people turned to you in surprise.

"Dr (L/N) is the head of the Genetic Engineering and Biotechnology Department here at Alchemax. She is one of the world's foremost authorities on bioengineering and gene therapy," Rizik said, and you smiled modestly before answering:

"You flatter me, Doctor. It is a real pleasure to see young, fresh minds joining our company." You replied, analyzing the expressions of varying astonishment on the new trainees' faces. "You will find that we have a variety of programmes and projects for you to participate in to develop your skills and inventiveness."

A hologram appeared over your shoulder, courtesy of your artificial multifunctional expert, MAX.

"As I told you, Dr Rizik, who volunteered to give you this initial tour, is the head of the viral vector gene therapy section. Dr Mason is in charge of the CRISPR-Cas variant gene editing section, which has had great success in the past and is expanding its range of gene editing accuracy and efficiency every day."

You looked out the window of the room: a huge laboratory, swarming with white coats. "On the other hand, gene therapy without DNA cuts has become relevant because it has allowed us to modify bases directly, as well as to use epigenetic and RNA factor-based systems to make changes in gene expression without completely altering the genetic code."

You spun around, your short heels echoing down the immaculate corridor, and pointed to the hologram showing the rest of your department:

"Finally, the atom-based gene editing programme is back in operation, under the direction of Dr Pankratov. If any of you are interested in a particular programme, you can consult the relevant section heads."

The young men nodded in amazement, and Sylvie gave you a thumbs up from behind her graphics tablet.

Then you said goodbye to the group. You quickly made your way upstairs to your office, which was on one of the top floors of the large complex. The door closed behind you and you leaned heavily against it as you dropped the facade and breathed deeply through your nose, feeling the air expand your lungs and fill the cool recesses of your limbs, then exhaled a hot breath that rasped roughly against the silence of your intimate space.

How easy it was to get back into the routine. Going back to work; interacting with people, getting on with the job. Practicing your smile.

If you could stretch out time, like a flap of skin over a bleeding wound, borrowing relief that doesn't come of its own accord, maybe you could begin to heal. But... What does your happiness matter? There are so many other things in this world.

Someone had to do the work.

You let out a shaky sigh and sat down to think about it. What if... it was all a lie, and this individual who so freely offered you such modest charity was merely perpetrating a perverse plot?

For if it were a sham, if Miguel had slipped through your fingers like the smoke of an extinguished candle, such a so-called society would be years ahead of you.

With your heart beating against your ribs, you felt your pulse pounding beneath the fingers wrapped loosely around your neck. Your other hand held you upright against the door. Swallowing hard, you forced yourself to regain the vision....

In your mind's eye you conceived his gizmo. A device capable of interdimensional travel. Compact enough to wrap around your wrist and tear the fabric of the universe as you knew it.

Swinging slowly, you walked to the center of the room. MAX appeared over your shoulder. Crossing his arms over his three-piece red suit, he formed a holographic band in the air with a twist of his hands.

"You would need an extra-dimensional power generator." He said, perfectly in tune with your thoughts, and you nodded as you circled the holographic sketch with slow, deliberate steps.

A material... capable of producing or storing immense amounts of energy to achieve space-time manipulation.

"And we would need a portal-opening device capable of opening and maintaining stable interdimensional windows."

"Quantum nanomaterials." MAX stated.

And you nodded, distracting your thoughts from the analogous exchanges you once had with your husband. As you pointed out the obvious flaws in the sketch, your mind pictured the man's blurry silhouette; his brown hands, his long fingers, and the sweet song in his voice.

"You'd have to start thinking about how to alloy this for controlled gravity." His voice was a whisper in your ear.

Gritting your teeth, you proposed it to MAX. He agreed, and you continued to discuss the hypothetical features of a portable inter-dimensional travel machine.

It was late when your voice gave way to the painful lump in your throat. MAX blinked and his hands dropped to his hips as he watched you with a critical eye.

"Do us both a favor and go home. We're not going to come up with any viable designs if you're not in top mental shape."

You arched an eyebrow, sardonic, as if you hadn't spent the last half-decade calculating the lethal dose of your super-serum in your head, based on your weight and metabolism, every time you entered your lab.

The AI rolled its eyes and continued, ignoring your silent chutzpah:

"A proper mental form. Leave. I will continue to calculate the possible variations of the artifact."

