#Miguel ohara angst
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noelan1 · 8 months ago
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Do you ever read a really questionable fanfiction or a spicy love story and think "what the fuck did I just read"
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esmedelacroix · 10 months ago
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All the ways you disappoint me.
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pairing: boyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader
summary: The honeymoon phase confirmed it's existence for the second year of dating Miguel. Your love life went from flourishing to one-sided the day Miguel revealed to you that he was Spiderman.
cw: ooc miguel, very angsty, depressive behaviors, alcohol abuse
a/n: I have been on hiatus for a very long time. I've been in a very dark place this past month. I lost a very good friend of mine that I have known since middle school. Which really threw me off track. I have a bunch of works in progress coming out soon. I finally feel like I'm in a mentally okay spot to pick up writing again. This is lowk just word vomit but its something.
*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !
miguel masterlist | next part
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Disappointment. A feeling you you felt often. Maybe even too often. You were very familiar with disappointment. He only ever came around late at night. Disappointment would wrap his arms around you as if he wasn't the reason why there was a wet spot on your pillowcase almost every night.
All Miguel O'Hara ever does is disappoint you. "So why are you still with him?" your good friend Jess asked over hot morning tea.
"What am I supposed to do without him?" you questioned.
"That's not a very healthy mindset to have. You know that," Jess said putting a firm comforting hand over yours.
You look away for a moment. Eyes trailing out the window of the Spider Society Café that reeked of coffee and broken promises. Miguel O'Hara was married to the barista who would hand him five coffees minimum a day. He chose to marry the barista and work and not his own girlfriend of three years.
As you watched the birds create an arrow in the air flying north over the firey trees below. Part of you wished that you were a bird in this very moment flying away from the problems that devoured your brain from the inside. "You still with me?" Jess asked worriedly.
"Yeah," you sighed turning back to her.
"So you'll talk to Miguel tonight?" Jess commanded. She did that a lot. She would ask a question that sounded like an order which made you feel the need to obey. You simply nodded bringing your mug to your lips and sipping on your now-cold Earl Grey tea.
"Isn't it strange how quickly tea gets cold?" you thought out loud.
"Well that's kind of how tea works hon'," she answered.
. . .
You stopped waiting for Miguel to come home ages ago because you didn't think there was a point in it. Just like how you didn't see the point in trying to talk to him about putting effort into your relationship. In the same way you shouldn't have seen the point in staying with him after your last thousand arguments. You felt your eyelids get heavier with every passing hour you spent staring at the ceiling waiting to hear the door swing open.
Like you summoned him with your mind, you heard the door. The keys. The sigh. And the footsteps. Your heart began to race. Why am I nervous? You asked yourself. You stood up and walked out of your shared room.
Miguel's usual routine was to get home eat the food you prepared for him hours prior, shower, and go to bed. As you walked down the hallway leading to the kitchen, you stopped yourself before turning the corner. Inhale. Exhale. You stepped out into the kitchen and his head shot up immediately. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asked. That’s new. An apology, from Miguel. You thought to yourself.
"No, no, I was having trouble sleeping," you answered in a quiet voice.
"Everything alright?" he questioned as he scraped the last bit of food on his plate into his mouth.
"Yeah, I've just been thinking," you started.
"About?" he asked urging you to continue.
"Miguel do you still love me?" you blurted out.
"Of course I do," he replied in a fraction of a second. He sounded almost hurt that you had even asked that question.
Moments like these make you forget the status of your relationship. Moments when Miguel would forget that he's supposed to be cold to you. The moments when he allowed himself to let his guard down around you. Those fleeting moments that should have never left your relationship. "Then why don't we spend any time together? I want to be around you Miguel, I don't care if we sit in silence in the most boring place on the planet. I just want to be in your presence," you admitted. He gave you that little hurt expression again.
"I—I've just been busy," he stuttered. Miguel would often do this thing where he would begin to say something and then cut himself off and choose to say something else.
"Miguel, you know you can tell me anything," you insisted.
"I just—can we please not do this right now?" he pleaded.
You gave him a frown. "Can we sleep it off? Talk about it in the morning?" he sighed rubbing his face.
"Will you even be here in the morning?" you ask under your breath.
"I'll see," he said putting a hand on your shoulder as he walked past you into the bathroom. He did it again. He cut off the conversation the moment it got hard for him. Why are we so complicated? You asked yourself as you lay your head on your moist pillow. Will there ever be a night where I don't cry because of him? A night where he doesn't confuse me with his actions?
. . .
That night as you lay in bed with his back faced away from him, you couldn't help but cry. You felt like you were drowning in your tears. Like they were holding you back. You tried to be as quiet as possible. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. You repeated to yourself.
The only happy thoughts you could think of were of Miguel. Or the Miguel you used to know. The person he used to be before he started using his job as an excuse to neglect you.
Just then when your breathing slowed and you calmed down a bit with tears still streaming down your face. He wrapped his arms around you. He cuddled you from behind. He did that often. When he thought you were asleep. It was almost as if different versions of himself occupied his brain. You liked the one that took the spotlight at night.
The one that would cuddle you. Nuzzle his nose into your hair. The one that would rub your back and. Apologize. To. You.
. . .
Apology fell asleep that night and disappointment woke up at the ass crack of dawn because there was another Spider-verse that needed saving.
You woke up later that morning to the usual chilling feeling of Miguel not being there. You got up stretching your arms as you walked to your kitchen. You made yourself a cup of tea and an omelette, and ate alone, in silence. Thinking. About him. Again.
For the second time this week as if you called for him with your heart, you heard the balcony door slide open and a masked man swing in. He took his mask off and shook his head adjusting his hair. "Good morning," you said with a stupid smile on your face. Why? You couldn't tell. Maybe it was the fact that he was actually here in the morning like he said he would be.
"Good morning. You’re in a good mood," he chuckled.
"Well you're here," you smiled.
Miguel gave you a look. You weren't sure how to feel about it. But it wasn't a bad look. It was nice. Kind of sweet. He prepared a pot of black coffee and talked about his morning in Peni Parker's universe catching a difficult anomaly. For a moment, you could feel little fireflies set off in your stomach seeing him talk about something he was passionate about.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked as he took a seat next to you.
"Just about us and our recent slump, I guess?" you started.
"I'm listening," he hummed as he sipped his coffee.
"I want to spend more time with you Miguel. I want to not argue with you about how much time you spend at work. I want to know what's on your mind. I want to know how you really are and not just how you say you are," you admit. Miguel stayed quiet for a while in thought.
"I don't know what to say to that," he said; his voice cracking a bit.
"You don't have to say anything just—let me be your shelter, please?" you suggested.
. . .
That night Miguel didn't come home. He didn't come in the middle of the night. He didn't come to eat either. He didn't come to wrap his arms around you. And he didn't come to apologize.
. . .
I don't like it when my friends tell me I have a drinking problem. How could it possibly be a problem if it makes me feel better about all the things that rack my brain? Being vulnerable is much easier said than done. Especially, with the girl I love. Of course, I want to tell her things. I want to tell her everything. I want her to know me as well as she knows her hometown. As well as she knows her childhood cat. And as well as she knows how to navigate Pinterest.
But I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'll cry and she'll think I'm weak. I'm afraid she'll think I'm unworthy. I know she would never think those things about me. But how could anyone think anything differently if I think that way about myself?
That's why I turn to the friend that won't let me down ever. Endless Modelos. Because I'm so weak that I can't even open up tp my girlfriend. Every time I feel like I am finally ready to tell her what I'm going through, I stop myself because I am afraid.
. . .
To your great surprise, Miguel wasn't there in the morning. Or the next, or even the one after that. By the third you hadn't seen him it was beginning to stress you out. You wondered if he was safe. If he was even still alive. You decided to go to the Spider Society.
After talking with Jess for a while and babysitting Mayday for a bit. You were finally free to go see Miguel in his office. You opened the door and called out to him but the only thing you heard from him was a sniff. Then two. Followed by a third.
"Miguel are you up there?" you asked as you climbed the stairs to his his platform.
"No?" he said in a shaky voice.
"Is everything okay?" you asked. You saw your answer in the form of 10 too many emptied beer bottles on his desk and on the ground.
You rushed towards him discarding your purse on the ground. He brought his hands to his face and he hid. From you. Your heart sank to the lowest pit in your stomach it could reach. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulders and crouched down next to him. "Miguel, talk to me, please?" you whispered.
Nothing.
. . .
The worst way Miguel could ever disappoint you happened. You had imagined it happening in so many other ways but not like that. You never thought of him as the type of man to give up on something so good.
For the last time in your relationship, Miguel O'Hara disappointed you when he told you he wanted to break up.
. . .
next part → All the ways I defy you
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monarchberrysblog · 7 months ago
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DEARLY BELOVED
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a short mini drabble that was HEAVILY inspired by a tik tok and it sparked the creative juices. (think of vampire! miguel while reading if you like) this might flop as this isn't a smut and this is a drabble that came to mind after seeing a silly tik tok
hope you all enjoy this — dia 🪻
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A muse — Defined as a person or personified force that is the source of inspiration for a creative artist, it feels like a vexation for the man living in the dark corners of the castle where he called his home. The strong pull of this magnet, this attraction, weighed his cold heart down to the earth’s core. A weight on his chest. A feeling that should have vanished over the last century. But it abides and becomes middling.
Nonetheless, he didn't overlook it.
/
His warm palms rub your back in a slow, gentle action. The familiar sensation of his warm palms after holding his mug of tea was always your favorite feeling in the morning. The induced warmness against his fingertips provided a healing touch, similar to a heating pad against an aching cramp on the body.
“Desperta, querida.” The rasp in his morning voice vibrates your ear. You tossed and turned on the bed, staying in your blankets. You peer them open but shut them immediately and hide in the mount of soft Egyptian cotton. “No, no. Ya esta siendo tarde.” His fingers gathered a small chuck of your hair in between his fingers and moved your hair away from your face. (Wake up, love. It's getting late.)
His fingers brushed against the shell of your ear before he took note of a tiny mole in plain sight for his eyes to see. “You have a mole here.” You feel his finger tap on the alleged speck.
“No, I don't…” Your voice is muffled by the blankets, along with your barely parted lips. “I’m not lying, my dear.” His fingers work to move your hair away from your ear and tap on the speck once again. “Mmmh, your skin says otherwise.” His hand ruffles your hair in a playful gesture, leaving it to be a muss for you to brush out — officially giving you a task to do when you get out of the warm bedsheets.
“It's adorable.”
“I know what you're doing. And it's not going to work.” You continue to mumble on, making colorful words that make no sense to the human mind.
“Whatever you say, querida.”
/
A particular night always stuck out for Miguel.
A rainy, cold, stormy night. Thunder rumbled in the space around you two, following the flashing white light of lightning that lit up the room momentarily. The loud crash was enough to send Miguel back to a conscious state. He rubs his face with the palm of his hand and lets out a heavy sigh.
He glances over at you and sees a wet patch on the pillowcase next to your parted lips. If you wanted to, you could sleep through a tornado.
“Jesus…” His hand finds its way to your hair, gently massaging your scalp, his fingers lost in a sea of darkness known as your hair.
The pads of his fingers worked dainty patterns before gently cradling you close.
The clash of warmth made him melt like molten lava against the cold marble stone, crackling and oozing down the crevices with such grace.
“Miguel…” You squirm close to him and savor the warmth on his chest. His chest hair ticked your nose and cheeks, but the sensation of extra warmth never failed to send chills down your spine.
“Shhh, just go back to sleep.” The warmth of his hand runs down the length of your spine, stopping on your lower back and rubbing his thumb against the stretch marks. “Just go to sleep, querida.”
/
“Are you sure you're going to be okay?” He probes this question at you every time you leave the Victorian manor. “Yes, Miguel. I’m going into town to get more rosemary and herbs.” You pick up your tiny woven basket and look over to your concerned lover. You sigh and make your way over.
“Don’t worry, no one is going after us.” Your smile is enough to smooth the aching worry in his gut. “Are you sure?” He pokes the question again, earning him a small smile. You hum a yes, walking back towards him and holding his hands. “Yes, Miguel.” You giggle softly and massage his knuckles with your thumb.
“I’ll prepare your favorite dinner tonight.”
Miguel forces a soft chuckle before pulling you into a warm embrace. “Just make it home before sunset. Hunters have been around the forest.” His voice vibrates into your chest cavity, sending another ripple of warmth.
“I'll be careful.”
Hours slowly evolved into days, then weeks, and you never returned to the manor. At first, it was simple glances out the window, hoping to see that familiar silhouette Miguel adores whenever you come home. But nothing, as if you had ceased to exist.
A hunter who had mistaken you for a deer snatched you from the forest's shadows, leaving you alone on the forest floor, gasping for air.
Your hand loosens your grip on the small woven basket, spilling the contents out of the tiny basket and onto the forest floor. You always purchased nothing but herbs and two pomegranates for Miguel whenever you came into town.
/
The cobwebs and sorrows on the manor weighed down the environment over the next few decades, collecting a thick layer of dust bunnies and spiders crawling about. The tiny spiders crawl away at a door opening, letting candlelight pour in.
The room in question was a space you used to frequent. In the art room, he found you lounging around with a book or looking at his works of art, specifically his sketches of you.
There was an abundance of sketches on every flat surface in the room, varying from sketch to sketch. Sketches of you, lying in bed and tangled in your bedsheets. Some innocent sketches of you holding up a rabbit, showing its fluffy stomach to the world.
But the sketches were brushed off. Instead, Miguel made his way over to a particular pillar. A limestone blanketed with a worn-out bed sheet. He tugged off the fabric and saw the carved stone before him. The limestone before him showed a portrait of a young woman, specifically you. The curve of your mouth and the intricate detail of every strand of hair caught his attention. He remembered the tedious nights of his mallet and carving tools, having to alternate every other moment to capture the texture of your hair or the way your dimples appeared whenever you smiled.
His calloused fingers traced the sculpture's ridges and curves, feeling the cool marble against his warm touch.
"It's been a while, querida." He forced a small smile, his thumb stroking the cheek of the stone portrait. The smile was a pathetic attempt to hide the tears forming in his eyes, blinking them away as if it would contribute to burying those feelings.
"It's been a while."
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moralesluvr · 2 years ago
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what do you think miguel’s reaction would be if you told him that he scares you?
oh boy.
you're safe with me ft. miguel o'hara
♡ pairings & aus: miguel o'hara x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: after getting into a heated argument with your boyfriend, you tell him that he's scaring you, which crumbles his heart ♡ warnings: miguel being OD per usual bc why are you yelling rn? angst with a happy ending ♡ a/n: first miggy fic woop woop ur the best for requesting this! love ya ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡
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YOU WEREN'T CRYING UNTIL HE SAID IT.
You weren't crying until Miguel starting lashing out at you, angrily balling up wads of important papers and hurling them at the wall, whether you happened to be a barrier between it and the papers, it wasn't really his concern right now. All he cared about was getting this new burst of anger out, and of course, it had to be something to do with you.
Miguel loved you, you knew this. He's said it, he's shown it to you, and he has no problem admitting it to other people. But sometimes you felt as if a person really loved you, why on earth would they be acting like this?
He stood behind his work station, fists angrily swelling as they curled themselves up into a ball. You could hear him breathing, but he refused to speak to you, because he knew that he would say things that he'd immediately regret if he did.
You, on the other hand, were standing up against the wall, now useless papers littered at your feet. Sniffled sobs ricocheted off of the brickwork behind you, your tears behind caressed by the wood floors that you stood on. You started for the door before stopping in your tracks, "Miguel. Look at me."
At first, he doesn't. But when he doesn't hear your footsteps fading to walk out, he slowly pivots on his heel, walking over to you heavily. You look up at his deep brown eyes, murmuring softly, "You....Y-You scared me. And I'm not...I'm not talking about past tense, either. You scare me, Miguel. I am scared of you."
You watched as the man before you crumbled at the mention of you being scared at him. Never in your life have you seen him look so sad, so downhearted, like he had been defeated by his own actions. His eyes are glossy as he reaches for you, and you subtly flinch, but he picks up on it.
"I..." He starts, biting the inside of his cheek at a loss for words. His big, calloused hand comes up to hold your cheek, which you sink into his palm when he caresses you. "I'm sorry, cariño, I-I didn't mean to...scare you." He whispers the last part of the sentence like it's a plague, as if he was disgusted by the contents of your conversation. You sniffle and look up at him through wet eyelashes, "'S okay."
"No, no, it's not." Miguel protests, shaking his head at your sweet response. He then brings both hands up to your face as he holds you dearly, so tender, as if he's scared to cause any harm to you.
He continues to talk, "Ay coño, mi preciosa. I hope you're not afraid of me-- I don't want you to be. You shouldn't have to be. You deserve better than that."
"Then be better, Miguel." You stated, your jaw hardening. He picks up on that and he rubs his thumb along your jawline and cheeks, murmuring sweet nothings and apologies to you. He nods,
"I will, I promise, I will."
