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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Against The Spiderverse - Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader

Title: Against The Spiderverse

Miguel O'Hara X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Lyla, other Spiderpeople (Mentioned), Peter Parker/Spider-Man (Mentioned), Sandman (Mentioned), and Venom (Mentioned)

WC: 6,692

Warnings: Spiderverse canon violence, very brief mention of injuries, italics, nicknames, some Spanish curse words, banter, teasing, hurt feelings, hurt/comfort, crying, yelling, death mentioned, grief, confessions, angst, and fluff

Brooklyn had always looked so amazing at night. The bright city lights seemed to sparkle, outshining the stars in the sky; like most cities. Something you loved and hated. You loved the city lights at night, but sometimes you just wished to stargaze. The city lights could never hold a candle to the stars burning up in the night sky.

You tried to spot them, staring up at the sky, squinting your eyes slightly to try and spot either Orion's belt or either Big or Little Dipper, but, it was difficult. The stars seemed so... Faint - dull. And at that very moment, you wished you were at your parent's house in the countryside. But, the cities of New York needed you. 

You were Spider-Woman. The friendly neighbor of Brooklyn, Queens, and any city or town in New York that needed you. Which was more often than not. You'd swing past large buildings - business, homes, apartments - stopping low-tier muggers and robbers, and occasionally a villain that threatened the peace, but nothing too insane or outlandish. There was no one you couldn't stop. But your heroism didn't just stop at fighting villains and whomever else decided that today was going to be a good day to rob someone, no, sometimes you were asked to save a cat from a tree or save a child from a burning building. 

It was tough and rough work - you couldn't count how many times you came home to your apartment with bruises and cuts - but this was your job. No matter how much you fell, you got back up again; no matter what or who you were dealing with, nothing was going to stop you from saving the good people of New York. 

You were Spider-Woman. That was just what you had to do. 

But this hero thing... You were never bitten by a radioactive spider, you didn't have the super strength, or the ‘climbing walls’ ability, you were just, well, you. Well, not really. You were Spider-Woman, stating the obvious here. You had made your own web-fluid and web wrist slingers. You made your own suit, with added padding and protection, even bullet-proof, while also keeping the suit flexible. You - before becoming the hero - had trained and went to the gym often - made an investment for a punching bag in your living room - you made sure you could fight too; you could throw a pretty good right hook when you needed to. And you may or may not have done Kung Fu as a kid. But the web-fluid, something that you made with the help of your science degree, helped with keeping the bad guys trapped and tied up until the police arrived. 

Now, you weren't your New York's only Spider-Woman, or Spider-person for that matter. There was a Spider-Man before you. He used to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, swinging past buildings and saving people from various villains that appeared. He did some much good for the world. He brought hope to those who didn't have much to really hope for. 

You had many run-ins with him in the past. But, not in any good way. No, you weren't some damsel in distress, he didn't swoop down and save you, nor did he help save your cat from a tree, no... Let's just say that three years ago, you weren't on the cops - or Spider-Man's - good side. 

You were just trying to make ends meet, okay? It was hard to live in New York, and you didn't have the money to move. You had friends there, your school, job, and you were not moving back in with your parents. You moved to the big city of Brooklyn to get away from the country. You wanted to live your life, spend time getting to know people, getting to know yourself. Becoming the person you wanted to be.

But then school started, college was becoming difficult, especially when projects started stacking up on your desk. On top of that, you lived in a pretty crappy apartment - with very thin walls - and you practically lived paycheck to paycheck. Not to mention, your boss was kind of mean, but you needed the job, and the last seven million jobs you applied for had shut you down or outright ignored you.

You had to do something, and you weren't going to burden your parents or friends for money. You'd admit that you were a bit stubborn and hated asking others for help. You - with most things in life - learned to deal with problems by yourself - you were pretty independant. And you were not going to ask anyone for help on this. You needed to do something. And you needed to figure it all out on your own. And that something was robbing people. Well, you weren't some mugger, going up and demanding they hand over their money or bag over. You just snuck into people's houses and apartments when they were out and stole their valuables. 

Was that so wrong? To steal from the rich? They could have anything they have ever wanted, who cares if a couple hundred dollars is stolen from their safe, or a couple pearl and diamond necklaces go missing? Who cares? People steal from big companies all the time. Last week, a few people stole from one of the Gucci stores in New York City; who cares if a couple bags or clothing items are taken? They were a billion-dollar company. It wouldn't hurt their pockets. This - for you - was technically 'steal from the rich and give to the poor,’ which was you, you were the poor. 

Well, Spider-Man didn't really see that. You understood, to him, you were just another criminal. He had told you, many times when he had caught you, that there were better ways of handling your money situation, but you tried. And, oh, how tired you were. You tried so many different solutions - second and third jobs, taking up tutoring positions, and more, but nothing helped or worked out for you; and you had no idea why. 

Your interventions with Spidey usually involved him asking you to stop stealing from people, to rethink your actions, or whatever. But, as time went on - months - after the both of you got to know each other somewhat; oddly enough, Spider-Man felt more like a concerned friend than some hero trying to stop you. The way he spoke to you changed. Concern was obvious in his voice. He didn't fight you with his fists or webs, and most nights just ended with the both of you sitting on the edge of a building, just talking...

