#landlord! Miguel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)

ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!

College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI

a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!

edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.

wc: 6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice.

Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window.

So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman.

When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.

Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment.

You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.

You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara?

Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning.

On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach.

"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was…

You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying .

The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist.

"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!"

~~~

He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring.

The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.

As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask.

It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep.

Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him.

This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class. She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.

"Where's he gone?" She asks politely.

You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."

"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day.

You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.

"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."

Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it.

"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo.

"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.

You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."

A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

~~~

You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it.

After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course.

Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself.

You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall.

It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure.

It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself.

Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here.

On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video.

" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen.

What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all.

Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners.

He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you.

All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs.

" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-"

He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-

" H-Harder, Miguel, please."

He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers.

" Fuck, Miguel…"

He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall.

~~~

He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.

A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home.

And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.

Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions.

You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night.

He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy??

You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.

After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water.

With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there.

"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway.

You wince."...F-Fine?"

You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?"

You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."

Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice.

"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further.

Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together.

You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand.

" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee.

"You look… wet."

"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze.

"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed.

There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression. His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds.

Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?"

He's got a hand on your arm now, The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details.

" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy.

It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside.

"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."

"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word.

"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?"

"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."

"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"

"...I'd like that, to be honest."

"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."

"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too."

~~~

You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same.

You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way.

There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost.

It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.

Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand.

What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza?

Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal.

So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy.

“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"

You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats.

All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought.

"Yeah?"

"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-"

"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"

There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…

"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!"

With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "

"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"

"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-"

"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.

He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips.

You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.

"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you.

His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand.

"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close.

You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.

"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile.

"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side.

"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."

His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.

"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular.

He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?"

"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it.

He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty.

"Huh. I guess they do."

"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"

"Katie." He hums.

"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name.

You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch.

"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ."

Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest.

"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-"

"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."

Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own.

"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.

Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?

"...and I heard you say my name."

"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing.

"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-"

He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"

A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."

"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."

He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together.

He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest.

It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts.

"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."

You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck.

He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum.

Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth.

Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin.

"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt..

"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara.

"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.

He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"

Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"

He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?"

You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."

"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?"

It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction.

"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach.

You mumble something begrudgingly.

"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."

Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel."

Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."

Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth.

He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.

And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue.

And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole.

"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue.

You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off.

"Right there, fuck… "

Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily.

You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him.

"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him.

"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs.

Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck.

"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."

His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."

You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should.

"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head.

"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."

He turns to you, lazily.

"I could tutor you, if you'd like."

…

"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."

Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings

edit: the full fic xx

#i am very very close to making this a full fic #(implying that this isn't alr basically a full fic lmfao)#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #kat_writes😼#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #spiderman 2099 masterlist #spiderman 2099 x reader

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cherryredstars · 1 year ago

Note

Next door part two! I NEED THEM IN MY LIFE THAT WAS SO GOOD!

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Wet Dreams, Sexual Fantasies, Brief Mentions of Male Masturbation, Blowjob, Cum Eating

Summary: Nice but naughty, a heart that’s pure. She's the girl next door.

Word Count: 2.6K (Not Edited)

Part 1

He’s driving himself fucking mad.

It’s been almost two weeks since he last saw you in person. It’s somewhat his fault. He hasn’t been avoiding you exactly, just giving you room. You were so dazed when he left you, he could almost smell the remains of sex on you. It drove him crazy, fists clenched as he stood outside your closed door for what felt like years. He cock strained so painfully against his pants that he had half the mind to pull it out and jerk off in the middle of the hallway.

He didn’t want to scare you. Big, old him running after small, delicate you. A pretty and young thing that he wouldn’t mind locking in his bedroom and fucking until the sun rose and he was off to work. He could- would - worship you. He has done it thousands of times in the last two weeks in his dreams. They plague him almost every night, his body pressing you down into the mattress as you mewl out for him. He can hear the sound of your arousal as his balls slap against you echoing in his ears. Your phantom grip on his cock follows him when he wakes up, his hands wandering into his pants to try to replicate the feeling.

He’s always interrupted by the sound of your front door slamming as you rush out to go to one of your little classes, his frustration and want burning strong in his chest. But he has to be patient, has to wait for you to seek him out. He can’t just break through your door, no matter how badly he wanted to and show you how a real man would treat you. How he’d treat you so good, spoil you in a way that none of the boys your age can. He could make you his pretty little girlfriend, giving you anything you want. Fuck, he’ll pay for your entire college tuition if you asked him to.

Or, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d make you beg for it. Maybe he’d force you to work for it. He can already imagine it. He’d have you riding his cock, maybe even his face, laying back and watching you take your pleasure from him. He’d enjoy himself, moaning as you gasp and cry above him. You’d look so pretty with tears running down your face, asking him so sweetly to give you what you wanted. Your hips working to show him how much you deserved it, how you’re his good girl who deserves the right to every one of his credit cards. He’d have you coming until he’s satisfied with your pleas, finally giving in to you a-

Fucking annoying piece of shit.

Miguel’s eyes snap open, wondering to the alarm clock on his nightstand. The numbers are still blurry, and the sound of someone knocking on his door is the last thing he wanted. Especially when it pulls him away from his private time with you. His cock is poking a dent into his sweats, and he runs his hands down his face in frustration. He groans to himself as he gets up, adjusting his pants as he goes. His mind is still semi-stuck in his fuzzy little fantasy when he opens the door, mind slow as they try to process the sight of you.

You’re looking up at him with regretful eyes, a blanket draped loosely around your shoulders. His eyes can’t help but travel down your body, salivating at the way your cropped long sleeve shirt pokes out from your nipples and reveals the expanse of your navel. His eyes travel further down, catching on the plaid pajama pants that sit low on your waist with the strings untied. If his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely is now.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” Your siren voice calls to him, his eyes snapping back to your shy face as you bite your lip. “But, my heater is acting up again and I can’t sleep with it switching between hot and cold. I already called the landlord, but he said he’d send someone by next week.”

You look so pretty before him, cheeks slightly red from embarrassment as you stare up at him like he’s your savior. His hand grips tight on his door as he processes what you said. His poor little baby, suffering in her apartment. You should have come to him sooner. He would have gladly taken care of you. This just goes to show how he’s the only man capable of taking care of you, the only man you need to take care of your needs.

His hand covers the expanse of your stomach as he touches it. His warm hand is instantly met with your cold skin, sending shivers up your spine as he pushes you back so he can walk through his door. You walk obediently, taking a step back for every step he takes forward until you’re following him like a sweet puppy into your own apartment. It’s ice cold when his bare feet hit the wooden floors, his eyes trailing down to your own sockless feet. It brings a frown to his face, brows furrowing as he leans down and picks you up.

Your cold hands shock his shoulders as they hold onto him tight. The most precious squeal leaves your lips at the unexpected move, looking up at him with wide eyes as he carries you to your room. Most of the lights are on from your journey to the front door, but your bedroom is still clad in darkness. Your bed is soft when his knee sinks into it, lifting the covers to tuck you in where you’ll be nice and warm. He wraps them around you, covering you as much as possible. He makes sure you’re taken care of before he goes off into the hallway to check the heater.

It’s a quick fix, something he can do easily and doesn’t need a maintenance guy for assistance. It’s just dirty air filters, and he has spares in his apartment. It's a quick trip, with minimal labor. It takes him less than an hour to complete, but it’ll take some time before the heat starts filling up the place. When he walks back into your bedroom, you’re still under the covers and they shake slightly from the way you’re shivering.

“Got it fixed, should be working fine soon, give it an hour max.”

The soft thank you and beaming smile you give him tempts him to break something else in your house so you can give him more. He walks over to you, sitting next to you on the bed. Your skin still quakes from the chill, and he hates to see you so uncomfortable. His hand comes up to your cheek, attempting to warm the skin with the heat of his hand. You instantly melt into the touch, practically purring as you lean into his hold. He’s seen this scene so many times in his dreams that he can't help the dirty thoughts circulating in his head.

The darkness of your room hides the glazed look in his eyes as he studies your mouth, his thumb rubbing the expanse of your cheek, “You’re so cold, cariño. Needa find a way to warm ya’ up quick.”

The words are almost unheard, his thumb sliding down your face until it presses into your bottom lip. Your lips part slightly from the movement and he doesn’t ignore the temptation to slip the pad of his thumb through. Your mouth is warm and oh so inviting, your saliva coating his thumb print. You instinctively suckle at the skin, eyes shining bright at him as you open your mouth wider. It makes him groan softly, pressing his thumb further into your mouth until his hand is supporting your chin as his thumb presses flat against your tongue. It holds you still, blinking innocently at him as he rubs gently.

He can feel his cock twitching in his pants, and it doesn’t take him long before he picks you up again, dragging you and the covers to the floor until it forms a pile before him. You’re on your knees, body half covered in blankets and sheets. They protect you from the icy cold of the wooden floors, and simultaneously makes you look like an offering for him. Miguel spreads his legs, grabbing your chin again until your face is hovering at the same height as his stomach. Your beautiful doll eyes blink up at him and he smiles at the sight of you.

“It’s okay, I got a way to make you feel better again.” He mumbles down at you, his free hand fishing into his pants until he grips his cock.

It’s heavy and burning in his touch, a bead of precum glistening at the tip as it meets the frigid air. You stare at it in wonder, leaning your face closer to see better through the darkness. He watches you closely, slowly stroking his base as he basks in your attention. His hand leaves your chin, moving around until he grips the back of your neck. He pushes your face closer to him, stopping when your face is pressed to the underside of his cock.

The skin burns where the two of you meet, and his cock jumps in excitement. His hips move slightly, slowly dragging his cock along your face, the tip of your nose brushing just under his tip. Miguel lets out a muffled moan, his hand squeezed tight at his base as he slaps his dick against your face. Your eyes instantly closed, taking it without complaint besides a low whine.

Miguel lets out a low ‘fuck’ as he looks down at you, pulling your face away until his tip presses against your lips. He rubs his cock along the seams of them, watching as they get glossy with his precum. Your tongue tentatively slips out, gathering some of it as you hum out. His cock is quick to follow your pink muscle, slipping in the crown of his tip into your mouth. He can feel your hot breath on his tip as you gasp at the intrusion, your tongue pressing against him.

He lets out a pleased sigh, slipping his tip back out to slip it back in. You try to call out his name, but it gets swallowed by his cock reentering your mouth. Your hands fall to his thighs, gathering the fabric in your fingers as you lean into him. You instantly gag when you do, mouth and throat not used to taking something thick. It makes Miguel moan, knowing damn well he’s nowhere near the back of your throat yet. You’re so fucking sensitive. He pulls back, but you eagerly try to follow. His grip on your neck tightens, making you whine as he keeps you in place and he slips out.

“Careful now, muñeca. Don’t hurt yourself.”

You whimper at his words, blinking teary-eyed at him. He coos gently down at you, shutting you up by sliding himself back into your mouth. You hum against him, eyes shutting as he works himself in and out. He barely gives you anything, going no further than the end of his tip as your tongue glides against him. He moans, finally feeling what he’s wanted for so long. You’re sloppy, tongue uncertain as it prods at his slit and drinks up the precum he spills into your mouth. It’s warm and slightly salty as it travels down your throat, making something warm bloom in your stomach. Your hands fist his pants tighter and Miguel’s eyes drop down to them.

His finger is gentle as it glides over the back of your hand, the cold skin raised with goosebumps. He tsks lightly at you, grabbing your hand and placing it around his length. He moans at the contrast in temperature, hips bucking into your touch.

“Shit, baby, gotta warm up those hands too.”

He grabs your other hand, putting it slightly lower than your other on his cock. His hands leave your body, falling over your own as he guides you to stroke him. His tip still lingers in your mouth, and you moan around him from how heavy and warm he is in your grasp. Once you work up a rhythm, Miguel’s hands leave yours. His hand falls back to its original position at the back of your neck, letting out soft groans and grunts as you work him. He massages the pressure points near the back of your neck, encouraging your mouth to relax and start sucking at him again.

Miguel can’t help throwing his head back, eyes shutting as you work waves of pleasure out of him. He can feel his balls grow heavier. His cock twitching and jumping in your mouth the more you play with him. He’s close, and he looks back down at you before he pulls his cock away from you again. You cry out in displeasure, looking up at him with a pout on your wet lips. He sighs deeply at you, moving back to grip your chin.

“Open your mouth for me, yeah?”

You instantly do, not needing to be asked before you stick your tongue out eagerly. He chuckles lowly at your desperation, hand tight around his base as he rubs his tip against your tongue. You whine at him, eyes getting droopy as he slaps his cock against your muscle. It doesn’t take long for him to cum in your mouth, watching as thick, white liquid spills onto your tongue. He moans as he finishes, tapping his cock against your tongue a few more times to make sure he’s given you everything.

When he pulls his cock away from you, you close your mouth and swallow. Your eyes close as you savor the flavor, feeling the warm liquid slip down your throat and warm your belly. The warmth makes you sleepy, eyes half-lidded as you lean forward and press your head to his stomach besides his semi-hard cock. His hand comes to stroke your hair, humming at you as your warm breath hits his skin. Sometime during his attempt at warming you, warm air has started to spill into the bedroom. Miguel sighs in content, leaning down to kiss the top of your head before picking you up for the last time.

You instantly snuggle into him, always whining out when he deposits you into the bed. Your covers are soon placed over you, and you watch as Miguel tucks himself back into his pants before sliding into bed beside you. You’re quick to snuggle up against him again, basking in the extra warmth he gives off. The warmth in your stomach and from Miguel loll you into a sleep, your body pressed hard against him.

The comfort of it all and the post-orgasmic bliss makes Miguel drowsy, breaths beginning to slow. He can feel his eyes drooping, taking in the final sights of you before his eyes close. But once they do, a loud band echoes in his head. He’s quick to spring up from the bed, eyes opening as he finds himself staring at a wall. His wall. In his bedroom. In his apartment. Even from his bedroom, he can hear the sound of you rushing towards the elevator and on the way to class.

Miguel blinks in confusion, eyes moving towards the alarm clock at his bedside table. 8AM. He groans, falling into his bed as he sighs in frustration. His hands trail down his body, moving towards the aching dent in his pants.

Just another fucking dream about the girl next door.

Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

Extra 1

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exhaslo · 4 months ago

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Over-Time Ch9

(CEO!Miguel x Shy/Clumsy!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4,Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8

Warning: MINORS DNI, sexual thoughts, smut, slow-burn, mentions of sex, bullying, cussing, fluff, touch starved, grinding

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You did it.

Exhausted and a little burnt out, but none the less, you did it.

It was the night of the Fall Banquet and you were currently finishing with your dress. You had wanted to arrive earlier to make sure everything was fine, but Miguel insisted otherwise. Which thank god because you needed the extra sleep.

As you worked on your hair, you could hear your door bell ring. It was far too early for Miguel to be here. Perhaps it was your landlord? As you went to the door, to your surprise, it was Miguel.

"Ah! M-Miguel, it's early. I'll hurry-"

"No need. I just wished to have you a little to myself before we face the wolves," He said with a light chuckle as he shut the door behind him, "What a cute little place you have."

"Thank you and sorry for the mess. I didn't expect you so early!" You whined, trying to pick up some stuff you had scattered on your table.

"Please, it's fine. I did spook you," Miguel hummed, eyeing you in the dress, "I can't wait for everyone to see you that you're mine."

"Hm? Oh, would you like a drink?" You asked, not hearing his whisper.

"I'm fine, thank you."

You just smiled and told Miguel that you were going to finish up. All you had left was your hair and make up. As you returned to your room, you tried to get ahold of yourself. This was the first time a man has ever entered your apartment.

Especially since that man was your sexy boss, to whom you have strong feelings for. Glancing at Miguel through you mirror, you watched as the tall man examined your old photos.

"Hair done!" You nearly stuttered, hurrying with your make-up.

Upon hearing a chuckle, you glanced into the mirror and saw Miguel stand behind you.

"No need to rush, mi amor (my love)." Miguel hummed lowly as he pulled the clips that were still dangling in your hair,

"Oops,"

"Take your time," Miguel whispered into your ear as he kissed your shoulder, making eye contact with you through the mirror, "Why do you look so exhausted? I haven't done anything to you yet,"

Your cheeks started to burn up, "I-I....I stayed up late to memorize important people for the party...I...I don't want to look like a fool like I did with you."

"Awe," Miguel smiled as he faced you towards him, "You never looked like a fool to me."

Your breathing shuddered as Miguel spoke sweetly to you. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned towards Miguel, wanting to kiss him...and as if he read your mind.

"Mphm!"

Miguel held your messy head as his lips made contact with yours. Your body being pressed into your small chair as Miguel hovered over you. His tongue licking your lips with every chance he got, demanding entrance.

Unable to deny him, you parted your lips and gasped as Miguel explored your mouth. You grabbed onto his jacket, leaning into him as Miguel made quick work of you.

His other hand roamed your body before picking you up. Caught off guard by the gesture, you gripped onto him even tighter before feeling the bed under you.

"Mhm~" You tried to get some air.

Breaking the kiss, Miguel just chuckled as he looked down at you. His body pressed against yours.

"How lovely,"

---------

Miguel was in awe over you. He wasn't able to resist your temptation and devour your mouth in a passionate kiss. As he placed you on the bed, his attention was focused towards your shy and needy expression.

"How lovely," He whispered.

Leaning back down to capture your lips in another kiss, Miguel withheld a grunt as he slowly grinded into you. Your legs were spread open as his body quickly filled the space, wanting to feel as much of you as possible.

Your body being pressed against his felt so right. Honestly, Miguel just felt so touch starved. He needed to feel more of you. As his tongue ravished your mouth, his hands kept roaming your body. His hips softly grinding into yours, listening to your cute little moans.

This was hot.

Miguel could feel his erection rising as he kept feeling your body. You were trembling. Miguel never felt this good. Breaking the kiss once more, watching your face turn red. It was hot as you tried to catch your breathe.

"Miguel," You whispered.