You exhaled wearily. Arguing with MAX was pointless - perhaps because he was a product of your own programming? Anyway, you put your black glasses back on and grabbed your trench coat from the back of your chair.

"Take care of the design of the inter-dimensional navigation system. I'll think about how to resolve the fidelity of the space-time warping device."

MAX nodded, his hands flitting between holograms, intermittently opening tabs in the air. "Leave it to me. You go home and rest. After all, the one and only Spider-Woman needs to stay in shape to protect New York from doom."

You gave him a last look, turned your attention away into the growing night, and sighed to yourself.

"Good night, MAX."

"Good night." He answered you in a softer voice.

As another day passed beneath the city's vast red skyline, the labs emptied. You politely bid farewell to your colleagues who, like you, were preparing to return home.

The one and only Spider-Woman, huh?

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

The truth is that you never wanted to be a hero.

It wasn't even your intention at first. Dazed by your pain, in a state of initial grief drunkenness, your mind was clouded by your rage. The famous race to overthrow criminal minds began as a personal trial, in which you acted as judge, jury, and executioner, and you meted out the punishments your bleeding heart saw fit.

You returned to your primitive flesh: you were a new creature, molding the Lionman of Stadel, immersing yourself in your unprecedented ability to grasp concepts of your own imagination alone. Imagining that these were no less than fictions; that there was room for justice in a bloody, physical world, and that it was not just a fictional tale accepted by the world collective.

Under the same concept, you would later swing through the skyscrapers as a dark, hooded figure, listening to the cheers of the crowd that baptized you.

One by one, you took down each of the men involved in your husband's death. Beginning with Delgado, Stone, and Fortune. Then you took over the spread of rot in Alchemax, weaving through the light as a masked vigilante and slipping into the shadows as a leading scientist. It was the first time you were aware of your own ambivalence: how the dark vigilante would bleed into the crevices of the famous geneticist, your long claws hidden in the pockets of your white coat, and the threat of physical violence always underlying every shuffle of your feet.

You were meticulous. With MAX's help, you were able to gather solid evidence that incriminated the scientists and agents still supporting Stone within the company. Meanwhile, you made a name for yourself: with reckless incuriosity, you dragged yourself to the top of your department. Soon, Alchemax became known for your contributions and the proper handling of your sections, which quickly became some of the most productive for the company.

And so, sailing on the media wave, you became Spider-Woman. A hooded, black-clad, crime-fighting woman: a dark Marianne, representing virtue, fraternity and justice. You had become a symbol: an allegory of values, identity, and altruistic principles. You were an important part of the social dynamic and even influenced public policy.

Seven winters after you began lurking, it was too late to end the charade. Society was unaware that you were not invincible, and certainly not immortal. Eventually you would wither, like a Monocarpic Succulent that dies after blooming. A well-placed bullet, a miscalculation with your nets, bulbar paralysis from an anesthetic overdose, or the anticipated imbalance of your own DNA might well do the trick.

In the wake of awareness of your finite trajectory, you wondered with languid morbidity if the moment really made a difference. Whether the world's suffering would be shortened by your abrupt disappearance, or whether it would contemplate your slow decay with you; until your body, your age, and your circumstances prevented you from wearing your mask again.

What held you back? You wondered as you watched the Train to the Stars rise above the city, disappearing into the black exospheric ocean. Was it fear of the consequences? You were a woman of science. Perhaps that was why your melancholy musings lacked a solid foundation. You failed to make the connection between a heterophilic multicellular organism that is born, reproduces and dies, and a spirit that individualizes itself in a soul that incarnates in a complex body of flesh. An indeterminate being that imprisons the soul world....

Reaching for those thoughts was like trying to hold the moonbeams. Only in the silence did they belong to you.

You shuddered as the earpiece of your mask came to life and you heard MAX's voice as you sat up on the edge of the balcony.

"A robbery has been reported at a Stark-Fujikawa warehouse. The perpetrators defeated the cameras and escaped in a black vehicle. I've tracked the signal to Fifth Avenue."

"Put it on my radar." You asked, dropping down to glide in the direction indicated.

MAX highlighted the black car on your screen. Your claws swooped over a building. From your high perch, you jumped. Opening your arms, you glided over the busy street like a hawk.