You both talk about life, him and his heroic duties, how tired he was, and you with your jobs, school, and how tired you were. Now, he never told you his name, or anything personal. And you understood, even though you were in an odd friendship, he was keeping himself - and in turn, you - safe. Thinking back, you never told him your name either. You just called him Spidey, Webs, and so on. And he'd call you Jem. Fitting really, from all the jewelry you’ve stolen before. 

No wonder he was a hero. He was kind and caring. He truly cared about people's lives and well-being in general. No wonder some spider chose him to save his universe's New York.

You knew some radioactive spider would never choose you, yet, you continued helping the people of New York. You took up that mantel of Spider-Woman because you knew that there had to be someone to help those in need. Someone to bring people hope. Hope that there will be another day, hope that the darkness wouldn't last forever. That whatever danger people faced, that you would be there. You had to be that someone. And you knew that your Spider-Man would've been proud of you. You knew he had to have been. Honestly, you knew you weren't doing this for the betterment of yourself, you were doing this for New York, and for him. 

So, you redesigned your robbery attire into something more Spider-like. You kept to the original design of Spidey's suit, but you added your own little flare to it. As said previously, added protection - keeping the flexibility - and whatever else you felt should and could have been added, was added to the suit. It was quite obvious that you weren't Spider-Man, but you still tried to make sure you were your own thing, not just replacing him. You could never replace him.

Spider-Man was long gone. But never a distant memory. He was on billboards, posters, merchandise, and in the hearts of many. That's why it hit so hard when he died. You knew that the people of New York mourned, you could see it - the candlelight vigils, everything - but you couldn't imagine how his family and friends felt. That night, you learned his name. His true identity. And only then did it finally hit you that he was truly gone. You had hope - an almost idiotic, foolish hope - that he'd just swing in from out of nowhere, and everything would go back to the way it was... Maybe you were just in denial, but he never did... And you knew that he would never come back.

It was hard sometimes, fighting crime, and you wondered if this was the feeling Spidey spoke about to you when he was alive. You were so tired. It was just the same thing over and over, fighting this robber, or this villain left and right. No wonder you were so tired. Some days it felt like you were just swinging through life. But being tired, being lonely, never stopped other Spider-people from doing what was right. And you weren't going to be the first one. 

~~~

You found out about the Spider Society a year and a half into you being Spider-Woman. You had always wondered about alternate universes, but never thought it was really possible until you were fighting a Sandman that didn't really look like he belonged. You had fought a different Sandman, he was more sand than man, and nine or ten feet tall. The Sandman that you were fighting in some abandoned warehouse looked like a man, but with sand-like powers. Either way, you hated fighting him. You ended up with sand everywhere, and it took two or more showers and loads of laundry to really get all that sand out. 

Reasons you lived in the city, and not near the coast…

"Come on, Sandy, don't do this to me!" You exclaimed as you shot out a web, only for his body to warp, allowing the string of webs to pass through him, “Sandy, you’re gonna get sand in my boots!"

This Sandman never spoke back to you, only shooting blasts of heavy sand towards you, but you easily maneuvered away from his attacks. He also seemed to… Glitch. Weird.

You were majorly confused, but you continued to fight, only stopping briefly when you saw something in the corner of your vision. Turning, you had watched as a colorful portal-like thing appeared, but before you could see what was going to emerge from the portal, you were harshly struck by a bunch of sand that had been formed into a fist. 

You had been knocked to the ground, a bit out of breath, but when you went to stand, you found yourself staring at the figure fighting the Sandman. This figure was practically flying through the air, attacking Sandman with his sharp claws, his suit that familiar red and blue, and neon webs. To say you were awestruck was an understatement. You didn't know who this person was or where they came from, but he was not your Spider-Man, that was for sure. Before you knew it, you were standing, and this other Spider-person - you were hoping - had trapped Sandman in this odd rope.

You remembered when he first turned to you, his stance tall, and intimidating. You took the time to take him in, seeing the Spider-like symbol on the chest of his suit, somewhat menacing. You didn't fully trust this man, whomever he was, even if he did save you. Or maybe he didn’t mean to save you? Really, though, you didn't need saving - ever.

You continued to stare at him, keeping your mask on, - you hoped your mask expressed the confusion and distrust that you were feeling - and as you crossed your arms, you spoke, "Thanks, whoever you are, but I had that handled."

"It didn't look like it." He spoke, his voice deep, gruff; it surprised you. This Spider-person - you could only assume - then turned to Sandman. 

You watched him silently as he began to drag Sandman towards the open, colorful, swirling portal. And though you were still wary, curiosity was quickly taking control and you soon found yourself following him. But the man stopped suddenly, his head turning towards you. He said nothing, as if trying to intimidate you into going away or something, but that wasn't going to work on you.

You had so many questions, but you stuck to one for now, "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, instead ignoring you and dragging the struggling Sandman away; the portal closed not long after. 

You thought that would be your last encounter with him, but he always came back. You liked to think that he came back to see you, but with every misplaced, glitching villain you fought, he'd show up to finish the fight. 

You never thought that he'd become somewhat of a friend throughout his visits. He would talk to you, even after you caught the anomaly and you believed he would leave, he'd stay… Sometimes. Honestly, you did most of the talking, but the more you talked with him, the more he seemed to open up around you.

But, as time went on, you noticed that every time Miguel O'Hara returned to your universe, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. You almost felt giddy. His arrival through that shimmering portal never failed to bring a smile to your face. Thinking of him - the way a growl would leave him as his mask would slip away, his tousled hair, piercing gaze, and the way his toned body moved beneath his suit as he made his way towards you - with such determination and purpose - was enough to melt you into a puddle of gooey spider mush.

The sudden realization that you were falling for Miguel hit you like a train, and you were not strong enough to catch this one.

As weeks turned into months, you began to wonder if perhaps Miguel felt something too. Despite his brooding demeanor and the occasional dismissive glance, there was a certain intensity in his gaze. And every now and then, you'd notice that same gaze lingering on you a little longer than usual. Though, it was quite possible you imagined it all, wishful thinking. 

There were times when Miguel's walls resurfaced, seemingly impenetrable; reverting to how he was when you first met him. And you had no idea if that was just how Miguel was with his friends; you never got to meet the other Spider-people he hung out with, and as a result, never heard about Miguel through their eyes and their interactions with him. But, just when you thought he was about to retreat entirely into his shell, a quick glance or even just a small conversation with him would reignite that hopeful spark within you.