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𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @enj4i // @chrissytalia // @chaoticevilbakugo // @motheroffae
𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte // @pr0wlerpunk // @tzuyuzzs // @wisepoetrycheesecake // @clearskiiiess // @d3atht3hek1d // @vienreina // @pixqlsin // @caulifloweron // @aizawassimpblog // @stvrgrl // @zerosinterweb // @ishqani // @mookiebut
𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ♧: @lipstickstainedshells // @mmst4rz // @ilyless // @lordbugs
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lizard-on-a-window-pane · 9 months ago
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5 times you and Miguel walked away from each other and 1 time you didn't
pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader notes: brother'sbestfriend!Miguel, soccerplayer!Miguel, college au, slow burn, somewhat mutual pining but written from reader's perspective more exclusively, SFW - only slightly suggestive (worst thing is probably a boner), fem reader (pretty neutral though), saying soccer instead of football felt so dirty but oh well, thank you for reading!! word count: 5.9k
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You’re having your first lazy day in forever. It’s the first day in recent memory that you didn’t have something to do or somewhere to be. You’re just going to hang out in your apartment and watch your favorite shows or read for fun for once or whatever else you feel like doing. Because you don’t have to go anywhere, you don’t even take a shower, opting to stay in your comfy pajamas, not bothering with any makeup or hair effort, as you lounge around. 
You have the place to yourself now, but you share it with your twin brother Alex, the two of you lucky enough to go to the same university. 
When you eventually hear his keys scratching at the door, you’re sprawled on the couch reading a novel you’d left half-finished for ages despite actually really enjoying it. School really had a way of making you not read. Or at least never full books. 
As Alex opens the door, you’re surprised to hear him talking to someone else. You see his unexpected guest a moment later from your spot on the couch, your college apartment rather small after all. And you’re mortified. Miguel. Alex’s best friend, university soccer team superstar, ridiculously attractive Miguel. 
God, why did Alex not warn you he was bringing someone over? All it took was a quick message, for fuck’s sake. And Miguel of all people? Ugh. Well, it wasn’t like you could tell him. “Hey, brother dear, I have a huge crush on your best friend, so can I please get a warning next time he’ll be around? You know, especially so I’m not looking like a total mess when he shows up?”
He’d been coming over a lot recently actually. He and Alex were both on the soccer team and happened to share a few classes too, so their schedules really lined up. Usually, it was nice to get to see him. It’s not like either of them paid that much attention to you when they were hanging out, but Miguel was nice to look at. Even now, they seemed like they were coming back from a casual soccer match or something, and he still looked amazing. His thick, dark hair was messy in the way that made you want to run your hands through it; his t-shirt hugged his unreasonably broad chest and shoulders perfectly, and his sweatpants — fuck, his sweatpants — his ass looked miraculous as he turned to put his gym bag down.
Miguel’s looking at you as he and Alex step into the living room. “It’s Saturday, Y/N, and the weather’s finally fucking nice. Why’re you reading a book? You’re such a nerd,” Alex snaps as he plops onto the couch next you, pushing your legs off to make room. 
“I’m a nerd because I’m reading a book? Am I am tomboy because I’m not wearing a dress, too, or are we keeping it to one stupid superficial stereotype?” 
Miguel chuckles as he sits on Alex’s other side. “Cut him some slack, Y/N, he took a soccer ball to the head today. Might be making him even more of an idiot than usual.” 
You can’t help but worry; you love the idiot after all. 
“You okay? Was it bad?” you’re asking as you run your hand over his head looking for bumps. “I’m fine, mom,” he mocks, pushing you away. “And you? You asshole,” he accuses Miguel playfully. “‘Took a ball to the head’?” he repeats, then turning to you adds, “It was him that kicked it!” Miguel starts laughing.
“It was the perfect setup, man. Not my fault you were distracted.” “Whatever,” Alex says as he reaches for the video game remotes. Knowing them, it was time for FIFA.
You’re eager to hide with how you look right now anyway, so you get up to head into your room. “We didn’t mean to kick you out,” Miguel starts kindly. “ You don’t have to go; you were clearly comfortable here.” “Clearly comfortable”? God that sounded bad in your head. He was “super hot”; you were “clearly comfortable.”
“Thanks, Miguel. It’s fine. I was going to —“ but you don’t finish your excuse as you trip on the remote’s charging wire as you step across, falling unceremoniously to your face right in front of them. 
“Mierda!” Miguel yells.
Alex immediately asks, “You okay?,” but it’s Miguel who’s up and over you in the same instant.
“You alright?” he asks softly as his hands grab your hips to help you up. 
His hands on you were the last thing you needed right now. So much for composure. “Fine. Really,” you say, your breath shaky. You’re kneeling on your living room floor; Miguel’s squatting in front of you, close; his hands haven’t left your body even though you’re no longer prone. He just watches you closely, eyes beautiful and concerned. You stare back into them, and after a couple more shaky breaths finally manage to stand up and step away, looking anywhere but at him. “‘M fine,” you repeat. You turn away hurriedly and go the few steps to your room. Once safely behind closed doors, your face scrunches and your stomach sinks at the sheer embarrassment. 
~
It’s been days since Miguel was at your apartment, and part of you is happy for the lack of pressure but another part of you still gets a funky feeling in her gut at the idea that the last memory of you he had was of a clumsy mess. He and Alex have a game today, and pretending to convince yourself that you just felt like it today, you make yourself up more than usual for it. You’re actually pretty happy with your look as you head out to meet some friends at the match. 
They win. Miguel scores. Twice. Alex’s defense is probably the main reason for their clean sheet. 
So, hyped up on adrenaline and victory, they’re laughing and messing around with their teammates as a bunch of people approach the sidelines to congratulate them. Alex spots you and makes a goofy face, always so playful when he’s happy. He jogs over to you and gives you a huge hug.
“Stop, you’re so sweaty!” you squeal. He just holds you tighter and rubs his sweaty hair on you, laughing. When he finally pulls away, Miguel is standing right next to him, smiling at the two of you. “Do I get a hug too?” he teases. “I scored two more goals than he did!” 
You’re not sure if he’s kidding, and you’re sure the chuckle you give in response is somewhat tense.
But, stepping toward him, you just say, “Congratulations,” and wrap your arms around his shoulders without getting too close. Damn, they were like boulders. Miguel wraps his arms around your waist and closes the distance you’d maintained, giving you a surprisingly intimate embrace. You’re struck by the feeling of him around you. He’s sweaty, too, and you can smell his musk, but instead of off-putting, you find it incredibly arousing. You can feel the rise and fall of his breathing where your chest is flush with his. He’s so warm, and you just want to breathe him in and trace every ridge of his body. But the hug is already lingering too long to be normal, and you pull back a bit awkwardly. Miguel is still looking at you, a subtle smile on his face. 
He seems about to say something when a high pitched squeal right next to you startles you. 
“Miguel!” a very pretty girl yells at him as she approaches, unabashedly jumping onto his back. She’s in a cheer uniform. “Oh my god, you were so good!” Miguel’s so sturdy, her jumping on him didn’t throw him off physically, but his face looks a little flustered. “Uh, thanks,” he says politely, putting her down. She just giggles and grabs his arm as she compliments him again. 
You feel so awkward watching this, so you just turn around and walk away. You don’t see Miguel looking after you.
~
You’re at the after party with a couple of your friends. The soccer team was quite popular, and the victory parties tended to be good. You’re mostly having fun, but you can’t help but keep looking over to where Miguel is. Man of the match and man with that face, he was obviously the center of attention. People were coming up to congratulate him left and right. He handled it all so graciously. It shocked you how there was no arrogance in his demeanor; he was just the easygoing life of the party. 
You wanted to go talk to him too, but you’d already congratulated him and didn’t know what else you would say. The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself again. You could go talk to your brother, who was right next to him, but he was busy flirting, and you didn’t want to ruin it for him. 
A bunch of people are dancing in the open space between you and Miguel, and the chaos lets you sneak long looks at him without his noticing. But when your friend leans over and asks, “Who do you keep looking at?,” you realize you have to be less obvious. “No one, just curious who Alex is flirting with,” you lie, proud of how quick you were with it. 
“You a jealous, protective sister type?” she laughs. 
“No, just curious.” “Is he?” “What?” “Protective?”
“Um, sometimes, depends. Why?”
“Because that guy over there keeps checking you out.” She nods toward an okay-looking guy chatting with someone on the edge of the dance floor. A second later, he was indeed looking over at you. “You should go talk to him!” “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so interested.” “Why not? He’s hot! I’m pretty sure he’s on the team too. You don’t have to marry him, Y/N, just go dance! You’ve been weirdly tense all night.”
You look over again, and your eyes meet. Before you can do anything else, he makes the decision for you, walking over to you.
“Hey.” “Um, hi.” You exchange names and pleasantries, and he asks you if you want to dance. Without thinking about it, you glance toward the person you really wish you were dancing with. To your surprise, Miguel is already looking toward you. He looks less happy than before. You look back at this guy quickly, hoping neither of them noticed. 
You feel slightly bad thinking this, using this guy you weren’t super interested in, but you couldn’t help but feel it’d be nice if Miguel saw a side of you that might make him think of you differently, not just as Alex’s sister. It’s just a dance anyway, so, you accept the offer and head to the dance floor. 
You fall into a rhythm with the music, with the guy. The dancing is fun; the guy is fine. Your back is to Miguel, and you can’t resist spinning to catch another glimpse, doing it seamlessly as you keep dancing. Your breath catches when your eyes meet his. 
Miguel watching you from across the room is doing much more to turn you on than anything your current dance partner is doing, but you channel your new energy into your movements. It’s not a well thought out decision, though in the back of your mind you know who it’s for, but you start moving a bit more suggestively. You let your hips follow the music, let your hands come up to your hair as your body rolls rhythmically. Feeling especially bold, you even manage to meander closer to where Miguel is, giving him a better view. 
Unbeknownst to you, this unfortunately also makes Alex, now unoccupied, notice you for the first time. You don’t hear him leaning over to Miguel and saying, “Gross. I hate seeing my sister with random guys. Let’s go get more drinks.” He drags him away, and Miguel, unable to come up with a good reason not to follow, does. 
The next time you spin, all you catch is the backs of their heads.
~
The following week, you’re coming home from classes, and all you can think about is eating. You’d had to skip lunch to finish an assignment and couldn’t wait for dinner. 
When you enter your apartment, you find Miguel sitting on your couch. 
“Hey,” he greets. “Hi.” He’s sitting on the edge of the sofa closest to you, and he adorably shifts over to make room, as if you couldn’t just go around. You weren’t planning on sitting anyway, but now that he’s wordlessly extended an invitation, you do. “Where’s Alex?”
“Went to take a shower. We’re gonna play a couple games when he’s done.” He gestures toward the video game console. “Are the remotes charged?” you joke. “I hear it’s a hazard to have the wires across the living room floor.” Miguel chuckles lightly at your self-deprecating humor. He’s turned toward you, sitting in the middle of the couch, his elbow on the backrest as he occasionally messes with his luscious hair. “I felt so bad that day. Taking over your space and tripping you. When you looked so peaceful when we got here.”
“Don’t feel bad,” you laugh, amused but also masking your stirring feelings at the fact that he had thought about it at all. “I was just a mess that day. And I wouldn’t call my pyjamas peaceful, just comfortable. In my defense, though, I wasn’t expecting company.”
“I liked your pyjamas,” he teases, and you roll your eyes. “What? I did! I’m all for comfy clothing; have you not noticed 90% of my wardrobe is gym clothes?”
“Yes, well, you can get away with it. You’re a guy, and you look like that,” you say, gesturing at his body before you really realize what you’re saying. You tense as soon as you do. It just slipped out, the conversation getting weirdly easy and comfortable with him. “Like what?” he asks, but he’s smirking, knowing what you meant. You just roll your eyes again. “No, c’mon, chula, like what?” He lifts his eyebrows in challenge, mirth in his eyes. You’re too busy reeling from the pet name to have mental energy to come up with a retort. You’re grateful for what would’ve otherwise been embarrassing: your stomach grumbling. Miguel looks at your stomach and giggles. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” you say, taking the escape route and walking to the adjoining kitchen. He follows. “You can get away with it too, you know,” he says nonchalantly. You think you know what he means but look back at him questioningly. “The clothes. You always look good.” 
You’re glad you’re not facing him, your expression probably revealing your excitement. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.” He leans on your counter. “So what are you having?” “I don’t know, whatever we have. Haven’t had time to go to the store.” You’re rummaging through your cabinets. “I can make you something,” he offers. You stop and look at him. “What? I’m a great cook,” he shrugs defensively. “Have you never had my tamales?”
“It’s not about you being good or not,” you giggle. “There’s no reason you should have to cook when you’re just here to hang out.” 
He just shrugs again, but there’s a tinge of shyness in his typically confident facade. 
You turn to open your fridge, and he comes up right next to you. “Oh shit, you guys have jarritos. Can I steal one?”
“Yeah, of course,” you laugh. “Grab whatever you want.”
You didn’t think he would immediately… As you bend over to grab something from the drawers, Miguel reaches up to grab the soda, leaning forward. Both of you moving simultaneously, your ass presses firmly against his crotch. You both freeze in panic, prolonging the position, before you jump up at the accidental contact. His and your “sorry”’s and “I didn’t mean to”’s get jumbled together in the colossally awkward moment. Miguel looks down, then back up again looking startled. He scurries around to the other side of the counter, it now separating you. “Jesus, Miguel, I didn’t do it on purpose! You don’t have to put a barricade between us; it’s not like I’m gonna jump you!” “No, no, it’s not that! Fuck, it’s, uh, fuck…” He looks lost for words. His hand comes to his face, covering it in resigned embarrassment. His voice is a mumble through his obstructing hand, “I’ve a bd’ve uh sitch-ation.”
“What?” He uncovers his face with an exasperated sigh. “I have… a bit of a… situation,” he whispers, looking down.
“Oh… oh!” you say, realization hitting you. Probably largely because of the awkward tension, at least partially at the idea of you giving Miguel O’Hara a boner, you start cracking up. He just stares at you, deadpan, his hands coming to his hips. “It’s not funny.” “It’s a little funny.” His glare cracks the tiniest bit. 
“Okay, maybe it’s a little funny. But it’s your fault!”
“I didn’t mean to!”
“Didn’t mean to what?” Alex asks nonchalantly, coming out of his room, lazily drying his hair.
“Nothing!” you and Miguel say simultaneously.
“Okay… should I just pretend that wasn’t really suspicious?” 
“Yes,” you tell him. “It’s nothing, really. Just me being clumsy again.”
His eyes are still skeptical, but Alex just chuckles and nods, letting it go at the look on your face. He heads to the couch with an easy “C’mon, man” at Miguel. Miguel follows, giving you a sideways glance and tense smile. When he sits, he immediately puts a cushion on his lap. You grab the first thing that looks edible in your fridge and head to your room. 
~
Two weekends later finds you at another soccer team party. They’d lost this time, 2-1. Miguel scored their sole goal, and the other team’s second had been a sketchy penalty. If the victory parties were good, the defeat ones were wild. Most of the players, Miguel and Alex among them, were drowning their sorrows, especially after such a disheartening defeat.
You weren’t a player, but you had your own sorrows to drown, and you weren’t stopping yourself from doing just that. You’d hardly seen Miguel in almost two weeks, and the few times you had, he’d been cold, keeping interactions mainly to greetings and goodbyes. You didn’t know if you’d done something wrong, if he was still caught up with your little awkward encounter, or if you were just making it up, your feelings for him needing some outlet. Making up stories by constantly obsessing about him was as good as outlet as you could get sometimes. Alcohol was a better one now. 
A while into the party, you’re at the bar for your… you lost count… numberth tequila shot. You down it, lick the salt off your hand, and stick the lime in your mouth, cringing. 
Your eyes are still closed when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You open them and see Miguel standing beside you. “Maybe switch to water, huh, guapa?” he tells you.
“Why? M’fine,” you slur. 
“Maybe, but you won’t be if you keep this pace up.” “And how would you know?” 
“Just noticed,” he shrugs. 
You squint your eyes accusingly at him. You didn’t know what you’d feel next time you talked to him, but you hadn’t expected to feel this angry. 
“You notice me enough to watch how much I drink but not to say more than two words at a time to me for weeks?” He looks surprised. “Y/N…” 
You cross your arms and lift your eyebrows in an implied “what?”
When he doesn’t say anything, you just walk past him. You end up walking through the dance floor, and though it wasn’t your plan, you kind of like moving to the music. You’re drunk enough to the lack the inhibitions to just dance alone. You’re enjoying yourself, not even bothering to look back and see if Miguel was still there. A bit later though, you startle as you feel a hand on your ass. You turn and find a random guy you’ve never met before, smiling at you disgustingly drunkenly. You’re taken aback, your mind already a bit slow from the alcohol, so you haven’t decided yet how to tell him to fuck off by the time Miguel is in front of you shoving him away. He’s not overly aggressive but, even drunk, easily moves the guy away from you with an angry “What the hell, man?” 