"Run a vulnerability scan on the vehicle." You ordered, your eyes tracing possible routes.

"I cannot get remote access. I need time to bypass the firewalls that are rejecting my signal."

You frowned. You picked up speed by landing on a low rooftop and jumping several feet into the air. You stretched out your arms and threw your nets at the towers in the distance.

You watched as the car glided at full speed through the traffic and pedestrians crowding Fifth Avenue. MAX's guidance helped you not to lose the car amidst the buzz of the electric motors, the glow of the neon lights, and the screams of the pedestrians who gaped at the thieves' wild ride.

You quickly dove in and managed to pull one unfortunate person out of the path of the car, which turned sharply right onto 47th Street and continued its high-speed progress, deftly dodging other cars and intersections. You followed him, accurately predicting his route east on 6th Street.

You jumped, ran over the roof of a building, and cut across the street to fall a few feet from the car. Seeing your dark figure approaching, the car made a sharp left turn onto Lexington Avenue, where traffic began to pick up considerably. Drivers, surprised by the pursuit, quickly pulled over to make way for the fleeing vehicle. Sirens wailing behind them alerted passersby to the impending danger.

At 34th Street, the frantic driver took a risk and swerved onto Second Avenue, possibly to avoid the authorities who were already blocking the main streets.

The chase continued for several minutes. At Park Avenue, MAX pointed out to you the approach of the patrol cars that were coming up from the left.

"One minute. Get ready to stop it." MAX warned.

You grunted an affirmative. You watched as the driver was forced to maneuver sharply to the right. Before he could go any further, the car's lights went out. The tires locked up with a thunderous screech. The driver lost control and the car spun around. It quickly approached a light pole at the curb.

Rapidly, you landed on the street. You threw your nets, wrapped around the vehicle, and pulled, digging your heels into the ground.

You could feel the muscles in your arms tense up. The car tipped over, and for a moment it floated on its side wheels, a foot away from the lamppost. Then, it fell in a cloud of smoke and sparks.

The door of the car fell down, and out of the cloud of smoke materialized a broad, stocky figure. It took a few experimental steps, adjusting its neck and limbs, and then... it vanished into the wind.

Immediately, you fell into a defensive posture. Your lenses narrowed and all other visual stimuli around you dimmed. You scanned the area. A few feet away you heard a rustling sound.

You spun in the air, barely avoiding the beam of light that split the smoke in two, and closed your eyes to concentrate on the noise around you. You would have to use your other senses to subdue the thief if you couldn't see him.

You stayed low, rolling on the concrete as the familiar click of the trigger alerted you to the impending energy bolt.

You pulled a small grenade from a compartment in your suit. Pressing the small button on the surface, you threw it at the last spot where the beam of light came from. You ran in the other direction and saw out of the corner of your eye the flower of nets that stretched three meters around it.

You heard a grunt and the clang of metal against concrete, and observed the bulge in the layer of netting holding the individual to the ground. You could vaguely make out a distorted image of the concrete beneath him, and you were surprised to realize the refraction technology used in his disguise.

"Nice try, Frodo. But I'll take that."

Fumbling in the air, you finally grabbed hold of the man's archaic helmet and, with a tug, pulled it off as the man came into view beneath you. His legs and torso were completely covered in netting. The weapon was two meters away, near the lamppost, where it must have flown when the man fell.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, you psychotic bitch." The man spat, his bleeding teeth exposed in an expression of rage.

You looked at the thick, cumbersome armbands, pants, and vest and considered the feasibility of a suit designed to take advantage of the interference properties of nanomaterials, allowing you to manipulate and redirect light rays over a wide range of wavelengths. MAX would help you make it lighter, more durable, and capable of evading thermal radiation signals by incorporating dielectric layers to insulate you from the environment. It would be a true invisibility suit.

" Clearly..." you slurred the words with disdain. "You're the one who doesn't know what you're getting into, big guy."

With a flick of your wrist, you covered his mouth and bound his hands tightly. Sirens could already be heard circling the block.

The time for thinking was almost over. You thought to yourself and gave a friendly wave to the police captain as he came up to you with his team of officers.

"Good evening, Captain."

"Spider-Woman." The stern man greeted. "We appreciate your assistance again. The stolen goods?" he asked.

"The artifacts he carries." You pointed, and the man nodded in agreement.