~~~

You continued to stare up at the dark sky. The communicator on your wrist heavy, as you sighed. The communicator didn't do the same things Miguel's and the other Spider-people's did. It was just a communicator. You were happy to receive it, but still somewhat bummed. You wanted to join the Spider Society, help them catch and stop anomalies, be part of a community that understood you, but Miguel was adamant that you stay in your own universe. You didn't understand, and he never explained why he didn't want you to join. Either, he ignored you or he shut down the conversation. You thought that maybe he didn't think you were ready, so you tried your best to try to show him that you could help. Prove to him that you were worthy enough to join his team.

You had called Miguel not too long ago, having caught yet another anomaly. You wondered why so many were able to enter your universe. You didn't know who the anomaly was, either your universe didn't have them or you hadn't met your version of them yet, but it was obvious that they didn't belong in your universe. They were glitching every now and then, and muttering about Spider-Man. You didn't have to wait long though, your head turning at the sound of the portal opening. 

A grin quickly spread across your face - pulling your mask off - you jumped up onto your feet, precariously standing on the edge of the ledge that you had been sitting on. Miguel huffed as he spotted you, "Where is he?"

"What? No 'hello?' So buisnessy today." You teased, clasping your hands together behind your back as you jumped down from the ledge onto the pebbles that scattered the rooftop. But when Miguel continued to just stare at you, you sighed deeply, gesturing to behind you with a nod of your head, "He's on the side of that building," You answered, watching as he made his way over to your side, peering over at the anomaly that was stuck to the side of the building across the street with your webs. "You know," You began, looking up at him, "It was pretty difficult to catch this one..."

"Your point?" He asked as you rocked on the balls of your feet.

"I'd be a pretty good member of that Spider Society-"

"No, Y/N," He quickly shut you down, turning his head to stare at you - the eyes of his mask narrowing, as he pointed a finger at you. "The answer will always be 'no.' And that’s final."

You continued to smile, though disappointed, "You keep saying that…" You trailed off, only for him to sigh deeply, reaching up to pull his mask off.

You had only seen his face a couple of times, and every time his mask slipped off, you always found yourself admiring him. When he had first taken his mask off - when you assumed that he had deemed you trustworthy enough - you were a bit shocked. You remembered thinking about how gorgeous he was. That dark brown hair, dark eyes, tan skin, and even the slight point to his canines. He was definitely the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. It was like he was sculpted by the gods or something. And you couldn't help it, the attraction that you felt for that man; even when you were just friends.

Even now, as you looked up at him, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose while the other rested firmly on his hip, a sigh of frustration escaping his lips, he was still breathtaking. The glow of the city lights danced across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his high cheekbones and casting soft shadows that only seemed to deepen his striking features.

'So pretty,' You thought.

"That’s because it’s true. I won't change my mind. Ever, Y/N." He dropped his hand back down to his side, his dark eyes meeting yours in a somewhat harsh stare. "You are never joining."

You hummed, pursing your lips as you nodded, turning your eyes back to the city lights still glimmering beside you. "I have been doing my best in trying to prove to you that I can be a good member." You turned your gaze back up at him, "I'm serious about this, Miggy. I just want to help."

"I'm serious about this too, and I understand you want to help, I appreciate that, but I've made myself clear many times." He muttered, "And don't call me that."

You huffed in return, crossing your arms, "It's not all that clear to me." You began, "Why can't I join?"

Miguel narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching, "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, I just want to know why, Miguel," You pressed, your voice edged with urgency. Your mind raced, before you continued, "I've been trying to prove to you for months, but nothing seems good enough for you," You argued stubbornly, your patience wearing thin. "And every single time I ask you to let me join, you always give me the same answer. But you never actually give me a reason as to why I can't join, and honestly, it's getting kind of annoying, I thought you trusted me-"

"Maldita sea, Y/N, it's because you are not like the others!" His voice cut through the air like a blade, interrupting you and your thoughts. "You weren't supposed to become your universe's Spider-Woman."