Miguel groaned as he pulled away from you. His eyes wandering your body. Drinking in the view he had of you laid against the bed. Your hair a mess and your panties soaked.

"Aye, if only we didn't have to go to this party."

--------

Your body was burning up as Miguel stood before you. Grabbing Miguel's hand as he helped you up, you were still trying to catch your breathe.

"Sorry, amor, I got ahead of myself. Let me help with your hair," He offered.

Easily accepting his offer, you returned to your seat still feeling dazed. You also needed to change your panties now. Finally calming down, you glanced at Miguel in the mirror. His hands fixing your hair as if he did nothing.

"I know what you're thinking," Miguel started as he fixed your hair, "I think you shouldn't wear any underwear," He whispered against your ear.

Your face turned bright red as you tried to cover your face. Miguel chuckled in response, finishing your hair and facing you.

"I'll give you a reward for being a good girl for me,"

Oh, those words made you melt.

"I'm...clumsy, Miguel. W-What if I fall and everyone sees?"

"Then I'll catch you. The only one who is allowed to see those lips are me," He smirked, kissing you against as his fingers stroked your clit, causing you to flinch.

"Mig-"

"I'll behave. Put your make-up on and we will go. I promise to try and keep my hands to myself as much as possible."

You knew damn well that was a lie.

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Next Chapter

@timidquindim @decentsoupperson @ivkygirly @reader-1290 @daddyfroglegs @eepybunny0805 @ddreabea @iamperson12280 @migueloharasoulmate @tojishugetiddies @koko-1025 @hyeinwluv85s @daisy-artfield @migueloharastruelove @a-lil-whore @hcqwxrtss123 @the-pan-liquid @tojisfav @pochapo @bubblegumfanfictions @brighterthanlonelythoughts @ghstypaint @mangoslushcrush @synamonthy @scaleniusrm @moonspectorx @dorck26 @a060403 @lunablackcosplay @soraya-daydreams @lovefanfic1 @mymrsweirdnessshipperstuff-blog @pretty-pink-princesss @corpsebridenightamare @razertail18 @gachagator @droolingmuttt @miguelsfavwife @ryzguy06 @raideaters-blog @manishkaworld @keidilla @byjessicalotufo @pigeonmama @k3ythesapphic @acesangels @stealingyourturts @angel-xx-1 @amberbalcom14 @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @oscarissac2099 @keepghostly @zeyzeys-stuff @k3ythesapphic @nightingale1011 @uncle-eggy @safixiovi @flaps200 @dahehow @weirdothatwritess @gerblinradio @electronicchaoschaos @mafiaanomaly @keyisloved @unwrittenletter @reader4life @leenasgirl200 @oscarissac2099 @mari0-o @cinnamoro1l @leryg0 @hizzielover @resident-clown @girl-of-multi-fandoms @sana-408-blog

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel x you #miguel x fem!reader

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greensagephase · 9 months ago

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Nonviolent Communication - Part 13

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x SpideyFemReader Summary: Miguel has a nightmare. Word Count: 25,905 (I was really aiming for less than 20k, I'm sorry) Warnings: Miguel talks about his life before Gabriella and his nightmares; emotional Miguel, he tears up (I'm sorry); soft Miguel; he makes progress, so the sad parts are worth it for his healing; I tried to include some translations of the Spanish within the text as it's dialogue for Miguel; it's just an emotional night for both reader and Miguel Masterlist Music Inspo (You can find the official Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Vigil" - Bill Conti, David Duke (instrumental) "Flaws" - Vancouver Sleep Clinic "Mexican Dream" - Piero Piccioni (instrumental) "Me Before You Orchestral" - Craig Armstrong (orchestral) "Someone To Stay" - Vancouver Sleep Clinic "Philadelphia Morning" - Bill Conti (instrumental) "I'll Be Good" - Jaymes Young "Here with Me" -d4vd "Ladyfingers" - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (instrumental)

Part 13

Miguel flicks a screen away. It's about 5 o’clock in the afternoon and he knows that by now, the energy in the Spider Society’s HQ is dwindling. The morning and afternoon buzz is dying down. The chatter of the cafeteria is replaced with quiet murmurs, and the hallways should be less stuffy, no longer occupied by groups of spider people heading out on missions or training, or for casual hanging out.

Soon, the building will be empty and it will only be him who remains. For about an hour or so before he, too, goes home.

That fact alone is an indication of progress and Miguel knows it. Almost a year ago, Miguel used to work through the night. Every night. He fought sleep with caffeine, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head as if that helped shed his exhaustion. When it got too much, he’d take breaks and walk the vacant hallways. It was only until he was beyond exhaustion, when his body begged him for sleep, that Miguel would take naps.

That has changed, however, and now he goes to the penthouse every night. Some days he stays at HQ a little later when it’s necessary, but not like he used to when he’d spent the nights here in the lab. Alone. It was on those dark and lonely hours that Miguel would wish for daylight, wish for the buzz from the Spider Society, even if he was inside his lab. Now, he actually sees his bedroom every night, where he sleeps and rests because his nightmares have decreased. They’re no longer daily like they used to.

Yes, in an hour or so, Miguel will head home for the day because he’s made it one of his goals to move forward. He’s stuck with it ever since his near death experience as he promised his family that he would try. He goes home even when some evenings are harder than others, when he finds himself utterly alone in such a large and empty space, but little things have made it easier. It’s all little things, and they’re all directly linked to you.

You, who is now living with him.

Temporarily.

Miguel has to remind himself. This arrangement is just for a few months, if your landlord actually manages to make the building livable again within that time span. And then, you’ll be back at your apartment. Back at your universe.

And the penthouse will be empty again.

Miguel scoffs at himself. A large hand covers part of his face in frustration. You’ve only stayed at the penthouse for a few weeks and he already hates the feeling, the simple idea of you being gone. It frustrates him. He feels other emotions stir within him at the idea; emotions that are heavy and raw. And that’s something he dislikes. That he feels like that. He doesn’t let himself explore those emotions yet but he knows he’ll have to when the time comes.

Miguel drops his arm at his side and glares at one of his screens. He needs to focus. There’s still some things he needs to get done today before he heads out. Less than a year ago, he wouldn’t be worried about finishing up before his personal deadline because he had no plans to leave. He could work through the evening, through the night, but that’s different recently. He wants to go home to keep his promise, and there’s also you. Your temporary stay at the penthouse makes Miguel feel even more inclined to leave, to finish soon so he can meet you there.

It’s so strange to Miguel. So beautifully strange to want to go home.

He looks at the time. Soon, you’ll be coming in to tell him that you’re heading out for the day. You started to let him know months ago, right after his accident when he asked if you wanted to help him with the weekly reports, a new responsibility within the Spider Society. Miguel remembers the first few times it happened. He felt that you didn’t have to let him know since this isn’t a proper job per say but you kept doing it every day, and soon he found that your daily visit before you went home was a silent reminder. He started to think that if you were going home, maybe it was time for him to wrap things up and head home himself, especially with his newly made promise to his family to try and do better. Your daily goodbye, then, has continued over the months, even now when you live with him.

As Miguel stares blankly at the screen, he thinks about how you always say you’re heading to the “penthouse.” He doesn’t know why but he picked up on that small detail, how you never say “home.” He knows it’s not your home like your apartment, where it’s far more welcoming, homey, and cozy. His penthouse has been the same for years since Gabriel and his mom helped him decorate it, and it lacks warmth, personality, and love. Or at least, that’s how Miguel views it. He hopes that’s the reason and not due to you feeling uncomfortable or unwelcome at the penthouse because when Miguel said that his home was yours, he meant it.

Miguel blinks and refocuses his gaze back to the information on the screen, trying to concentrate. He wants to get this done quickly but he finds it hard to concentrate. There’s a report to read about a specific universe, then there’s reports on anomaly matter to inspect, and he needs to check the gizmos because an update might be necessary again. As the list goes on in his head, Miguel grows tense. There’s so much to do and he can’t focus.

He sighs as he steps off his platform and heads to one of the desks in the lab, heading straight to a locked drawer that in seconds is open. He retrieves the fabric, feeling its weight on his hand. It belongs to him but it smells like you.

He brings it close to his face and inhales. He blinks a few times and slowly feels grounded as he continues to breath in your scent. He didn’t plan this, it never occurred to him, really.

He sighs again, this time not in frustration but in relief. He feels better. He lowers the fabric and glances at it, his scarf.

Several weeks ago, he wrapped it around your neck to keep you warm on New Year’s Eve when he noticed you shivering as you and the rest of the spider gang were waiting to welcome the new year at Miles’s universe. Then, he used it to dry your tears when you cried in gratitude over the fact that you’re no longer alone like all those years after your Peter’s death. You took it with you that night. Both of you forgot that you had it. You brought it to him on the Spider Society’s first business day of the new year, apologizing for forgetting to give it back that night and of course, Miguel dismissed the apology. There was no problem nor need to apologize, he said back then as he accepted it, immediately noticing your scent on it from wearing it. He didn’t make mention of it though and he ended up pushing that knowledge aside as the two of you began to talk about something else.

It was hours later that same day when he found himself cursing in Spanish in frustration at something, he can’t even remember what it was about now, when he eyed the scarf. He was alone, not even Lyla was around to poke fun at him about it, so he felt safe to do what he did. He brought it to his face and inhaled your comforting scent, thinking that if it comforted him to sleep, surely it would help him in that moment. And it did. Of course, it did.

He found himself feeling calmer. Hell, he was suddenly in a good mood. All because of your scent on his scarf. He placed it back on his platform and returned to work afterwards, feeling much calmer about whatever had been frustrating him in the moment. A while later that same day, you came into the lab to work on the weekly report and noticed the scarf on his platform, close to Miguel. Apparently you noticed it the next day, and the day after that. It was on the fourth day after bringing it back that you found Miguel moving it out of sight since he knew you were going to join him for lunch. It was the fact that he still kept it around for so many days, close to him, that made you wonder. And that was how you guessed that, maybe, he was keeping it around the lab for comfort.

Two days after that, Miguel noticed that the scarf had lost your scent but in you came that day from patrolling, rubbing your arms and claiming you were very cold. You were wearing your suit and a light jacket that you brought in that day. So, there was Miguel, looking for one of his old jackets in one of the supply closets in his lab and handing it to you, but you were still cold, or so you said.

Miguel chuckles softly now as he puts the scarf back in the drawer, locking it again. He shakes his head gently, thinking about how attentive and cunning you are, and how well you know him. You noticed the scarf and figured out what he was doing, and then planned the perfect moment because after he gave you one of his jackets, you claimed to still be cold.

“I guess today I’m just more sensitive to the cold,” you said as you opened a laptop, wearing his jacket - a sight that made Miguel pause for a few seconds - before you continued. “I’m so cold I could throw on some gloves and a scarf even though we’re inside,” you joked, giving him a short, knowing glance before you turned your attention back to the laptop.

Miguel then blinked and looked at his scarf, the sight of you wearing his jacket was for some reason causing something like a short circuit in his brain, before he picked it up and took it to you. He placed it around your neck, letting you fix it to your liking.

“I’ll see what the thermostat is at. Sometimes members mess with it,” Miguel offered as he stepped back, looking at you now wearing his scarf, too.

“I’ve seen some members mess with it before, but I think I’m okay now,” you said, fixing the scarf and pulling it a little closer to you, under the jacket with a soft smile. “Thank you, I hope you don’t mind me wearing it for a little bit…”

Miguel shook his head. “I don’t mind at all. You can wear it however long you need to,” he said, returning the soft smile before he walked back to his platform again.

“Thank you. It’s so warm and cozy. So comforting.”

That made Miguel turn to look at you. You were typing on the laptop already but he could see your little knowing smile, as if sensing that he had turned to look at you because of your choice of word. And that’s how Miguel knew you knew about the scarf.

As Miguel steps back on his platform now, more focused, he recalls that just yesterday you wore it again while you were organizing the lab. Instead of making you come up with a little plan like you did the first time, Miguel took it upon himself this time. He grabbed the scarf and once he approached you, he placed it around your neck, catching you by surprise.

“Just in case you’re cold,” he said softly before proceeding to walk to the door. “I’ll be right back. Want a coffee?” he asked, turning to look at you with a little smirk.

You nodded as you held one of the many pieces of technology Miguel uses with a glimmer in your eyes, staring at him and wondering. “Yes… I’d like one, please.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m alright with just the coffee, thank you.”

“Always,” Miguel replied before he exited only to hear you chuckle right before he walked out, a sound that made him smiled. Now you know that he knows you know about the scarf.

“What are you smiling about?”

Miguel’s smile turns into a soft scowl towards Lyla.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“Right…”

“How did the last mission go?” Miguel responds instead, which makes Lyla snort.

“We’re taking the denial route, okay… It went well. Anomaly captured, no problems. By the way, Y/N is asking if she can come in.”

“Why did you take so long to tell me? Yes, tell her to come in! I already told her she doesn’t need to do that,” Miguel says with a soft frown as Lyla disappears. Miguel silently wonders if you will ever not ask. He’s not sure at this point.

He reads some information from his screen, more focused than earlier and this time he manages to read past a paragraph of data before he hears your footsteps. He turns around to face you, to give you his full attention.

“Hey, almost done?” you ask as you approach the platform.

“I have a few things left but I’ll be done in an hour or so. You heading out?” he asks, resting a hand on his platform, peering down at you since his platform is about three feet above the ground.

You nod with a little smile. “Yeah, I’m going to my universe to patrol for a little while before I come back.”

Miguel nods. “Alright, just be careful. Let me know if you need something, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry. If you need me to come back and help somehow, just let me know.”

Miguel nods again, grinning softly. “I will, thank you, but I should have it covered.” At least now that he’s no longer struggling to concentrate, he silently thinks. “I’ll see you at the penthouse in a bit for dinner,” he adds.

“Alrighty! I’m heading out now then,” you reply with a smile before you turn to leave.

“Careful!” Miguel calls out, watching you leave.

“I will, see you at home!” you say softly, walking into a pocket of darkness and disappearing from Miguel’s sight.

He stares into the darkness, your words sinking in. He finally turns to face his screen, a small smile adorning his face again.

“See you at home,” he says to himself before he focuses on the task at hand once again, determined to finish his tasks within an hour, so he can head home soon.

🌕

When Miguel steps into the penthouse, he walks slowly. His red eyes scan the space and he admires how different it feels. The penthouse is the same as always in its appearance. Nothing is out of place, there is no new furniture, or even a new photo frame. And yet…

The warm light from lamps in the living room are a welcoming sight to Miguel. The fireplace is on, instantly warming his face from the cold since he was just outside for a quick patrol in Nueva York. Then, there’s his record player, already playing music and filling the penthouse with a comforting sound. That’s not the only sound his ears register though. He stays still and listens to the sounds coming from the kitchen. He grins and walks further in, entering the space you’re in. You’re by the stove, stirring something and there’s Lyla, hovering next to you. Miguel raises an eyebrow at this. As soon as he turned off his screens, she dipped with a quick “bye” before he could even say something. Apparently she was more than ready to keep you company here at the penthouse.

“And what are you going to add next?” Lyla asks hovering, peering down at the stove.

“The spices,” you reply.

“Right, right - Oh, Miguel. You finally join us,” Lyla says noticing him.

You turn around and find him by the entrance of the kitchen. He gives you a nod and a little smile.

“Just got here. I did a quick patrol… It smells amazing,” he says nodding to the stove.

“I barely just got started since I showered after I came back. I got caught up at my universe with some petty thieves, nothing serious but it definitely took some time. Food should be ready in half an hour or so though,” you reply with a smile.

Miguel nods, thinking about a shower for himself. He feels grimy after venturing out into Nueva York to patrol. “May I help you with something?” he offers.

“Thank you, but it’s alright. I got it! If you want to do something else in the meantime you can. I’ll let you know when it’s ready,” you respond.

Miguel nods again, knowing that tonight you don’t want any help. The two of you have settled into a routine after only a few weeks, and the cooking is definitely one of those things you both figured out quickly. It’s something that you insisted wanting to help with as a way to “contribute.” Miguel had to respect that only to ease your mind, though he would’ve had no problem with you not “contributing” as you called it. Either way, you both figured out the cooking. On some nights, Miguel cooks while on other nights you do it. And then, there’s the other nights when you cook together, which you both seem to really enjoy, but tonight, it seems that you prefer to do it alone, which Miguel respects.

“You sure?” he still asks, raising an eyebrow. He still offers, just in case you need help.

“I’m sure,” you reply, smiling.

“Alright then. I’m going upstairs to take a quick shower, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

He gives you a small grin before he turns and heads upstairs to take a shower, leaving you with Lyla, who is still hovering next to you. She continues to ask you questions as you make dinner, which you find amusing and don’t mind at all. Miguel comes back a short while later, showered and clad in lounging clothes, a sight you’ve become familiar with as has he with you because of the current living arrangement.

You serve dinner for the two of you and like every night since you’ve stayed, you have dinner together and talk about the day. And it feels normal and right.

You thought it would take a few days to get used to living here, to sharing a space with someone after so long but it didn’t.

Even Miguel believed the same thing. He thought it’d take a minute to get used to the little changes like coming to the penthouse and finding the lamps on at the living room. Or to get used to the sight of you moving around the kitchen with ease, or his ears being greeted by music along with mundane, cozy sounds from someone else living with him. To the scent of food already cooking, to the warmth, but it didn’t take long for either of you to get used to any part of living together. If anything, it feels like you were only away for a while but you’re back now, picking up right where you left off.

It’s a strange sensation, but an even more comforting one. You quickly settled into routines, and the details you were so worried about like the groceries and cooking, worked themselves out.

After dinner, the two of you clean the kitchen together. That’s something that you do together every night, no matter who cooks. Your conversations usually continue and move to the living room, where you spend the rest of the evening together, though sometimes you part ways to give each other space.

Tonight, the two of you remain in the living room. The TV is on and some telenovela is airing. You’re each sitting on a couch. Miguel is working from a tablet, looking at a different design for the gizmos. You’re on your tablet, too, but lazily drawing. You look up at the TV as a scene unfolds, the audio catching your attention.