"Very well. I'll take care of the rest. You can go. Before the press gets here."

You hummed in agreement, watching the drones approaching in the distance, aware of the cameras on the buildings around you.

"Perfect." You said, closing your eyes behind your mask. "Until next time."

🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷 🕷

At the top of Titanium Tower, the red dawn broke through the building's thick columns, diluting the night and bringing the third sunrise since your encounter with Spider-Man.

After three nights of painstaking research, MAX had interrupted your patrol to inform you that although your ambitious project was still in its early stages, it was indeed feasible.

And with that knowledge, you finally allowed yourself to plan. For if your reality were only one of many, and you were faced with the possibility of sailing through the cosmos to intervene in its course, that would mean....

It would mean that you had one more chance. To protect your city. To be a better hero and make up for your original sin.

A portal opened in space behind you, and you listened without seeing the footsteps. You dissipated your mask and turned to observe the stern and familiar face of Miguel O'Hara.

With your shoulders squared and your chin held high, you walked in the direction of his portal. Mentally preparing yourself for the interdimensional leap and making sure you used this opportunity properly.

To protect him. To do the right thing.

This time in your own way.

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps @qiaipia @luciiferian @saltyllamakidwombat @amnmich @autismsupermusicalassassin @miggyyyyohara @songbirdlully

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karolamurdock · 1 year ago

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hi helloooooo can i be added to the taglist for spiderwoman 2099?

Of course! I am currently working on the next part. I hope you enjoy it ♡

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karolamurdock · 1 year ago

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SpiderWoman 2099 Pt.2

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!Reader

What the fuck.

Notes: I had to look for tutorials to learn how to tag, but I made it. (っ◕‿◕)っ ♥ If you want to be tagged, just tell me in the comments. Enjoy.

Warnings: Angst, mild violence. English is not my first lenguague.

Word count: 3.3K

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4

Or at least that was your intention, for his speed and dexterity quickly became apparent when your claws hit nothing but air.

Spider-Ben shouted something, but you couldn't hear it over the roar in your ears. Anger surged through you, flooding your body faster than your own mind could process it. Adrenaline, noradrenaline, and cortisol; your nervous system activated your fight-or-flight response so quickly it made your head spin.

You spun quickly to throw a small grenade that opened at his feet with a loud twip! Soon, Spider-Ben was completely enveloped in golden webbing, your own organic formula, just a feet away from the Paralyzed Goblin.

You felt the impostor's hand on your shoulder and shook it off with a powerful kick. The man flew, somersaulted, and landed crouched on the pavement, his claws unsheathed as he glared at you.

You ran, throwing your nets at two streetlights behind him to propel yourself again, and landed hard against his forearms, locked in front of his face. You somersaulted in the air, and the man recovered quickly, landing two quick punches that you dodged by ducking, taking advantage of your smaller stature, and stepping into his guard to land a punch to his jaw.

You almost flinched, hurting his face, but the man gave you no time to regret your attacks. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed you by the throat and threw you over a vehicle across the street.

The air escaped your lungs with the hard landing. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of a silver flash and instinctively turned away from the fist digging into the car window.

Your attention was briefly drawn to the anomalous watch on the impostor's wrist, and an impromptu plan began to form in your mind.

You stood up quickly. You raised your leg and delivered a kick that he quickly blocked with his arm. Your other leg came up and the knee to his stomach knocked him back a few steps, forcing him to duck to meet the hook to the stomach that you threw his way.

You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and slammed into him with your elbows as he grabbed you around the waist, tightened his grip, and lifted you into the air, slamming your back against the top of the vehicle. You coughed and almost shuddered at the feeling of your ribs cracking under the pressure.

Your hand shot out: and grabbing his forearm with both hands, you stood up, digging your claws into his arm and ripping the metal band that held the device fastened to his wrist.

The watch fell, open in your expectant palms. At his roar of protest, you delivered a hard headbutt to his nose, taking advantage of his brief recoil to aim your nets at a nearby building and escape with a powerful leap.

You tore through the air like a bullet, dodging buildings, antennas and drones as you alternately glided and swung between buildings. The fake Spider-Man followed you, matching your speed and showing an impressive agility in dodging the shots from your webs.

"Stop!" He shouted, and you were surprised to hear his voice closer than you expected. "You don't know what you're messing with!"