"What?" You breathed out, your heart pounding in confusion as you looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed, "I know I'm not supposed to be Spider-Woman, but what- what are you saying?"

"Your canon doesn't link with any of the others. You are the first of your universe…" Miguel ran a hand through his hair, agitation evident in every tense line of his body, "This universe's Peter Parker wasn't supposed to die. You were. But, you - somehow - you changed your fate. That is why you can’t join, I have no idea what would happen if you did. It could be dangerous for you and possibly anyone you come in contact with."

The weight of his words settled over you like a heavy shroud. A shiver ran down your spine. Miguel in the past had told you about the canons, but this wasn't just about the risks or the dangers of your unpredictable existence - it was about a twist of fate that had rewritten the rules of your universe, casting you into a role that wasn't meant for you. And, on top of that, Peter would have still been alive... If it weren't for you. 

Again, that survivor's guilt was eating away at you.

"I tried to warn him," You began, your voice trembling with emotion, tears threatening to spill from your eyes, your bottom lip quivered. "To get him to leave me there, but he wouldn't listen." You sniffled, looking away from Miguel, your eyes landing on the pebbles on the rooftop. You could still see him, your Spidey, laying limp in your arms… "He was Spider-Man, of course he wasn't going to let me die."

Miguel watched as the salty tears began to spill from your eyes, falling down your cheeks, his expression remaining stern, but his eyes betrayed him. He didn't mean to make you cry; that was not his intention. He hated seeing you like this, the pain etched on your face. He clenched his fists, struggling with the urge to reach out for you.

“Y/N-”

“No,” You whispered, shaking your head as you took a shaky step back, then another. “Maybe… Maybe you’re right,” You murmured, your voice barely audible. “I’ve already ruined enough in my world. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t ruin yours, too.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you avoided his gaze, your voice breaking. “I don’t even know if being near me is putting you in danger, Miguel.”

Miguel’s eyes softened, his resolve wavering as he took a step toward you. He reached out, his fingers brushing the air between you, but you moved away, climbing up onto the ledge of the building.

“Y/N-” His voice was sharper now, but you shook your head, your back to him.

“I think it’s better if I just go home,” You said, your tone distant and resigned, the wind carrying your words away. Before he could stop you, you pushed off the ledge, stepping off into the open air.

Miguel surged forward. His heart thundered in his chest as he rushed to the edge, expecting to see you plummeting toward the streets below. But when he looked down, you were gone. He froze, his sharp gaze darting around, scanning every rooftop, every shadow. Nothing. You’d disappeared.

A deep, frustrated sigh escaped him, his hands gripping the ledge so tightly his knuckles turned white under his suit. His jaw clenched, and he shut his eyes for a moment, fighting the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He hated that he’d upset you. But what gnawed at him even more was the realization that he cared far more than he’d ever intended. Before he could fully process the knot of emotions tightening in his chest, Lyla materialized beside him.

“Ooh, wrong move, boss man,” She winced, her tone dripping with mock sympathy as she adjusted her heart-shaped glasses.

Miguel's nostrils flared, and he huffed, already opening the controls on his watch. "Shut up, Lyla," He snapped, his voice rough as he navigated the interface. His fingers moved with precision, inputting commands to track your communicator.

Lyla floated closer, her arms crossed as she tilted her head in mock thought. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you tracking her now? After that mess? I mean, you did just emotionally steamroll her, so maybe chasing her down isn’t the brightest idea.” She raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly the best way to apologize.”

Miguel grumbled under his breath, his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “Not. Now.” He growled, his eyes fixed on the screen as the device began to triangulate your location.

Lyla sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “Fine, but let the record show, I warned you. Big time.”