“Paloma!” the male protagonist cries out in an agave field, angrily and heartbroken it seems. Miguel looks up, too, and watches.

The man talks about his love starting and ending on the land before he curses the woman and her love.

Miguel turns to look at you, noticing that the telenovela has caught your attention. He grins softly and waits until it cuts to the commercials.

“This is a new version. There’s about two or three other versions that have been filmed over the years,” Miguel says, sharing that little piece of information.

You turn to him and smile softly. “You watched any of them?”

“One. It came out several years ago when I was about… thirteen or so. This one has nothing on that one,” he says, thinking. He looks down at his screen. “They don’t make them like they used to, I can tell you that.”

You chuckle softly. “So you used to watch telenovelas?”

Miguel looks up at you again and nods after a few seconds. “Yes, it was kind of impossible not to. My mom always watched them in the evening while Gabriel and I worked on homework on the dining room table. She would keep an eye on us from the couch but Gabriel and I sometimes got distracted with the super dramatic scenes,” Miguel says with a little smile. “And of course, we found the kissing scenes gross, especially Gabriel.”

You laugh softly, imagining both Gabriel and Miguel as little kids and finding those scenes gross. You can’t help but think about how different Miguel’s life would be if only Gabriel was still here, and how you wish you could’ve met him. You can only imagine the banter between the two brothers based on what Miguel has shared so far.

Miguel looks at the TV for a few seconds before he returns his gaze back to you. “If you’d like to, I could show it to you. That other version. I can probably find it on one of the streaming platforms since it’s been some years since it came out.”

You hum in response and nod. “Well, you’re saying this is nothing compared to that one, so you’ve piqued my interest now.”

Miguel chuckles softly and nods. “Very well then, let me look for it. Even the intro song of this new one is nothing to the other version’s.”

You grin softly, amused at how Miguel is basically saying that the current version sucks.

Miguel quickly finds it on one of his universe’s streaming platforms. “Alright, we can probably watch an episode or two before we head to sleep,” he says since the two of you head to your respective bedrooms at around 10pm each night.

You sit excitedly as Miguel clicks on the first episode. After you watch the intro song, you nod in approval.

“What do you think?” Miguel says with a little grin.

“I trust your telenovela expertise,” you reply and that makes him laugh softly before the two of you begin to watch the first episode.

You subtly turn to look at Miguel as the episode starts. His attention is definitely on the screen and what’s playing out. You wonder if he’s still reminiscing on the years he used to watch it with Gabriel from his childhood dining table before you tell yourself to pay attention. At one point, the male protagonist makes his appearance and you can’t help but notice that he’s very attractive, even sliding on some round glasses that makes your eyes widen. You understand why the female protagonist reacts the way she does when she first sees him.

“Look at that man that just got down. He’s so… Handsome. Ave María Purísima, never in my life have I seen a man so… beautiful,” the female protagonist says as she sees him, watching the man in awe. You can’t help but nod. He is very handsome. [Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin.]

“That’s Mr. Rodrigo. He and his siblings were sent away to study very far away since they were little,” the female protagonist’s mother says while she continues to gaze the handsome man.

The episode continues on before you have a small realization. Your eyes widen a little before you turn to look at Miguel subtly, noticing that the male protagonist looks a little like Miguel. You turn back to the screen, hiding your little grin and paying attention to the telenovela again.

Miguel turns every once in a while to look at you, subtly smiling as he sees you’re hooked. He swears he even saw you become a little flustered with Rodrigo.

“The foreshadowing,” you say quietly, chuckling and grinning as the two protagonists kneel side by side at the front of the church during Rodrigo’s grandfather’s funeral service, meeting unofficially for the first time, their paths crossing.

“I’m not giving any spoilers,” Miguel replies with a teasing tone.

You turn to him, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “I know they’re going to get together by the end of this.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep watching to find out.”

You shake your head in disbelief at him before turning your attention back to the screen, making a little noise when Rodrigo and Gaviota make eye contact at the altar, and the way Rodrigo smiles at her.

“I’m pretty certain they’re going to be together by the end.”

“Is that so?”

“I mean… That smile says it all.”

“Has someone, other than Gaviota, taken a liking to Rodrigo?”

“Maybe,” you reply, pulling your blanket higher up your body, and turning your face away from Miguel so he doesn’t see your reactions anymore because the telenovela has you on the verge of giggling and kicking your feet.

Miguel grins, pretty sure you’ve gained a little crush on the male protagonist.

The two of you continue to watch the telenovela and manage to watch two episodes before 10pm. Once the second episode finishes, the two of you call it a night. Miguel turns off the TV and you fold your blanket, ready to take it upstairs with you. It’s the one that you always have on your couch back at your universe for when you chill on your couch. You brought it along a day after the fire and bring it downstairs with you when you hang out in Miguel’s living room, but you never leave it on the couch, something Miguel has noticed. He’s certain that you take it upstairs because you’re still thinking about not “disrupting” his life or space with your stay. After picking up his tablet and putting it on the coffee table, Miguel turns to you as you tuck the blanket under your arm to grab your own tablet.

“You know you can leave it here, right?”

“Hm?” you respond, startled.

“Your blanket. You can leave it here, on the couch. If you’d like to, of course. I know that’s the one you always have on your own couch,” Miguel says softly as the fireplace and some of the lamps turn off thanks to Lyla, who’s nowhere in sight.

“Oh, right… I just don’t want to, you know,” you respond, nodding to his couch. “You have no clutter so I don’t want to make your living room look… messy.”

Miguel snorts softly, amused with your statement and the fact that he’s right. You’re trying to make your stay in the penthouse as subtle as possible. He’s noticed you don’t leave your jackets or coats around. Even small things like hair accessories and jewelry are not left behind. He often comes home and finds something of the sorts on the counter from you taking it off to cook or unwind on the kitchen counter, only to see it gone not even an hour later, all traces of your stay in his home gone.

It doesn’t bother Miguel to see your personal items throughout the space in the slightest. If anything, the sight of someone else’s items laying around comforts him. It’s nice to see that there’s someone else occupying the space with him. And yet, you think it’s going to “clutter” his space. Miguel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a small grin. “A blanket isn’t going to make the living room messy. You can leave it on the couch. I already told you, many times by the way,” Miguel says, raising an eyebrow. “My home is your home. And if anything, your blanket adds personality to my very basic decorations. So please, if you want to, just leave the blanket here. You don’t have to remove your personal belongings from the shared spaces like it’s going to upset me. It doesn’t.” Miguel pauses and frowns softly. “If anything, it’s upsetting that you think it would…” His frown fades but as he continues, his tone is firm yet gentle. “You’re welcomed here, Y/N. Always.”

You smile warmly at him and nod slowly. You’ve definitely been trying to make your stay subtle and avoid letting even small personal belongings take over Miguel’s space.

“Thank you… I know you mean it but I still don’t want to make it feel like it’s my…” you trail off because you’re about to say “home.”

“And I’m telling you it is, so…” Miguel says and trails off, his arms dropping to his sides.

You nod again and sigh softly, holding his gaze. You can feel the fabric under your arm, still tucked. You pull it and look at it for about five seconds before you lay it over the couch’s armrest you always sit on. The color of your blanket is a nice contrast to Miguel’s grey couch. You turn back to Miguel, finding a small smile on his face because you finally placed the blanket down.

You grin at him. “Alright, the blanket can stay there.”

Miguel chuckles softly and nods. “Good. It’s about time you stop carrying the poor thing back and forth, you know? Give it a home.”

“It’ll stay here,” you reply softly, and Miguel smiles gently. You continue to grin and nod towards the stairs. “You heading to sleep?”

“Yes. Long day tomorrow,” Miguel says.

“But it’s Friday. It’s the best day of the week,” you reply.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Miguel chuckles softly as the two of you start up the stairs, the remaining of the lights turning off now that you’re both going to sleep.

“I believe you,” he says as you step aside, stopping in front of the bathroom door. Miguel takes a few more steps before turning to face you. “Good night.”

“Good night. See you in the morning,” you state softly, smiling at him before you push the door open and slip inside the bathroom to do your night routine.

Miguel stands there for a few seconds, his ears registering the sound of running water from inside the bathroom before he walks the remaining of the way to his own bedroom. As he makes the short walk to his own bathroom, he thinks about the little routines the two of you have created in such a short amount of time, like saying good night to each other. It started the first night you spent at the penthouse and it was you who said it first. Now, no matter if you spend the entire evening together or in separate areas of the space, you wish each other a good night. Miguel sighs softly as he reaches for his toothbrush, realizing that your temporary stay has spoiled him in a way. He’s grown used to these routines too quickly, too happily.

He rolls his shoulders as he brushes his teeth, telling himself it’s okay that he’s grown used to it. It’s been a while since he’s shared a space with someone, and the fact that it’s with you, with someone he trusts and cares about, only makes him appreciate the company even more. He tells himself that everything will be alright, even when your apartment is ready to go and you can return.

He nods to himself, reassuring the man in the mirror only for a few seconds before he looks away. He turns on the water and continues his routine, ready for bed.

You splash water on your face to wash off your cleanser before you continue on with your night routine. You return to your bedroom and get on the bed, snuggling into the covers instantly. You stare at the ceiling as you wait for the sleepiness to come.

You’ve settled into Miguel’s penthouse without any trouble. All your clothes have been washed, to get rid of the smoke smell, and now occupy the closet. Pictures of your friends, parents, and Peter occupy the hanging shelves. All of Peter's belongings can be found on the bookcase. The dresser has become the home of your jewelry and other personal items. The once empty bedroom that belonged to Gabriel has become yours in a short amount of time.

Your routines have merged in the most perfect, subtle way. So seamlessly. You each have a specific day to do your laundry. You agreed on the cooking and the groceries. You help with the cleaning, something that Miguel wasn’t too keen about, but you convinced him after you told him that you wished to as it would give you a sense of normalcy since it’s something you’re used to doing at your own place anyway. You have breakfast and dinner together at the penthouse, and spend most of the evenings together in the living room.

Everything about this unexpected change has fallen into place seamlessly.

You sigh softly and roll onto your side, closing your eyes. You’ve grown used to this change so fast, maybe too fast. You cannot deny that it has been great - amazing, really - sharing a space with someone. Up until Peter’s death, you had never lived by yourself. You spent your entire childhood, adolescence, and early adult years living with your parents until you graduated from college. Then, you moved in with Peter, and the thought of living alone never crossed your mind since you were with him. You knew that from that point onward, Peter and you were going to live together for the rest of your lives. Except, life had different plans. Peter passed away and you were suddenly living alone for the first time ever. It was another feeling you had to grow used to.

You eventually had to accept it. You had no other choice. You had to accept that your once shared apartment, was suddenly just your own. Now, living with Miguel has brought up those memories, those feelings of what it's like to share a space with someone. You’ve realized, that you miss it and that you're enjoying this a little too much.

Miguel doesn’t make it any easier, either. He’s the perfect roommate and there’s also the little fact that you only recently realized. It allowed you to understand even more why you’re comfortable with this temporary arrangement, why you’re enjoying sharing a space with Miguel.

You roll to your other side. You can feel yourself succumbing to sleep as you think of your recent realization. You think about Peter, of who he was to you. He was more than your romantic partner, more than your boyfriend. He started off as something else before he turned into your boyfriend, and he continued to be it until his last day. He always will. At least, one of them.

The thing was that you never thought you’d find someone like that again, but you did. You realize now that you have.

You open your eyes briefly, your sleepy gaze taking in your current bedroom in Miguel’s home.

Across the multiverse.

-*-

You wake up. Your eyes are met with the sight of your pillow before you slowly look around the bedroom. You blink softly, searching for something. You don’t know what you’re looking for as you’re only met by Nueva York’s noises.

You sit up slowly and glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s 2:43am and the penthouse is silent, or seems so, at least. You lay down again and readjust the covers, closing your eyes as an attempt to go back to sleep. You shift in bed, trying to get comfortable once more, but there’s still something that tugs at you.

Your spidey senses go off, causing you to open your eyes and sit up again. In a matter of seconds, you’re reaching for your suit to change. You hastily begin to tug your sweatshirt off but stop midway when you hear something*.* It fills the silence in Miguel’s penthouse, causing you to freeze.

“Gabriella… Gabi… No, Gabi…”

Your heart sinks as Miguel’s voice reaches your ears. You fix your top as you walk towards the bedroom door, and before you know it, you step out into the hallway and walk the short distance between the bedrooms. You stop in front of Miguel’s room. His door is ajar, allowing his voice to spill out into the hallway and carry to your room.

You stand in front of the door, your hand in midair, hesitating. It’s clear Miguel is having a nightmare, based on the tone of his voice, which only makes your heart ache more. You know that after losing Gabriella, Miguel has been having them. It’s the reason why he avoided sleep and worked through the nights for so long.

“Gabi! Perdóname - Hija - Perdóname - Gabriella, por favor - Perdóname, hija,” Miguel says in his sleep, his tone filled with sorrow and guilt. “Please, I’m so sorry.” ["Gabi! Forgive me - Daughter - Forgive me - Gabriella, please - Forgive me, daughter"]

Hearing Miguel’s tone, so painful and emotionally distressing, is all it takes. You push the door open and walk towards his bed, putting aside any worries about Miguel becoming upset or uncomfortable with your presence during such a vulnerable moment. You silently decide you can deal with that. You can handle the consequences of an upset or uncomfortable Miguel, but what you cannot handle nor bear any longer, is listening to him like this. You cannot stand by and hear him like this one more second, not when your heart feels like it’s being ripped apart for him.

You reach his side of the bed in no time. Miguel moves his head side to side in his sleep, his eyebrows knitted as if searching for something. Someone. He’s kicked off his covers, which are now bunched at the end of the bed.

“Gabi,” he calls out again. “Lo siento mucho, mija.” [I'm so sorry, my daughter.]

You gulp softly before you speak. “Miguel… Miguel, it’s me. I’m here,” you say gently yet firmly. “I’m here.”

You look down at his hand closest to you. It’s in a fist as is his other hand. You softly tap it, your fingertip gingerly touching it out of respect.

“I’m here, Miguel,” you say as you tap his hand again with your one finger.

You keep talking to him, hoping that you don’t startle him too much, though you cannot wait for him to wake up from his bad dream. You get closer to his bed, your legs pressing against his mattress.

“Miguel,” you keep murmuring, tapping his fist gently. You end up kneeling by his bed as you continue to slightly touch his hand, calling his name to wake him up, to pull him away from his dream so he’s not hurting. At least not in his nightmares as well.

Miguel mutters Gabriella’s name a few more times, and after a few seconds, Miguel’s eyes open. They search frantically around the bedroom before they find you, knelt before his bed, your face marked with concern, understanding, and tenderness.

“Y/N,” Miguel whispers, sleepily but somewhat alerted. Relieved.

“Hey, you’re awake now,” you whisper softly, retrieving your finger from his fist and placing your hand on his bed, next to him. “I’m - sorry. I heard you and …” you trail off, wishing you could tell him it was just a dream - just a nightmare - but you know that those words are not the truth for Miguel. His nightmares are not warnings nor simply bad dreams that leave a bad taste in his mouth upon wakening, but rather reminders that the events in his dreams have already happened. They are not nightmares that provoke fear in his life. It’s the reality of the turn of events **that incite his nightmares.

For Miguel, there’s no waking up and walking to the next bedroom to find his sweet child in bed, sleeping peacefully and unaware of his nightmares. There’s no relief and realization that it was just a really bad nightmare. No, for Miguel there is only one truth and it brings no comfort. There’s no child in the next bedroom. There never was. Not in this home, not in this universe. And her universe, much like her, is gone.

You watch Miguel with a heavy heart. There’s no comforting statement that you can offer him.

Miguel sits up slowly, his frame towering over you now. He sighs deeply as he comes to his senses, slowly realizing that you’ve witnessed one of his nightmares. He feels shame as he sits on his bed with you kneeling at his side. His cheeks are warm from the sleep but they suddenly feel hot as heavy, plunging waves of shame and discomfort crash on him. He dares take a glance at you again and when his crimson eyes find you, he detects no judgment nor pity. Instead, he finds genuine concern, understanding, love, and so much more, but not pity.

Never pity from you.

There’s a soft and tender look in your eyes that makes those waves of shame and discomfort ebb. And as those feelings fade, even in his state of mind, Miguel understands clearly why he felt like that just seconds ago. This is the first time anyone has ever seen him have a nightmare, making it easy for Miguel to feel all sorts of negative emotions. He quickly reminds himself that there’s no reason to feel like that with you. You would never look at him with pity or judgment, nor make him feel bad about having nightmares. He turns fully to face you now, more relaxed, or at least, as much as he can after a nightmare.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he says quietly in a deeper voice due to his slumber. “I didn’t mean to. I should’ve fully closed the door.”

You shake your head gently and offer a comforting smile, eyebrows knitted in understanding. “Don’t apologize. You can’t control them,” you whisper. “And - I have a feeling I would’ve known regardless of your door being fully closed or not.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at this, wondering what you mean but you decide you’ll tell him later, when he’s more relaxed. You can tell he’s a little off from his nightmare, rightfully so, and the last thing you want to do is add on to the already vulnerable moment. You pat his mattress softly, giving him a warm and gentle smile to hopefully ease his emotions, even though internally, you’re aching to comfort Miguel physically. To embrace and hold him close to you when you know that no words can alleviate his pain and loss, nor the truth. You retrieve your hand from his mattress, for the first time feeling truly afraid that you might disrespect his boundary regarding physical touch because of your instincts.

“How about I make you a warm drink? Would you like that?” you ask quietly, still kneeling by his side.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. It’s really late,” he says, turning to his nightstand to look at the clock, realizing what time it is. He instantly feels guilty for disrupting your sleep. He turns to face you before adding, “You should try and get some rest…”

You stand up, meeting his gaze. “Are you going back to sleep?” you ask him.