The other guy looks seriously scared and just lifts his hands with a pathetic “sorry, Miguel.” 
“Fucking better be, what the hell is wrong with you?” The other guy stumbles away. Miguel turns towards you, and his expression melts from frightening anger to warm concern in two seconds. “You okay?” he asks, his hands carefully grazing your shoulders. You nod and lean into him. At your seeming comfortable, he lets his arms come around you. 
“Thanks,” you whisper in his ear.
“Of course,” he whispers in yours, and it sends a shiver down your entire body. You stare into his eyes, your hands resting on his chest. 
“Miguel?” 
“Yeah?”
“Wanna dance with me?” 
They don’t call it “liquid courage” for nothing. 
Miguel considers you for a moment, but a soft smirk is whispered across is sharp features. He nods slowly, and his hands move slightly further down your back. You close your eyes at the sensation of his hands running along your body. You run your hands up his chest slowly and wrap your arms around his neck. When you open your eyes, you see his crimson ones boring into you. 
You start moving a bit more as you focus on the music to relieve some of the tension you’re feeling. He follows your lead, and soon you’re dancing together much more easily. As a couple of songs go by, you’re both moving freely, staying close to each other the whole time.
You’re so exhilarated, and he seems as enveloped in you as you are in him, so the next time the beat calls for it, you let your body twist rhythmically in his grasp. Your back is now flush with his chest, your ass on his crotch, your hand reaching behind you on his neck, in his hair. His hands are firm on your hips, and when you roll them against him, you hear his whispered “Fuck, mami” in your ear and feel his arm come around your middle, pulling you into him. His hips move in rhythm with yours. You’ve probably never been so turned on in your entire life. You keep this up for a delicious while. You can feel Miguel is hard through his jeans, but he makes no sign of being embarrassed, just continuing to dance with you with expert hip movements that make your imagination go wild. Of course he’d be an amazing dancer. Of course you’d imagine what else his hips could do. 
You twist back in his embrace, coming to face him. He holds you close, and you bring a hand to his face. He leans into your touch. You move your face up slightly, and he seems to be following, moving his down. You’re so close, even think you feel your lips graze his, when someone bumps up against you, making you stumble. 
Miguel’s strong arms catch you, but the moment is gone, and a second later, he looks startled.
“You okay?” he asks, stepping back a bit, speaking loudly to keep his distance. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, but he seems off. 
“Let’s get some air, huh?” 
You follow him outside, the sudden change in ambience making your head spin a little. You lean against the wall, and he puts his hand on your shoulder. 
“Sure you’re okay?” You nod but don’t say anything, maybe a bit drunker than you thought, trying to ground yourself. He leans on the wall next to you. His body is warm where it grazes your side. You can feel his gaze intermittently on you. You get a little dizzy again, and you lean onto his shoulder. He just lets you, and you stand like that for a while. 
His fingers graze the back of your hand.
“Want me to take you home?”
You nod into his body. He wraps a firm arm around your shoulders and leads you away from the party. 
You’re home before you know it, the whole journey a blur dominated by his warmth by your side. When you reach your front door, you lean on it and look up at him. His subtle smile elicits your full one. “Thanks,” you whisper. “’S no problem,” he shrugs. “You’ll be okay?” “Yeah,” you nod. You’re already sobering up. “You?”
He chuckles and nods. 
“I wasn’t the one downing tequila shots like water,” he teases. Your cheeks warm, and you look down as you chuckle. 
“Wasn’t that many…” 
He laughs.
“It was, cariño.” Again with the pet names. 
“I’m still surprised you noticed.” “I always notice you,” he responds without missing a beat. Your eyes snap up to his, and you see the longing there. 
You stare at each other for a heavy moment, then, drunk more on the sensations of your earlier almost-kiss than on alcohol, chasing that feeling, you lean up to try again. Your lips are a breath away from his when he looks down, effectively rejecting your advance. You pull away, mortified. 
“Sorry, I… sorry,” you stutter as you scramble for your keys. You turn to your door. “Y/N,” he whispers, his hand holding your wrist softly. “It’s okay,” you say, looking back him, wiping tears from your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything; sorry I misunderstood.” 
You quickly go inside and close the door. You lean on it, crying. Miguel, eyes closed, fists clenched, rests his forehead on the opposite side. 
~
Miguel doesn’t come around for a while. Even as days pass, you can’t stop thinking about your night together. Confusion, sadness, embarrassment — all mixing together into a terrible cocktail.
Another match day rolls around, and you can’t stomach the idea of watching Miguel play, of potentially having to talk to him after. You tell Alex you’re really sorry to not support him this time, but that you’re not feeling well. He worries over you a while, unhelpfully but adorably emptying your medicine cabinet onto the kitchen counter, looking through stuff, suggesting this and that, telling you to text him anything you needed that he could bring you after. 
A while later, you’ve just slumped down onto the couch, when your stomach sinks at the sight you’re met with. There, at the corner of the room, lie his cleats. He’d been cleaning them the night before and had clearly forgotten to put them back in his gym bag. 
“Fuck.” 
You lift yourself up, grab them, and head over to the stadium. 
When you get there, you pound at the locker room door, and it opens — of course, you couldn’t catch a fucking break — to Miguel O’Hara’s gorgeous face. Though he looks at you intently, you can’t quite read his expression. Then he yells over his shoulder, “Ale!” 
Alex jogs over and, upon seeing you, lets out the biggest sigh of relief. 
“Oh, thank God. I fucking love you.” He reaches for the cleats you’re holding up to him and gives you a  bear hug. “Saved my fucking life, Y/N/N. Thank you.” He kisses your forehead. “You don’t look as sick. You’ll be okay?” He’s clearly in a rush to get back but wants to make sure you’re alright. 
You nod and playfully shove his chest, pushing him back into the locker room. “You’re the best!” he yells over his shoulder as he saunters back. Miguel is still just standing there, all geared up for the match. It crosses your sick mind how good the uniform looks on him. 
“You’re sick?” he asks. 
“Nothing I won’t get over.” You offer him a weak smile. He’s nodding slowly, considering. 
“Stay for the match?”
“Miguel, I —“ “Please.” You’ve never heard him plead before. You’re head is nodding before your mind can catch up. He just nods too. “I’ll find you after.” And with that, he jogs back into the locker room. 
You’d never known ninety minutes could drag on for eternity, with a half-time’s worth of eternity in between. You’re sure you’re heartbeat was elevated the entire time, your mind and emotions reeling. What was Miguel going to say to you after the match? You had absolutely no read on him during your short interaction before. Then again, apparently you weren’t always great at reading him. 
Minute after minute trickles by. At the end of the second half, your team up a goal (yes, Miguel’s), the ref announces an unusually large number of minutes. You moan with everyone else, for your own reasons. What was a potential leveler compared to the leveling of your heart?
Slowly, the minutes pass. The other team builds a mounting attack; they get a good attempt; they miss. The whistle blows; the crowd cheers, and you, you’re frozen in place. 
You thaw yourself slowly as the players shake hands, go to their respective huddles. By the time they’re roaming the sidelines freely, you’ve only just managed to leave your seat. 
As you descend the bleachers stairs, you catch sight of Miguel. He’s obviously searching, halfheartedly ignoring the congratulations coming from all sides. His eyes eventually meet yours, and as soon as they do, he’s running over to you, meeting you much closer to the bleachers than the field. 
He comes to a stop right in front of you and just watches you. You just watch him. “Congratulations,” you say. He chuckles, lightly shaking his head.
“Thanks.” 
He takes a step closer to you. “Y/N…” “Yeah?” “I…” “Miguel!” you’re interrupted. “Congratulations! Way to pull it out!” “Thanks, yeah, thank you,” he says hurriedly, looking back over to you. “Listen, I just, I wanted to clear things up after how we left them.” You nod, worrying your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around you defensively.
“I didn’t want you to think that —“
“Congratulations, Miguel! Did it again, man!” And a slap on the back.
“Uh-huh, yeah, thank you,” Miguel responds, turning away, approaching rudeness. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, much more softly. “C’mere.” He grabs your arm and drags you around the bleachers, stopping when you have a semblance of cover. He’s looking around to make sure no one else is about to talk to him, and his worried looks right after he’s just won makes you laugh. The sound draws his attention fully back to you. He smiles at seeing you smiling. 
“Where can a guy get a little privacy, huh?” he jokes. “Probably not still by the field where he just scored the winning goal, I’m guessing,” you tease. He chuckles. Then he takes a deep, sobering breath. “Listen, Y/N…” 
His tone sounds apologetic, and it makes you immediately think the worst. He probably just didn’t want you to be embarrassed. Wanted to fix things so they wouldn’t be awkward if he hung around, which he’d obviously want to do given Alex was his best friend. 
Already fighting back tears, wanting to beat him to the punch to save face in whatever way you could at this point, you cut him off. “Miguel, you don’t have to explain anything or anything. I’m sorry I made more out of a good time than I should have. Please don’t let me keep you from hanging out with my brother even if I’m around, and I hope we can still be friends.” “What? No, that’s not… This isn’t about Alex. I mean, well it is a little bit.” He’s looking unsure. “Just keep things how they were before. It’s all fine.” “Is that what you want?” He looks serious. “What do you mean?” “Is that what you want? To keep things how they were before? To still be friends?”
“I… well… it’s what you want, isn’t it?” “I never said that.” “You didn’t have to. I tried to kiss you, and you pretty much said no to that. Twice.”
“I didn’t. Well, once, yeah I did, but it was only because I was worried you were too drunk. I didn’t want to take advantage of you. And, also, maybe a little bit because I panicked, okay?” He sounds more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard him yet. “I was worried it’d be weird with Alex or that I’d fuck it up with you, and I just, I don’t know, I panicked. And the other time wasn’t my fault. I was going to kiss you if you hadn’t stumbled.” “Someone bumped into me!” “I’m not blaming you! I just, it just, it made me remember you were drunk, and I didn’t want to be like that idiot guy I’d had to push away a while earlier.” “You’re nothing like that guy,” you say sternly. “I…” He’s started to look frustrated, unable to find the words. He runs his hand over his face, takes another deep breath. “What if you try now?” “What?” “I don’t know how to tell you. So maybe I can just show you. Try again, and no one will bump into you. I won’t panic, and I won’t think of all the things that could go wrong. I’ll think of how I’ve been feeling since that night. Absolutely fucking miserable. It’s been eating away at me; all I could think about was making it right with you, but I didn’t know how, didn’t know if I should. But I can’t take it anymore, and if you feel the same way, then, fuck, let’s just stop getting in our own way.” 
“Miguel…” “Yeah?” “That was pretty good for not knowing how to tell me.” Your face forms the slightest teasing smirk, your eyes lighting up at the realization of what he’s telling you. “Shut up and kiss me already,” he says, rolling his eyes, unable to help his bright smile, pulling your body to his and bringing his lips onto yours. 
You pull him into you, reciprocating eagerly. He moans into your mouth, and you feel his towering body sink onto yours. His arms are tight around you, one hand cupping your head, bringing you close. His kiss is fervent, desperate but concentrated. 
You run your hands in his hair, and he chuckles gruffly, the sound muffled by your chasing mouth. You lose yourself in his embrace. You grip him tightly, breaching into his mouth, wanting to kiss him as much as wanting to be kissed by him. You could feel the beginning of a beautiful push and pull as your mouths move together, your bodies mold into each other’s. 
You want to kiss him forever, but some loud cheering nearby startles you slightly apart. Miguel is looking deeply into your eyes. He kisses you again, lets his forehead rest on yours when he pulls back. You’re smiling when you say, “You should probably get back. I’m sure people are looking for you.” He groans dramatically and hides in the crook of your neck. He kisses it before saying, “I just want to be with you.” 
You giggle, nuzzling his face with yours, holding him close, your hand in his hair.
“Yeah, me too.” He hums into your neck. He plants another kiss there, and one on your cheek on his way up, as he lifts his head again. His rough hands caress your face tenderly. 
“This is good,” he says simply. You laugh and nod. “Fuck ‘em. I’ll go over there at some point. Let’s just stay here a little while longer.”
“Okay,” you smile. 
Miguel leans back into you, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you. 
324 notes · View notes
fairlyang · 1 year ago
Text
Let you break my heart again II🕷️
will your friendship be strong enough or will it be easy to crack through?
w/c: 2.9K
pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader
tags: angst, more heartbreak, no more playboy, typical girl best friend problems, crazy gf, cheating allegations, betrayal, heartbreak, the end
notes: I dragged a lil ass I wanted it done the next day but writer brain </3 FINAL PART !!!!! (My original idea was for mig to only admit his feelings to reader after she got gwen stacy’ed)
part one
Months had passed and this girlfriend actually stuck around. He didn’t get rid of her and he somehow didn’t grow bored of her like he had with the others.
The worst part had to be when they made the three month point and he decided it was finally time for her to meet you.
That day your nerves had grown and you weren’t so sure you’d be able to do it. To pull through and not just burst out crying when you watch as he looks at her with pure love in his eyes.
It looked like his playboy days were over and he was finally ready for a solid relationship.
You barely made it through the night and if it weren’t for Peter’s hugs and MJ’s comforting words when Dana went to touch up her makeup and Miguel went to go change clothes, you would’ve been an absolute goner.
It was getting late and Peter offered to take you home to which you immediately accepted. Miguel then offered to take you after dropping Dana off but you politely declined.
Especially after seeing how wide her eyes got and she was (not so) subtly glaring at you.
Usually girlfriends would hate the girl best friend just because they’re a girl, but in this case Dana is a smart girl, and she had an instant inkling of your feelings towards him.
Even though you’ve remained respectful like you always have been when meeting his girlfriends, she didn’t like that Miguel had a girl best friend.
She kept her mouth shut and pretended she was fine but slowly piecing things together in her head.
So after saying your goodbyes and leaving Miguel’s apartment it didn’t take long for you to break down in the backseat of Peter’s car with an empathetic MJ trying to console you.
It only grew more difficult to hide your true feelings. Especially because Miguel would now bring Dana to group hangouts. Which makes some sense, even though Peter and MJ were just friends when you met them, then grew feelings for one another.
Alas you had no choice but to suck it up.
Three more months passed by and your love for him never faded. He didn’t even treat you that differently either which did end up causing some trouble for him from Dana. She apparently didn’t like how close you guys were, even if you did know each other since you were 14.
She claimed she should be his only best friend and what else could he really ask for.
He told her that you’d always be his best friend and he wasn’t going to toss you out just because she wants to be his only best friend. He can have multiple best friends.
How could he throw away an 8 year long friendship?
He then called her crazy for thinking she can control who he’s friends with.
So she recalled his words right back to him when she randomly ended up befriending his younger half-brother, Gabriel, merrily weeks after that argument.
Miguel wouldn’t ever tell you the specifics of the argument, mainly because in a sense he wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you to feel bad that his girlfriend didn’t like you, (as if you didn’t already know) and that she wanted him to drop you.
So when hanging out just as a pair he’d only tell you he was frustrated with her. He told you that she had befriended Gabriel and you only saw red flags but kept quiet.
You tried to remain cautious of what you’d say when he’d come to you about relationship problems. Obviously deep down you want to tell him to break up with her because she’s toxic and controlling but it wasn’t the best idea as the supposed girl best friend that “isn’t” in love with her best friend.
So you told him to maybe spend less time with you, mostly because you genuinely couldn’t think of an actual suitable solution.
But it didn’t matter because ultimately he denied that idea quickly and looked deeply in your eyes promising you, “you’ll always be my best friend. Nothing’s going to change that.”
If only he knew and kept to his promise.
It was now two months after that conversation was had and a whirlwind of actions, words, and lies would turn everything around.
You went to eat some lunch at a cafe outside of campus when your phone died on the way back. You were fine without relying on your phone and just thought you’d charge it during your next lecture on your laptop.
As you finally hit campus and walked past different students sitting around the grass and benches, your eyes focused on a familiar head with its brown bob.
You sigh and felt your heart ache as you walked past Dana eating Miguel’s face out in public like that.
Until you took a double take and dread hit you after realizing it wasn’t Miguel she was making out with. It was fucking Gabriel.
You couldn’t believe she was just openly cheating on Miguel like it was nothing.
You stood a couple feet from them and you couldn’t believe this was real. You blinked, rubbed your eyes, and blinked again but sure enough it was the younger O’Hara brother with a red scarf and those goofy ass (but recognizable) goggles.
You gulped and took your phone out only for the screen to show that it was dead.
You mentally panicked and were afraid they’d catch you so you quickly ran inside and immediately headed straight to your lecture hall.
The klutz in you unfortunately never went away so you nearly fell as soon as you accidentally hit a body after making a turn.
Horror filled your eyes and body as Miguel held onto your shoulders, trying to see what was wrong.
Your eyes were wide and your heart was racing wildly, you couldn’t possibly do this right now.