Miguel ignored her, his jaw clenched as he growled softly, waiting for the tracker to lock on. The tension in his posture was palpable, his mind racing. He didn’t care if it wasn’t a good idea. He needed to find you - and fix this.

~~~

The soft strains of Mozart, and the smell of your lavender candle, filled your apartment. You sat curled up in your small hammock, the intricate webbing swaying with each shift of your weight. A steaming cup of tea rested in your hands as you brought the rim to your lips, blowing gently before taking a sip.

You shut your eyes and let out a long sigh, allowing the calm to wash over you. Tonight had been too much - Miguel’s words, the weight of your guilt, the ever-looming question of your purpose… All of it. For now, you decided, you’d forget the night, for now. You would forget the ache in your heart. Just Mozart and your tea.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Your eyes snapped open, a flicker of annoyance crossing your features. “Really? Now?” You placed your tea on the small table beside you and stepped out of the hammock, your feet hitting the hardwood floor with a soft thud.

Padding toward the door, you hesitated, who was going to be behind your door? Hopefully not Miguel, you did not want to see him. For now, at least. Frowning, you peeked through the peephole.

Miguel.

He stood there, imposing as ever, his broad shoulders practically taking up the entire frame of your door. His face was unreadable, though his jaw was set.

You debated ignoring him, pretending you weren’t home. But you knew better. You knew that he knew that you were there.

How did he found out where you lived though..?

With a resigned sigh, you unlocked the door and opened it just enough to lean against the frame, crossing your arms as you looked up at him. “What do you want, Miguel?” You asked, your voice carrying the sharp edge of exhaustion and annoyance.

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his deep crimson eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. Then, in a voice quieter than you expected, he said, “I came to apologize.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes slightly as you searched his face. His red eyes uncharacteristically flickered from your gaze, dropping to the floor. You pursed your lips, before leaving, opening the door further for him to enter. 

You may regret this, but an apology sounded nice.

Miguel stood awkwardly in your doorway before he took a hesitant step inside. His eyes darted around, cataloging every detail of your small apartment. The warm glow of candles illuminated the space, casting soft shadows that danced across the walls; along with the two table lamps.

The potted plants along the wooden window bench caught his attention first - vibrant greens that seemed to thrive in your care. His gaze shifted to the hammock, the webbing unmistakably your handiwork, swaying gently in the faint draft from the open door; he moved to shut it.

As you moved to retrieve your tea, his eyes wandered to the framed photos on a nearby shelf almost filled with books. He paused when he saw the image of you and your family. Then, his gaze fell on the wall near the hammock, nearly covered in Polaroids. Most of them featured you with him. He remembered that night, after fighting a Venom anomaly, you had taken a bunch of polaroids of him and yourself. Most of the pictures that had him in them, featured his usual brooding expression.

And finally, his eyes settled on the framed photo that sat apart from the rest. You and your Spider-Man. Miguel’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. 

You returned with your tea, cradling the mug as you stood by the hammock. You followed his gaze, noticing the framed photo he lingered on. Your chest tightened slightly, but you pushed the feeling aside.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” You said, breaking the silence.

Miguel turned his head toward you, his crimson eyes softening as they met yours. “It suits you,” He said simply.

You raised a brow, still suspicious of his intentions. “How did you even find me, Miguel? I don’t remember giving you my address.”

He cleared his throat, feeling incredibly awkward as you continued to stare at him. The tension between you both was unnerving. “You didn’t. I… May have tracked your communicator.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you shot him an incredulous look. “You tracked me? Are you serious?”

“I had to make sure you were safe,” He replied, his voice firm but not defensive. “You disappeared, and I-” He stopped himself, his brows knitting together as if he was carefully choosing his words. “I needed to fix things.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Miguel, you can’t just-”

“I know,” He interrupted, his tone gentler now. “It wasn’t right. But I wasn’t going to let you vanish without telling you that I am sorry.”

You stared at him for a long moment, his towering figure seeming less intimidating in the soft light of your apartment. The weight of his words hung in the air, and though you wanted to stay angry, there was a sincerity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

Finally, you gestured to the couch. “Sit. If you’re going to apologize, you might as well do it properly.”

Miguel hesitated for a brief second before nodding. As he moved to the couch, he seemed almost out of place in your cozy living room, his broad shoulders and sheer size dwarfing the small piece of furniture. He lowered himself carefully onto the cushions, his knees nearly brushing the coffee table, and rested his forearms on his thighs.

You sat across from him, cradling your tea in your hands, your gaze steady but wary. “Alright,” You said quietly. “Start talking.”

Miguel’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled deeply before running a hand through his hair. “I’m not good at this…” He muttered, his voice low and gruff. He hesitated, frustration flickering in his eyes as he searched for the right words. “Carajo… I am not good at… Feelings.”

You let out a soft huff, rolling your eyes as you moved to lean against the wall. Taking a sip of your tea, you gave him a pointed look. “You don’t say,” you quipped dryly, your tone laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“I know I’ve been… Harsh,” He admitted, his voice quieter now. “It’s just-” He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t want to make mistakes that could cost everything. But in trying to protect you… I hurt you instead.” Your grip on the mug tightened slightly, and you let his words hang in the air, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard. “What I’m trying to say is… Is that I… Care.”