His gaze moves from you to his covers, which gives you a moment to glance around his bed. His covers have been kicked to the edge of the bed and then to his side, even in the darkness, you spot the sweatshirt that you gave him a few days ago on Sunday. Your eyes focus on it especially when you notice there’s a pillow stuffed in it, filling it up and leaving the sleeves laying flat on the bed. It’s so close to him that it makes you realize Miguel really does keep it nearby when he sleeps. The sight of the sweatshirt reminds you of something else.

Your eyes flicker to his nightstand where you find his gizmo. You were so concerned with Miguel and waking him up from his nightmare that you failed to hear your own breathing coming from it. You blink softly in surprise. You knew of it, of course. He has access to it because you allowed Lyla to record you. And of course, you know about the sweatshirt. You shouldn’t be surprised and yet, actually seeing Miguel use both things makes it so much more truer. Miguel truly does find your scent and the sound of your sleeping breathing comforting and necessary to sleep.

Your eyes flicker back to the sweatshirt and how it’s stuffed with a pillow. It makes you silently wonder if Miguel ever holds it, or rather embraces it, while he sleeps, as if he was hugging someone. As if he was hugging you.

You look away, heat rushing to your cheeks instantly at the mere thought of this possibility. The idea alone fills you with tenderness and hope, especially after his statement the day of the fire, when in your exhaustion, you revealed to Miguel for the first time that you wished to hug him. His words have been on your mind since then, how he said it was an honor that you wanted to embrace him, and that he was trying to work on physical touch. His words gave you hope that day and seeing the sweatshirt like this now, makes you even more hopeful that Miguel really is warming up to the idea of physical touch.

“I’m going to try,” Miguel answers at last, looking up at you again.

Relief washes over you as you realize that you did good in looking away from the sweatshirt when you did. You don’t want Miguel to realize that you’ve seen it and cause him to feel embarrassment about it.

“But he always stays up,” Lyla says, popping out of nowhere. You stare at her as she stares back at you. There’s a frown on her face, one of concern. “He’s never managed to go back to sleep after a nightmare.”

“Lyla,” Miguel says in a warning voice.

You nod towards Lyla, communicating a silent thank you for providing all the information you need. “I’m going to make you something warm to drink. I’ll bring it up to you, okay?” you say before starting to walk towards his bedroom door.

“Y/N,” Miguel says in a tone that tells you he’s about to argue that you don’t need to do anything, that you should head back to sleep and rest as if you could do such a thing when you know he’s somewhere in the penthouse, awake and alone after having a nightmare.

You could never just go back to sleep. You could never leave him alone, not when he has spent too many nights like that already. You refuse to let this night be the same when you’re here.

You turn to face him with an unwavering determination in your eyes. “I won’t… I can’t.” You pause, your face softening. “Please. Let me try, too.”

Miguel holds your gaze, still sitting 2on his bed. He stays quiet for a few seconds as your words sink in.

You give him a gentle smile and nod, taking his silence as understanding, as acceptance. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Miguel replies quietly, softly, before you slip out of his bedroom and head downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, Lyla takes care of turning on the lights for you, keeping the lighting warm and gentle for your eyes to adjust. She silently follows you as you move around the kitchen, as if interested in what you’re doing, in how you’re going to sooth Miguel. You gather the few things you need before turning on the stove and setting the pot with water to boil. All the while, your heart stings for the man upstairs.

A floor above, Miguel sits on the bed. He sighs and rubs his forehead before he stands up and heads downstairs to meet you, to find you. He walks across the living room and towards the kitchen, finding you putting something in a medium-size pot. He takes a seat in his usual spot and leans on the counter, resting his elbows on it for support. He’s silently relieved the lighting is comfortable for the two of you considering you were both just sleeping and it’s the middle of the night.

He watches you gently, feeling both guilt and ternura. He silently wishes his nightmares could’ve ceased at least while you’re here to avoid disrupting your sleep, and more importantly, to avoid worrying you since he saw concern on your face when he woke up. And yet, he also found understanding, tenderness, affection, and love on your face - in your eyes. And now here you are, making a warm drink to comfort him, not realizing that your presence alone is soothing to him as always. **This fills him with ternura.

You turn around and face Miguel, finding him sitting in his usual seat. Your eyes meet his and you offer a smile, slowly realizing for the first time that he’s shirtless. You cannot help but wonder if he’s cold, causing you to worry.

“I’m making canelita,” you tell him softly.

He nods, offering you the tiniest smile before he looks down at the counter for a few seconds. The sight of that small, weak smile breaks you. He’s hurting.

Under the soft, warm light, Miguel looks… like he could use a hug right now. You look away, knowing you can’t but the urge, like always, is there. You tell yourself to stop thinking about it, and instead, focus on trying to support and comfort Miguel as best as you can. You silently wonder what he usually does after a nightmare. Lyla said he usually can’t sleep, so does he lay in bed for a while, or does he go to HQ?

You don’t know, and you don’t ask. A part of you doesn’t want to know because any scenario will hurt all the same with Miguel being on his own after a nightmare. You shake those thoughts away and think of something.

“Why don’t we go to the living room?” you suggest quietly as you approach the counter, standing in front of Miguel.

He nods silently, so you make the first move by walking around the counter and meeting him. You gesture to the living room before you begin walking there, his steps right behind you. Once again, Lyla takes care of the lights by turning on only two lamps. She even starts the fireplace, creating a soft and cozy environment. You silently thank Lyla. She’s helping as best as she can. You gesture to Miguel to take a seat, and he obeys, moving stiffly. He moves around like he’s in a haze, as if he’s still in his nightmare.

Once he sits, you retrieve the blanket from earlier. The one he told you to give it a home. You had no idea Miguel and you would be here only a few hours later under this circumstance, or that you’d be relieved that he told you to leave it if you wanted to because now, you’re going to use it to cover him.

Miguel blinks and looks up as you unfold it. You offer a small and warm smile to comfort him as he sits, watching you step closer to cover him like you did several months ago when you were looking after him in the spring after his injuries. The blanket instantly provides a layer of warmth but it also provides your scent, which surrounds him now. He inhales silently, feeling your scent lull his very soul after the nightmare.

“Thank you,” Miguel whispers, meeting your gaze, knowing that in a small way, this is you offering physical comfort. It’s your way of giving him a hug.

You nod, still smiling. “Always…” You gulp silently, feeling a tightness in your throat form. “Let me check on the canelita. I’ll be right back.”

You retreat to the kitchen, unaware of Miguel’s lingering eyes on you as your figure disappears. A few minutes later, you return to the living room, holding two mugs. He begins to pull the blanket down to stand up and help you, but you quickly tell him not to. Your words are laced with such a firmness, yet a gentleness that leaves no room to argue for Miguel, so he remains sitting. He watches you approach before you carefully hand him a mug.

“Careful,” you tell him softly as he receives it, welcoming the warmth of the mug and the brief brushing of your fingers with his.

You cup your mug in both your hands now that you’ve given Miguel his, and think for a moment as your eyes scan the other couch. You always sit there when you’re here at Miguel’s penthouse, and that hasn’t changed since you started living with him. The two of you always take a seat on opposite couches but right now, as you glance at Miguel, you can’t find it in yourself to sit that far from him.

You take in his appearance. He’s shirtless and in sweatpants. His hair is messy from his slumber, and the curls behind his ears look more curled than usual. You briefly find his bed hair endearing before your gaze takes in his face. There’s a thoughtful and far away expression on it, one that makes you feel like he’s still thinking about the nightmare. He also looks tired, something that tugs at your heartstrings. You silently decide you wish to be closer to him, so you opt to sit on the rug near him, leaving a few feet of space between the two of you so he doesn’t feel like you’re invading his personal space.

Miguel notices this, of course, and his eyebrows immediately knit in concern and confusion as you retrieve your mug from the coffee table after you placed it down to sit down. He’s about to open his mouth to tell you to get up, to not sit on the ground because it might be too cold and you might get sick, but when you look up at him and offer a warm and kind smile, Miguel forgets what he was going to say.

All he can think about is your smile and the tenderness on your face.

As you stare at Miguel, you know you can’t relate to having nightmares after losing one of your loved ones. You thankfully never had any even when Peter died in your arms but just the thought of them makes you feel sorrow, and you can imagine what Miguel feels. It makes you want to be here for Miguel even more, even if you know that you can’t take away his heartache and loss. There’s no way anyone can ever do that for someone fully, no matter how hard one tries but what you do know is that you can be here for Miguel. You can be his companion, so that Miguel isn’t alone for the first time after having a nightmare.

“Thank you,” Miguel whispers again after a moment of silence, meeting your gaze.

“Always,” you reply in a whisper, slowly twirling your spoon to cool off the hot drink. You silently hope that Miguel finds comfort and solace in your company.

Miguel watches you gently as you twirl your spoon silently. You’re so close to him. If you wanted to, you could easily place your hand on his knee, and if he wished to, he could lay his hand on your shoulder. You’re within distance but far enough that you’re respecting his personal space as always.

Miguel brings the mug to his lips and takes a small drink, the warmth and sweetness of the canelita spreads a comforting feeling through his chest on this cold winter night. Your blanket is still halfway covering him because he pulled it down earlier, but it’s keeping him warm regardless. There’s also the fireplace. He turns to look at it, taking notice of the dancing flames that cast shadows all around the room, something he also finds comforting for some reason.

In fact, everything about this moment is comforting to Miguel. From the low lit lamps to the fireplace, to the warmth and coziness that comes from your blanket, to the sweet canelita, but most of all - you.

You are here. This living room could be empty, dark, and cold but with you nearby, Miguel would feel the same amount of comfort nonetheless.

He sighs softly, feeling the heaviness that always weights down on him after a nightmare, almost like it drowns him, begin to fade. He can breath easier and his body is more relaxed, no longer as stiff as earlier. He subtly moves your blanket, lifting it higher so your scent reaches him again, so it helps him come back fully.

You notice his subtle gesture and after a few seconds of consideration, you slip off your sweatshirt. You fold it in half and place it on his lap, silently offering it to him because you know that your scent comforts him. Your eyes flicker to his, in which you find his internal debate to decline it, so you stare back with a firm gaze - wordlessly telling him to accept it.

Miguel looks down at the sweatshirt after a few seconds. You look at your mug to give him privacy, a moment Miguel takes. He lets his fingers graze your sweatshirt for several seconds. He feels the softness of it, but also the gratifying and comforting warmth that hangs to the fabric from you wearing it just now. It’s your warmth. So homey and inviting, so comforting. So you. He lifts it up to his chest, close enough that your scent surrounds him even more. He keeps his hand on it, letting your warmth sink into his palm and bare chest, into his own warmth.

Your warmth makes his mind whirl with thoughts of physical touch yet again, something Miguel finds himself doing more lately. Your revelation on wishing to hug him only fueled his thoughts on it as he’s been thinking about it for months, since the holidays. It sort of just click in his mind over Thanksgiving dinner that you’re so much more open to touch than he is. You’re open to both receiving and offering it, and you do so with such ease, like Miguel once did not too long ago.

The sudden light bulb that went on in his head has remained on throughout the months. He’s thought about it too many times, and with you currently living here, Miguel has only opened up more to the idea. He has a feeling that his thoughts on it have grown because the two of you spend so much time together now, more than you did before. The funny thing is that you already spent a lot of time together before but now, living together… It’s different.

The remaining walls around Miguel seem to have been made out of glass because you’ve gracefully broken them down throughout the short amount of time that you’ve been here. There’s so much more banter between the two of you now, and as a result, he’s discovered a more playful side to you, one he really likes and enjoys. And because of that playful side to you, Miguel has found himself being more playful, too, which catches him by surprise because he hasn’t seen that side of himself for a while. He likes it, just like he likes the fact that he smiles and chuckles more around you.

And so, because of all these little changes, Miguel has thought more and more about physical touch and opening more to it. With you, at least.

He turns to look at you again. You’re still staring at your mug, giving him a moment of privacy. Opening up about physical touch hasn’t been the only thing he’s been thinking about. He’s thought of sharing more things with you about his past. With one of his nightmares taking place tonight, Miguel wonders if it would be alright to talk about her. About the beginning and the end. It’s something he’s never talked about. Sure, he showed spider members in the past what happened to Gabriella’s universe - to her and everyone else - but he never talked about it. There’s a big difference between showing and telling.

Few people know of the beginning, and even those individuals, such as Jess and Peter B., don’t know what was running through his mind then because they don’t know about his past. They don’t know about his childhood or how he came to be Spider-Man, or about the other parts of his life.

They don’t know, but you do. You know more than anyone else, and you’re the only one in the entire multiverse.

Miguel sighs and breaks the silence after several minutes.

“Do you mind, if I share something with you?” he asks, quietly.

“I don’t mind,” you reply, looking up at him again.

Miguel nods and looks down at his mug.

“My mother died shortly after moving into the building, right when our mother and son relationship was just beginning to - heal, I guess. As I’ve told you in the past, I still held a lot of resentment towards her for my childhood, but I think if time had allowed, we would’ve been in a good place over the years.” Miguel sighs and shrugs his shoulders gently, an eyebrow rising and falling in seconds. “We will never know now, I suppose, but her death, despite everything, still hurt… Her death hurt both Gabriel and I, probably him more than me but it hurt both of us and made us realize, we were all we had. Each other.” Miguel looks up and stares at the fireplace. “Gabriel… Gabrielito… He passed away shortly after. A year later. My brother - My best friend was suddenly gone. You know what I always thought?” he asks quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.

“I always thought it would be me, the one that… The one that passed away first because I was the older one. And how wrong I was, like I was about so many things,” Miguel says, his red eyes filled with sadness.

“I had no one. I lost everyone. I had no friends, not meaningful ones, anyway. I hid myself behind work and eventually, hiding my grief and loneliness led me and Lyla to the multiverse. We worked very hard to figure out a way to travel it and shortly after, she was successful in creating a goober, one that worked. And, that started it all.”

Miguel’s eyes flicker to you. It started his expeditions into the multiverse, into finding other Spider people. It led to you.

“There were few members at the time when - when I came across the universe. I discovered a version of myself that was happy. He had a daughter. A family. He was a single father,” Miguel shares. “I learned that his partner had died in childbirth, so it was just him and… Gabriella. Sometimes, I looked into their universe. It was so strange. To see a version of myself with a daughter, who was happy despite his own losses, despite the ups and downs of his life. I won’t lie, a part of me envied him. He was a normal individual with a normal job, and went home with his daughter. He wasn’t Spider-Man.

For the longest time, I hated what I had become. I blamed it on being Spider-Man, and then blamed myself because I used to think that I had made the choice to be Spider-Man.”

You nod slowly, his words sinking in. You understand the implication of his words.

“I regret this so much now but, back when I met Miles, I told him something. Something that I’ve come to realize, only showed how I viewed myself. All of us,” Miguel admits. “I thought being Spider-Man was a sacrifice. A job that we had signed up for, which obviously is not true, but I thought at the time because of how I had become Spider-Man, that I had made that decision willingly. And so, I felt that we had all made that decision, that sacrifice.”

“You didn’t…” you whisper, and Miguel nods, his face softening at your voice.

“I realized that after everything that happened with Miles. I just felt like - I had made that choice willingly, even though my intention was just to spare myself from becoming an addict,” he says softly. “I never intended to do anything else. It was… Luck. It was out of my hands, the same way it has been for so many spider members. But at the time, when I discovered Gabriella’s universe, I wholeheartedly believed it had been my choice. My sacrifice. A happy and simple life exchanged for the responsibilities and duties of Spider-Man and the fate of the multiverse. So, I only kept watching and I was glad, that at least one Miguel O’Hara was happy. It all changed one day though. Lyla suddenly informed me that - that the Miguel from that universe was dead, had been murdered. In an attempt to be a good man, he was shot and he didn’t make it… I saw how it went down, a recording of it because of Lyla,” Miguel says quietly. “And I was just - I just couldn’t believe that he was gone. I couldn’t believe that the misfortune was shared, no matter the universe.”

Miguel pauses, knowing he’s reached Gabriella’s part, and the part in which he buried a version of himself.

“After what felt like a minute or two of pure disbelief and shock, I remembered Gabriella. She had no one. There was no Gabriel, no Conchata, not even a George O’Hara in her life. They had all passed away when she was younger, so all she had was her father, and suddenly he was gone, too. I realized what that meant, and I didn’t want that for her,” Miguel says softly with a pained expression. “I didn’t want her to end up in an… orphanage, where God knows what she would’ve lived through. I couldn’t help but think about that and how she had such a beautiful life. She had a loving father. She had support. She didn’t know of pain, suffering, or loss. She was surrounded by love and tenderness, and I thought, she deserved to continue to have that. I thought, I could provide that for her. I could look after her, make sure she had a good childhood. That she could continued to know love the way she knew it so far thanks to her father. It all happened so fast. Those minutes felt like seconds and in that short time, I questioned, what was the harm? What was the harm in me replacing the Miguel in that universe?

I could spare Gabriella from knowing grief and loss at such a young age, from her life changing and losing everything she knew. And I also thought about my own life. Gabriel had been dead for three years already at that point. The only person I talked to on a daily basis was Lyla before the Spider Society, and even when it was all started, I still felt lonely. Empty.” Miguel confesses. “People tried to get close to me but I had given up. I was closed off. I pushed everyone away and succeeded time and time again. I felt it was better to just be alone. I felt that I was meant for that. That I wasn’t meant for anything else. That my whole life was to be dedicated to protecting the multiverse, but then this happened and I asked myself again, what was the harm? And before I knew it, I was there. I don’t… I will spare you most of the details of everything that happened from that point to meeting Gabriella.” Miguel looks at you, a deep frown on his face.

“But I do want you to know that I… I treated him with respect. I gave him a proper burial.” Miguel whispers. “Where he wouldn’t be disturbed and where I hoped he would find peace. It was a beautiful place, surrounded by nature. I had learned a few things about him and Gabriella, and this Miguel loved nature, so I thought it was only appropriate. I said a few words for him as he was religious, and I swore to him that I would love and look after Gabriella as if she was mine.”

