#𖤓uv a𖤓

[ultravioletrayz]

Hello! So this is my idea and this is going to be angsty as hell *coughs* sorry-

Anyways, I was thinking of an idea where female spider person s/o almost failed the mission and Miguel, being the harsh jackass as he always was -_- was scolding her to death till he said something very hurtful to s/o.

She was really hurt by his words as she painfully accepted it and walked out of the office then she headed back home with her gizmo, till three weeks have passed and she wasn't really active at all. Her friends like Gwen, Jess and Peter tried to contact her but she wasn't answering it.

Miguel and her friends decided to check up on her and visit her world, till they found her badly and bloody injured like so many wounds on face and her arm was gone from having a fight with Lizard and she won. They sent her back to their infirmary while she was unconscious and doctors tried their best to stop the bleeding.

Miguel was too guilty of what he had done and started to apologize to her

this is so sad but I love it so much. this is gonna be a continuation of your idea, where Miguel and reader are in the infirmary.

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f!spiderperson!reader

Warnings: 18+, ANGST, lots of guilt from miguel, mild blood warning, sad medical stuff, mild hurt no comfort

Summary: miguel spends weeks drowning in the guilt of almost getting you killed

A/N: I actually suck at writing angst 🫡

Word Count: 1.5K (unedited)

Miguel stands in the infirmary, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling the air, mingling with the sharp tang of adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over the room, highlighting the stark contrast between the pristine white walls and the chaos of the medical team working frantically to stabilise you.

Their movements are precise and hurried, a blur of scrubs and instruments, each step a dance of desperation. Bandages wrap around your wounds, but the sight of your blood staining the sheets sends a wave of nausea crashing over him, the crimson liquid a stark reminder of his failure. He should have been there. He should have prevented this.

Three weeks. Three weeks of silence, of guilt festering in his chest like an open wound, a wound that refuses to heal. He had pushed you away, scolded you harshly after that mission, the words spilling from his mouth like poison, each syllable a dagger to his own heart.

“You’re not good enough,” he had said, the coldness of his voice cutting deeper than any physical injury. The moment the words left his lips, he had seen the hurt flash in your eyes—a fleeting glimpse of the pain he had inflicted, a pain that now echoes through his soul. But it wasn’t until now, seeing you broken and battered, that he truly understood the weight of his words, the gravity of his mistake.

As the doctors work diligently, Miguel paces the small room, his mind a whirlwind of regret and anger— anger at himself, anger at the situation, anger at the villain that had done this to you. He clenches his fists, the sharp edges of his claws digging into his palms, drawing blood, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil. He wishes he could turn back time, and erase the moment he let his frustration overpower his concern, but time is a cruel mistress, and she offers no reprieve.

A doctor approaches him, her expression serious, her eyes weary from the battle they’ve all been fighting. “We’re doing everything we can, but she’s lost a lot of blood. It’s critical that she stabilises soon.”

Miguel nods, his throat tight as he swallows down the rising panic, the fear clawing at his insides. He steps closer to you, his heart aching at the sight of your unconscious form, your skin pale against the stark white sheets. He reaches out, brushing a stray hair away from your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he does so, the touch almost reverent.

“I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, mi alma,” he whispers, the words barely escaping his lips, a mere shadow of the apology he knows he owes you, an apology that feels woefully inadequate in the face of your suffering.

He remembers the moments you shared, the laughter that filled the spaces between missions, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke about your dreams. He had been so focused on being the perfect leader, on maintaining control, that he had forgotten to be the partner you needed, the partner you deserved.

As time drags on, the hum of machines and the hurried footsteps of the staff create a haunting rhythm in the background, a symphony of desperation that echoes through the room. Miguel’s mind drifts back to the last time he saw you— your expression, a mix of hurt and resignation, as you walked out of his office. He should have run after you, should have told you how much you meant to him, but he had let his pride and anger cloud his judgement, and now he is left to bear the weight of that decision.