Your eyes landed on a familiar tower in the distance, and your swing gained more height as you prepared to climb the Alchemax building. If you could reach your office, you might be able to use the lock system to catch the intruder: you might even be able to use your spider drones, small robots the size of your fingernail, loaded with a substance analogous to your venom, which had hypnotic and sedative effects. You had not yet tested it on an enhanced being. However, if this individual possessed abilities similar to yours (as you were able to prove during the brief period of your pursuit), you were willing to give it a chance

A few feet from your office window, a red whip was wrapped around your ankle. You tried, in vain, to dig your claws into the rafters below your window, but the man tugged at his webs and managed to pull you abruptly away from the building.

The light of dawn peeked from behind the towering buildings. The man's suit glowed blue and his claws flashing, the tips of his curls dyed orange in the light of the new day, and as you fell and the world cracked around you, you wondered, distantly, if the Goblin' blast had actually reached you. If your body was still limp against the dirty street, and you were dead and this was really what heaven felt like.

Or in your case, hell. Though the only fire was the one burning in his red orbs, and you were deaf to the cries of the helpless because of your buzzing ears. Perhaps the wind stole the sound, or you were falling so fast that your eardrums never registered the voices of those you could not save.

You couldn't even save your own husband.

You failed to save Miguel.

That's why it was hard for you to understand why the hole in your world opened up under the tempestuous figure of your husband. What was he doing with his face, with his body, with his voice.

He even had the same accent. His rich voice, tripping over the "r"s and rolling them on his tongue like graceful fingers on the strings of a guitarrón, vibrating in his chest and lulling you to sleep as you rested against his naked form. With every sweet murmur he would open the doors of Conchata's kitchen for you. With his accent, he would welcome you to his world, to the beautiful corners of his childhood.

That voice, now screaming behind your back, overcame your wandering imagination: how it sounded when it growled at you as it evaded the shots of your nets. How it sounded when it called you Mi amor.

You closed your eyes, recoiling from the dreamlike vision, and threw a net onto a balcony behind you, slowing the impact of your fall to finally land rolling hard against the roof of a building

You shook off the impact with a grunt. Your fingers wrapped around the watch, and you heard, before you saw him, the man landing crouched behind your back.

"Stop." You warned, shaking the watch in your hands.

"I know you must be confused." He began, and you felt the soothing tone of his words as you watched the shadow on the ground of his outstretched hands. "It will be easier for both of us if you allow me to explain."

You felt the burning sting of tears, and clenched your fists as you exhaled a shaky breath. How dare he...

Your mask receded, the technology shrinking to reveal your low bun; the locks escaping their confines to frame your contracted face.

How could he know...

How long it took you to stop making dinner for two. How hard it was to get used to not seeing his chanclas in the driveway. To not listening to soccer games on the TV every Sunday. To stop waiting for his arms around your waist while you worked in your apartment office. His coffee and brown sugar flavored kisses, his rough hands, the smell of cologne and shaving cream on your pillow.

After him... you slowly began to distance yourself from the family. You stopped attending backyard barbecues with los tíos. Missed calls from Conchata piled up on your voicemail. You spend every Christmas alone, in your lab, with only a snow globe hologram on the corner of your desk.

What would this... anomalous being that so easily wore the face of your best friend know? Your best confidant. The man who made you laugh, who carried tampons and painkillers in his briefcase one week out of every month. Your lab partner, your most brilliant colleague. The madman who shared your wry sense of humor.

"It's too soon." You whispered to his calm face. Staring at his pale features, his blue lips and glassy eyes. "We haven't even had time to start a family, my love."

You thought about your future plans. Your prestigious positions at Alchemax had afforded you a spacious, three-bedroom apartment, a few blocks from your workplace, and with excellent access to schools and hospitals. You thought about how you would have adjusted the months of your maternity leave: how happy Miguel would have been to name his son after his brother Gabriel. Would he have had his chocolate curls, his tanned complexion, his strong jaw?

Or would she have been like you? A daddy's girl, with bright eyes and untamed waves? Would she have shared your love for science? Would she have watched her own little biome grow in a glass bowl by her window? Or would she have played soccer with her dad, while you cheered from the stands in the distance?

The metal of the clock creaked under the powerful grip of your claws. You watched, eyes bright with unshed tears, the man's alert posture, his hands clenched into fists and his muscles contracted, ready to continue his contest.