Miguel looks down at the mug. His other hand is still clutching your sweatshirt.

“After that… I headed to their home and that was the beginning of one of the best times in my life, not knowing it would lead to one of the worst, too,” Miguel whispers, closing his eyes as he feels all his emotions all at once. He takes a minute to recover, to placate the knot in his throat. “It was wonderful, beautiful, and scary sometimes because I didn’t know everything about being a parent and I didn’t have the best examples growing up, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel like I had always been meant to be that… A father. And sometimes I wondered how because I had grown up with such horrible parental figures… Horrible father figures,” Miguel says opening his eyes again.

“But there, with Gabriella, it was like I was meant to be a dad all along. It was like a dream… A dream that I hadn’t even realized I had all along. And suddenly, I was there. I was with her, and she called me daddy and held my hand, and told me about school and soccer. I was suddenly learning how to do her hair and instead of being at HQ, I was on her bedroom floor play pretending I was some knight saving her favorite doll from dragons.” Miguel’s eyes are teary as he shares this. A soft smile tugs at his mouth.

“My biggest worry went from the gizmos acting up to a scraped knee during a soccer match. I woke up early not to work but to make breakfast and prepare her school lunch. My weekends were occupied with soccer matches and taking her on little adventures to book shops and museums, to the park where she ran on soft and green grass, and yelled at me to watch how fast she ran. My evenings were no longer spent in the lab but rather cooking for the two of us, while she did her homework on the dining table, like Gabriel and I once did as children. We’d eat dinner and she’d tell me more about her day, about the things she learned in school. And so much more… So much more, Y/N…. She changed my life.”

Miguel pauses and swallows deeply. “She changed me. She made me a better person.” He sighs and finally takes a sip of canelita, already lukewarm. “Everything was great. It was the best my life had been in years since Gabriel passed away. And I thought, this is perfect. The perfect life. Just my little Gabriella and I, but soon, I met my wife, Adriana, and that changed things.” Miguel looks up at you. “I fell for her fast. Too fast. I have regrets about the way I handle the relationship. I wish I had been better because she deserved better than me,” Miguel says, looking away.

You can sense Miguel doesn’t really want to talk about this specifically, about his wife.

“You don’t have to… talk about her,” you tell him gently.

Miguel shakes his head gently. “I ought to… I want to. And, she deserves to be talked about as well. She was part of my life for that short period of time. It’s just hard because over time, since everything happened, I’ve slowly come to the realization that I regret how fast everything went.” Miguel pauses again. He can’t help but wonder what you will think of him. You’ve always been so kind and understanding with him but this might change your perspective of him. Maybe you’ll think he was selfish, greedy even, to want to have it all. “We met and only two months later, we were married. It all happened so fast and suddenly, we became a family. We were happy for as long as it lasted. A month and a half. That was how long I was married for before… everything happened. I regret it only because I believe she deserved better. I felt that we rushed into things so fast. She had no family, so sometimes I think we just wanted a family, so much that we rushed into marriage. Even though she didn’t know the real me. All of me, at least.”

You nod again, thinking about his wife and the fact that she had no family either.

“She didn’t know that I was from another universe, or that I was Spider-Man. I wanted to tell her but I never had the courage nor the time since everything just happened in the blink of an eye. When Gabriella was in school, we were both at work. She went to her job, while I came back here to Nueva York. She never knew, of course. Then, in the evenings when the three of us were at home, our time was dedicated to Gabriella entirely. She was the center of our worlds. I think, Gabriella was what brought us together the most. Without Gabriella, I think, we would’ve never been together, even if I had been from that universe,” Miguel admits.

“We spent all our time with Gabriella, and we were happy about it. It was as if… That was the only reason we were together, to be parents. Since we spent all our time with Gabriella, that hardly left any time for us as a marriage. By the time we had some moments for ourselves at night, when Gabriella was tucked in for bedtime, we’d be tired from the day’s activities. So, it was never a good time to talk to her about being Spider-Man, or that I was from another universe. We didn’t even make time for ourselves. We never…” Miguel looks down at his mug, embarrassed. “We were never intimate. Just a peck here and there. And I’ve come to realized, we loved the idea of a marriage because of the companionship and Gabriella, because of being a family. I had feelings for her, and I know she did, too. We loved each other but not in a romantic sense. She told me...” Miguel trails off, remembering that dream, or experience, he still doesn’t know what to call it, from when he died for a few minutes almost a year ago.

Miguel sighs, and maybe it’s due to exhaustion, or maybe he just wants everything to be out of his chest once and for all because he tells you all about it. He tells you how he saw Gabriella, Gabriel, his wife, and the other Miguel. He tells you how he apologized to everyone and what they said to him. His eyes flicker to you as he tells you that his family kept telling him to come back because you were calling him.

You gulp softly and nod at this, your eyes growing teary as you remember that early morning when you thought Miguel was really gone.

“Gabriella and Gabriel kept telling me to come back. That you were calling me,” Miguel says quietly.

“I was…” you whisper. “I kept calling your name and I… prayed to your loved ones that they’d send you back.”

Miguel smiles weakly at you. “Seems like they heard your prayers.”

You chuckle softly and wipe at your eyes, before inhaling sharply. “So, you saw them.”

“Yes, including my wife, and she said… we both made the decision, that I hadn’t rushed her into anything she didn’t want to. That perhaps, we had both sensed it would come to an end all too quickly, and that’s why we rushed into it. Yet… I still feel guilty. I feel like I was selfish, that I wanted more, and in wanting more, I dragged her along with me.”

You shake your head softly. “I wasn’t there but… I have no doubt that she was a great woman and very smart. You believing that you ‘dragged’ her into marriage takes away from her character, Miguel. She married you because she wanted to. Even if the two of you didn’t have the opportunity to have your feelings grow deeper, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t love and respect. And you know,” you pause and look at your mug for a few seconds before meeting his gaze again. “I don’t know what you think about your dream - about your experience. Maybe you don’t believe that you actually saw them, but… I think it was real, and it was an opportunity for all of you to say what you wanted, needed, to say. And to me, it sounds like your wife didn’t regret it, nor did she blame you for anything. She was happy, as was Gabriella,” you say softly.

Miguel nods slightly. “They were happy but look where that ended.”

You frown and move slightly closer to him. “We don’t know the real cause,” you remind him gently, as it’s the truth. It has been two years since Miles “threatened” the fate of the multiverse by trying to save Mr. Morales, and the entire situation thankfully ended with him safe and sound. Miles’s universe didn’t collapsed and the fate of the multiverse wasn’t truly jeopardized. It weakened Miguel’s canon theory, but it’s something the society still keeps in mind as neither Miguel nor Lyla have figured out what exactly is the cause for some universes collapsing and others not.

“Right,” Miguel says and sighs, rubbing his forehead. “We don’t know for sure but there’s still a chance that it was my fault, me being there when I wasn’t supposed to.”

You tilt your head to the side slightly. “That would mean your universe would be threatened, too.”

Miguel looks at you, with a frown.

“All of us, spider people, you could say, shouldn’t be here, and yet, it’s been years since you founded the Spider Society and your universe is still standing,” you remind him. “Then, there’s me. I’m staying here in your universe more than I usually am, probably spending as much time as you did in Gabriella’s universe, and your universe is fine. Your presence didn’t lead to what happened, Miguel.”

“Maybe… or maybe it only applies to certain universes. Or maybe, Gabriella was supposed to be Spider-Woman and me being there disrupted something. I don’t know anymore,” he says, looking at the fireplace, sounding tired.

You look up at him, noticing how his beautiful red eyes almost seem to glow thanks to the flames.

“We will figure it out one day,” you reply softly, trying to reassure Miguel. You inch closer to him, knowing that tonight has been emotionally exhausting for him. He’s kept so much tucked away, but at last, he’s unlocked it. “I don’t think it was a disruption, a canon event. It’s something else that we’ve overseen. I refuse to believe that she was meant to be on her own. No child deserves that and what you did… I would’ve done the same,” you whisper to him. “It wasn’t you, Miguel. I wholeheartedly believe that it wasn’t you.”

Miguel’s gaze turns to you, his crimson eyes meeting yours. He sees that you truly believe what you just said. You’re not just saying it to sooth his guilt. You believe it. And the fact that you’ve said that you would’ve done the same, that means so much to him, more than you’ll ever realized.

“Thank you for saying that because for some time… I’ve been wondering if I should’ve left Gabriella alone, even if a different kind of guilt ate at me. I just… I really didn’t want her to suffer. To go from having everything, to nothing.”

“I understand,” you start. “It would’ve eaten me alive to know that I could be doing something for her, so I understand completely. You’re a good person, Miguel,” you say and he looks at you, with doubt in his eyes. “You’re a kind and loving man, and that’s why you did it. Not because you were selfish. You stepped up when Gabriella lost the one person she had in her universe, when she needed someone. Otherwise, her life would’ve been very different. Maybe, it wasn’t going to be horrible, but even then, she deserved more than an okay childhood on her own. Gabriella deserved to continue to have the same things she had before someone took them away from her. And you gave her that. You made her happy and made her feel loved. She didn’t know suffering, pain, or loss. You did what you swore to her biological father. You loved and looked after her because she was yours,” you say softly. “She was your daughter and you were her father. Always will be, no matter what. You were a great father, Miguel,” you whisper. “Still are because you honor her. You still care about her, and you’ve allowed her to be one of your reasons for moving forward.”

Miguel’s eyes close for a few seconds after you finish, a tear escapes from his eyes. Your words bring a certain warmth to his heart. He opens his eyes again, meeting yours before he gives you a small smile. “Thank you, you don’t know… how much that means to me,” he whispers.

You return the small smile and nod, your heart aching for Miguel. “And I believe that wholeheartedly, too,” you whisper. “Thank you for sharing this with me, too. I know it isn’t easy.”

He nods. “It isn’t but talking about it helps. I learned that from someone,” he says quietly, fondly looking at you. He swallows softly. “After everything happened, I was certain I’d never talk about it. It was too painful but… look at me now.”

You smile warmly and nod. Yes, look at him now. You briefly remember the man you met that first day at HQ when you were brought here to Nueva York by Jess. The man you met that day is not the same man in front of you now. “I… I’m really…” you start. Should you?

“What is it?” Miguel asks. “You can tell me.”

“I’m really - really proud of you, Miguel,” you whisper. “I know it’s not easy to, even when you know it’s good to talk about it because it helps. It’s not easy and yet, you’ve done it. I’m really proud of you, and just know, I’m touched that you trust me enough to share this with me.”

Miguel nods slowly, your words sinking in. You’re proud of him.

“And you should be proud of yourself, too,” you continue with a little smile. “You’ve kept your promise to your family and I have no doubt that they’re happy to see you go through with it. For them.”

“I hope so,” he replies. “I really hope so, even though sometimes I think I don’t deserve to move forward and live life, because they didn’t get the chance to.”

Your lips purse in disappointment and yet, a part of you understands why Miguel thinks this way.

“I used to think that way, too. About Peter’s death,” you say softly, earning yourself a frown from him.

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says gently.

“I know that now but I used to tell myself I could’ve saved him if only I had been quicker, smarter, better… That I could’ve given him some minutes - minutes that could’ve saved his life. You know… I cut ties with my previous friends with the exception of one. They cut contact with me after Peter’s death but,” you pause, looking at your mug for a second. “The reason why I did it was because of that guilt,” you confess for the first time. Miguel’s brows furrow. “I believed that if I couldn’t save my partner, then, I probably couldn’t save my friends. I believed they were better off without me, so I cut ties with them little by little until they stopped calling and showing up… Until I became someone they used to know.”

“Y/N…” Miguel whispers, his heart aching for you because how could you ever believe that? Anyone that has you in their life is lucky. He is lucky.

“Peter made me promise to try to move forward. And I’ve tried, but there were so many days, especially in the beginning, when I wondered why should I when he didn’t get to? I believed it was my fault, my failure. I thought I failed him… so why should I try to move forward and have a life when I failed to give him the same chance?” you ask with a sigh. “But Peter asked me to… For him,” you continue, eyes softening. “And even though it didn’t make losing him easier, I realized I could live and love for the two of us… And maybe, Peter believed that in the end, too, and it was part of the reason why he asked that of me, on top of the fact that he was an unselfish man and he probably didn’t want me to shut down completely the way I did anyway,” you say sadly yet feeling fondly of Peter.

“It doesn’t make it easier but, you trying to move forward will be for you and for them, too. You can love the world like little Gabriella did. Smile and laugh like Gabriel did, with his cheeky smile and everything,” you say, which causes Miguel to breath out a short chuckle, his eyes filling up with tears. “You can honor your loved ones by the way you live your life. As they would live it, if they had a chance.” You nod at him, tears swelling in your eyes as well. “They don’t want you to think that way, Miguel. And if you needed a sign, your dream, or this experience you had, is exactly that confirmation. They don’t want you to think or live that way. And… neither do I. Nor everyone else in the Spider Society who cares about you, Miguel, because believe it or not, there’s a lot of people that care about you.”

Miguel nods gently. He feels tears threatening to spill over your kind and warm words.

“Thank you,” he says, still holding on to his mug. Your words really do mean so much to him. “Thank you for sharing that with me, about Peter. And thank you for the words, they… Make me see things differently,” Miguel admits. “I also want to tell you, that I’m relieved you no longer think like that because it wasn’t your fault,” Miguel continues, feeling heartache about this. It kills him to find out that you felt like that when you were all alone and you had no one to tell you that it wasn’t true. He wishes he could’ve been there to assure you that you had done everything you could’ve. “And, also, I want you to know that everyone who has or ever had you in their life, is lucky.” Miguel looks at you, a soft expression on his face. “I know I’m lucky to have you in my life. It’s a privilege, Y/N. Never forget that,” he says gently.

You smile warmly at him as you wipe some tears away. “Likewise, Miguel,” you whisper.

After such a conversation, Miguel and you sit close to each other in silence. You give each other time to collect yourselves, together. About ten minutes later, you notice Miguel drinking from his mug. It’s been a while since you served the canelita, so you’re certain his drink must be cold by now.

You nod towards Miguel’s mug. “I can get you some more. Whatever you have left is probably really cold, here,” you say standing up, offering your hand to take it.

Miguel reluctantly gives you the mug, feeling like you’re doing too much for him but before he can say anything, you take the mug from him and walk to the kitchen to get him more. You come back quickly, holding his mug with warm canelita and a small plate with pan dulce. You take a seat on the floor again after handing him his mug and placing the plate on the coffee table.

“I brought some pan dulce. I don’t know if you want some,” you offer.

Miguel nods before he places his mug on the coffee table, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the floor, too. He leans his back on the couch for support, sitting about three feet away from you. You notice the blanket and your sweatshirt came along with him, and both things now rest on his lap. You weren’t expecting for him sit down on the ground with you but you say nothing about it, and instead, you offer him a napkin for the bread.

The two of you eat small pieces of Mexican bread called garibaldis, a kind of pan dulce that you’ve noticed Miguel really enjoys. Typically, the two of you would eat it with coffee but due to the time and moment, you eat with canelita instead.

Once Miguel finishes his, he drinks from his mug. It’s so warm and sweet, so comforting. He turns to look at you just as you finish yours. He suddenly remembers how you told him earlier that you would’ve known about him having a nightmare anyway, even if he had closed the bedroom door.

“Earlier, you said that you would’ve known I was having a nightmare regardless of my bedroom door being closed or not. How come?”

You place your napkin on the coffee table. “It was my spidey senses,” you say simply because at this point, you believe the two of you need no further explanation. There’s a connection that allows you, and Miguel it seems, to sense things about each other, like how he sensed something was happening a few weeks ago when your building caught on fire. Neither of you know how it works though the two of you have silently wondered about it. You’ve specifically wondered if it will develop more, whether you’ll be able to sense more deeply as time goes on, and whether that will apply to Miguel as well.

Miguel hums in response. He had a feeling that was going to be your answer. The connection. The bond. It’s so comforting to him, no longer scary like it once used to.

You nod, wondering now. It’s the first time your spidey senses have warned you about one of his nightmares. Otherwise, this wouldn’t be the first night like this. You would’ve tried to be here for Miguel so much sooner if you had been warned other times. You wonder if you were only able to sense it tonight because you’re in the same universe as him. Maybe the first time this connection presented itself across the multiverse was because he was in legit danger and that’s why you sensed it. It would make sense why you’ve failed to sense his nightmares, as he’s not in real danger.

You take a drink from your mug. If that’s the case and you can’t sense his nightmares unless you’re here in Nueva York… You turn to look at Miguel as you place your mug back on the table. You don’t want Miguel to spend another night like this alone. Ever. You consider asking him something right now but decide against. You can ask him in a few hours, or maybe at a better time.

“How… how often do you have them?” you ask Miguel softly.

He stays silent for a few seconds. “This is the first one since the beginning of the year. They’ve decreased over the last few months. Sometimes it’s just two or three times a month but I used to have them daily those first weeks when - I came back and was still making an effort to sleep.”

You nod but don’t ask anything else. You don’t want to ask more just in case Miguel isn’t ready. You’re relieved that his nightmares have lessened at least but you wish he didn’t have them at all anymore.

Miguel contemplates telling you more. He’s already shared a fair amount and maybe it’s too much for one night alone.

“You know I’m here, right?” you ask softly. “I’m here for you. If you want to talk, we can talk. Or if you want silence, then we can sit here in silence. If you want music, I can put some for us. You just - tell me and I’ll do it,” you tell him, as if sensing that he wants to share more.

Miguel nods and leans further back into the couch. You do the same. Maybe he does want silence after all, and you’re more than fine with that. You’ll offer him whatever he needs, no questions asked.

“May I tell you about the nightmares and about that last day?” he asks quietly as if there’s any chance that you’d tell him no.

“If you want to, I’ll listen,” you respond gently, facing him.

Miguel nods, preparing himself mentally and emotionally, though a large part of him feels like he can do this. He can talk about it with you.