“I- M-Mig- uh- ‘m l-late for c-chem- sorry!” You stuttered and pushed past him to get to class and manage your thoughts properly.
As soon as you made it and sat at your unassigned assigned seat that happened to be next to MJ, who was worried to see you so stunned, held your hand and tried to get you to be calm because you looked so distressed.
You hadn’t even realized your hands and legs were shaking. How could they not be?
You just witnessed the most brutal betrayal of all time and there was no concrete evidence whatsoever.
Your first instant thought was that Miguel wouldn’t believe you.
He was full on in love with Dana now, in what world would he believe the love of his love would be cheating on him?
Not only cheating on him but cheating on him with his brother?!?
MJ’s mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear a word, you couldn’t even read her lips. All your brain was set on was how of fucking course it had to be you who caught Dana’s ass cheating.
How fast she’d turn it onto you would be so insane. Disgusting even.
What if she exposed your feelings towards him?
What if she could convince him you’re lying?
All you could do is pray he’d believe his ole reliable best friend over a girl he’s been with for 6 months and his brother he never really got along with.
MJ was eventually able to catch your attention but it took the entire lesson for her to get a peep out of you. And that peep only happen to be a sad whisper of Miguel’s name.
As your phone finally charged your first instinct was to text Miguel, quickly typing the words, “need to see you, my place after class?”
He quickly responded with a simple, “sounds good.” Then followed by a, “should I be worried?” Which you had no response to.
You quietly told MJ the unfortunate news to which she nearly gasped out loud. Her eyes were wide and she finally understood why you were so freaked out.
The lecture had finally ended and you collected all your things while MJ was quietly asking you questions to which you quietly answered.
Following your tail as you left the lecture hall and off to find Peter to quickly fill him in, and to help with your nerves because you didn’t even know how to start off that conversation with Miguel.
They were both giving you suggestions on how to break it down gently to him while Peter drove you back to your place.
You could feel the anxiety building in your stomach and it felt so scary not knowing how he’ll react.
And it overall felt even worse that you couldn’t take a video or a picture. This was practically a test to see if he’d trust you enough to tell him the truth or just make up a lie.
You could only pray that he’d believe your words over hers but you couldn’t even begin to prepare yourself in case he didn’t.
How could he not believe you? Even if you’ve been desperately in love with him you’d never do anything to purposely destroy any of his relationships.
You were just too kind-hearted to ever even think about doing that.
Would he really have it in him to not trust your words anymore?
Will he believe her words over yours?
Will this lifelong friendship finally come to its end like Dana has been wanting from the very beginning?
Finally you had arrived at your apartment and you still felt uneasy. Miguel’s car wasn’t in sight until you heard the revving of his car and that’s when things started to get real.
They gave you their final words of encouragement before you got out and climbed up the steps to wait for him.
He parked behind Peter and as he got out you could slightly hear him ask if they were gonna come in to which they obviously said no.
He shrugged and walked over to you as you unlocked the first door before stepping in and walking to the left door that lead up to your apartment.
“Hey are you okay? You seemed shaken up earlier.” He said, walking in and shutting the first door behind him.
You walked in and stepped aside to let him go in then shut the door behind him. The anxiety returned and you weren’t so sure how to start it all off once you turned around to look at him.
Your heart ached and although you might’ve been filled with jealousy for months on end, you would never pray he would get hurt this way.
You always wanted happiness for him, even if it wasn’t with you.
And now that he had it, you had to break his heart.
How could you possibly let him down gently?
You felt your hands beginning to sweat and your legs started shaking again which he instantly noticed and grabbed you, carefully leading you to the couch.
He sat you down and sat right next to you, gently holding your hands, wondering what could possibly have given you such a drastic reaction.
You desperately tried to calm yourself but it was to no use. Your body was panicking inside and out, giving away that this was something serious.
You still didn’t know how to even start.
So you just blurted it out.
“Dana cheated on you.”
Silence filled the room.
You could’ve sworn he could hear your heart pounding out of your chest. He was frozen and immediate tears formed in his eyes.
This was so fucked up.
In all these years of being his shoulder to cry on, you were petrified that it would come to an end. In a way you kind of always relied on him being there no matter what.
This whole situation could make or break that.
“I saw Dana making out with Gabriel on campus…” you whispered before adding, “I’m so sorry.”
You had never felt so nervous in your life. You moved one hand from his and held his while he stared down at the floor.
You were subconsciously tapping your foot on the ground because the anxiety had just taken control and the silence was already killing you.
You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, he truly has never been so happy, and now it’s just gone.
You looked at his face and as soon as you did, his tears started pouring out. One hot tear fell after another and you grabbed him, him embracing you as he cried into your shoulder.
You felt sick to your stomach, it felt like the most unfortunate thing to ever have happened to you.
Having to tell the love of your life that his girlfriend cheated on him.
Having to see how heartbroken he was.
Nothing would’ve prepared you for his reaction.
The quiet sobs and light shaking.
The way his hands were trembling while holding on to you.
You just hugged him as tightly as you could and gently rubbed his back to try to soothe him. Maybe it was past trauma that suddenly hit him, that he started to sob a little louder.
Your heart was practically breaking right with his. You felt downright horrible and weren’t sure how you could possibly help him. Only thing you could do was be with him, and you’d be with him for as long as he needed.
And you were.
Like the absolute best friend, of course you were.
The day after you explained in full, what you witnessed and he stayed at your place for a solid week before he decided to talk to Dana and listen to what she had to say. You offered to go with him but he said it was best you stayed, though he did really want your support but didn’t think it would be appropriate.
It was midday on a Friday when he had the call and he didn’t come back that night.
Or the next.
Or after that.
You had no fucking clue what was said and neither did Peter nor MJ.
Monday morning your mind kept thinking worst case scenarios which had you feeling uneasy as you were walking on campus to your first lecture.
Suddenly you stopped with Peter and MJ following suit at the sight in front of you. Miguel’s arms wrapped around Dana’s with Gabriel standing in front of them laughing at something.
That was the moment you felt your heart shatter into pieces at the realization of what happened.
Your words weren’t enough.
And in his emotional state and her false sweet voice she definitely used, of course he fell for whatever lying words she told him.
Her manipulative and crazy ass didn’t help from the pain this brought you.
He was your best friend.
Falling hopelessly and desperately in love with someone who was once a shy little nerd that would be there everyday for you, to now a man who doubted his best friend’s word for a girl he knew for less than a year.
8 years.
8 years you had known each other and not once ever lied to one another.
All of a sudden in his mind it makes sure that you lied about something as graphic as this.
All of a sudden he believes her words over your own.
Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared you for the way your heart ached and all you felt was hopelessness.
When Gabriel slightly moved, Miguel was now in clear view of you three, more specifically you.
The most vicious glare was all he was giving you meanwhile Dana only had a mischievous smirk on her face which gave you all the confirmation you needed.
Peter shook his head in disgust while MJ grabbed you, making you walk in the direction of your lecture while Peter walked behind you both before stepping up to him and muttering, “The truth will hit you hard one day.”
And boy did it.
Three months after that Miguel was going back to his place to cook a romantic dinner only to catch Gabriel giving Dana backshots on the kitchen counter.
Immediate regret hit him and he realized you were indeed telling him the truth.
He realized Dana’s bold lie that you were the liar, and made that stuff up about her was because you wanted to steal him from her, was indeed not real. That you weren’t deeply in love with him and needed to fabricate the perfect lie to finally steal him.
But before they both left (half dressed), Dana had to let him know that he was the easiest to manipulate out of all her exes. Then that the reality was that you were in love with him, the only lie being just that you didn’t plan anything.
She just hated girl best friends but also wasn’t in the mood for something so serious. She wanted a cop out. A way out.
So she figured you were the easiest target and making up that his other two friends, who she also didn’t like, were also in on it, was the best way to go about it.
The only reason she came back to Miguel was because she grew bored of Gabriel and wanted him back.
And he fell right into her trap.
And there was no way to fix or mend what he so badly broke.
It was far too late.
But at last, you’d never let him break your heart again.
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sickuma · 2 years ago
Note
Hello, this maybe kinda out of the fiction you always write. But can i ask for some doctor x reader fanfiction? Make it angst please, i will pay for my therapy bills!! 😁😁😁
PATIENT AT ROOM 224 — a Miguel O'hara fiction.
❱ The first actual request ill cover! I have a few lined up but I wanted to do this one first since I got the idea^^ tysm for the request <3 I hope this is to your liking (●'◡'●) Also if some things don't make sense, I barely know things about hospitals pardon me, I'm 15 and have yet to learn more about such gaahhh this one is pretty long!
ꜝ? Warning. . angst! mentions of chronic illness, death, and such. ﹟paring | doctor Miguel x patient reader
➴ SYNOPSIS — You suffer from an illness without a cure, and your doctor Miguel tries hard to fasten the pace of formulating that cure. Time is not in your favor, you have one wish and it's to see the ocean for the last time. Along with your goodbyes, he revealed a confession.
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NEPENTHE — (n.) An ancient Greek word, nepenthe is defined as a medicine for sorrow. It is a place, person, or thing, which can aid in forgetting your pain and suffering.
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It’s been four years,
Four years since the hospital became your home, four years since this became your reality. Exactly four years since you’ve been a prisoner of your own health, in constant risk of losing your life. It took a while to accept, but four years have passed, and you knew there was nothing else you can do but sit and wait for the inevitable.
A part of you never let go of that speck of hope,
Maybe you still have a chance, maybe you can still live. You want to live. Despite being quiet and accepting of your situation, the fear was undeniably there, and it grows every day. You don't want to die, you’re scared, it’s frightening. 
It seems you’re not the only one feeling that way,
In front of you stood your doctor, Miguel. He’s been in charge of you for years now, he’s been there since the very beginning. It’s starting to feel like he’s the only person you have ever since your family seldom visited. He had a nonchalant disposition, a permanent scowl on his face, and yet he feels homely.
“vitals are stable,” he spoke flatly, scribbling something on his paper. He had the glasses he wears on certain occasions, looking serious as always.
On most days he’s kept to himself, and on some rare occasions, he would speak to you. Things that aren't needed for your health, basic conversations that brought your head out of your wilting life. You appreciated that, knowing he isn't the type to converse or talk about personal topics. You always notice how his eyes look when he’d lay them on you,
Sorrowful? You’re unsure. But there’s definitely a hint of sadness in them, the type of look someone gives when they need to get something off their chest as if he needed to say something urgent. He never does. 
“How are you feeling?” he asks, placing his clipboard down the table. Looking at you expectantly, his tone was gentler, softer, something his colleagues would find unusual. You smile at him like you always do, which he always found pleasant. “Just like the usual.” “No aches? How about your difficulty with breathing?”
“None.” you lie, You know it’s stupid to be lying to your own doctor but the last time you told him about it, he looked destroyed. You find out he didn't sleep a wink that week, checking the lab and giving them consistent assistance in finding the cure. Breathing isn't that hard—you've grown used to it. You didn't want to cause him that state ever again. You're aware of your condition, and you can almost predict what the future will be, there was no need to stress him out more than he already is.
He looked at you, searching for any signs of lies only for you to chuckle at him. Stifling a laugh which actually made it difficult to breathe, but that didn't matter. “I’m feeling great.”
He sighed, taking his glasses off to massage his temple. “Are you okay?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Just worried.” you smile at his response, it’s nice to know someone cares enough to worry for you. But surely he’s only doing it for the sake of his job, it’s his duty to worry for you, still it felt nice.
“Do you think I’ll ever see the ocean again? I want to visit the beach, is there a chance?” you drift the subject subtly. It was your turn to look at him expectantly, for a brief moment he had a look of guilt, you know well why. “If I can, I want to see the ocean again.” 
“Soon,” he mumbles, turning away from you to open a drawer. “You just—I’ll take you there. When things get a little loose, I’ll take you to see the ocean.”
“You will?”
He was shaken, stumped but he can't let you see that. Gathering what’s left of his solace, solace which you've been providing for the last few years.  "We'll see the ocean."
"That's a promise."
The reason why he’s so gentle with you, why he sugarcoats the rough truth as much as he can, why he promises you such things, he doesn’t know why. With you he feels a sense of solace, was it when you speak? The sound of your voice? that mellow look in your eyes? What is it? Countless sleepless nights were earned simply because he tries to find the answer, no matter how much he distances himself to do his job properly and realistically,
You would always be sitting up on that bed, glancing up at him with your tired expectant eyes accompanied by the gentlest smile he has ever come across with. Before he knows it, he’s promising you a cure that probably won't be formulated until a few years. Until you’re not able to wake anymore.
“Rest up, I’ll do another test tomorrow.” “Do you really promise?” you pry, looking up at him with a smile. A genuine one.
“Yeah, I promise.”
“The patient at room 224, [name] right?” another doctor spoke from behind him, stopping him dead in his tracks, hearing your name. “Their vitals. It wasn't stable.” “You’re lying to them, Miguel.”
Miguel breathes in, turning to look at the owner of the voice. His gentle complexion faded away, replaced by his common scowl. “How long will you foolishly wait for this cure?”
"It takes years, Miguel. Centuries even, to formulate a cure, you of all people know that." the man spoke with worry, Miguel knew he was only concerned and yet he felt almost enraged.
"I don't remember asking for your opinion."
"This isn't about opinions. That person, they're suffering. God, we need to let them rest, we have the family's wish." argued the man, he now had a frown on his face clearly unsure of Miguel’s intentions. “You’re letting their weak heart grasp on a false hope.”
"What about their wish?" he was angry, and he expressed it freely. “The family’s wish? The same family who barely visited them?”
He breathes in his frustration, he can't afford to lose his cool. Especially now that you're in a terrible state.
His colleague was silenced. Looking at him with hesitance.
"Why are you insisting so much? You're a doctor, they're your patient. You have a duty."
"That duty is to protect and keep them alive," Miguel interjects, he’s had enough of this argument, he hated it. He hated how right his colleague was, and yet he choose to be stubborn. "They want to live."
"And I'll make sure of that."
"You have never been this determined for a patient, especially when you know full well what the outcome will be." he waved his hand upwards, stressed at Miguel’s foolish antics "It's inevitable. It's a chronic illness for God's sake."
For the first time, he's stumped, he doesn't have the answer. All he knows is that he wants to keep you alive, he needs to keep you alive,
For your sake or his?
He stares at you, lying on the bed just as you've been for half of the year. Exhaustion is evident even with your sleeping form, Your life was faltering, you know it, He knows it. And yet for some reason, it's a fact he can't accept. For years of his profession, not once has he cared this much for a person.
It was more than that. 
For years of working in this hospital, not once has he been fazed over a patient's condition. No matter how heartless that sounded, he never cared to this extent.
Yet the idea of putting you down hunts him. The idea of putting you down as if you're some sort of animal without control over your own life, without a say in your own life. It taunts him,
To the point he struggles to sleep, often staying up to check up on the cure's status. Staying up worrying about the passing time,
"If I can, I want to see the ocean again."
His eyes squint in conflict, memories of your sorrowful wish passing through his mind. If he could show you the ocean, he would. If he could show you the world you missed out on, he would. You deserved it, more than anyone, you deserved everything he can give. 
He felt enraged, not because of the workload he has to push through. But for not knowing why it hurts him so much to witness you wilt, he feels confused and conflicted. The growing ache in his heart adding up to his stress,
“I'll talk to them tomorrow Miguel.” his colleague decided sternly, “ill tell them the truth and they will decide. You can watch but you can’t oppose.”
He walks away, leaving Miguel before he could even respond or disagree. Frustration surges through him though it can't compare to how helpless he felt. This was his only way of helping you, even that can get taken away, it feels like a stab in the throat. Slamming his office door shut, he sat on the chair, palming his face. “fuck.”
“What's happening here?”
Miguel spoke with a perplexed look, there were about 4 people inside your room. Papers in their hands. While you laid on the bed, signing the papers obediently, looking even weaker than the day before. “Miguel!”
You greet him with that stupid smile you always have, why were you smiling? Miguel could feel his nerves rise, seeing all the people and how they looked at him with fright.
“[name] what’s this?” he looks at you, pushing through the people to draw near you.
“They're fixing the documents for the euthanasia.”
He didn't open his mouth to speak for a few minutes, gathering enough strength and making sure he heard you correctly. “Get the hell out.”
He didn't need to repeat it, a man took the signed papers from you and everyone left the room shortly. Leaving you with an angry man who used to be the gentle Miguel who visited you daily to promise you a better life. “Why?”
He asks. He knew he was acting out of line as your doctor. But at this moment he wasn't your doctor, he was Miguel. The man who soothes your sleepless nights, the man who sticks with you even off duty, the only man who cared enough. He didn't say anything else, he simply looked at you with disappointment and sadness,
“They told me the pain only gets worse from here,” you humor a laugh. “If there's a worse pain than what i have right now, I don't think—I can only imagine what that would be like.”
“You didn't wanna die.” he interrupts, a frown evidently shown on his face. “You told me, you're scared.”