Your eyes snapped to his, your surprise evident. Of all the things you expected, hearing Miguel O’Hara admit to caring was not one of them. “Did Lyla tell you to say all of this?” You asked, a mix of suspicion and disbelief coloring your tone.

Miguel let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “No. She told me not to come at all. Said it would only make things worse,” He said, his lips quirking in a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. “This is all me.”

You sighed, breaking eye contact and looking off to the side. The exhaustion from the night - and everything else - clung to you like a heavy fog.

Miguel’s gaze softened as he watched you. The warm glow of the candles flickered across your face, highlighting the soft curve of your features and the faint furrow in your brow. You were dressed in casual comfy clothes. Simple and comfortable, so different from the suit he was used to seeing you in. It was this side of you, so unguarded and real, that made his chest tighten painfully. You were breathtaking, and yet he hated himself for being the reason you seemed so worn down.

Inside, a tempest raged within him. Miguel had always kept his distance, convinced it was safer - for the both of you. Yet, from the moment he met you, you had stirred something deep within him, something he hadn’t felt in years. With every shared moment, that feeling had grown stronger, harder to suppress. Now, sitting here in the warmth of your space, the weight of his responsibilities, the risks, and the danger you both faced felt irrelevant. For once, the thought of denying how much he cared for you seemed utterly impossible.

It was hard to let himself open up, to love someone again…

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice low and tired. “Why do you care?” Miguel opened his mouth to answer, but you continued before he could. “I’ve known you for months,” You continued, “And one minute, you’re… Funny, kind, and almost easy to be around. Then the next, you shut down and act like I’m some nuisance you’re stuck dealing with. It’s confusing, Miguel. You’re confusing.” You shook your head, your fingers gripping the mug tightly. “What you said to me earlier - it hurt more than you realize. For years, I’ve been doing everything I can for this city, trying to make up for what I feel is my fault. I’ve been fighting to heal, to move forward, but it’s exhausting. And on top of that, I’m tired of trying to figure you out. I’m tired of never knowing where I stand with you.” You paused, swallowing thickly before you drew in a shaky breath. “But… Your apology is a good start,” You admitted, your voice softening slightly. You took another sip of your tea. You then glanced back at him, your eyes searching his face. “So, I’m asking again. Why do you care?”

Miguel exhaled sharply, his hand running through his hair, and for a moment, the silence stretched between you.

“I don’t know how to say this right,” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant. “But you’re not some nuisance. You’ve never been that. If anything, you’ve been… A distraction. Not in a bad way-” He stopped himself, shaking his head, his fingers flexing like he was trying to grasp the words. “You make me feel things I’ve tried to bury. Things I told myself I couldn’t afford to feel.” His crimson eyes lifted to meet yours. “I push you away because I don’t know how not to. I’ve seen what happens when I let people in, when I let myself care too much. I’ve lost too much, and I’m terrified of losing again.” He leaned back slightly, his hand scrubbing over his face before he continued, his tone softening. “But with you… It’s different.” He sat up straighter, his broad shoulders tense as he finished, “I care because I can’t not care. You’ve made it impossible for me to not care about you. Even if it scares the hell out of me.”

The words struck you like a tidal wave. For a moment, your mind went blank, the weight of his confession too overwhelming to process all at once. You stared at him, your hands trembling as you set the mug down on the table with a soft clink. He cared about you. Not just in a passing, obligatory way, but in a way that had kept him up at night, that had pulled him into the storm of vulnerability he had been so desperate to avoid.

The man who had spent months keeping you at arm’s length, who had built walls so high you thought you’d never get over them, was now sitting in your living room, confessing that he cared about you in a way that terrified him.

“I…” You started, your voice catching before you swallowed hard, trying again. “I didn’t expect that. Any of that.” You folded your hands in front of yourself to still their shaking, your breath unsteady. “Do you know how hard it’s been to figure you out? How exhausting it’s been to… To care about someone who feels so out of reach? And now you’re telling me this, and-” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply, your emotions threatening to bubble over.

Miguel’s expression softened slightly, “I know I haven’t made it easy,” He admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight. I just… I needed you to know. You deserve to know.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his crimson eyes rooting you in place. For months, you’d wondered, doubted, questioned where you stood with him, and now… Now you finally had an answer. It didn’t erase the hurt, the confusion, but it was a step forward, a crack in the walls he’d built so high around himself.

“Okay,” You said finally, your voice steadying as you exhaled. “It’s a lot to take in, Miguel. But… I appreciate you telling me. I needed to hear it.” Setting your tea down on the small table, you crossed your arms and turned to face him fully. “But how do I know you’re not just going to go back to being…” You narrowed your eyes, gesturing vaguely in his direction with a wave of your hand. “Closed off and rude? I mean, you’ve done it before. You know you do it.” Your gaze held his, challenging. “How can I be sure this isn’t just going to be another time where you go all hot and cold again?” You recrossed your arms, your expression a mixture of skepticism and hurt. “Because I can’t keep doing that. My heart can’t take it. I need to know that you’re serious.”

The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, “I don’t expect you to believe me right away,” He began, “But I’ll prove it to you. No more pushing you away. No more excuses.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering as it met yours. “You deserve better than that, and I’m going to make sure you know just how much you mean to me.”