“They started the first night I was back. After losing them and watching an entire universe cease to exist before my eyes… I was exhausted in every way possible. I tried to sleep but it only lasted for about an hour before I woke up,” Miguel starts, his voice low. “The first nightmare was when she… When she was just gone from my arms, like she never existed. Like, she was all part of my imagination. As if I hadn’t brushed her hair that morning and made sure she had everything in her backpack after packing her lunch. She was so excited.”

Miguel brushes his fingers over your sweatshirt’s sleeves.

“We started the day like any other. There was no sign of danger. Nothing that could’ve warned me.” Miguel looks away, a look of disbelief in his face. “She was going to have soccer practice after school. She was so excited,” Miguel whispers. “It was a normal day - a perfect day - and then it all changed. I was suddenly running, carrying her in my arms and I had no idea what was happening. I was trying to figure it out in my head, while simultaneously telling myself that I would do anything **to keep her safe. To keep her alive. I was more than ready to give my life if it meant that she lived.”

Miguel sighs heavily, holding tight to your sweatshirt. “She called for me. I held her in my arms and she kept calling up to me. Her sweet voice was filled with fear and all I could do was run and run through the city hoping, praying to something, anything, to protect her. To keep her alive. To let her live and experience life. To grow up and make memories, have experiences. And then… she was gone. My hands were empty. The only sign that there had been someone in them to begin with was her warmth,” Miguel whispers. “Until that warmth faded, and there was truly nothing. Nothing but memories and her cries of fear in those last seconds before she - before she was gone.”

A heaviness settles in your chest as you listen to Miguel. His tone and face expression - it breaks your heart. You stare at him, a genuine look of empathy etched on your face, the kind that makes Miguel feel like you can understand him and his emotions.

“That’s usually my nightmare. That moment. Over and over again. Sometimes, it’s both my wife and Gabriella disappearing and I’m unable to move or do anything. All I can do is watch as they both yell for my help.” Miguel takes a moment to collect himself. “Tonight’s… Gabriella was upset with me. She was angry that I lied. That I didn’t tell her what happened to her biological father. That I pretended to be her father. And I just kept begging her to forgive me,” Miguel says as he recalls his nightmare. “And then, she left. She didn’t want to see me anymore.”

You nod slowly, heart aching. You can see the pain and heartache on his face. Hear it in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Miguel,” you whisper gently, meaning it.

“I was going to tell her when she was older but it was a fear I had. That she would hate me for it and want nothing to do with me,” he admits.

“I don’t think she would’ve hated you,” you tell him. “It would’ve been a shock of course but you are her father. Took care of her, loved her. She would’ve never walked away from her second father.”

“I don’t know,” Miguel says. “Maybe she would’ve.”

“I know we can’t be certain but you always tell me how sweet she was. How smart and caring she was. How much she loved you. She would’ve grieved her biological father but I think she would’ve also understood your decision and realized, you meant to do well.”

With a little smile, Miguel nods. “She was sweet, so sweet and caring. And so smart… Maybe you’re right. She would’ve been upset about Miguel, her biological father, rightfully so. Maybe after some time, she would’ve forgiven me. At least I hope so…” Miguel says holding his mug, pondering this. It was something that kept him up sometimes while he was in Gabriella’s universe.

“Do you mind, telling me more about her?” you ask gently, hoping that maybe by talking about Gabriella, about the beautiful moments he shared with her, you might be able to sooth Miguel.

“Yes,” he replies, grateful to talk about Gabriella. After a few seconds, he decides to show you what little pictures he has. “Lyla, can you please show pictures of Gabi?”

Three seconds later, a hologram screen appears between Miguel and you, displaying a photo of Gabriella alone. She’s holding up a soccer ball, smiling at the camera with the sweetest smile. The sight makes you smile immediately, something that Miguel notices.

He stares at you, watching your smile. He can’t help but smile softly before he returns his eyes to Gabriella, though the mere sight of you smiling at a photo of his daughter creates a different kind of warmth to spread across his chest.

“She loved soccer. I’ve mentioned it already but she - she was an amazing player. So passionate. So dedicated. Not just for soccer either. She loved school and always had good grades. I thought she’d have her moments, you know,” Miguel says quietly, staring at the photo. He doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he feels tears roll down his face. He hastily wipes them away. “But she surprised me. She was so eager to complete her homework. She was so smart and I - I have no doubt that she would’ve accomplished amazing things,” Miguel adds, eyes glistening. Miguel sighs quietly, wiping his eyes with his free hand.

“She loved bees,” Miguel continues, which reminds him of one particular moment. “One time she saved one. You should’ve seen her. She was so worried about it dying that she took care of the bee until it was able to fly again. It was all she could talk about during soccer practice,” Miguel says smiling fondly. “She loved the color lilac. It was one of her favorite colors. She loved the guitar… The one I always offer for Dia de los Muertos. She could play it,” Miguel tells you. “She used to sing this song… ‘Luna de Xelajú” it was called. She loved it but she loved so many other songs. She liked to sing in the car,” Miguel goes on as he remembers more and more things about Gabriella that he’s kept tucked away in his memories.

As Miguel talks, the photos have been changing. As he comes to a pause, the last photo changes to a short video of Gabriella running on a field. She runs to the camera, smiling.

“I did it, daddy!” she says happily and a knot instantly forms in your throat. You clear your throat softly, feeling the loss for someone you never met but yet, know so much about. The video ends and switches to another photo. It’s a much closer photo of Gabriella, her face is relaxed as she smiles. You stare at her eyes, at the beautiful deep shade of brown you’re sure Miguel once had. The sight of sweet and innocent Gabriella stirs something in you, and before you know it, you lift a hand, as if to caress Gabriella’s face. It’s too late by the time you notice, and you instantly regret it, fearing that this might upset Miguel - that this gesture might trigger memories that are still painful for him.

However, Miguel’s eyes soften at the gesture. That warmth in his chest grows. “She likes you,” he says before he realizes.

You turn to look at Miguel as you put your arm down, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly.

Miguel stares at the photo, avoiding your eyes as he realizes what he’s said but it’s too late now to take it back. After a few seconds of silence, Miguel speaks.

“My nightmares have decreased over the months. I think it’s because…” he trails off as his fingers find your sweatshirt again and you understand. “Thanks to you. So on some nights, I have normal dreams. I dream of them. Of my family. I dream of Gabriel and Gabriella very often. My mom and my wife appear sometimes but it’s mostly Gabriel and Gabi. Sometimes,” Miguel says pausing as he continues to stare at the photo. “I dream about you as well. With them.” Miguel stops and glances at you, trying to gauge your reaction, wondering if you’ll be weirded out by that. Yet, when he turns to look at you, he finds a warm smile on your face and he realizes, you’re not upset about it. If anything, your smile would suggest you find it endearing.

“Really?” you ask softly. “I wish I could’ve met them in real life.”

“I do, too,” Miguel says, leaning slightly closer as if he’s about to share a secret. And in a way, he guesses it is a secret because just like his nightmares, Miguel has kept the good dreams to himself, too. Until now, of course, because as photos and videos of Gabriella and him play between you, Miguel tells you about his dreams.

He shares that you’ve played dolls with Gabriella and that in one dream, she asked him if you could do her hair because only you could achieve a specific hairstyle she wanted for one of her soccer matches. He doesn’t tell you how he woke up smiling about that particular dream because the sight of you doing Gabriella’s hair was too sweet, too endearing for him even in just a dream.

He tells you how the two of you and Gabriel have talked over café de olla, though he cannot remember the conversations themselves. Miguel even tells you about one dream in which his younger brother was teasing him but you backed up Miguel, which makes you chuckle softly. He almost tells you that Gabriel seems to treat you like a sister but that would probably be too much, so he doesn’t share that.

“They both really like you. I would say… they love you,” Miguel says once he’s done sharing some of his dreams. “I truly have no doubt they would’ve if they were alive.”

That makes you smile warmly at him before you look at the photos again. “I hope you don’t mind me telling you this, and maybe it’s strange, but despite not having the opportunity to meet them… I care about them, and I mean it when I say I wish I could’ve met them.” You decide to leave it only at “caring” and avoid telling Miguel that you actually love his family because it might be too much.

At your words, your honesty, Miguel smiles softly. He’s touched that you care about two of the most important people in his life. He’s also almost sure that you’re holding something back, just from looking at your face.

“You wanted to say something else,” he says.

You turn to look at him again and smile sheepishly. “Sometimes I’m still amazed at how well you can read me. Peter used to do that, too, and it never ceased to amaze me,” you reply as you glance down at your nearly empty mug of canelita. “You are right… I was going to say that I love your family, Gabriel and Gabriella, but that probably sounds weird since I never met them.”

“They’d love you, too.” That makes you look up and Miguel continues. “They probably do from wherever they are, based on that dream from almost a year ago,” Miguel says gently, meaning it. He believes it. They already love you in his dreams, so he has no doubt they probably do from wherever they are.

Miguel’s words not only warm your heart, but also your cheeks. You smile warmly at him. “That… that’s really sweet of you, thank you.”

“I mean it,” Miguel says, his head tilting to the side as he looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since he woke up. You’re in your pajamas, looking so comfortable and cozy. You were probably sleeping so peacefully, with your arms wrapped around a pillow like you always do before you woke up due to him. “It’s really late,” Miguel says. “You must be tired. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Are you sleepy?” you ask, a part of you hoping he is, so that he can get some rest after how much he has shared tonight. You watch Miguel carefully, trying to figure out how he’s feeling.

“Even if I’m not, you should get some sleep yourself. You don’t have to stay up,” Miguel says, meaning it because your presence alone in the penthouse is calming to him.

“I don’t want to - leave you alone,” you confess quietly.

Miguel’s face softens at your words. He gives you a small smile. “The fact that you’re here in the penthouse alone makes me feel better. You can go to sleep if you want, really,” he says softly but you shake your head.

“If you stay up, I stay up with you. You don’t have to talk to me, or even acknowledge me but just… let me stay with you. I can’t stand the mere thought of you alone, Miguel… I don’t want you to ever be alone on nights like these again, so I dare ask you something that might be too much but, just consider it, please,” you say, gently. You’ve hardly ever asked anything of Miguel and tonight, you dare to. “Whenever you have nightmares, I ask that you get me. I don’t care where I am. Here in Nueva York or in my universe, but please reach out to me. I’ll come to you if you’d prefer. Or you can go to my apartment, just… You don’t have to be alone, Miguel,” you say, looking at him and hoping that he’ll consider it.

Miguel gulps softly at your words, at the way you’re staring at him so fondly, so tenderly. It’s a look that makes it impossible for him to reject you and your request. You could ask anything of him with that look on your face and he’d do it. So he nods his head at you and you smile warmly at him, happy that Miguel’s letting you stay with him and that he’s agreeing to what you’ve asked.

“Okay…” he says. “I will but I really don’t want to wake you up.”

You shake your head. “I don’t care. Please don’t hesitate. Please… promise me you will?” you ask so softly your voice is barely audible.

Miguel nods, looking at you with the same tenderness you have on your face. “Alright… I promise.”

After Miguel’s promise, the two of you spend another hour in his living room, just sitting next to each other within short distance. At some point, you stand up to get more canelita for the two of you to drink. There’s moments of silence, but they’re comfortable ones. Then, there’s moments when you talk. Eventually, you happily notice that Miguel begins to look sleepy, giving you hope that he can get a little sleep before sunrise.

“Do you want to head upstairs?”

Miguel shakes his head. He doesn’t want to go upstairs right now.

“You’re growing sleepy.” You say this as a matter of fact and Miguel knows it. He’s getting sleepy, which is a first for him on a night like this. He has no doubt it’s because you’re here with him. “Do you want to… lie here?” you ask looking at the ground.

That makes Miguel raise an eyebrow slightly. Are you suggesting that he sleeps on the ground with you nearby?

“I’ll stay here with you,” you continue. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Miguel declines but twenty minutes later, you can tell he’s growing more sleepy so you try again. You grab a pillow from the couch and offer it to him. “Lie down at least.”

Miguel takes the pillow with a sigh and then to encourage him, you grab one for yourself. You gently push the coffee table away from the two of you until it reaches the other couch, the one where you always sit at, so that there’s enough space for the two of you to stretch out. You place your pillow on the floor and then lay down.

Miguel peers down at you as he remains sitting, holding the pillow. You’re really trying to get him to sleep, even taking initiative. So, Miguel places his pillow down and lays down slowly. He lays on his back and stares at the ceiling for a few seconds. He’s never done this before. He’s never laid on his living room floor like this. He turns his head to look at you. You’re on your back, too, staring at the ceiling.

With a soft sigh, Miguel rolls on his side, facing you. He feels your blanket shift over him, reminding him that he still has it. He grabs it and extends it, letting it fall over your body to keep both of you warm.

Your lips threaten to curl upwards at the gesture, but you successfully refrain from doing so. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Miguel whispers as the two of you now lay on the same floor, under the same blanket with about two feet of distance.

As you lay there, you place your hand in the space between the two of you. Your pinky is pointed at him. A silent offering.

You both remain quiet for several minutes and just when you start to think that Miguel fell asleep, you feel it. His pinky wraps around yours gently without warning. You stay still, looking at the ceiling without saying anything. You simply enjoy the way his pinky feels wrapped around yours. After about two minutes or so, you roll on your side, facing him, too.

Miguel blinks slowly at you. He’s quickly giving in to his sleep but despite that, he’s reminded of a realization he had not too long ago. On Valentine’s Day.

You’re not only his friend, or close friend.

You’re his best friend.

As he thinks about it again while staring at you, Miguel’s cheeks turn pink. He hasn’t had a best friend since Gabriel, but that’s changed. He has you. His cheeks grow warmer as he knows what that means. Not only did you walk past his walls of defense - you also managed to slipped into a person’s most emotionally sensitive part - his heart. And the last time someone took residence in it, he lost them. He’s lost everyone that has ever meant something to him. Everyone he’s ever loved.

And he doesn’t want to lose you, too, because he doesn’t know if he could take it. Another loss. He can’t lose you because he… loves you. His best friend.

Miguel blinks sleepily at you. He gives your pinky a gentle hug, a squeeze. “Thank you for being here with me,” he whispers gently.

“Always,” you whisper back. You smile tenderly at him before you continue, whispering in the dead of night. “You’re not alone, Miguel. You don’t have to be anymore.”

He nods, a hint of a smile on his sleepy features. “Did you know…”

You raise an eyebrow, watching as Miguel slowly but surely gives in to his sleep. His eyes close more, his eyelids growing heavy.

“You’re my best…” Miguel starts but he falls asleep before he finishes his statement.

You stare at him as he finally gives in to sleep. He has such a gentle expression on his face, so peaceful. Meanwhile, your heart beats wildly against your chest as his words sink in. He was about to admit it out loud. That you’re his friend. No, his best friend.

You smile to yourself, a few tears forming in your eyes. Miguel considers you his best friend, just like you consider him yours. Tears roll down your face, over your nose and onto your other eye because of the way you’re laying on the ground. You wipe them away carefully.

It’s been a while since you’ve had a best friend, since Peter. You sniffle quietly and continue to smile as you look at Miguel, at your best friend. Your eyes flicker to your pinkies, still curled around each other’s, like a hug.

Shortly after, as you’re about to fall asleep, you feel Miguel shift in his sleep. You open your eyes just as his hand moves entirely over yours. His pinky is now wedged between your pinky and ring finger. His middle and ring fingers rest between your index finger and thumb. His forefinger is wrapped around the base of your thumb. His own thumb lays over your wrist, right where your pulse is located. Besides his thumb, the rest of his hand is curled around yours, protectively.

And for the first ever, you allow yourself to touch him. Just for this night.

You curl your fingers around his and as you doze off, you swear his gentle grip tightens ever so slightly.

—

Miguel sleeps with a peaceful expression on his face. You watch over him as the hours tick by. You fall asleep a few times during the night but always wake up to still find the sight of Miguel sleeping. Your hold on each other never loosens up, or at least you don’t think so, as each time you wake up, Miguel’s gentle grip and yours is the same.

At around 6am, Lyla appears above you. You blink, for a second wondering if you’re imagining her due to your sleepy state, but she moves closer and you know she’s real. She shows you a holographic sign.

“Do I wake him up?” she asks through the sign.

You think about it for a few seconds, turning to look at Miguel to your left. Your gaze takes in his soft and relaxed expression. A strand of hair has fallen over his forehead at some point while you’ve slept, and for about two seconds, you consider pushing it back gently but decide against it. Your ears register his breathing, slow and even, and when you look down at where his chest should be under the blanket, there’s a gentle rise. The warmth from his hand is strong and delightful and of course, there’s the feeling of his hand alone. Your palms are facing each other, his fingers are curled around your hand, his pinky wrapped around yours securely. Never faltering.

You sigh softly as you continue to watch Miguel. While living with him, you’ve learned that he wakes up at 6am every day but due to the night he’s had, you don’t have it in your heart to wake him up. Not yet. You decide he could really use at least one more hour.

You turn to Lyla, who has been watching you the entire time, noticing your tender and lingering gaze on her boss. It’s a sight, the way you watch Miguel. There’s never been any doubt in her mind that you care about him but if there was, this night would’ve erased it. For so long, Miguel has handled his nightmares on his own. And, there’s never been a single night that Miguel managed to find sleep either, but for the first time, he sleeps peacefully after a nightmare. Tonight, there was no sitting alone in his bedroom for hours before moving to the living room and sitting in the darkness.

There was no pacing around the penthouse on his own. No, tonight Miguel had a companion after a nightmare. He had a warm drink made for him and that same person sat near him in companionship, made him feel calm and warm, kept him grounded to the present despite talking about the past. It’s been clear to Lyla that you care about Miguel deeply, as he cares about you.

You shake your head at last, and mouth a “no” that Lyla immediately catches. She understands. Miguel ought to sleep a little longer. She nods and gives you a little thumbs up, watching for a few more seconds as you turn to look at Miguel again. She watches as you place your free arm under your head for a little more support, getting comfortable. She notices your eyes closing and silently nods to herself. You need sleep, too. You both do. Her eyes move to the joined hands in between the humans’ bodies. That’s a sight, too, one worthy of… She takes a snap and then flickers out, knowing her presence is not needed, for the humans have each other.