He looked almost devastated, well he is. It was obvious just from the look of his eyes, he wanted you to answer, and he wanted you to answer truthfully.
You breathe in, the smile falling soon enough. “I know, I am, I really am scared.”
“But I've been—it’s been like this for four years, how long will I trap myself in this situation? How long will I keep making myself suffer? Im just… tired. I want to live, I really do but if living means staying inside the hospital walls and consisting of lab tests, excruciating pains, and breathing difficulty, then I don't think that’s living at all.” 
He looks away, dawning on him just how selfish he sounded. Asking you why, barging in hoping to convince you otherwise. It was selfish of him. All this time he was focused on what he wanted and needed, constantly going to extents just to save you for his sake, 
He nods, “I'm sorry I just—” he paused looking back at your eyes. I really wanted you to stay he wanted to say it out loud, but he felt it was not necessary. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow.”
His eyes widened briefly, looking at her with disbelief once again. “So soon?” his voice was weak, a fleeting look of desperation in his eyes. 
“I asked for that.” you looked away fiddling with the blankets. That’s when he noticed you weren't sitting up like you usually were, if his predictions were correct it was because your body was too weak to manage sitting up. It was once again this illness, slowly eating away your life against your will, 
He felt his heart sink deeper, feeling more affected than he ever was. He wanted to shout, he wanted to convince you to retract your signage, anything to make you stay, but that wasn't his decision to make.
It was yours, it was your right.
He won't defy you as everyone else did. If it’s truly what you wish then he would support you, no matter how heavy it feels to the heart, he’ll wholeheartedly support you like he always has. 
“Then…”
He pauses, causing you to look back at him weakly waiting for him to continue.
“I promised to take you to see the ocean right.” 
It was his turn to look away, suppressing the tears that threatened to fall. Its been decades since he last cried, yet he finds himself weak for you, refusing to let the tears fall. Not wanting you to see just how affected he was, he didn't want you to worry knowing you will. 
“Let's go see the ocean, okay? Before you go,” he had to pause every few seconds, afraid another word will cause him to break down. "Like I promised."
“Let’s go see the ocean together.”
It was almost dawn, he never left your room ever since that conversation. He stayed all day and during the night, watched you fall to sleep, rubbing the back of your hand as you doze off. He felt his heart break with every passing hour, 
Knowing that it’ll come eventually. The time he’ll have to let you go.
He watched as your calm expression fall to slumber, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so serene. You would always have this tired expression as if everything in the world pained you, for some reason he knew some parts of that was true. This life truly failed you, you deserved better.
Yet you smiled and accepted your fate. He could remember just how happy you looked when he broke the news about the ocean,
At that moment, he witnessed genuine happiness from you. It was the first time he saw your full smile, it wasn't a half smile, not a small one, it was real. And he loved it, he wanted to look at it forever, to admire it as much as he can. Perhaps that's what made this so bittersweet,
Despite his desire for you to stay, he prioritized what you wanted, what you needed.
As long as you’re happy, he's at peace.
“[name], it’s time to go,” he whispers, gently waking you up. Stuffing his keys deep into his pocket, “Let’s go see the ocean, amor.”
He didn't care about what he was saying nor what he just called you, he was just focused on fulfilling your wish. He needed to hurry before the sunrise, he wanted to watch it with you. If this would be the last sight you see before you go, he wanted it to be the most beautiful youve ever seen.
Your eyes fluttered open, greeted by Miguel picking your limp body up in his arms to carry you toward his car. He was gentle, careful not to hurt or cause you discomfort, it made your heart leap with joy and ache at the same time, 
“We’re going to see the ocean now?” you ask excitedly, a bit of rasp to your voice from the sleep. His face scrunched up, biting his lip to suppress his emotion.
“Yes,” he responds, attempting to sound just as thrilled as you are. “Yes, we are.”
The drive wasn't long, nor was it eventful. It was mostly silent, with a few remarks from you ranting about how much you loved the beach as a child and how excited you are to see it along with the sunrise. He was fulfilling two wishes of yours, you couldn't be more grateful.
On the other hand, he drove silently. Responding to your stories ever so often, occupied with his sinking heart. He was happy, truly, seeing you look so lively,
It was the most life he’s ever seen from you in your four years of seeing each other in the hospital walls. It hurts him a tad bit, how easily pleased you are, how failed you are by everything in your life.
He had to gather himself, he needs to be happy for your sake. Seeing you peer through the window with a smile, it was like your eyes were shining with excitement, it caused a bittersweet smile to his lips. “We’re here.”
The two of you were just in time, a few minutes before dawn passes with the sunrise on its way. He carefully picked you up from the car, seeing your smile from the corner of his eyes, it was the brightest, at least the brightest smile he's ever seen from you. And you smiled a lot all throughout that four years.
He felt the sand sinking his shoes as he walked with you in his arms, walking until he reached a spot he deemed perfect. “I can stand,” you eagerly spoke, looking at him expectantly.
He would've refused if this was just a normal day, but this was your last day. He wouldn't reprimand you any joy you want. With support, he drops you carefully, holding your waist and your hand on the other. Your legs trembled, they hurt but you ignored it, too busy looking ahead to even feel the excruciating pain all throughout your body. He made sure to hold and support you properly,
“It’s pretty,” you mumble, mesmerized by how the sun slowly made its way to exposure.
You looked ahead, while he looked at you. “It is.”
He knew it wouldn't be long until the tears form, so he savored the moment to admire your face before his eyes blur out with tears. “Should we sit?”
You nod, looking at him briefly before you return your gaze to the front. Taking in the breeze and the scenery, it was painful yet beautiful. You wouldn't ask for more,
“Thank you, Miguel.”
He was silent, letting you speak. “I never thought I could be this happy, but I’m really really happy. My heart could jump!” chuckling at your own words, you turned to him. Tears were evident from your eyes, he disliked it, it made his tears threaten to fall as well. “I really really am happy. Truly.”
“No,” he spoke, looking ahead this time. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for everything.”
You looked at him in confusion, letting out a short laugh. “But for four years i was just at that very bed. What did I do for you worth gratifying for?”
“Existing.” he says calmly, “thank you for existing.”
It was your turn to be quiet, looking at him and observing his expression carefully. It was the first time he outwardly showed emotions, tears brimming in his eyes. They made yours fall even more. “Thank you for existing and waking my heart.”
“Waking… your heart?”
“Yes,” he responds, with a smile. The very first time you saw his smile, it was a sight truly. A beautiful one, almost on par with the ocean and the sunrise. “Thank you for making me love again.”
His words were unexpected but you kept quiet, taking in his confession. He was pouring his heart out, calmly and painfully. It was almost confusing, yet it was beautiful.
“I loved you the moment you smiled at me. The moment you looked at me in a way only you will—I know it’s odd, I know it’s unusual but I haven't stopped loving you since.” he looked back at you, holding you in his arms as you both sat on the sand.
He had a look of hurt, but a look of acceptance mixed in with a thousand emotions he had on display “When I look at you, I don't want to look at anything else but you.”
“I want to care for you, I wanted to protect you—I wanted to save you.” he was letting himself cry. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be vulnerable “I won't ask you to return that love. Because it's yours and yours only.”
“Miguel.” you barely whispered, ignoring the pain that gnawed on your body. 
“I'll keep loving you,” “I'll love you today, ill love you tomorrow, I'll love you forever.”
You both were a crying mess and for some reason, it felt right. The serene breeze of the ocean, the light of the sunrise. It was a perfect moment, the pain was indescribable but none of you would have wanted anything else at this moment. You didn't speak, only looked at him as he does to you. Even without words he knew, the way you stared at him with tears-stained eyes, he knew you understood, he knew you heard him.
He stifles a short laugh, “It's a bit unfortunate for me but if I were to fall in love once more, I’ll choose you over and over again.”
You laid your head on his chest, letting him hold you in your last moments. Closing your eyes, pushing out the tears which didn't seem to stop,
“Until I'm nothing but a fading memory to this world, ill keep loving you even then.”
“If I was given a chance to live, I would have wanted to spend it with you like this as well.” you smile at his chest, intertwining your fingers with his. Feeling yourself falter and falter every passing moment, “There wasn't a moment where your love wasn't reciprocated, Miguel.”
He held you, tightly but gently. Tight enough to not let you go, gently enough to allow you to feel his love. Your words strike his heart in every right way, in every painful way.
“Thank you for unknowingly saving me.”
As the sun rise, the silence of the place allowed him to grieve, giving him space to accept what has passed. He stared ahead, caressing your hair gently, as you depart in his arms. Where you belonged, where you wanted to be.
It was a wonder why the skilled doctor always had a scowl on his face, who knew the patient at room 224 was all it takes to wake his sleeping heart.
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this was a fun to write (●'◡'●) bandaids for everyone?
( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
( :̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)
this is unedited!!!
803 notes · View notes
drefear · 2 years ago
Text
Reader thinks Miguel is cheating idea I had.
Miguel x reader (angst)
TW: (sorta) cheating, anxiety, panic attack.
Miguel?
A pain shot through your chest as he stood there through the window, hands shaky as your eyes welled with tears while you watched him hold her arm and pull her close. How could he? Your hands grabbed at your throat, as if the oxygen was burning your esophagus. HIs eyes bore into her as he pleaded with her about something and you stepped backwards, about to dash for safety and privacy, but your movement must have caught his attention as he made eye contact with you. That was it, your webs shot towards the tallest building you could see and you swung through Nueva York, ignoring how he pushed towards the window you saw him through as you ran, water blurring your vision as you avoided cars.
“Cariño!” Your nickname from Miguel was heard around the city as his voice found your sensitive hearing, the distant hiss of his webs also following you. Glancing behind you, his body moved fast as he trailed! “It’s-”
You swung a hard right through the alleys and snuck through a small alcove, running into an abandoned hospital and hiding into one of the rooms. You sat on the bed and huffed, catching your breath as your emotions were drowned by the adrenaline of being chased. You pushed a button and lowered your mask, then putting it back on as you heard footsteps from a distance away.
Footsteps you knew all too well.
“Cariño, please listen to me.” His voice was far away, but not far enough. You glanced around. The window was broken, but you’d fit through the hole and you weren’t ready to face him because you knew that you would just break down once he looked at you with those beautiful red eyes. The thought of those rubies staring at you made your lungs burn and stomach lurch.
The feeling of something grabbing your wrist broke you from your thoughts, halfway out of the window when you were pulled into something hard and warm.
“Stop running from me!” He begged and his arms wrapped around you as your body began to wrack with sobs, hiccupping. You needed to be away from him, to process everything you were thinking and feeling, everything you saw.
Shoving him backwards, his claws made thick shreds into your costume and a few even made gashes in your skin, hearing him clatter into the hospital bed and tables as you jumped from the window. You swung once more into the brisk air of the city and gulped down the harsh cries that flooded you.
Jumping into the headquarters, you gathered yourself briefly as you walked past the crowds of spider-people and rushed to the anomaly correction room. Seeing everyone working, you found an empty room and hit a few buttons on your watch. As you were about to send yourself home, your watch shut off.
“No, no, no!” You chidded and hit it a few times, trying more as you panicked. “Lyla!” You shouted and the little hologram appeared. “What is happening-”
“He told me to.” She shrugged, “Why? What’s wrong? Are you bleeding?” Her voice made you practically dizzy with anxiety.
“He’s cheating on me! Let me go home!” You screamed and ran your fingers against your mask, seeing her horrified expression.
“I can’t- Ok, hold on.” She watched you pace and your watch turned back on, but it was too late.
“Lyla, off.” His voice made you freeze as you choked from the feeling of him behind you. His footsteps were deafening as your body shook gently, not moving a muscle. Once you felt the heat radiating off of him, a sound stuttered through your lips like a broken, wounded animal. He reached to grab your waist, but your hand caught his and you spun to face him, hardening your face to be able to look at him straight before snatching his hands away from you. Webbing his hands to the wall near him, you fell backwards over a chair as he stared down at your hurt features.
Tapping your wrist, you opened a portal back to your universe and ran through. “Please!” He begged, as you disappeared.
Once you were gone, he snapped his hand out of your webbing, shaking it off. Lyla appeared next to his face, arms crossed. “I didn’t cheat. I was talking to someone about my daughter.” He sighed, “But she got the wrong idea and made a move.” Lyla shifted and dropped her imposing stance, then glanced behind them where the portal closed.
“Why not go after her?”
“I think she made it clear she’s not ready to talk to me yet…”
His shoulders sagged as he sat in a chair near the conference table, running a hand through his hair.
“Mierda.”
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loves0phelia · 9 months ago
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Hi! can i request miguel x model reader. She’s apart of the spider verse but does modeling on the side nd she’s really famous :-)
Canon
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Summery: Being a model and a spider woman makes your life really complicated.
Words: 2.5k
Warnings: violence/fighting, angst, grammar mistakes
A/N: This is probably not what you had in mind at all but I hope you enjoy it anyway xxx
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You always liked modelling. At the age of 3, you dressed up as Cinderella and walked in your aunt’s May living room, moving your small hips side to side and flipping your hair. At the age of 5 Aunt May brought you shopping and every time you tried on a new piece of clothing you came out of the dressing room to show it off.
At the age of 7 your parents learned about your new passion and being the greedy people that they were, they started hiring agent after agent to control your every move. 
Your aunt tried to talk them out of it but they never stopped forcing you into gigs that you shouldn't have been in. You thought they only wanted to make your dream of becoming a model come to life but they only wanted the money. They pushed you around every stage and you became successful but you never knew until you grew up and picked up a journal your parents were hiding in their offices and saw yourself on the front cover.
You didn't know how to react when they died during a plane crash on their way to Japan to make a deal with your modelling career. You thought being thrown around by your parents was a normal childhood, you were lost. 
When you got bitten by the spider that turned you into the one and only Spider-Woman of your universe. Your life took a drastic turn.
 The freedom of being a spider person brought you so much happiness. Aunt May had taken you in after the passing of your parents and now that she was in charge of you, she made sure you would only model if you desired to. Nobody would force you. 
Since it was still your dream and you didn't experience the real pleasure of your passion you decided to start from scratch. You forgot your old professional life, the life your parents forced on you and started fresh. You got yourself a new agent that became your best friend. You told her absolutely everything. And you learned to be confident.  
You saved the city at night and lived your dream during the day. 
What was supposed to be a normal night of patrolling and chilling at the top of a building turned into a multiverse mess? 
Your Hair was flowing in the air as you hung upside down eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich when your spidey sense started tingling. Your head snapped towards Times Square and you saw lightning bolts strike multiple times. Some were electric blue and some were neon yellow.
You ditched your lunch and quickly pulled down your mask. With your purple-ish webs, you swung to the scene. 
The guy had his hood up but you could see his glowing skin through the vest he was wearing. It was like his veins were filled with electric fuel. He was absorbing every possible electricity making everyone scream in fear. New York was usually intensely bright and now every light was fading. Your senses were tingling every time a civilian was getting close to being struck with a lightning bolt so while trying to understand what he was, you saved every passing stranger.
“Hey, you might want to stop doing that!” You shouted over the afraid people after putting down a small child into his mom's arms and tried to reason with the electric thief.
“I don't know what is happening. Everything feels so different here.” The guy growled and continued absorbing with his hands when he started yelling in pain. His body glitched like television static. He stopped and breathed heavily as if this pain had angered him.
“What the fuck” You whispered and curiously your hand lifted to touch a metal pole that was vibrating with electricity.
A bright orange web caught your wrist and pulled you away. you looked at where it came from and saw a portal. After a couple of seconds, the web shone brighter and made a pulsing sound and a Spiderman came through it. his web was still attached to you when he spoke.
“Do not touch that, you could get electrified” He said calmly, almost too calmly.
“Who the hell are you? How did you come through that? Do you know that guy?” you rambled out your question and he groaned under his mask. 
“basta con las preguntas! (enough with the questions)” After having an A + in Spanish during high school you were confident you understood what he had said.
You rolled your eyes underneath your mask and went into action. You disconnected every powerline above the buildings and found an underground entrance to stop any power under there to try and make him weaker. You came back up and you saw that the other spider man was about to get struck and he did not react a little bit. Your senses screamed at you.
You caught his waist with your webs and tugged him to you making his back contact with your chest. He was so tall you couldn't even see when the bolt that was previously about to hit him, exploded on the ground.
“Do you not have spider sense or what? You could've died and I don't even know you!” you screamed and let him free of your webs. With a frustrated sigh, he called out to a girl named Lyla. Your brows Furrowed, now who the hell is Lyla? you thought.
“What in the...” you whispered when a small lady appeared by his shoulder.
“Call for back up” 
“magic words?” she teased and leaned closer to his face. You just stood there completely confused.
“Now. Lyla” Even with his mask on, you could see his grumpy expression.
“You got to say them” She smiled brightly, unfazed by his grumpiness.
“call for backup, please” 
“Yeah, I already did 5 minutes ago” She laughed at him and disappeared into thin air.