Hours pass, the sun sinking lower in the sky, casting shadows across the room, shadows that seem to mirror the darkness in his heart. Miguel remains by your side, his presence a silent vow to protect you from now on. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, counting each breath as if it were a lifeline, a fragile thread connecting him to the hope that you would awaken. The rhythmic beeping of the machines becomes his new heartbeat, each sound a reminder of your fight, your strength— even in this vulnerable state. The fluorescent lights flicker slightly, casting an ethereal glow over the scene, and Miguel leans forward, his heart heavy with unspoken words.

“You know, I’ve never been good at this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with the weight of his emotions. “Apologising, I mean. But I need you to know that I’m sorry for what I said. I was an idiot. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you.”

He pauses, searching for the right words, knowing that nothing could truly convey the remorse he feels. “You’re so much stronger than I gave you credit for. I should have believed in you. I should have been there for you.”

As he speaks, tears prick at the corners of his eyes, a rawness in his throat that threatens to choke him. The memories flood back— your laughter ringing through the air like music, the way you had seamlessly moved alongside him in battle, your unwavering determination that had always inspired him.

He watches your face intently, searching for any sign of consciousness, any flicker of the spark that makes you who you are. The machines beep softly, a steady reminder of your fight, yet with each passing moment, the silence stretches, thick and suffocating, wrapping around him like a shroud.

“I miss you,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss your laughter, your determination. I need you to come back to me.” The words spill out like a prayer, a desperate plea to the universe for your recovery, for a second chance to make things right.

Minutes turn into hours as he remains by your side, the weight of his guilt pressing heavily on his shoulders. He closes his eyes, allowing the memories to wash over him— the way you had smiled when you swung through the city, the way your spirit had illuminated even the darkest of days. Each recollection is a bittersweet ache in his chest, a reminder of what he stands to lose if you don’t wake up.

“Miguel,” a voice breaks through the silence, and he jolts upright, his heart racing as he leans closer. You’re stirring, your eyelids fluttering as you fight against the haze of unconsciousness, and hope surges through him like wildfire.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he reassures you, his voice breaking with emotion, clinging to the moment like a lifeline.

You blink slowly, confusion clouding your gaze, a mixture of fear and pain etched across your features.

“What happened?” you croak, your voice weak, each word a laborious effort.

“Lizard… you fought him. You were incredible,” he replies, his heart swelling with pride even amidst the worry that tightens his chest. “But you got hurt. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face as the memories come rushing back. “I… I remember fighting. I thought I could handle it.”

Miguel’s heart clenches at your words, a deep-seated fear gnawing at him. “You can handle anything, but you shouldn’t have to do it alone. I should have been there. I didn’t believe in you when I should have.” The admission hangs heavy in the air, a confession of his deepest regret.

Tears well in your eyes as you search his face, the vulnerability in your gaze cutting through the tension in the room like a knife. “You said… you said I wasn’t good enough.”

The words hang between you like a dark cloud, and Miguel’s heart sinks, the reality of his past mistakes crashing down on him.

“I was wrong,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, trembling under the weight of his remorse. “I was scared, and I took it out on you. You deserve so much more than what I gave you. I’m so sorry.”

You swallow hard, the tears spilling down your cheeks, each drop a testament to the pain he had caused. “It hurt, Miguel. It really hurt.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice breaking, the anguish in his heart surfacing like a tidal wave.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. Just please… don’t shut me out again. I can’t lose you.” The desperation in his voice hangs in the air, a silent promise that he is willing to fight for you, for your love, for a chance to rebuild what had been shattered.

The two of you share a moment of silence, the weight of the past lingering in that small infirmary room, amidst the beeping machines and the antiseptic smell. Miguel realises that he is ready to do whatever it takes to prove that he can be the partner you need, the partner who believes in you wholeheartedly.