You wake up about forty minutes later. You remain in the same position as you watch the sun slowly come up in Nueva York. Gentle streams of sunlight enter the penthouse since the blinds are not fully drawn. Their presence is warm and comforting. A glance at your gizmo tells you it’s almost 7am.

You look over at Miguel. He’s still sleeping with his head on the pillow. Your blanket is up to his collarbone. There’s still that little strand of hair over his forehead. There’s the sun’s rays, the light softly cascading over him in some areas like parts of his hair and cheek. He looks so peaceful. So beautiful without a trace of worries or pain.

You can’t help but continue to watch him without guilt or worry about doing so. You let yourself admire him openly.

Miguel is a sight for sore eyes.

You look away at last and notice the time. Less than eight minutes before 7am. You’ll be waking up Miguel soon because you know he’ll still want to go to HQ, probably to try and make his day a normal one like he always does. You silently decide that you’ll stay near him today, and that you’ll be extra attentive to make his day a little better.

You send a quick message to Gwen through your gizmo, asking for a small favor and then wait it out. You relish the few minutes left of this moment. Miguel’s hand is still over yours. His gentle grip has grown firmer while you’ve both slept.

You cherish the few minutes left, the warmth of his hand, the vulnerability of it all but all too soon, you feel Miguel shift in his sleep. You glance at him, noticing his body move for the first time since he fell asleep. His eyes flutter open, bringing you into focus. He gazes at you sleepily. Something in his chest sparks - glows - at the sight of you near him.

He becomes aware of the way his hand is positioned, of the way he’s holding on to your hand, quite quickly because he feels your warm and gentle skin against his. And yet, he doesn’t make an effort to let go.

You don’t think about it much. He’s probably still in a sleepy state and the realization hasn’t fully hit him. Or maybe, just maybe, Miguel is okay with it. You silently hope that it’s the latter.

“Good morning,” you whisper gently as Miguel’s eyes flutter a few more times, slowly waking up.

“Good morning,” he replies, his voice sleepy and deep.

You offer a small smile. “Do you feel a little rested?”

Miguel nods. “I do. More than I usually do… Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s…” you pause and check your gizmo, “two minutes before seven.”

Miguel nods but then he raises an eyebrow, realizing. “I’m going to be late. Lyla-”

“She asked but I told her not to,” you tell him gently, making him pause. “I thought an hour of sleep would be good… I hope you don’t mind.”

Miguel stares at you, his eyes gazing into yours. “Did you manage to sleep a little?” he asks and you nod, relieving him. “I’m glad… I know this was probably not comfortable, sleeping on the floor.” Miguel pauses, his eyes looking above you for a few seconds before they return to you. “I don’t mind that you allowed me sleep one more hour since you got some sleep, too. Thank you,” he says gently.

You nod and the two of you remain like that for a few seconds, savoring the quietness and peace of the moment, of this morning after everything. Miguel recognizes it. It’s such an intimate moment, one unlike any other. A part of him recognizes he’s never done something like this. He’s never slept on the living room’s floor, much less with someone. His mind goes back to a few hours, how the two of you sat on the floor and drank canelita while he talked about everything in the dimly lit room.

It’s the first time for Miguel to be in such an intimate, vulnerable situation like that.

He looks at your joined hands and suddenly realizes, he probably ought to let go now… He ought to but Miguel doesn’t want to. He’s actually okay with this. More than okay, really. He’s fine with it. Scratch that, he’s content and comfortable with it. Yet, he ought to let go now because maybe your hand, or your entire arm, is tired from being in this position for so long.

“We should probably get ready for the day,” Miguel starts, breaking the silence at last, even though he’s really enjoying this moment.

You nod slowly, understanding it’s time to get started with the day. At least you’ve managed to let him sleep a little longer - at least he’s slept after one of his nightmares at all. You smile softly and nod again.

“Yeah, we probably should. If you want to head upstairs and take a shower while I do some things.”

Miguel nods at that. Right, a shower. He always showers in the morning and then again in the evening.

You’re both in understanding then, it’s time to start the day. It’s time to get up and get going, and yet, neither of you initiate the process. Neither of you pull your hand away, or even move your body. You both continue to lay on the ground facing each other, hands joined, staring everywhere except at each other.

“GOOD MORNING, SLEEPYHEADS!”

Miguel and you jump slightly, instantly retrieving your hands from each other’s due to Lyla’s sudden appearance between you. She watches you both sit up. She can’t help but snort to herself at the sight, thinking to herself that you both needed a little nudge that she was more than happy to provide. It was that, or painfully watch the way you were agreeing it was time to get going without actually wanting to part from each other. She silently judges the two of you. It’s clear you were both more than comfortable with the physical touch but neither of you want to admit it. She shakes her head lightly and sighs.

“I hope you both slept well,” she comments, inspecting a hand with a grin. “I hear your little task is going well, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow at that before you remember. “Oh, right. Thank you.”

That makes Miguel raise an eyebrow of his own at you, wondering what this “little task” is. You shake your head and stretch slightly just as Lyla disappears again, her mission accomplished.

“It’s a little treat but a surprise, so I’m not saying anything. As soon as we’re ready, we head out,” you tell him with a little smile, hoping that the small gesture cheers him up a bit.

Miguel sighs but he gives you a small, barely there smile. “Alright, I won’t ask then. I guess I’ll go get ready,” he says standing up, hearing and feeling his bones crack in multiple places from sleeping on the floor. He’s probably going to feel the ache later. The two of you are probably, Miguel realizes, as he turns to look at you. He steps closer, towering over you as you remain sitting on the floor. He extends a hand.

You look up, eyebrows slightly raised as you look from his face to his large hand. He’s offering a hand to help you up. You gulp subtly. It’s not that Miguel never offers a physical hand when it’s needed. He lends a hand when it’s necessary but the suits are always in between. It’s never skin to skin, so looking at his extended, bare hand now, you can’t help but question how uncomfortable he’ll be about it just for the sake of being a gentleman because if there’s something about Miguel, it’s that he’s a gentleman without question. And sure, your hands were just touching but Miguel was sleeping so it was more of an unconscious gesture, or at least that’s how you see it.

“Is that… okay?” you ask, looking into his eyes for any discomfort.

He nods. “Yes,” he says softly, his hand still extended for you.

“I can… I’m alright. You should head upstairs and get ready,” you reply gently with a little smile. He’s a gentleman but you don’t have to accept and make him uncomfortable.

Miguel blinks, immediately figuring out what you’re doing. He keeps his hand stretched out. “Are you really going to leave my hand hanging?” he asks, not upset but rather amused and touched by your reluctance. He knows you, so well. You’re declining it for his sake. “Vamos, let me help you up. It’s the least I can do,” Miguel gently says, trying to coax you. [Let's go/ Come on.]

You bite the inside of your cheek.

“I think this is the longest anyone has ever kept my hand waiting,” Miguel says in a light teasing tone, still waiting for you to take his hand.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration before looking up at him. You’re giving him an out so he doesn’t make more physical touch than he has already. You search his face quickly, trying to find any discomfort but you find none. There is no discomfort. There’s not a trace or hint on his face that he’d prefer for you to reject his gesture.

You slowly reach out, feeling like time slows down as the distance between your hands decreases. You both watch as your hand reaches his at last, your fingers laying over his own tentatively. He tugs on your hand, his fingers folding your own until they’re tucked in his. When he feels the back of your fingers meet his palm, he then rests his thumb over your knuckles.

Feeling that you’re secure, Miguel gently pulls you, helping you onto your feet. You quickly loosen your grip, which was already loose to begin with, and gently pull your hand from his. You pretend to stretch again but your arm actually pops causing you to wince. You silently tell yourself that’s what you get for pretending.

“Thank you,” you say stretching said arm. “I’m going to… make some coffee.”

Miguel nods, his arm falling to his side. “I’ll be upstairs taking a shower.”

“Alright,” you reply, nodding, before you turn around and head to the kitchen.

Miguel nods, too, before he turns around himself and begins to head upstairs. He flexes his hand as he walks up the stairs, his suit activating from his wrist down to his fingertips for about three seconds before it flickers away. The sensation of your hand in his lingers all the way to his bathroom until he pushes the thought away to shower.

When Miguel steps out of the shower, he dries himself down and wraps a towel around his waist before approaching the double vanity sinks. He approaches the one he’s been using for years, the one he chose when he first moved into the place. He glances to the other one for a second, finding it empty as always before he retrieves what he needs. He begins to quickly but carefully shave off what little stubble he has. Miguel was going to do it last night but he put it off, thinking he could do it today after his morning shower, but of course, he had no idea what the night would be like.

Despite waking up later than he’s used to and possibly being tardy to HQ, Miguel shaves his face carefully to avoid any nicks or cuts. Once he’s done, Miguel washes his face to remove all product residue. He splashes lukewarm water onto his face, thinking about everything that happened over the night up to this morning. He slowly lifts his face, facing himself in the mirror. Droplets of water run down his face and splatter onto the sink. Miguel can’t help but notice a slight difference. He didn’t truly recognize the man staring back at him last night - hasn’t for a while. He couldn’t bear the sight, couldn’t stand to look into his own eyes.

He blinks now and stares. He looks right into his eyes and faces himself, truly, for the first time in years. And he finds, that for once, he can hold his own gaze without faltering.

Miguel’s past has tasted bitter for years. He’s carried and fought memories all on his own. He’s been cold and distant, and he’s built walls around himself for years. After losing Gabriella and his wife, there was no doubt in Miguel’s mind that his life was only meant for his job, to protect the fate of the multiverse. He believed that he was meant for nothing more. Not even friends.

But Miguel now knows that he’s wrong, and it won’t be the first nor last time he’ll be wrong about something.

Miguel frowns slightly as he finds a spot he missed entirely. He takes care of it, briefly remembering the one time you shaved his face almost a year ago. Miguel’s movements slow down as he remembers that day. He couldn’t move his arms too much that day due to the injuries and he mentioned wanting to shave the previous day, so you offered to do it the next day after his shower.

Miguel’s lips curl upwards at the memory. You seemed nervous about it, even asking him if you were doing okay because you were worried about hurting him but you did a fantastic job and he had no nicks or cuts by the end of it. As he places his razor down, he’s reminded of those days again and he’s struck by the fact that no one has ever looked after him in that way before you, not so intimately.

Miguel sighs and rinses his face again before he dries it off. He stares at himself in the mirror again. It’s morning and he’s made it past another night, this time with you by his side. He’s shared yet another part of his life, one of the most heartbreaking ones. One he once believed he’d never be able to talk about with anyone, but he has. Miguel turns to the side, towards the window.

His heart feels lighter. More than it has in a long time. He turns back to the mirror and meets his own eyes.

He made the promise almost a year ago to his deceased loved ones. The promise that he’d move forward, and he’s been trying.

“I’ll continue to try. I’ll try and be good on it. For all of you,” Miguel whispers as images of his loved flash in his mind. His wife, Gabriel, and his little Gabriella. Even for his mother and the other Miguel, who told him to take and appreciate the second chance at a different life. Miguel nods at himself, the image of you laying on the living room’s floor facing him just earlier when he woke up flashing in his mind. “For you, too,” Miguel says.

For his best friend.

With one last nod at himself, Miguel leaves the bathroom and quickly gets ready for the day to meet you downstairs. He enters the kitchen just as he puts his gizmo on. He finds you waiting by the counter, ready for the day yourself. You’re already in your suit, all showered and ready. There’s two thermos on the counter, which means coffee won’t be drank at the penthouse today. Miguel remembers suddenly that you have some little thing planned.

“Ready?” you ask with a smile when you notice Miguel.

He nods and walks further into the room. Your smile is a welcoming sight, as always. “I take it we’re leaving now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yep, we have somewhere to be! This is your thermos,” you reply handing him one. “If you’re ready, then we can be off.”

“Alright, I’m ready,” Miguel replies as he holds the thermos.

“Off we go then!”

“No hint as to where we’re going?” he asks.

“You’ll just have to come along with me to find out,” you reply as you lead the way to the living room.

Upon entering the living room, Miguel notices you’ve rearranged everything back. Your blanket is on the couch, neatly folded. Back in its home. The couch pillows are back in their usual places. He turns to look at you and playfully rolls his eyes because only last night he said that to you in this very room when the two of you were watching the telenovela.

“I see,” he replies with a soft frown as you open a portal with your gizmo before he offers you a smile, one that’s so much better than any other he’s offered over the last hours.

“It’s not big but I promise it’s good,” you say as you nod to the portal, gesturing for him to follow you.

And he does, because where wouldn’t he follow you?

The two of you enter the portal and step out into Gwen’s universe, specifically onto an empty rooftop. Miguel glances around but finds no one. Just what did you plan?

You move quickly once you step onto the rooftop, and search before you spot what you’re looking for. Miguel follows you with knitted eyebrows, thermos in his hand. You turn around and show him a takeout bag. His head tilts to the side.

“Follow me,” you say heading straight to the edge of the rooftop where you take a seat, with your legs dangling off the building.

Miguel takes a seat next to you and looks over at you as you open the bag. You hand him a medium size package. Upon touch, it’s warm.

“The best bagels, according to what we know right now, come from this universe,” you tell him as you pull one for yourself. “Go ahead, open it. I ordered you one that I thought you’d like.”

“Bagels… Thank you,” Miguel says slowly grinning at you, touched. The scent of food makes him realize he’s hungry, so he gratefully digs in.

You eat in silence next to each other, taking in the various hues of pink and purple. Miguel suddenly wonders.

“When did you ask Gwen for bagels?”

“Earlier,” you reply with a little smile.

Miguel returns the smile before his face softens. He looks down at his bagel. You definitely know him well because your choice for him is exactly what he would’ve ordered for himself. He looks up again, words forming on his tongue. “Thank you…. Not just for this,” he says, raising his bagel with a little smile. “But for everything else, too. I hope you know that it means a lot to me. Always,” Miguel says sincerely. “Everything means a lot to me.” Miguel pauses, looking up at the sky, thinking. He turns to look at you. “Thank you for not… giving up on me,” he whispers. “Even when I pushed you away in the beginning, when I ignored you and your coffee cups… You didn’t give up on me.”

You look into Miguel’s eyes, your heart racing due to his words. You nod gently. “Thank you for letting me in,” you whisper back.

Miguel gives you a soft smile before it fades a little. He taps one of his thighs with a finger, nervous. “You… You are…” Miguel tries. “You’re my…” He questions why it’s still so hard. The words are right there, right on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said out loud. “You’re my best…”

Your lips part as you hear his words. A few hours ago he almost said them in his sleep and now he’s trying again. Still, you remind yourself to be calm and collected. It’s a start and Miguel has opened so much over the last hours. Much more than he’s used to in such a short amount of time.

“And you’re mine, too,” you say gently, sincerely.

Miguel smiles warmly at that. He nods. “… Friend.”

You smile back and chuckle softly. “You’re my…” you start and then pause because maybe Miguel isn’t ready to hear you say it either, the way he’s not able to say it himself.

Miguel stares at you, watching as you’re about to say it but stopping. He takes a deep breath. He wants to say it. He needs to say it. And he wants to be the first to do so.

You smile at him. “We’ll get there,” you say softly, knowing that one day it will happen.

“I’ve lost a lot of people in my life,” Miguel tells you, holding your gaze. “It made me believe that my life was meant to be lived alone. It’s also made me believe that letting anyone close will end in something happening to them. That I’ll lose them, too.” Your eyebrows furrow as you hear this, at the fact that Miguel believes such a thing but it makes sense why he hasn’t let anyone in for so long. Suddenly, you realize. Is this why he’s found it hard to admit that you’re friends? That you mean something to him?

“It’s why I haven’t been able to say that you and me… What we are,” Miguel continues. “Maybe it’s stupid, but I’ve believed it. For a long time.”

You nod slowly, feeling overwhelmed by this revelation.

“What you said earlier, about living my life the way my loved ones would - it stuck with me. You’re right,” Miguel says nodding. He gives you a determined look. “They would probably tell me, Gabriel specifically, that my belief is foolish. And I think, neither Gabriel nor Gabriella would hesitate to say it, so…” Miguel trails off, finding the motivation from his loved ones to banish his belief once and for all.

“You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready. In due time, Miguel, really. Please take your time,” you say but not even a second later, Miguel speaks.

“You’re my best friend,” Miguel says gently, with a light pink growing on his cheeks.

Your eyes widen a little. You weren’t actually expecting him to say it today and with such ease. You blink several times, feeling flustered all of a sudden for a few seconds before a smile forms on your lips slowly. You hum softly and nod at him, feeling not only proud of him, but something else that stirs within your chest.

“Thank you,” you say softly, still smiling. “You’re my best friend, too.”

Miguel, whose heart has been racing since he spoke those once impossible words, smiles back at you. And for the first time, Miguel’s smile isn’t a small one like all his previous ones. It’s a real, real smile and it’s beautiful, just like you’ve always imagined it.

Miguel and you stare at each other, smiling. Your breakfast seems to have been forgotten for the time being until the silence is disrupted.

“More friends are approaching quickly. On your left,” Lyla says, appearing between Miguel and you to warn you before she disappears again.

“What?” Both Miguel and you say before you sense it, or rather them.

“Hey, there they are! Right where Gwen said they’d be at,” someone says. Hobie.

“Why were you doubting me? I told you they’d be there.” Gwen.

“Ay, tio! Y/N!” Miles says coming into view with everyone else in tow.

Miguel and you glance at each other before turning, only to find part of the spiderlings, who land on the rooftop within seconds, here now.

“Shouldn’t you guys be in school?” you ask with a little frown as it’s Friday morning.

“Yeah, why are you guys not in school?” Miguel asks with a frown of his own, a hint of his parental instinct coming to the surface.

“We still have some minutes,” Miles says with a shrug, smiling.

“Plus, we can easily just sneak into the building,” Pav says.

“Hobie,” you say.