You gave a small nod, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at your lips despite the storm still swirling in your chest. “We’ll see then,” You said softly, your words carrying both caution and hope. For the first time in months, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you were starting to understand Miguel O’Hara.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[vhstown]

ain't no love; epilogue

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SERIES SUMMARY: Miles G Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life one in the middle of the semester, the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 ← PART 5 / EPILOGUE

chapter summary: You and Miles share a few months of normalcy. And maybe something new, too.

content/warnings: depictions of miles (whipped) morales

word count: 1.5k

a/n: wahoo we did it guys thank u to @/qiuweyballs forever for proofreading LETS FREAKING GO MAN

"You sure it's five dollars?"

"Four dollars, ninety-nine," the man behind the counter replied, grinning until his eyes were barely visible behind his tinted glasses. "Completely positive, young man."

"Aight, sure. Here."

While Miles was sure the man had definitely stuck another price on top of the original one, he didn't really want to stay in this rickety old comic book store any longer. Miles' hand had gotten kind of sweaty from holding yours by now — not that he minded. It was totally fine that he was also sweaty everywhere else he had skin. When had he gotten this sweaty? He was done with puberty. He was a man. He was your… Uh…

"Are we going?"

Your voice broke his trail of thoughts as his eyes jump from the counter to you. Right. You'd agreed to go out with him. And at the end of this, if he would just stop sweating, maybe you'd go out with him again. And it wouldn't be to Marge's like the first thing he suggested when he was totally out of it before realising that probably wasn't the best place for a date.

"Miles?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. My bad."

He snatched up the comic book, the man's squinted eyes never leaving him. That head of silvery hair had once been closer to brown, maybe when comic books didn't go for five whole dollars. "NO REFUNDS. EVER." passed him by as he left the store, his hand still in yours, trying so hard to not move but also to get into a less sweaty position. This was the last comic book he'd ever buy, damn it.

It was coming to the start of spring, and that meant the day was a little more ideal for a date. Visions did like to run things a lot more intensely, but you'd finally managed to make it to your next break. The two of you had more time to spend together now that most exams were over, and you'd spent the whole of today going to places that Miles had wanted to show you for a while.

In-between that, there had been a lot of explaining too — to both you and Uncle Aaron. He'd told you everything from the start, even if piece by piece on lunch breaks, or texts, or late night phone calls that you somehow managed to pick up regardless of the time. He told you how he'd gotten into Visions, why he was "so good at math" it annoyed you. He told you what happened to his dad, who his uncle was, what his Prowler gig was. He told you about college, and about his mom. Thank God you and his mom got along. It had been pretty tense when she'd found out he'd tried to quit school.

Being back in Visions, Miles had also told you all about his new roommate, Ganke. Devising ways to get out of school was particularly annoying, with Ganke staying up all night to work on some thesis. Ultra-smart. Way too good at video games. Maybe a little better at physics than him. What type of high-schooler has a thesis to work on anyway? He didn't mind the guy, though. It was nice to kick back and play games with someone again.

The most recent thing he'd told you, however, had been rather short. One word and one action he'd decided on in a split second while you were working on math homework together. He'd taken some… advice. Usually his uncle's advice would be good and thoughtful, but this little incident had been chipping away at his mind all week.

"Hey." That god-damned shoulder touch.

"…Hey yourself?"

The silence. It was the loudest thing he'd ever heard.

"You gonna… ask me out now?"

"What?" His voice had shot up about nineteen octaves. The highest thing he'd ever heard.

"I mean, what is this?"

"I didn't say… Wait—"

"What?"

"Wait, wait, no— Yes—"

"Miles?"

"Can I take you out? Please?"

You laughed, and his face had gotten stuck. It was one of your cute laughs. No, every one of your laughs was cute. No, wait, yes—

"Hey, look, it's the superhero you like."

MIles turned to see what you're looking at, and nearly spins himself around 360 degrees in the process. Totally on purpose, because he was cool. Not because he was still sweating.

"Oh, yeah," he commented, squinting at the cosplayer. "Huh."

"There's tons of people dressed up…"

"Probably Comic-Con, or something."

You just nodded thoughtfully, looking around at all the cosplayers passing by. Maybe the Prowler thing would pay eventually, or he could get an actual part-time job. He could take you both.

Miles let out a sigh, before feeling your hand squeeze his.

"We've been out for a while." There you were again, the bustle of the city muffling behind the sound of your voice. There was a little smile on your face, and he found the corners of his mouth were trying to lift up without his knowledge. "You wanna go back to yours?"

And so he was back in his room. That walk had been way too short to think of ways to be cool. You'd been in here a few times by now, studying, playing video games, peeking at the figurines he'd put away to potentially sell. Reading the comics he liked, even if their price was starting to make him wince a little. You seemed to like it, though, even if his room was starting to become barren of things he might as well have grown out of by now.

"The food was good," you started, as the two of you settled down in his room.

"Hope that place stays open," he muttered, trying to reel in the sense of weariness in his voice.

"Why wouldn't they? It looks like they're doing well."

"Exactly. They get bought out as soon as they do."

"Oh."

Way to sour the mood, Morales. How is that even relevant?

"You're right, though," you contemplated, frowning a little. "It feels like everything's getting bought up recently. Even Vision's cafeteria changed companies."

"Eugh, don't remind me," he replied, rolling his shoulders to make a show. "That food is lethal."

"You'd think Visions of all places would have decent lunch."

"Exactly. At least they've still got vending machines." He couldn't believe he didn't know you could cheat them until you showed him. This vending machine business was lucrative.