“UGH, you always do this!” as if on cue the same orange portal from earlier opened 5 meters away from you and a pregnant spider woman riding a motorcycle came through it.
“And I thought I was special,” you said before you three turned back to face the villain. 
“It's time you go back to earth 199999,” The blue spider said, once again your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell is Earth 199999?
Knowing it wasn't time for questions, your webs came out of your wrist attached to the arms of the electric creature trying to restrain him from using his powers. but he was too powerful and it was useless. His arms ripped apart your webs making his electric blue fuel travel to your wrist, frying your left web shooter. Even though you had less power now, you noticed how the lightning reached for something in the air. In almost a second a helicopter came crashing down at the speed of light. 
with only one wrist to shoot your webs, you managed to catch it, all on your own making a bouncy platform of web between the buildings. You rushed to the door and pulled it open.
The civilians thanked you for saving their lives and quickly ran away from the scene.
“He's unbeatable!” the pregnant woman who tried wrapping her webs around him screamed.
slowly you looked around trying to find a solution. you blocked out every noise and your eyes landed on a fire hydrant.
“Move away!” you screamed at the two spiders and they looked at you like you were crazy, but seeing you had a plan, they dropped what they were doing.
with your force, you pulled away from the ground the red fire hydrant and water splashed everywhere. Left, right, up, down, and on the villain. He screamed and glitched again as the water came in contact with his skin. He yelled in pain as if water burned like acid.
The flashing lights of Times Square stopped and everything became bright again as he fell to the ground. Smoke was coming out of his body and his skin stopped glowing and went back to its original color.
“He's not defeated, we have to send him back to his original earth so his Spiderman can deal with it,” The man said before tapping down on the watch tied to his wrist. A portal opened in front of us and the villain was pushed back into his universe.
“It can't be that easy, right?” you were standing there as if nothing had ever happened it seemed impossible.
“It is that easy. He was in the wrong universe and by sending him back, his very own Peter Parker would take care of him” Both of them started walking away and you stayed behind so unbelievably confused. Peter Parker? That kid you knew in high school? Peter Parker? 
“what about her?” you didn't hear when the woman spoke to Miguel.
“she found the solution and she did all that with one web shooter” she added to her previous sentence.
“She's careless, she was almost electrified. If I wasn't there this earth would have fallen to the ground” he grumbled.
“Remember the time when you saved Gwen and you were almost attacked by that thing made out of paper because you weren't paying attention?” she reminded him.
“We all make mistakes, Miguel. We need someone like her in the team.” without saying one more word she walked through the portal while he stayed behind. He turned around to look at you. Your arms were at your side and you watched the damage the villain left in your city.
“y/n,” he said gently and you jumped before turning.
“how- how do you know my name” You touched your face to make sure your mask was still on. It was.
“I am Miguel O'Hara. Leader of Spider Society and dedicated to the security of the multiverse” You looked up at him as he spoke.
“I know all spidermen and spider women of every universe, including you. This watch will allow you to travel between the earth's freely” he extended his arm towards you with the orange band in his hand.
you took it from his hand and put it on your wrist. it glowed blue then yellow and red as it was adapting to you.
—--
A few months later you settled in Earth 2099 at the Spider Society, you learned you were far from being the only Spider-woman. You managed to continue working in your universe but it was really difficult.  And you were also informed about canon events. 
“Miguel?” you knock and enter his lab. His big platform was up in the air as he worked on whatever he needed to work on.
“I'm just letting you know I'm going back to my universe for a few days. My agent told me I have an important gig with Vogue” You smiled as you yelled up. Vogue was always your biggest company deal.
his platform began getting down. “Are you sure modelling is a good idea? Now that your spider woman, one of your fans could discover your identity” he did not look at you once which was odd for Miguel. Usually, he had no problem talking to you. Maybe he was just grumpy today.
“It will be fine. I had no problem before” 
“Are you sure you can trust everyone who knows about your identity?” he asked, now you were confused.
“Of course, only my aunt May and my best friend know about me” he shook his head disapprovingly but let you go back home anyway. the entire time while getting photographed for the cover, you wondered why he was asking such questions. You continued your day full of autographs and interviews and you had a lot of fun.
“I'm home Aunt May” You entered your house and heard nothing but the TV playing.
“May?” you asked louder and made your way to the living room. 
You saw her sitting there emotionless and bells tingled in your head. You knew something bad happened. Your eyes shifted from your aunt to the TV she was so concentrated on and saw yourself beside a picture of you as spider woman. You grabbed the remote and lifted the volume.
“An anonymous source just confirmed to us, that the well-known model Y/n Y/l/n is the vigilante that has been roaming our street. She is the one who has killed various civilians instead of saving them! She is the killer who has been terrorizing our lives!” on cue a loud knock came to the door.
“Police!” your heart pounded in your ears and your aunt stood up. Her hands came up to your face and she held your cheeks gently. Tears were streaming down her face.
“You have to go. Leave, and don't come back. They can't find you” she said in a gentle voice and the police officers were beginning to try forcing the door open.
your feet were frozen in place but she grabbed your spider suit that was sitting on the couch and pushed it in your hands.
“Go. I love you Y/n” She kissed your forehead and as a tear left your eye you clicked your watch to open a portal and disappeared inside of it. You were sobbing and you fell to your knees. Who could have betrayed you? Why would they call you a killer? you've never killed anyone all you did was protect your city, your universe. 
a hand came to your shoulder and you turned to see Miguel standing over you. He looked at you with pity.
“You knew that was gonna happen didn't you?” you let out another sob before he nodded confirming your assumption.
“Why didn't you tell me?! Everyone thinks I'm a killer, aunt may is in trouble. I could've stopped it” You were angry at him.
“I tried mi vida, I tried to warn you by asking if you were sure but it didn't work and I couldn't tell you directly. it would have disrupted the canon and, It's my job to assure the canon stays intact.” he sinks to his knees next to you and holds you against his chest.
his lips connected with your forehead in a comforting manner.
“What am I going to do? I have nowhere to go, no more dreams, no more job. I knew a secret identity and fame wasn't a good match but I didn't think it would go that way. My life is gone ” You wiped your face but it was useless since your salty tears were still coming out of your eyes.
“I'm so sorry” he whispered in your hair. Even though it had angered you that he didn't warn you clearly about what was going to happen, you knew he had no choice.
Just like you have no choice but to stay here on Earth 2099 with him. 
At the same time in every other universe you existed in, you were choosing Spiderman over modelling out of love.
Even though being a model was everything you ever wanted. You would have ended up choosing Spiderman even in this one. 
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fqshionkilla · 2 years ago
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I AM BEGGING someone to make a GOOD fanfic about a badass spider-woman and everyone is down-bad for her and she’s independent and intimidating??? all i need is a good across the spider verse story that i can imagine myself in and giggle to before i die.
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safixiovi · 1 year ago
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Yes. Yes. I have daddy issues. Yes. That’s why I couldn’t remove this man on my mind. It hurts. I don’t know I’m feeling roller coaster feelings in the middle of the night. Listening to Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood. I know it’s weird I’m sorry. Might delete this but i wanna know do ppl with daddy issues like him too
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noelan1 · 8 months ago
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Are you ever reading a fanfictions and it has a really like annoying or a sad plot that you don’t like and you’re thinking “ no, I f***ing hate this plot, make another….” so you just continue reading the fanfiction and you’re really not a fan of it but you still want to keep reading it..
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esmedelacroix · 8 months ago
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All the ways I defy you.
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pairing: exboyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader
summary: Since the end of your relationship, Miguel has been acting strange. At home, at work, and even around his own friends. He even goes so far as to break work rules all, for you?
cw: very angsty, depressive behaviors, tiny suggestive part
a/n: Hey! Just wanted to say thanks so much for all the love on the first part I uploaded a while ago! This is coming to you very late I know. I was a bit stressed with finals and moving out of my dorm. Here's part two, I hope you enjoy it! A comment, like, or repost is always appreciated.
previous part | miguel masterlist
*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !
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Of course, when I thought that I could rid her of my life for good, the universe sent her flying in my direction. I do not want to be near her. Not because I hate her but because I know I make her upset. I don't want her to be around someone she associates terrible feelings with(me). Yet there she was drenched at our front door.
"I'm currently on the hunt for an apartment, but I didn't know this was going to happen—so—sniff—I'll have to stay here for a while. Is that okay?" my sweet girl asked as she averted her eyes. Drenched in rain, runny mascara, and her tears. Voice quivering and body shaking.
"Yes, of course, yeah, come in," I responded a bit too quickly, opening my door wider for her to enter. I stepped aside and rummaged through the bathroom getting her a warm fluffy towel.
"Um, I'll take the couch so you can sleep in our—my room," I said, correcting myself. Which only made her tears spill more.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes, you'll catch a cold if you don't," I assured.
"Do you even care?" she muttered under her breath.
Yes, Of course I do baby you're my everything.
"I'll be in my office if you need anything," I sighed.
. . .
Sleeping uncomfortably on your couch is not for that week. But that didn't compare to the feeling of hearing my ex-girlfriend crying herself to sleep in the bed we once shared. Our physical proximity was so close. All I had to do was get up, open the door, and cuddle her. Tell her everything is going to be okay.
How can one be so close to someone but so far at the same time? The paradox of my situation with my ex-girlfriend tore my heart, mind, and body apart.
Just then her cries and sniffs died down and I could hear her familiar soft snore that she swore she didn't have. When I closed my eyes to sleep, the first thought that came to my head was her. Her sleeping form. How peaceful her face looked. The way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. My perfect girl was the first and last thing I thought about. Her mere existence in my imagination had lulled me to sleep. Fuck, I made a mistake letting her go, I thought to myself.
. . .
"Hobie Brown," I said sternly.
"I already know, I get it, but things happen, mate," he shrugged, foreseeing the lecture he was about to receive from me.
"No, I don't think you 'get it' because you broke one of the only three key rules you have to follow here," I interjected.
"Just let him off the hook this time," Gwen interrupted.
"No. I can't. You, Miles, and Pavitr could learn from this as well. Don't disrupt the canon, report to me after every single mission, and never, ever, ever leave your post," I lectured.
"What if something important happens?" Miles questions.
"Nothing is more important than keeping the canon intact," I snapped.
"At this rate, you and your girlfriend will break up before I finish my written report. She must really enjoy your relationship; If you could even call it that," Hobie smirked as he walked away.
That shut me up. Because what he predicted was not far from reality. Are my rules too much? I couldn't say anything back to him because he might have been correct. For the first time ever Hobie Brown got the last word. The rest of the afternoon I reflected on myself and my rules. Not leaving your post is important, I told myself.
. . .
"I got your text," Peter B sighed as he took a seat next to Miguel in the cafeteria.
"You broke up with her?" he asked, quivering a brow.
"Yeah, it was just too much," I sighed, rubbing my hand along my face.
"What do you mean? She's like the best thing to ever happen to you. The first time I ever saw you genuinely laugh was the day you brought her to work and she kept cracking the worst dad jokes. And you're telling me you broke up with her?" he rambled.
"Peter, I was making her unhappy," I admitted.
"Then just stop making her unhappy. It's as easy as that. Knowing her, she probably communicated what was bothering her with you too," he said sternly.
"I can't just stop following protocol," I said, stating the obvious.
"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," Peter sighed. My lungs felt like they had been attacked by a million bees. Palms were sweating buckets at the mere thought of experiencing my baby Gabriella disappear in my arms again. Her painful screams filled my ears. The grief-stricken reality that her daddy, her "hero", couldn't save her. Amid my miniature panic attack, Peter placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Successfully pulled me from the nightmare I was reliving back into the present.
"But, Peter, Gabi, I—I can't let that happen again. What if a parent, just like me and you, loses their kid the same way I did? I just-I can't do it. I have to keep the canon undisturbed," I said, stumbling over my words.
"Miguel, that isn't going to happen again, you have us now. You have help," Peter said a little softer, noticing that he hit a nerve.
"I would never forgive myself if millions of families, partners, and could-have-been end or cease to exist because of me," I admitted.
"Miguel, if you were to leave your post, you would have someone fill in for you. You give yourself all of these extra jobs that you don't need to be doing," Peter insisted.
"But if I don't do it, someone's going to make a mistake," I insisted.
"Or you can trust in the people that you hand-picked for this job," Peter suggested.
"It's more complicated than that," I rebutted.
"No, it really isn't. You're just making it more complicated. You need to trust in your team," he finished.
"And maybe get your girl back?" he suggested as he got up to get Mayday from Gwen's lap to go change her diapers.
. . .
You called out of work sick. Truthfully, you were glued to the bed. You didn't have the desire to get up or do much of anything. You hadn't showered that morning or eaten breakfast. All you did was stare at the ceiling, out the window, and the framed photo of you and Miguel that he hadn't put away yet.
Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes swelled to oblivion, and your stomach was empty and practically eating itself. The refrigerator called out to me but I didn't answer. I couldn't. Does he even care like I do? You asked yourself.
Staring blankly at the limewash accent wall of your once-shared room that you were considered a guest in. Just then your phone rang. You shot up and immediately checked who it was. You shamelessly smiled when the contact name "my miguel 💕" popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button after taking a deep breath.
"Hello?" you said.
"Hi, you're probably at work right now, sorry to be a bother," he started.
"No, not at all. I called out today. I've been feeling under the weather," you assured.
"Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner? I'm going to get Chinese takeout tonight," he said.
"Yeah, I'll have whatever you're having," you responded.
"Okay, I'll be back around 7:00 with dinner. You know where the medicine is, take care of yourself please," he assured.
"Okay, I'll be expecting you," you replied before hanging up first.
He told you he'd be home around seven but you didn't count on it. He broke most promises anyway.
You decided to finally shower and have a small snack. You sat on the couch with your Kindle in hand. The couch smelled like him. The throw pillows smelled like his lavender-scented shampoo. You couldn’t help but wrap yourself in the blankets he had used the night before. It didn’t compare his hugs but it was good enough for now.
You spent some time reading some romance novels. Putting yourself in the shoes of the heroine and pretending that the love interest was him. Pretending that it was Miguel who ran all the way to your house while it was raining to hold you and wipe your tears in the dead of the night. Instead, you sat in your living room wondering whether or not he would actually do that for you.
You heard keys in the door and it opened soon after. You got up and slowly approached it with a pillow in hand as a weapon. You had no idea who could be dropping by the apartment at this time. Just then Miguel turned the corner takeout in hand and you wound up to hit the perpetrator. “Whoa calm down, it’s just me,” Miguel chuckled.
You let out a long exhale in relief. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be home so early,” he sighed as you put the pillow back on the couch.
“What do you mean? I said I’d be here around this time and you said and I quote, ‘I’ll be expecting you’,” he teased.
“Well I’m just kind of used to you saying things and not delivering,” you said under your breath loud enough for him to hear as you helped him unpack the food he got and set it on the living room coffee table.
“Well I decided to be less of a dick today,” he quipped.
“Should’ve done that when we were still together,” you answered half-joking.
He gave you an apologetic look. His mouth opened then closed. Like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Like he always did. I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind, you thought to yourself.
“I’ve been pretty shitty huh?” he said with a pained expression on his face.
“It’s not your fault,” you assured taking a seat next to him.
He put something random on Netflix to watch while you got water for the two of you. As usual, he never read the synopsis of anything he watched and accidentally put on 365 days. Classic Miguel. “Oh god, this is a bit inappropriate,” he commented, almost choking on his lo mien.
“It’s nothing we’ve never done before,” you smirked.
You watched his cheeks flush out of the corner of your eyes. He hugged the my melody plush you had gifted him a while ago a little tighter. He adjusted his glasses sheepishly.
You recalled the time you asked him about his glasses. Him being ashamed when he admitted that he needed to use glasses whenever he looked at a screen because played too many video games as a kid.
Suddenly, the TV blended in with all the other noises in the background. The sounds of cars honking on the streets outside the window, the rain constantly hitting the top of the air conditioner, the soft hum of the drying machine, and the—tick—tock—of the clock on the wall.
It was just you and Miguel in that room then. Stealing glances at each other. Contemplating whether or not you should release the many unspoken words bottled up inside. “I’m moving out in 2 days. I found a place,” you said, breaking the silence.
“Oh, that’s….great. Seriously, good for you,” he says looking away. What you didn’t know was that Miguel wasn’t congratulating you. He was trying to convince himself that you leaving was a good thing. That it was good for you and for him. That it was everything he wanted.
You could hear the pain in his voice and although you could see his face. You knew the downcast expression that was painted on it.
. . .
Two days went by way too quickly. Two days of sleeping on the couch. Two days of coming home early and on time to spend time with my loved ones before she left. Two days of baking sweet treats while we watched Romance movies. Two days of soaking in her presence before it was completely gone from my life.
As soon as I knew it, that morning when I decided to help her move her things out instead of going to work. I put Jess in charge of the morning instead which she was ecstatic about.