But as you drift back into a fragile sleep, Miguel sits by your side, his heart empty at your lack of reciprocation, the void of uncertainty swallowing him whole. He knows he’s lost you now, and it’s all his fault. The guilt festers, a relentless ache that refuses to fade, and he vows silently that he will not rest until you are back in his arms, where you belong.

i think it's problematic that i would've forgiven him in a heart beat lmao

[ultravioletrayz]

HIT SO HARD

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, ANGST, break up, mommy issues, mental health issues, mental breakdown, violence/mild physical abuse, slight allusion to suicide, hurt no comfort

Summary: miguel has a breakdown and decides to push you away

A/N: first attempt at angst, kinda nervous 😝

Word Count: 1.3K

Miguel grits his teeth and takes deep, shaky breaths as he tries to resist the urge to punch a hole through the flimsy desk of his home office. You’re in the next room over, and you’ve already dealt with enough of his shit, let alone another meltdown. His fists are clenched as tears well up in his sharp red eyes, which dart over to the piles upon piles of paperwork and reports on the status of several anomalies captured by Spider-People within the past month he needed to assess. It’s not the most stressful part of Miguel’s job, but it was the most draining. Especially since he’s home with you. At least when he’s at HQ, he’s in an environment where he can either work or do nothing, and he always opts to work. When working from home, he only wants to forget about leading the Society and spend time with his favourite girl. But somehow, his responsibilities always make you out of reach. 

He needs a break.

As Miguel struggles to get through a few more papers, the stress of always being relied upon, always having others expecting things from him never giving anything back, and punishing him for being anything but the best accumulates. In a fit of rage and helplessness, Miguel’s claws emerge from his fingertips and he rips apart the arms of his desk chair. Unsatisfied, he stands up and kicks the innocent chair into the wall, causing photo frames to fall and shatter, only adding to the guilt he feels for not being able to cope with his privilege as a leader. 

His claws retract as his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, and he immediately breaks down into tears, hiding his face in his hand as he spots the ruined photo of you and him. He’s so selfish. He should be happy he has control over the safety and well-being of every being in the multiverse, and that he has the honour to protect and serve the people. But he just yearns for a normal life. A life he could be spending with the beautiful girl he neglects because she makes him feel vulnerable, and without that control, he’s worthless. He’s just an angry, resentful piece of shit who happens to have powers that make him obligated to be in a position of power and control. God, what he’d do to just-

“Miguel?” You whisper, reaching out to console Miguel. All the noise had caused you to end the FaceTime call you were having with a friend, startling you greatly. But you had to push your own feelings aside for now to help your boyfriend.

“Don’t. Don’t come near me.” Miguel hisses, eyes wide in surprise due to your sudden presence as tears stream down his face. He sighs and tries to soften his tone, his voice cracking as his hands tremble. “Por favor. Vete, cariño. I hate it when you see me like this.”

Miguel stumbles away from you, turning around so that the pure concern in your eyes can really sink in. He feels like a monster, having caused a pretty girl like you so much pain and uncertainty in his pathetic attempts at being a good man for your sake. Every time he makes the slightest mistake, says or does something so subtly wrong, it’s as if he can feel his mother breathing down his neck, telling him how lazy and useless and selfish he is. How awful of a man he is. And every time he breaks down and you, his angel, comes to his rescue despite it being his goddamn job to protect others, he dreads the day that you’ll think the same thing of him. That he’s a no-good freak. He wouldn’t be able to live if you viewed him the same way Conchata did.

“Stop it. Let me hug you, let me help you.” You plead, taking another step towards Miguel with outstretched arms, only to be met with more tears and another shaky step away from your offer of comfort. 

He can’t keep making you do this. You’re too good for him. Miguel needs to set you free, even if it kills him.

“Leave,” Miguel whispers, staring down at the floor to avoid your gaze, his fists clenched and his claws threatening to pierce his palms. 

“You can’t expect me to just go back to the couch and-” 

“No. I mean leave for good. Leave and don’t come back. I’m done with you.” Miguel utters, his words blunt and cruel as he turns his back to you and assesses the damage he’s caused to his belongings, rather than having to see how much damage he just caused you.