Then, suddenly, the man became as silent and motionless as a stone.

The faint glow of morning broke through over your head, and in its light, Miguel saw your face for the first time. He beheld your stony expression: your tight lips, your rosy face and your red eyes, and his hands fell limply at his sides as all his resolve crumbled like fine sand under the slow fluttering of your wet eyelashes.

His knees gave way, and the man fell under the powerful spell of your gaze. The seconds dragged on, and he remained so; motionless and silent before your hoodless figure, illuminated by the morning sun, unable to look away from your stormy expression.

"Miguel O'Hara is dead." You said, and it was easy to hear the pain deeply rooted in your words. "He died in a sabotaged experiment at the hands of his own employer: his DNA was damaged beyond repair."

And Miguel heard your words, and saw himself as in a broken mirror, distorted by misfortune, and shrank from what he saw.

"And you appear before me, bearing his face, through an atypical portal with the intention of 'capturing' the creature I subdued on my own, claiming to be Spider-Man from another universe."

Sparks landed on your fingers, and a beep sounded from the watch clenched between your claws.

"How convenient." You growled.

"I know you." He finally said, one of his hands outstretched, but it seemed to waver between the watch and your face. "Long ago... I knew you. And your memory remains in my mind like an old dream."

"How can I believe you?" you asked. In the distance, the horizon turned blue, and you considered your present circumstances, superior to the dream of your senses.

"Your name is (Y/N) (L/N). You studied at a school for gifted young people, where you graduated with honors. Soon after you went into genetic engineering, and got a good position at Alchemax after impressing Tyler Stone with your degree thesis on germline gene therapy. " He told you. You gritted your teeth at the generic information. Your academic and professional history was public knowledge.

You opened your mouth, but he continued, "On your first day at Alchemax, you arrived three hours early because you miscalculated the distances and wanted to make a good first impression. No one was there. You sat with the guard in the lobby until your colleagues started arriving, two hours later."

You froze, and looked at him with your mouth still open as he continued, "From then on, you sit on your couch and watch nature documentaries to make time before you leave, because even though you can estimate time well now, you can't break the habit of getting up too early before work."

"You like the smell of damp soil. You always open the windows, ever so slightly, to let the cold air come in and flood your living room with the scent of petrichor."

"Wait." You erupted, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

"You brush your hair in the shower, because you say that your conditioner works better that way and you get rid of knots easier."

"How do you know that?" you snapped, feeling a treacherous blush creep up your neck and over your ears.

His words poured out like water from a broken dam. His voice avalanched, and his accent thickened, "You enjoy cursing in Spanish, but you don't do it because you think it makes you look unprofessional in front of your colleagues."

"You have your mother's eyes, and your father's skin tone. Your birthdays make you feel melancholic, and you enjoy Christmas but are sad when it's over. You sleep with a very cold room temperature so you can cover yourself with more blankets."

"Enough!" you scream, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears with your hands. The clock pressed against your temple, the beeping vibrating against your sweaty skin. "I won't listen to your lies! I was there... Miguel died in my arms. You can't be…"

"I know it's hard to understand." He whispered, and his husky voice sounded thick and diffident. "Why I am here...escapes my comprehension. This dimension remained hidden from my radar until the anomaly attack tonight."

The man ducked his head, exhaled a shaky sigh, and looked at you, and you finally met his stormy gaze head-on.

"But... if you could allow me to show you, you will understand that this situation is as unusual for me as it is for you. "

Perhaps it happened that a shadow of prescience clouded your judgment. For gradually you found yourself letting down your guard and allowing his tall, impetuous figure to approach you, with slow, premeditated steps, as if approaching a wounded animal.

"Lyla." He said, when he finally was standing just inches from your rigid figure.

The watch in your hand came to life with a slight uncertain flicker:

"For one solid moment I thought you would let me be reduced to pieces." An AI appeared over your shoulder, her plush arms crossed in front of her chest and her rose-colored glasses glinting with disappointment.

She turned to look at you, and you managed to see her doing a double take that would have been comical had it not been interrupted by the man:

"Help me, please." He said. The AI seemed to catch his stern tone, because she nodded softly and, with a flutter of vaporous hands, opened a hexagonal door into the space in front of you.