Once the final box was loaded in the moving truck we faced each other at the front door. The front door I’ve her drunk body through. The front door we used to kiss at when we couldn’t wait to get in our house. The front door she knocked at with all of her stuff when we decided to move in together. The front door where I would chase after her after an argument. The front door I revealed I was Spiderman at. The front door she came to drenched with rain in tears the day I broke up with her. Which was now the front door that we would say our last goodbyes at.
We looked into each other's eyes for a good 30 seconds. Tears filled her eyes and mine. "Just, come here big guy," she sighed, opening her arms to me.
I was hesitant. If I touched I was afraid I wouldn't want to let go and I would hold on forever. All I could control was the now. So I pushed those thoughts of fear away and I held her. Her arms wrapped around my waist. One of my hands rested on her back while the other was on the back of her head caressing her hair. For once I built up the courage to say what was on my mind without holding myself back. I took a deep breath in before admitting, "I'll miss you,"
"I still love you," she replied before letting go and walking out the door for the last time.
I heard the door click and it was final. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
. . .
I felt lighter as I walked down the hallway to my office. Memories of her still played endlessly in my head but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder when I took Peter's advice and split my jobs up with my coworkers.
Today most of the spider society would be in Pavitr's universe catching any extra anomalies that slipped under our radar. As well as closing the quantum hole that was starting to form. We had almost all hands on deck in this assignment and I would be leading it.
The mission reached a new height for us when a Prowler variant from a different universe was found. Gwen and I were on him while also trying to keep the streets and civilians safe. Peter joined us soon after he finished his task. Just when we had cornered him, my watch began to ring. The contact name appeared as "Mi Corazon" and my heart dropped. My heart dropped because the only way she could call me on my watch was with the emergency one I had made for her. She was in trouble. I looked around at Peter and Gwen and they both urged me to answer. "If you need to go, you should go," Peter said, fighting off the Prowler who took this as an advantage to strike.
"Don't worry about us, we got this," Gwen called out, giving Peter a hand while looking back at me.
"But, I can leave my post. I made that rule," I stuttered as the ringing of my watch heightened my nerves. Peter gave me a look
"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," the words played through my head as the worst possible time.
I can't, I can't do it. I have to stay, I thought to myself.
"You should be able to," I told myself.
As I battled with myself in my head, Peter snapped me out of it. "Answer that call, Miguel. I'm sure you'll regret it later if you don't. We got it covered. Trust in us? Please?" he called out.
Every cell in my body and even my brain told me not to answer the call and not to leave my post. But every beat in my heart and whisper of my soul told me to answer the damn call. So I did.
. . .
I had never swung through the streets of Nueva York faster than I was now. Her little voice fueled me even though biologically I should have no energy right now.
"Miguel I need you, I need you right now,"
If a branch was in my way I simply swung through. They would hit my body and bruise me a bit but none of that mattered right now.
"Someone broke into my house,"
Tears began to form in my eyes wondering if she was okay. If she was safe. “ You still there baby?” I asked as I swung past building upon building.
“Yeah—sniff—I’m here,” she replied. I let out a relieved sigh.
“Just wait right there, baby. Stay on the line, I’m almost there,” I breathed out.
. . .
You didn’t expect him to drop everything at an important mission for you. That's why you didn’t tell him that you knew who robbed your house.
That’s why you didn’t tell him that your ex-boyfriend had texted you the moment he found you that you and Miguel split up. The same ex was the reason why Miguel had to help you tighten your home security before you moved in with him.
So when Miguel found you on the ground a mess with tears still streaming down your face. You felt as though you had to tell him. "This was Kyle wasn't it?" he asked.
"How'd you know?" you asked, looking up at him, his arms still wrapped around you.
"I had a bodyguard follow you around for a while just to make sure you were okay while I figured out a time to help you install some security here. They noticed a guy was loitering outside of your apartment building a lot but they assumed he was a resident," he explained.
"I'm sorry I called you for this, I'm a mess and you were doing something important, probably," you rambled.
"No, nothing is more important than your safety and your happiness," he interrupted.
"Miguel, you don't have to say that to make me feel better. I know how important holding the Spider-Verse together is to you," you admitted.
"You're more important. So much more important. I'd sit and watch the whole Spider-Verse crumble and burn as long as I’m watching it with you safe in my arms," he confessed, holding you tighter.
"I'm sorry I never told you that sooner. Or showed that in my actions when we were together. There hasn't been a single day I haven't thought about you since I first met you. I thought that by breaking up with you, you'd be happier and you'd be free of me. It's hard being in a relationship with me and it's even harder to love me because I'm so flawed," he continued.
All the things he wanted to say but never dared to say to you spilled out at once.
"I just didn't want you to think I'm weak," he admitted sheepishly.
Shock struck your face. He's been struggling so much and you didn't know. "Oh Miguel, I could never think that. You are the strongest man I know. Once I had to bike up a very steep hill to get a bandage for my little brother who scraped his knee, it was really hard. Another time, I took a test that had 120 multiple-choice questions and two essays in two hours. That—was really hard. But the easiest thing I've ever had to do..." you started as you cupped his cheeks with both of your hands.
"...is love you. It's a pleasure—to love you, Miguel. You are not an inconvenience to me" you assured.
The two of you held each other on the floor of your trashed apartment. For the first time out of many to come, Miguel defied his protocols and the canon for you. He challenged his way of being for you. And he conquered his fear of opening up all to be a better man for you.
"I know it's hard for you to talk to me about what goes on in your head, and we'll work on it but this is a really good start. Thank you," you said.
"Does this mean we're back together? You really want to be with me after all this?" he asked.
"Yes, of course," you chuckled.
"I love you to the moon and back," he sighed.
. . .
to be continued ?
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taglist: @truth-dare-spin-bottles @hobiebrowns-wife @lazyjellyfish300 @scaryplanetdestroyer @lauraolar14 @reader-1290 @prettygirleli @spicydonut25
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monarchberrysblog · 5 months ago
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✓ el perdedor.
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ till death do us part
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miguel o’hara x fem! reader ✓
summary: Here's to the fools who dream.
content warning: bittersweet content, a “what-if” is questioned
word count: >1.0k words
author’s note: augh, the last fic I wrote was a major flop 😭 (tbh, I was expecting it because I wrote it as a joke, but some people didn't get the notice 😭) but here you go, something new and not weird 😭
♡ NOT PROOFREAD!! ♡
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The knots in his stomach continued intertwining into a heap, and he could not find where they started or ended. It was enough to make him throw up. The sensation didn't make him anxious; rather, the events unfolding before him terrified him. Time slipped through his fingers like silky hair in between his fingers.
The FaceTime call was fresh in his mind. He could even recall the events he did beforehand.
It was out of nowhere, quiet literally.
He lay in bed alone, the right side empty, hoping for someone to use that side one day. But for now, the unused pillows would be his companions. The low vibrations of the mobile device buzzed obnoxiously loud, with your picture flashing on the screen.
He taps on the green button with squinted eyes. The light from the device aches his eyes as he adjusts to the dark contrast. The video call loads and the sight on his screen sink into the pits of his stomach—a shining diamond ring. “What is this?” It’s the only question that escapes his mouth. “Oh my God, Miguel! I'm engaged! He asked me!” The obnoxious, cheery tone filled the space.
Your cheery tone contrasted the sense of dread in Miguel’s gut. He never knew that your now-fiance had the nerve to pop the big question. But seeing the glistening diamond before him answered all of his doubts. “Oh wow, that’s crazy…” He mindlessly mumbles and rubs his eyes, the strain aching. His mind plagued him as you continued to ramble on and on about the date before your partner asked the question. It was too soon to happen, way too soon.
“But you better RSVP for the wedding!” He snaps awake from his clouded mind and mindlessly nods. “Yeah, of course.” He mumbles, combing back his messy, wavy hair. The call abruptly ends, and the silence weighs down on Miguel’s shoulders.
What if he pursued you like his gut told him to? Or what if he decided to homewreck the happy relationship?
He shakes his head at the idea and could never see himself getting in that sticky situation, with the high possibility of breaking your friendship and trust you had in him.
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The bride reveal. This is a new tradition Miguel didn't want to be a part of but decided to play along because you really wanted him to partake in it.
Miguel is greeted by the sight of you in a lavish wedding dress. He turns around to see you smiling and bouncing on the balls of your feet. “What do you think?” you gleam, showing the ecstatic energy coursing through your veins. “You look amazing.”
More words wanted to pour into a waterfall full of exemplary words, but then words would barely get a sliver to describe your glowing features. “Really?” You pry before you squeal in excitement. “This day feels so surreal.” You beam.
He forces a chuckle before his hands adjust the veil. “I bet it does.” He pushes the words out of his lips. He sighs softly and covers your pretty face with the veil, adjusting the dainty fabric. “There we go…” He mumbles. He playfully flicks the tip of your nose, earning him an exclaim from you. A question escapes past his lips while placing a gentle finger on your nose to soothe the slight sting.
“Are you having cold feet?”
In his selfish yearning, he wanted you to say yes, to run away together, get married in Vegas, and elope. But your shaking your head confirmed that the yearning will never happen—not in this lifetime. He nods and pats your head. “Make him happy, okay?” He exhales.
You nod eagerly before you are called over to your father’s side, ready to walk down the aisle.
He looks on, seeing you hurry along to attend the service you were going to celebrate with your soon-to-be husband. You glance over your shoulder once more, giving him a smile. He returns the smile, hiding the sliver of pain in his glistening eyes.
The midnight blue sky paints the horizon as Miguel stumbles back into his penthouse. The bed left unmade, except the right side, covered in unwanted pillows.
The night ends with the right side of his bed staying cold as you become his sister-in-law by the end of the service and wedding venue that only served weak champagne that could barely muffle out the aching pain in his chest.
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16bruises · 2 years ago
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Parasocial
word count: 1.5k
purple is other miguel
important information for writers who use google docs
Our eyes met through a screen long before we did.
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“Even an obvious fabrication is some comfort when you have few”
-Margaret Atwood
The everyday misery makes it so my nights and days blend too easily for me to keep any form of a normal or healthy life. I don’t want one without them anyway.
Them.
That beautiful family.
All I’ve ever wanted.
I could’ve had them… but it wasn't meant for me. Not the version of me that I have the misfortune of being. The version I am is only allowed to long for something I can’t have and suffer. But ever since I found them… I’ve suffered less and longed more.
I imagined them with me. I could’ve been so good at having a family if I was only given time. I won’t ever admit it, it would be bad for the morale of the spider society– but I hate being a spider person. I hate that it’s taken so much. I hate that I can watch a version of me through a screen have what I long for. I hate it.
I have so much love for them. The other Miguel’s family. Sometimes I feel so sure that I love them more than that.. alternate version of me that has them. But other times I feel like any version of me would love them more than anything.
But that can’t be true– I’ve suffered for so long alone. I’m the Miguel that suffers and loves them more than any other Miguel could.
The first moment I saw this version of me, he had everything already. He was happily married to her, (y/n). The way she looked at that Miguel made me so sure that she’d love me. She would love me even though I’m not her Miguel. I could be, I’d happily be her’s.
She was pregnant with their baby the first time I saw her.
That Miguel wanted the baby to be a girl. I would’ve told her that I just want the baby to be healthy and for the delivery to go smoothly. I would’ve made sure she knew I could care less about the sex of our baby and that I would love our baby no matter what.
I will admit, I was hoping for a baby girl. But, If the baby had been a boy I wouldn’t have cared. The baby was perfect because it was hers and looked like it could’ve been mine.
That version of me was late getting to the hospital and almost missed the birth. I wouldn’t have been late. I wouldn’t be away from her that close to the baby’s due date.
I cried tears of pure joy when Gabriella was born. I loved her the moment I saw her. She was such a tiny baby, such a beautiful baby.
Since the moment she was born, the longing got worse. It was harder to focus on my duties as Spiderman and as head of the Spider Society. But, I didn’t care. I loved her and Gabriella too much to care.
—-
Everything in that Miguel’s life was so perfect. I found myself resenting myself for not being that version of me.
I hated him. I started watching him, trying to find out what it is about him that made it so he wasn’t destined to suffer while I was. Why did he get to have such a beautiful life and I didn’t?
And I found the reason.
That Miguel was destined to die. That Miguel was destined to die and leave that beautiful family behind.
That Miguel wasn’t destined to suffer because he was destined to bring suffering and longing to them.
I couldn’t let them suffer as I have. I couldn’t let it happen. I had to save her and Gabriella from the painful feeling of mourning.
I didn’t hesitate to step out of my universe and into theirs.
I looked down at that universe’s Miguel, it felt strange. The feeling must be what it’s like to be a Peter Parker, constantly seeing yourself but… not quite.
I dragged that Miguel deeper into the alleyway, away from sight. Then walked home.
She was more than I dreamed of. She kissed me the moment I walked through the door. She was real. She was everything.
The baby. My baby– Gabriella. She wasn’t a newborn anymore, 5 months old now. But, still so tiny. She giggled when I held her.
I knew they could love me. I hadn’t noticed before, how heavy the suffering and longing felt until then. The heavy feelings were suddenly gone.
I held her closer than the other me had. I hugged her more.
I held Gabriella longer and gently rocked her cradle longer after putting her to bed.
Because I loved them more.
—-
My destiny was to suffer. Leaving the universe that demanded such of my life wouldn’t change that. I should’ve known.
Maybe I was too lovestruck by her. She was mine now, my (y/n).
Maybe I was too proud that Gabriella had slept through a full night.
Maybe I was just not thinking because I’d been too excited to be with them to notice the weak rise and fall of this universe’s Miguel’s chest when I arrived.
I should’ve made sure he was dead. It would’ve been easy.
But no, I had been sloppy and too eager to go to them.
I realized he wasn’t dead when I had gone back to my home universe, telling (y/n) that I had to spend a late night at work. I had to check on the spider society and make sure my home universe wasn’t falling apart. Everything seemed fine, a few minor things had happened in my absence but nothing I couldn’t fix.
I went to check on them and saw him. He was alive. He was in a hospital. He wanted to go home, to see his fiance, his baby girl. And he would be doing just that.
I panicked. I rushed back to them.
I was so sure that the next time I was gone, he would come back.
(y/n) would be so confused. I can’t let him come back. He’d explain where he’d been but (y/n) wouldn’t understand because I had been there.
—-
When I was attacked it felt like the end. I thought it was over. I thought about (y/n), our baby, our life together. We wanted to do so much. We were going to get married soon.
Then it felt quiet. Then loud, very very loud.
I could hardly open my eyes enough to make out my surroundings.
The image of (y/n) with baby Gabi, the first time we brought Gabi home, flashed through my mind.
I forced my eyes open.
I strained my arms to lift myself off the concrete.
I strained my voice calling for help.
I pushed and strained until any sign of help appeared.
Once it did, I let myself stop straining.
The next thing I can remember is opening my eyes, no force necessary this time.
The fluorescents looked so bright, and so did the pale walls. The sterile smell and people dressed in scrubs confirmed my suspicion that I was safe. I was safe, I felt better, and I knew where I was.
The hospital staff wanted me to stay for another week after I woke up but I just wanted to go home. I need to make sure (y/n) and Gabi are alright. I need to go home.
After much debate, the hospital agreed to discharge me as long as I agreed to come back within the next two days for a checkup.
And with that– I was on my way home.
It’s not something you’re ever prepared for. I think maybe only identical twins who were separated at birth could understand… the confused terror.
Whatever this thing was… it was expecting me. It was waiting for me.
What had it done to (y/n)?
Or our baby?
Were they ok? Were they even alive? Had this ?thing done something to them?
It was standing in front of the door. Watching me. Neither of us spoke.
It looked just like me. I’ve heard of body snatchers before but I never thought they could be real.
This can’t be real. I was sure I was hallucinating, some negative side effects of the medication I’d been given at the hospital.
It was real though.
It slammed me against the floor when I reached for the doorknob.
It wanted me dead, and with how aggressive and violent it was I knew it would get what it wanted.
—-
I loved them more.
I would do anything to keep them.
Nothing would take me away.
NOTHING.
I killed him. I had to.
After I did it I took a shower. Cleaned the last bits of him off of me.
I hid him better this time.
He was dead, in another universe. Far far away from here.
That night I held Gabriella longer than I had before.
I kissed (y/n) longer, I made love to (y/n), held her until she fell asleep.
I loved them more than any Miguel could.
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Part 2
Part 3
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futureplayboibunnie · 2 years ago
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Let Them Bleed For All I Care (pt.2)
Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
being fuckbuddies with Miguel O’Hara wasn’t easy when you were both intensely yearning
okay i bust my ass for this second part cause i just luv angsty smut with miguel sm. ooooh this was so juicy to write.
warnings: smut 18+ (MDNI this is obscenely filthy), angsty as hell, teading and brattiness, avoidance and attatchement with this brooding ass man, sensual aftercare confessions (tehehee)
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It's been a few weeks since that certainly enlightening morning. Neither of you talked about it after. In fact, you both avoided each other even more if that was even possible.