"True."

Miles tried looking at you, but only got to looking at your knee. His heart stops when he feels your arm around him, and he finally meets your expression. That little gleam in your eye doesn't go unnoticed.

"Thanks for the date," you start.

"Anyti—" Your lips pressed against his cheek before he could finish.

Miles fought valiantly, but the grin that formed on his face fought harder.

"Did you uh… did you miss?" he muttered, without thinking. Did you miss…? Did I miss all fifteen years my mom raised me?!

"No…?" you replied, laughing awkwardly. God, he totally just bombed it. "Do you… want to?"

Okay, he didn't just totally bomb it. He had a chance. Did he even really wanna kiss you yet? No, yeah, he really did. Why can't I move?!

"I don't know how to… how to… you know."

He had only planned so far ahead. Miles had no idea how to kiss someone.

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it."

He closed his eyes, feeling your hand give his a little squeeze, before he felt the faint brush of breath against his lips. And then he felt warmth. The taste of lip balm he'd let you borrow. He was kissing you.

Miles kept his eyes closed, but his hand had found the small of your back anyway, pulling you closer. The kiss had only lasted for a few moments, but when he finally opened his eyes, the world was a lot brighter than he remembered. Your smile was a lot brighter than he remembered. His face was a lot hotter than he remembered.

"The next one's on you," you murmured, simply. He could feel the words against his skin, tickling his face. You were insanely good-looking this close.

"Cool." His voice came out in a slightly breathless mumble.

His lips found yours again, and his eyes fell shut. He felt his shoulders relax. His heart had finally started to slow from its pounding. He wasn't sweating anymore.

And he was kissing you. You were his. He sure as hell was yours.

"Stay," he murmured against your mouth, his eyes on yours.

"How long?"

"Forever."

"Forever?" The two of your quiet laughs are muffled with another kiss.

"Yeah," Miles replied, as his hand went up to cup your cheek. "I got so much more to tell you."

my lovely jubly taglist: @noetophat @sakura-onesan @bakugouswaif @phoenixinthefiles @daydreaming-en-pointe @sp1derw1re @kvvrc @spookyscaryskeletrans @kirishimasproteinpowder  @spam-1 @playboifenty @hobiebrownismygod @kissingkzuha @nyumeii @uwukiity @itzmeme @shittingonyourgrave @theyluvbix @kezibear @theseustimes

thank you so much for reading aint no love! could not appreciate all of the love (haha) on this series 💗💗💗 this was so crazy but so fun i never thought id be able to complete a longer thing of writing like this but here we are!

a big thank you to my friend chewy too who had to listen to me rant about this series at pretty unethical times of the day and also read through all my not so lovely drafts 🫡🫡🫡

if you have any questions about this universe or series or anything in general my inbox is open!

reblogs and replies are much appreciated as always, and you can find my atsv masterlist here!

[swiftyangx12]

MIGUEL!!! 😭

*Miguel and I playing in the snow*

Me: these are some big snowballs

Miguel: they're not the only big balls 'round here

Me: what

Miguel: what

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Something REALLY interesting about this scene

At the beginning of the scene Miles confronts Gwen about the 'small elite strike-team' comment.

Gwen lies and plays it off, saying that most of them are part-time anyway.

IMMEDIATELY after that in the next line dialogue, Hobie confronts Gwen and asks her 'Gwendy, how much have you told him about his place in all this? - Maybe not enough.'

Hobie is expressioning disappointment towards Gwen. He doesn't approve of her lying to Miles, knowing what's gonna happen to him. He doesn't agree with them keeping him in the dark - which is why later in the scene he says

'I haven't gotten a Scooby Doo, mate. But that's what they want.'

He's warning Miles that they're keeping in him the dark, on purpose.

ONCE AGAIN Hobie showing foward thinking and outwardly disapproving of the obviously unfair treatment that Miles is given. He's not angry at Gwen, but he's willing to tell her straight up that she's not doing or telling Miles enough to protect him.

Miles deserved to know Miguel's motives BEFORE meeting him. That's why he pointed it out then.

He's ALWAYS looking out for Miles

[leah-jeffries]

SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE (2023)

[mimsilverarts]

Funny Screenshot redraw with Spider Noir and Spider Punk! The fighter duo! Honestly the idea that they’re possibly close in age makes Spider Noir being a mentor figure way funnier to me.

[beif0ngs]

Hobie being Miles' #1 supporter, hype man & homie 👊🏿

[sidsinning]

"Being Spiderman is so easy!"

"Well, looks like another easy adventure for Spiderma-"

PAVI YOU'RE JUST BEGGING FOR A CANON EVENT COME ON

[tma-themed-brain]

(Spoilers)

Okay ik this shot is funny

But have we considered how actually terrified peter b has to be here?

Like, he introduces miguel as his friend. We see he was there when miguel's universe fell apart. Miguel puts up with him bringing mayday everywhere and letting her climb all over everything. These 2 had to have been actually close.

So of course peter knew that miguel was going to talk to miles, maybe he knew miguel would say mean shit to him, but this is a face of genuine surprise. Not even the person arguably closest to miguel knew he would (or even could) act like this. Like, look at him!! Hes terrified!! The man he was there for during an entire universe's collapse, the man he considers a friend, the man he let hold his baby, is capable of doing this!!

[loganhowlctt]

MIGUEL O’HARA aka SPIDER-MAN 2099 Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023)

[ultimateinferno]

My previously mentioned POS Anarchist roommate sent me this Twitter thread after we watched ASTV and haven't seen it anywhere here.

[shellshocklove]

HOBIE BROWN & MILES MORALES SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE (2023) | dir. Joaquim Dos Santos, Justin K. Thompson, Kemp Powers

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

How does Hobie fit his hair under his mask- IRRELEVANT.

What you should be asking is how is his guitar not falling when they are literally upside-down

Answer: Hobie hates laws so much he's subconsciously able to break the Laws of Physics if it threatens his aesthetic.

His suspenders also do not move.

Animation error? Hammerspace? Nah I just hc he has Infinite Coolness as a legit ability. There's no other explanation he's just That Cool.