You feel your heart sink, a lightheadedness overcoming your body and causing you to tremble ever so slightly. He can’t be serious. Miguel loves you, he ensures to tell you every time you two are together. What changed? What did you do wrong? Was he just hurting and trying to push you away, or did he really mean it?

“Don’t… Don’t say that. We love each other.” You whisper, lips quivering as you hesitantly reach out to rest your hand on Miguel’s back in a feeble attempt to calm him down.

The sudden contact alarms Miguel. He’s in such a vulnerable and unstable state, that he isn’t able to control himself, or act rationally. He swore that he’d never do anything to hurt you, you were the light of his life. But he’s losing his mind, and gradually becoming everything he swore he’d never become. Maybe he is a bad guy. A bad guy who hit his girlfriend.

You almost fall to the ground at the sharp contact Miguel’s fist makes with your cheek. You lean against the doorframe, looking up at Miguel with a terrified look on your pretty face, which is already turning a deep shade of purple. Miguel is completely appalled with what he’s just done, his whole body being overcome with shame and guilt as he rushes over to help you. He feels like he could vomit, the way you’re looking at him makes him want to die. Before Miguel can reach out to soothe the wound on your face with his touch, you swat his hand away, completely and utterly terrified of the man who’s supposed to love and protect you. Haphazardly, you run out of the room and gather your favourite handbag, which you always leave packed with your essentials. You rush to grab your phone and make your way to the front door, not wanting to be in the presence of Miguel after he just punched you in the face during his meltdown.

“¡No, no, no, no, no, cariño, espera! Baby, please. I swear, I didn’t mean to. You know I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t leave. You can’t leave. I need you, I can’t do this without you, mi vida. I love you. Please, just listen to me!” Miguel begs, sobbing as he follows you around the apartment. He desperately wants to reach out and grab your wrist when you start turning the doorknob to leave, but he doesn’t want to hurt you more than he already has.

You turn around to face him, and Miguel winces at the sight of your black eye already starting to poison your flawless features. All you can do is cry and glare at him as you adjust your bag on your shoulders. Miguel wasn’t the man you thought he was. You knew from the start he was broken, plagued with the trauma of his past. But you never expected him to become physical with you. You’d never be able to look at him the same.

You take a deep breath, stepping out of the apartment while keeping your eyes locked onto Miguel’s sharp, red ones. As you start to walk down the hall towards the elevator, Miguel feels his world ending as he hears you mutter to him.

“You’re not a good guy, Miguel.”

this killed me. poor baby :(

[ultravioletrayz]

𖤓MY BLOG𖤓

ABOUT MY BLOG:

strictly 18+, minors dni (that includes looking)

basic dni criteria

proshippers dni

ageless blogs will be blocked

please do not translate or plagiarise my works

i am a sleep deprived, full-time uni student doing my LLB and working part-time, so please be patient with me

ABOUT MY WRITING:

my writing is generally for f!readers

i write for the curvy girls!! thicc girls are goddesses and should be treated as such.

i’m from aus so i will write with aus grammar

almost all of my fic names are inspired by song titles from a few bands I like: Hole, Pretty Sick, and Garbage <3

WHO I WRITE FOR:

miguel o’hara- ATSV

lyla- ATSV

spider-noir- ATSV

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick- COD MW2

simon ‘ghost’ riley- COD MW2

captain john price- COD MW2

john 'soap' mctavish- COD MW2

könig- COD MW2

soldier boy- THE BOYS

billy butcher- THE BOYS

homelander- THE BOYS

queen maeve- THE BOYS

victoria neuman- THE BOYS

toji fushiguro- JJK

shiu kong- JJK

nanami kento- JJK

higuruma hiromi- JJK

logan howlett- MARVEL

wade wilson- MARVEL

eddie brock/venom- MARVEL

tony stark- MARVEL

steve rogers- MARVEL

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𖤓beyond violet𖤓 - me yapping/general non-fic related posts

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i’m always open to writing for different characters, these are just the ones I know and am familiar with when it comes to writing (and the ones I’m down bad for)