Colors, again, swirled in bright reds, oranges, yellows, and purples. The loose pebbles on the ceiling rattled, and you jumped when you felt the man's soft hand touch yours.

Instinctively, you gripped his wrist tightly. The man looked at your firm grip, but didn't flinch at the claws that grazed the inside of his wrist. Instead, he allowed you to cling to him as he carried you through the hole in your dimension.

As you stepped through the portal, you wondered if the colorful pulses rippling before your eyes were remnants of a vast infinite fractal, a mosaic of distinct pocket universes separated by an inflationary ocean that would swallow you up like night swallows the sun. Or would your physical form then be absorbed, never to be observed again, your immaterial silhouette trapped in an event horizon, vulnerable to the gravitational pull of universes larger and heavier than yours?

It didn't happen. You appeared on a sprawling metallic surface, inside what appeared to be an office, very... similar to your own at Alchemax.

"Lyla. Do the thing." He called. And you watched as the room around you was replaced by a dark pulse that left you standing in the middle of an empty space.

A drop of light fell from the air, and slowed its descent right in front of your face. "Here... lies everything."

The drop fell to the ground, and formed a hexagonal sling that illuminated the space in a trace that diverged in several directions, like the leaves of a Ficus Elastica. And then it disappeared, replaced by a... spider web woven over the ceiling, above the floors and covering everything around you.

"All of us... all of our lives come together here. In this complex web." His irises reflected red light as he spoke, "It's what we call the Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse."

You spun on your feet, immersed in the grandeur of the scene before your eyes.

"So, it's true... the universes are superimposed one on top of the other." You said, and he nodded.

"And those universes are what shape reality."

He caught your gaze, lost in a mirror of unfolding events at the center of one of the nodes, and continued:

"That's where our destinies converge. These nodes...are the canonical events. Events that are part of all our histories, that bind our worlds together."

You contemplated the anomalous figure of the masked hero depicted on the grid. So strange, yet so familiar, with their arms wrapped around an inert male figure against the concrete.

"My job is to protect the multiverse from threats like the Green Goblin, who challenge the integrity of what keeps our realities whole."

You closed your eyes, looking away from the kaleidoscope of images around you, but behind your eyelids impertinent images played. You saw yourself, your face furrowed with despair as you watched your husband fading away. You remembered the cold as the dreary rain fell on your dark figure on the roof of the church where Tyler Stone's body was guarded. Finally you opened them again with a new stern frown. You thought, tried to reason, and considered your ideas again, dissociating your feelings with the grace of one versed in the ways of the scientific method.

That means... there are different versions of you in different quantum branches. And they are constantly creating new unfoldings of you: "I don't understand. Would this mean that it is not each version of yourself that shares the same common past, but the unique version of each of the Spider People? A similar origin, but one that has a different future ahead of it."

You ran your hands over your face, and cupped your lips with your fingers as you murmured to yourself, "And yet, the subsequent histories in each of the branches coexist simultaneously in the sprawling thread of webs that connect them."

"Observation changes the observed." You imagined his voice, his lips pressed against your ear and his warm body pressed against yours.

You clenched your fists at the phantom vision and contemplated the scrutinizing gaze of the man beside you.

"How long have you known all this?" you finally asked.

"A few years." He replied curtly.

"And this artifact allows you to jump between dimensions?" you pointed out, waving the poor, misshapen watch between your fingers.

"It's a gizmo." He corrected you. And he held out his hands as you dropped the battered device into his palms.

He squared his shoulders. You looked at him, erect in all his majestic height, his face mostly stoic, except for his tight lips, for that melancholy dip at the corners of his mouth; sad as greatness. And finally you heard him:

"My name is Miguel O'Hara, and I am the Spider-Man of universe 928. I have dedicated myself to protecting the fragile fabric of reality, safeguarding the integrity of the nodes that connect our worlds and offering my life in exchange for the fate of the multiverse."

"I come from a different reality. I met you in a world where you were not Spider-Woman... And in that world, just as in yours, I loved you, and you loved me."

Her hands caressed the covered skin of your arms, and descended to brush your stiff hands, your long claws, your empty palms.

"And in that world... I lost you."

@alicefallsintotherabbithole @digipaw2-0 @sunshowernaps

#marvel #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #oscar isaac #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #across the spiderverse #atvs #into the spider verse

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