After your confession to Miguel, you couldn't handle the weight of it being out in the open. It was so dense and cruel- it was embarrassing and you didn't want to constantly be feeling this way about him. So...vulnerable, it was just something you couldn't afford at this point, you've more than paid your dues and you were done being run dry. Feeling this way about someone like Miguel was dangerous as it was careless- he was also your fucking boss but you wanted him, fucking hell, you needed him and it's just ugly from all sides.
He said 'let them bleed for all I care’ but the problem was...you did. You can't handle compromising such a thing. He probably understands but he also probably resented you for it and neither of you was willing to talk about how devastatingly desperate you were for each other. Fuck, you missed him, you wanted him so bad you were sure it wasn't healthy. You caught glances of him looming around in the shadows at HQ, looking vacantly provoked and displeased. He wouldn't talk about it, and the rest of the spiders had to bare the brunt of it all, no one was surprised at this shift in attitude- it was just Miguel O'Hara being duplicitous like he criticized you for being. Fucking hypocrite. HQ was practically empty and everyone had gone home to their respective dimensions but just like that everything just became ten times worse when he practically grabbed you by the wrist and slung you into his office, you wanted to have a temper tantrum in his arms and you attempted to struggle away from his hold but he gripped onto you harder. Miguel left you stumbling as he let you go so he could swing up on his high-rise platform, looking at the screens and sighing heavily.
“Miguel-“ You started when you picked yourself up and pocketed your mask, your face vacant and slightly irked as you stared up at his broad back. He fiddled around with his screens, pulling up a grab of you on an earlier mission today and you were already dreading his inevitable response to your catastrophic fuckup...or the fact that you had both been avoiding each other? You'd prefer the former over the latter. “If this is about what we said I don't have time for it.”
“No. It's not. You fucked up the mission pretty badly...you ran instead of fought.” Miguel bit at you venomously, trying his hardest not to get pissed at you. Anyone else would've gotten a verbal tongue-lashing from him but you, he tried to reign in his temper.
“So now what, you're scolding me for doing what I thought was right?”
“You have an irritating tendency to run away.” He wasn't sure if he was referencing the mission or you telling him you loved him and decided to leave right after. This was what Miguel was afraid of: being left, being betrayed when he finally let someone in and now he was reaping the consequences of trusting. He trusted you and you left him, now he was particularly furious and bitter towards everyone.
“I don't think this is about the fucking mission at all, Miguel. I don't want to fucking hear it, I'm leaving.”You waved your hand as if to dismiss the situation and hell would freeze over before he let you leave right now. Miguel frowned and instinctively webbed your waist and dragged you on the platform.
“Let go! Let me the fuck go Miguel-“Your protests fell on deaf ears, he was like a man on a mission to just get you close to him, anyhow, anyway he could. He placed you in front of him, his hands falling to your shoulders.
“You're so fucking unreadable.” He gritted through clenched teeth, his jaw grinding in the process and you could practically hear the bones crunch against each other as his eyes burned into yours. “I've been going fucking crazy because I don't know what you're thinking, what you want.”
“Miguel, I swear to God, if you keep talking-“ you tried to warn him and struggle against him but his hands were planted firmly on your body, the hairs on your neck stood to attention almost immediately and you hated how pathetic that made you feel
“Was anything you said true? Or do you just pity me? Is that why you said it?” Miguel tensed his eyebrows, his voice low and deep as he implored you to make him see reason, the eye contact between you never wavered once as if you were both challenging each other.
“What No!”
“Then enlighten me on why I haven't been seeing you.” He grunted, his tone filled with undignified fury.
“Because if I crawl into bed with you, if I let myself get involved with you further than we already are...we'll both do something that we can't undo.” You attempted to reason with him but you knew once he set his mind to something he won't change it.
“I don't care.”
“Well, I do. Don't act all flippant and self-absorbed. You created all of this for a reason.”
“So you tell me you love me and then you run away from me.” His voice faltered a little and you felt your heart wilt and dampen with sadness at such a thing.
“You should get it, Miguel. Loving you makes me sad and fucking insane. It makes me weak and unfocused, is that what you want?” You were pissed and it was searing your skin, hot to the touch. You were tired of fighting him but you weren't backing down, you could understand how your actions and words could be confusing or misinterpreted- your brain was fighting your heart and your body was fust in a state of hyperactivity as you were practically begging for him to touch you again. Miguel's gaze softened at your aggravated confession, he was taken aback. He didn't know what else to say, his mouth unhinged open as if he was going to say something. Instead, you just grabbed onto him before you had another chance to think, your face instinctively buried in his neck and inhaled deeply, your nimble fingers unable to resist raking through his hair. His steely resolve faltered at the slightest touch. “I miss you...” You breathed in his ear, planting a kiss on his earlobe. Miguel was even more confused now but then you let him go to stare into his eyes “….But I can't have you. You cradled his face with your hands and he looked like he had just seen a ghost, those words setting deeply into his chest.
“Stop playing a martyr for something that hasn't even happened yet.” You attempted to swing away but he just grabbed onto your waist and rooted you back to the ground, his other hand gripping on both of your wrists and dragging you closer to his chest.
"Oh like you do. You're a fucking hypocrite, this happened before and you lost everything.” You yelled through clenched teeth, eyes glued to his, your reply providing him with a tenacious red glow to his eyes alongside the blue vein popping out of his neck. he was furious about you reminding him of it, he knew it perfectly he fucked everything up.
Miguel pulled your wrists closer to him and smashed his lips against yours. He grunted with a certain passion he had never given you- as much as you wanted to and tried to struggle and squirm away, you couldn't, you missed the taste of his lips so brutally. Miguel released your wrists and gripped your cheeks, forcefully slipping his tongue into your gaping wet mouth as you panted into his. You were drooling for him already. Too consumed by how aggressively you've missed his harsh touch. Miguel's particularly apathetic hands flew to the back of your neck, taking complete and utter control of you as if to prove a point you were too hot and wet to care about.
“I don't give a damn about any of it. Let them fucking break. I don't care.” He pulled away to whisper hoarsely in your ear, his temper besting him once again. He wasn't sure if he believed any of the words he said himself but when he was with you...all he wanted was to have you.
“'I don't believe you.” You whined at him your eyes gleaming with sadness and arousal at the same time. Miguel pulled your hair and tugged it, you yelped helplessly and he enjoyed hearing such a pretty sound. Oh, he'll fucking show you.
Miguel tisked at you, his fangs vibrating against his gums and his teeth threatening to shatter before he fiddled with his watch and entered the bedroom of your universe. It was all over in a flash and the look on your face was that of pure unbridled surprise even though this perfectly aligned with Miguel's impulsive and arrogant nature- the man still fucking surprised you, damn. He threw you to the floor and sat himself on the edge of the bed, gasp fell from your lips as you reluctantly hung your head up to stare into those ferocious and unending eyes.
“Sit and stay.” He gritted.
“I'm not a dog.” You warned him but he wasn't listening.
“I know we're having a lover's spat right now but I've been hard ever since I fucking touched you. Do something about it.l he demanded ever so pompously, his ego bursting out of him as you pretended you weren't enjoying this but your thighs were trembling as you kneeled in front of him.
“Wow, I'm a stickler for honesty.” You rolled your eyes at him and his condescension. Miguel gripped your cheeks, his talons slightly peaking out and napping the skin of your face. Your eyes darted down to see that his hologram suit was no more...well, he definitely wasn't lying. It had been a few weeks but you did miss this part of him, the angry and volatile part. It made for the best kind of sex.
“Stop sulking and do as you're told.” His voice was severe and rough, and his demands during sex were always serious but he had never been this pissed before. You were on his leash, unhappily hanging onto the filthy shit his mouth had to offer. You hated that he made you weak for him. Your eyes widened as you glared at his thick and veiny cock, the tip leaking as it stood directly in front of your face. Your mouth dropped open in an attempt to search for words long gone by now but your face scrunched up into a fiendish scowl.
“What if I bite it off? Would that appease your insatiable appetite?” You challenged through flirtatious and defying eyes. Miguel's fingers hooked under your chin as if he was cooing at you wickedly.
“Don't be a bitch.” You leaned in and kissed the tip of his twitching cock, your teasing eyes were transfixed on his and he could've cum right then and there. “Come on, no teasing...Por favor...I mean-please.” He breathed and the way he was finally polite about it made you want to laugh. You licked the underside of him before your lips swallowed him whole. The small broken gasp Miguel let out pricked at your ears when your mouth was stuffed full of him. He tasted so damn good and your tongue relished in the musk. His cock was magnificent, you hummed around him and his body jolted, Miguel's head hung back as he rested on the back of his hand. His palm went to your hair and pulled you on and off him
“Choke on me. I dare you.” He grunted as a bead of sweat swerved to his brow. You actually did as you were told for once, you took him so far down your throat to the point Miguel genuinely shuddered, he swore he could've cum on your pretty face just by the fact.
He was slightly worried you wouldn't be able to breathe, being the kind and selfless saint he dragged you by the hair and pulled you off and took a moment to appreciate you blinking up dumbly at him. Your mouth was wide open, lips parted and painted a pretty bloodshot red as if you had been chewing on them, drool fell down your chin and escaped the corners of your lips. You looked like wet dream and he wanted to plow you- he had been itching for you since you left him. You clambered onto his lap and kissed him hard, tongues sliding against each other as he sloppily bit at your lips. You ground into his aching hard cock and his talons ripped the remnants of your suit clean off, your naked body providing a feast for him to devour. Miguel kissed up and down your neck as his taloned palm rested on the skin at the back of it, tugging your head back for easy access to your skin
“I hate you.” You whispered knowing that you felt the complete opposite.
“I believe you.”
“I hate you for how I feel about you.” Your hands tangled in his hair and scratched at his scalp,
“I said I believe you.” He gripped your chin unkindly as he grazed his sharp fangs against your jaw and pushed you flat onto the bed before you could comment anything glib.
Miguel loomed over your body, the cascade of your hair flowing out onto your pillows only proved how fucking angelic you were. You were a drug that needed to be constantly pumped into his veins, without it he was empty. He pinched your nipples and twisted them, playing with your tits just to wind you up. You moaned as his tongue licked down your collarbone, between your tits down to your stomach. Miguel loved that you were always so responsive, he loved how your body arched off of the bed and into his touch. Your legs hooked up onto his perfect broad shoulders and the look that was shared between you was sharp and piercing. He moved his face down to your lower stomach and shifted slightly so that he was face-to-face with your glistening pussy. He suppressed a quiet groan at the sight of you bare and vulnerable underneath him, writhing and squirming as you gripped the bedsheets, threatening to tear the fabric apart.
"You've been cruel to me these past few weeks Hermosa.” He growled at the memory of you actively avoiding him. “You said you loved me and then you ran away...this is also what you ran from.” Miguel slipped two fingers into your sopping hole. “Me. Making you feel like this.”
He curled his fingers up to massage that spot inside of you that made your body jerk around. “I feel you clenchingaround me...already?” He smirked at your body giving you away, your head buried back into the pillow as your eyes screwed shut, the pleasure of his nimble fingers overwhelming you.
“Please…”
“You want me to eat you out? An eye for an eye?' He was dragging it out and all you could do was moan at nothing. To stop your incessant panting, he retracted his fingers that were inside of you and shoved them into your mouth to lick them clean. “Yeah, I’ll do just that.” You let go with a pop at the prospect of tasting yourself, you tasted...good.
“Then do it.” Whining and groaning didn't seem to do anything to avert him from instantly indulging in your desires. Miguel stroked your thighs and spread them wider as they rested on his shoulders. His tongue swiped onto your aching slit, the wetness collecting on his tongue as he finally got what he was silently begging from you for weeks. He swiped his mouth on your sticky folds and felt your body shake as he continued his wicked machinations and ministrations.
“I've been dying to taste you agaib. You've held out on me and I won't forgive you for that.” He mumbled against your skin, his lips viciously latching onto your swollen clit and sucking. You cried out as he kept licking and sucking on you faster and harder.
“Miguel...I'm gonna-“You started to feel your throat going sore and raw as you tried to tell him you were about to finish but instead he found the perfect opportunity to show some cruelty to you. He lifted his head and all you saw was his roguish grin.
“You couldn't possibly believe that I would make you cum that easily after everything you've done to me...no, I want you to cum on my cock." He reassured but you felt betrayed by his cold demeanour. Miguel kissed you harshly and bit your lip, as if it was instinct, you whined into his mouth. His cock slapped against your clit and the vulgarity of the wet sound made you shiver, he guided his aching shaft down your sticky fold and pummelled into your leaking hole without any time to adjust to his massive and borderline scary size. You're still not used to it after all this time.
“You're infuriating.” A broken moan fell from your lips as he rutted in and out of you, hitting that spongy spot that made you see stars and fireworks. You meant what you said but you didn't mean it either. He keeps harping on about how confusing you were and you were now beginning to have an inkling that he was onto Something that you didn't have time to self-reflect on.
“So are you.” He exhaled raggedly into your mouth, his strokes were powerful and long and just fucking surreal. He buried himself to the hilt and you squeezed around him mercilessly, clenching like crazy. Your pussy was made for him, you were quite literally sucking the soul out of him.
“Let me cum...please...Or I swear to God-“ You felt the coil within you tighten and threaten to snap if he continued pounding into your raw pussy this way.
"Oh, you swear? Fine then take all of it.” He stuck his talons into your skin and shook your body about as his final thrusts were sloppy and less graceful.
The heat rising within the knots of your stomach released in a powerful gush, your heart kicking into a violent overdrive as your pants were borderline desperate. You came hard on his throbbing cock, the warm stickiness coating the most sensitive parts of him.
He fucked you through your mind-bending orgasm and bit your jaw. He pulled out and released thick white ribbons onto your chest as a guttural groan rippled throughout his body, stilling after he was finished fucking you to the brink of insanity. Your eyes met his and they were wild and angry, the looks you shared were nasty and mean, completely conveying both of your moods. Miguel rolled over beside you as you were practically still leaking from where he plugged his cock into you and your chest which he so vulgarly defiled. Neither of you talked, you had to regain the breath back into your lungs as you reeled yourselves back in from that I love you but I hate what you did sex. You both scowled at the wall waiting for either party to crack through the silence. You swiped a finger on the sticky liquid on your chest, popping it into your mouth for a taste.
"You still taste good.” You said bluntly, hating that you gave in to his intoxicating purpose just by a lick.
“Hm. I should clean you up.” Miguel replied half-heartedly, both of your minds still heavy with the real issue at hand as he leaned up and left the bed to enter your bathroom. You sighed and frowned at the wall splayed out wistfully on the bed. He came back with his boxers on and with a towel and some body oil. He was still pissed and his face was still hard and steely. You only mimicked such a bodily response.
Miguel sat on the edge of your side of the bed and swiped the towel over his own makeshift painting, he threw it onto the floor once he was finished. The thought would have made him smirk any other day but he was combative and assailing, he had no problem showing that to you even though he loved you.
“Sit up.” He demanded coldly and you gave him an unbothered apathetic look and yet he did the same, you couldn't peel your eyes away from each other and that's what made this all the more dangerous. Miguel poured some of the oil onto his palm and started massaging it onto your arms and neck, soothing everything sore.
“This is a nice change of pace.” You joked with little to no humor apparent in your voice. He's never done this before, it was actually...quite nice.
“We wore each other out, don't you think?” He responded coolly, acting so unaffected and nonchalant. You despised such a tedious and banal thing. He kept smothering you in the thick and warm oil, his big hands kneading and teasing you again, your flesh glowing and shining under the soft light of your bedroom.
“I still love you.” You blurted without thinking and his hands stopped their movements and his soft gaze turned into a weary glare. Miguel knew for an irrefutable fact that he loved you too and that's what was making him so deranged and angry. “I feel so exposed and vulnerable for loving you.”
“But you did the one thing that could really hurt me. You left me.” He confessed and the words made your heart sick. You hurt him which was one of the last things you've ever wanted to do. “The amount of vulnerability you're feeling right now is what I have to feel all the time. It's the same story. I started this. I have to lead this. I have to take calculated risks which could blow up in my face and kill millions of people as we know it but you...leaving me was the one thing that really hurt me.” He was baring his soul to you yet again. You blinked up at him, your face easing with every word that fell out of his mouth. You felt guilty for doing this to him after he told you that it would tear him up inside. You grabbed his face and cradled it, the pad of your thumb smoothing out the skin of his cheek.
“I shouldn't have left you. I know I shouldn't have. But I'm scared Miguel...see, I was scared of other people being hurt or collateral because being selfless comes with consequences but if someone else's house is on fire for once I'll let it burn because I don't want to leave you. I don't want to hurt you.” Your eyes were glassy and wide, exposing the truth in the process, and as always you disarmed him once more. Miguel turned his head to kiss your palm, his hand holding onto yours to keep in contact with the skin of his cheek.
“Then don't.”
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