“What of it? I already told them to go, but I’m not about to force them. Gotta encourage free thinking, you know?” he replies sitting next to you, giving you his signature smile.

You shake your head slightly, amused. Somewhere, you can sense the other spiderlings behind you.

“You guys interrupted a moment, you know?” Lyla says, sounding like she’s lightly scolding them.

“What moment?” Gwen asks.

“They finally admitted they’re best friends,” Lyla replies.

“Oh,” Miles replies.

“Wait, really?” Margo says.

“I could’ve sworn we all knew that already,” Gwen adds.

“I thought everybody knew that?” Pav asks, confused.

Miguel and you freeze as you look at each other, hearing everyone’s responses simultaneously. Next to you, you swear Hobie holds back from laughing, most likely for your sake, because you hear him snort. You silently decide that you’ll most definitely be talking with him later because this is the first time you’re hearing your friends admit this little piece of information.

Looking at Miguel, you can see his cheeks grow more pink. You grin at him, trying to hold back from chuckling but failing. Miguel shakes his head in amusement before chuckling lowly as well. The two of you continue to eat your breakfast as Gwen passes out bagels to everyone and soon after, everyone else joins. Peter B. with Mayday, Noir, Peni, and Spider-Ham all travel to Gwen’s universe.

“Hey, guys,” Peter B. says coming from behind, giving you and Miguel a pat on the back.

“Peter,” Miguel simply says as a greeting.

“Good morning,” you tell Peter who grins at you before he kneels between Hobie and you.

“What’s this I hear about someone finally realizing something very important?” he asks, causing Hobie to chuckle.

“Peter,” Miguel says again but this time more firmly and with a frown.

“I was talking about how -” Peter pauses, looking for something to say. “Hobie discovered he does like consistency in his bagels,” Peter finishes.

“No, I don’t,” Hobie interjects.

Miguel glares at Peter. “Right.”

“We talk later,” Peter says to you before he stands up to retrieve his bagel.

With a smile, you continue to eat yours while your friends chat all around you. Miguel and you simply stare at the skyline in silence as you eat.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, suddenly wondering if he doesn’t mind being around too much people this early after the night he had but Miguel nods.

“It’s… More than okay,” he replies honestly, staring at the tall buildings. “It hasn’t been a lonely morning.”

You nod slowly, understanding what he’s saying. His mornings after nightmares are usually spent alone until he gets to HQ.

“The chaos is nice,” he adds, looking at you now. He gives you a soft smirk.

“It is nice,” you reply, agreeing.

Miguel nods and looks at the sky, at the sun rising. It really is nice. And it feels new.

“I was thinking… Could you help me with something?” Miguel asks quietly.

You finish taking a drink from your coffee and nod. “Of course, what is it?”

Miguel turns to look at you. The spider gang is behind the two of you arguing about whose bagel is the best and Miguel wonders why they’re arguing about that when most of them should head to school. “I was thinking that the penthouse has been the same for many, many years. Decoration wise,” he starts. “I don’t really have the best experience with it. My mom and Gabriel were the ones that decorated it to begin with, actually, but I think it’s time for a little change.”

You smile. “And you would like for me to…”

“Help me make good decoration decisions. Your apartment - I really like it,” Miguel admits. “It always feels so warm and welcoming. Maybe you can give me some hints to make the place like that…”

“I’d be more than happy to.”

“Really?” Miguel says, for some reason sounding surprised.

“Really! When we get home, you can tell me what you’d like and we can make a mood board. Does that sound good?”

Miguel freezes for a moment.

‘When we get home...’

“Yes, that’s - that sounds great,” Miguel replies at last, nodding. He takes a sip of coffee, trying to ignore his thoughts on your words and instead focusing on the changes he’d like to make around the penthouse. One of his favorite parts of your apartment is your wall with photographs, something he lacks in his own home, but with this upcoming redecorating, Miguel thinks about how he’d like to have pictures of Gabriella and Gabriel around the place. He glances subtly at you. There’s also a lot of photos of you and him. He’d like to add those, too. Miguel stores the idea for later, for when the two of you get back to the penthouse, back home, and talk about it. For now, he focuses on the sounds of the city and your friends, who are still going on about the bagels.

He’s tempted to tell them you and him have the best ones just to fuel them but he decides against it, and just listens to them, enjoying the light bickering.

You eventually head to HQ to work. It’s an easy Friday with no missions involving anomalies. Just like you told yourself earlier, you stay near Miguel for the rest of the day, something he notices. You spend the day with him in the lab, working on your own things and talk occasionally. Of course, Lyla joins in on the conversations.

It’s no surprise that by four in the afternoon, the two of you are sluggish from the night you’ve had. Miguel looks at the time. You��ve both had coffee and food but the lack of sleep is definitely hitting the two of you at this point in the day and with one simple request to Lyla, Miguel learns that you slept far less than you made it seem this morning. He makes the decision then, to leave HQ earlier than he has in a long time.

“I’m almost done organizing this,” you tell him as you organize a drawer, your face showing your exhaustion. It tells Miguel the two of you definitely need to go now.

“That can wait for Monday.”

“I can come with you tomorrow.”

“Monday. Let’s go. I’m going to cook something that you’ll really like, I think,” he says, nodding to the lab’s door.

And so, upon reaching the penthouse, Miguel tells you to go and get comfortable. To go rest for a bit while he cooks but you end up changing into lounge clothes and joining him. You play music from his record player while he cooks some chilaquiles, a traditional Mexican dish, and one that never fails to cheer Miguel up.

After dinner, and a shower for Miguel, the two of you find yourselves in the living room again. With your tablet in hand, you start creating a mood board for Miguel’s place as he tells you about his ideas. The two of you sit on the floor once again, close to each other, so you can show him your screen and what you’re putting together for him. And while you work on that, the telenovela from the previous night, plays in the background.

---

Next Part Translations: telenovela - Latin TV soap opera Ave María Purísima - Hail Mary Most Pure, conceived without sin; Palmarian greeting Perdóname - Forgive me Hija - Daughter por favor - Please Lo siento mucho, mija - I'm so sorry, my daughter ternura - endearment, tenderness canelita - hot cinnamon tea pan dulce - sweet Mexican bread garibaldis - a kind of pan dulce Dia de los Muertos - Day of the Dead café de olla - coffee made in a pot (really craving this right now; running on three hours of sleep lol) Vamos - Let's go/ Come on tio - uncle chilaquiles - traditional Mexican dish, usually served for breakfast but it can be eaten for any meal of the day; consists of fried corn tortillas cut into quarters drizzled with a sauce and fresh cheese and accompanied with other sides like fried eggs and beans; my favorite dish; the way to my heart after tacos de asada --- Hi, guys!! I hope you're all doing well :) I'm sorry for how long it took me to update. I blinked and February just went by?? It's crazy 😭 it's already March! Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter despite the sad bits. I really wanted Miguel to talk about his past and Gabriella, to take another step for him to heal. 🥺 I also took some liberty around the canon theory. I genuinely don't believe in it or that Miguel being in Gabriella's universe was the cause for the collapse. Maybe I'm wrong but it really doesn't make sense to me, so I decided to go this route. I feel like the real cause is going to be so obvious, and probably preventable in the end since the Society has been successful in saving some universes already but that's just my humble opinion! I want to give some shoutouts and credit now! @gxdoesstuff suggested (a while back) the idea of Miguel having a scarf in the lab with reader's scent to comfort him when he's stressed out! I've been waiting to include it since the New Year's one-shot and finally incorporated it!! It was so cute to think about and I loved the little interactions that came from it!! Thank you!! Also, shoutout to @desb3ar for the idea on Miguel putting a pillow inside reader's sweatshirt based on this post she made!! I've been thinking about this for months and wanted to include it and have reader see it, so I had to be patient for this part of the story🤭 Thank you, Des!! Just thinking about how Miguel probably imagines hugging reader! (I'm okay, not 😭) Also, shoutout to my friend @faretheeoscar - the garibaldis and chilaquiles mention was for you! I'm really craving both now tbh 😩 and to have Miguel make chilaquiles? Sign me up, ASAP!!! Can we just talk about how many steps Miguel took here? He admitted they're BEST FRIENDS!!! I'm so proud of Miguel for real!! 😭 And the way they're now watching a telenovela and going to redecorate his place! Fanservice... for me🧍🏻‍♀️... For anyone curious, the telenovela I was talking about is called Destilando Amor. I started rewatching it just for this chapter and then I just kept going lol, it had me giggling and everything! They really don't make them like they used to 😔 Anyway, I had little sleep so I think I'm rambling now. Went to sleep at 4am and woke up at 8 to finish this, but I'm so so happy to update!! I hope you guys enjoyed it!! Thank you for reading, and I hope March is treating you well so far!!! 😊❤️ -Alondra tag list: @loverlorn @saturnknows @d1lf-loverrr @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @freehentai @arithestrawberry @scaleniusrm @haradasaya @spidermanismyfav @bitchykittenconnoisseur @thecraziestcrayon @obi-mom-kenobi @natsury-kazuki @coraline750 @edgycatx @safixiovi @sunnyx07 @nxrdamp @rorel1a @oceanstar19 @happishark @carmilla01 @somebodyelsethanyouthink @adora-but-ginger @angie2274 @vampi-amora @tired-writer04 @plzfeedmebread @shadow-pancake9 @tynakub @faretheeoscar @giulscomix @luvstuffies @coffeeauthorvibing @lauraolar14 @bl0osclues @pinkiemme @lil-cinn @mashiromochi

@loveletterfrommwah @muzansucker @theleftkittycollection @kikookii @www-interludeshadow-com @holographicang3l @aisyakirmann @bucky-to-my-barnes @geraskier-thots @l3laze @yujyujj @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @damhanallagorm @heyohalie @kaliuea @moonsua1 @darksidescorner@geminis93 @1800-get-alife @hrrtkreuz @oharasfilipinawife @dropyoursocksandgrabyourcrocss @may4ri @t4naiis @f1-hoff @llumetrii

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theweirdoinurhouse · 1 year ago

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A lousy break in

The Spot x Reader

(There seriously needs to be more Spot in the world. I keep seeing Miguel stuff. I don't want Miguel, I want Spot. So, I'm here to write about him. Because I love him)

In was the dead center of night. Lights were out in every apartment, the rats of New York city scurrying to get left over food, the sky dark with no stars. At this time, the world would be silent. Besides the heaters kicking in every hour.

So why is there noises coming from your living room?

You locked all the windows and the door, there's no way someone could've gotten in. 'Maybe they broke the window?' You would have heard it though. And the glass is pretty solid on those windows. Some short of bullet proof glass. You're glad your landlord actually cares about the people living in her apartment complex.

Before you could really think, you were slowly walking towards the door of your bedroom. You grabbed a bat on the way to the door, a gift from a friend awhile back. They said it could come in handy. Maybe now is that time.

You reached out towards the handle, and gripped it. 'Are you really going to do this? What if someone is ACTUALLY out there? ' Before you let your thoughts go any further, you turn the handle, and slowly open the door, as to not creak. You step into the hallway, facing the living room. You get your bat up, ready to hit someone in the head if you have to.

As you get closer and closer to your living room, the sounds of objects bumping into eachother and someone struggling became louder. You turned the corner, peering into the room. There's a tall man hunched down, taking things off your book shelf and shoving it into the pockets of his jacket.

Atleast, you think it's a man. His skin is white. Like, paper white. He wasn't wearing any pants so you could see his legs. There were black dots littered across his body, seeming to be moving ever so slightly. His upper body was decently big. You could tell he was a little chubby, even through his jacket. His legs were way too thin to support his upper body though.

'Stop worrying about this guy's appearance! He's stealing from you!'

"Hey!" You yell, your voice somewhat quiet as to not wake up any neighbors. The man yelped, jumping in surprise like a cartoon. He dropped the objects that were in hands, clattering onto the floor. He turned around, his hands up in surrender. You looked up to look at his face.

But all you saw was a giant black spot where his face should be. He was standing stiffly, hoping you would forget he's here. You didn't forget though. If anything, you're more intrigued than scared. You slowly let the bat down to your side. He didn't seem like a threat.

"Were you trying to rob me?" You ask, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He seemed surprised that you weren't yelling at him. He started speaking, fumbling with his words.

"Well, uh, yes. I have a perfectly logical reason though! As you can see, I'm not the most...normal, looking. I don't have a job, or a home. So, I have to steal. That's why I'm here! Lovely place you have, by the way. Very nice." He says, looking around your living room near the end of his ramble.

His voice was oddly soothing. Very expressive, but also calming. A voice you could listen to as you fall asleep. You honestly felt bad for the guy. You can imagine it might not be easy to live looking like...that.

You let out a sigh, disappointed with yourself for what you're about to do. You drop the bat, startling the man with the sound. You walk over to your kitchen, the guy's head watching your movements. You opened a drawer, and started digging through it. As you were digging, you could feel the intruder's gaze on you. Even though he didn't have eyes.

You pulled out a plastic bag containing tips you have gotten from your job. You walk over to the man, who was still standing in your living room, still as a rock. You pulled out 100$, putting your hand out to offer it to him. He took the money in your hand, counting it. His body perked up in shock.

"I-i can't take this!" He said rapidly, holding his hands out to give you back the money. You push his hands back. "Keep it. I can always make more tips. And you seem to be terrible at this robbing thing."

After a few seconds, he put the money into his pocket. He stared at you. Or, his black dot was facing down at you. He was surprisingly tall, even taller up close.

"Spot." He said, inturrupting your thoughts.

"What?"

"That's my name. Spot"

'That's a weird name.' You decide not to say that. Instead, you tell him your name in return. His body seems to relax as you give him your name. He repeats it, saying it quietly. Like a sigh.

"Thank you, so much. I'll make it up to you, I promise!" He says, backing up away from you. You reply with a "Mhm", lazily nodding your head. He stops backing up, and all of a sudden, a giant black dot appears underneath him. He falls through it, and it disappears.

He's gone. Just disappeared. You were so busy with thinking about how that was even possible, you forgot one little detail.

He forgot to return your trinkets back onto your shelf.

(Edit: I wrote a part two to this! If you liked this part, you can find the second part in my blog. Thank you to all the people who are liking and rebloging my writing! I really appreciate it<33)

#the spot #spider man: across the spider verse #The Spot across the spider verse #writing #I seriously need more of this man #please #im here to fix our lack of Spot #or at least help #the spot x reader

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the-broken-truth · 1 year ago

Text

Romantic Yandere Miguel O'Hara w/ Alternate Wife Spider Reader [Part 2]

Summary: After meeting the strange copy of your partner on the streets, you return to your office to ask your partner if he has a twin brother but what he tells you is even more terrifying than you could have ever hoped for.

Part One

[Earth-654B - New York Detective Agency]

Concentrated brown eyes looked through glasses lens at the computer screen while fast fingers typed upon the surface of the keyboard, watching the words as they appeared on the screen. A large hand left the keyboard and brushed back the hair of the man's head before returning to typing with a nod and a smirk on his face. This man was Miguel O'Hara - your partner in the Detective Agency. The Client just left a little while ago and he was updating the case file with the images you sent to him before he reached for his coffee cup and sipped the brown liquid before setting it back on the coaster. This was going to be an open-and-shut case - with all this evidence, the wife was going to sue the pants right off her husband and his mistress...or mistresses if it was discovered that he had more than one.

The door opened across from him and his hands came to a halt before he looked up from the screen toward the door - watching as it opened - before you walked in with a rather confused look on his face and another cup of Mocha Latte in your hand before closing the door, setting the cup on your desk before taking off your coat and placing it on the coat rack before taking the cup back in your hands and taking a seat at your desk.

"Hey, [Name]. You alright? You seem rather distracted this morning." Miguel asked as he took off his glasses - revealing his chocolate brown eyes that were full of concern for you. You looked at him and exhaled before you open your mouth to speak.

"This may be hard to believe but I ran into someone who looked just like you earlier this morning but he had red eyes instead of brown and he was claiming to be from another universe and that I was his wife. I told him that he had the wrong person but he was insistent so I just left him." You looked into Miguel's eyes, "Miguel, you don't have any older twin brothers, do you?"

"No...but I do believe you because I met him last night." Miguel said as he looked down at his bandaged hand, placing his good hand over it, you looked at your partner's hand, just now noticing that he was harmed - you were rather protective of Miguel; you were friends since you were infants and you were going to raise hell on anyone who hurt him but he just said that he met the man you saw today?

"What do you mean you saw him last night? What happened to your hand. Miguel?" You asked as he looked down at his keyboard before looking at you.

"Last night, when I was on my way to my apartment; the landlord was confused to see me because he just saw me going into my apartment; I was on high guard because I was the only one with a key to my apartment. I opened the apartment door and walked inside with y hands on my taser but I was attacked from behind and thrown to the ground before my hand was stepped on. I looked up at the man who attacked me and it was me - I was looking back at myself with red eyes and he looked at me and told me: "I won't let you take [Name] away from me - she and Isabela will be mine again"; then he stomped on my hand until it broke and left out of the door." Miguel explained.

"Why didn't you tell the police?" You asked him.

"What was I supposed to tell them? I saw another version of myself and it threatened me to stay away from my best friend and partner at work? They would have laughed me out of the station. Besides, I'm sure that we can handle this as Spider-Man and Spider-Woman when we go on patrol tonight. Let's focus on the case right now, what did you find out?" Miguel asked as she looked at his computer.

"The Target was definitely cheating on his wife, I followed him to one of his mistresses' house and he greeted her with a kiss at the front door." You said as you logged into the computer before you heard the phone ringing, you reached over and grabbed it off the receiver, and held it to your ear. "Detective Agency, [Name] Speaking. How can I help you?"

"Working as a detective, Mi Amor? I guess that never changed with you."

That voice.

"How did you get this number?" You growled into the phone.

"That's not important. I know that you are talking to that other version of me - the one with the broken hand. I want you to stay away from him - don't get too attached to him."

"I'm not listening to a damn thing you say. You aren't my husband and I will make you pay for what you did to my best friend if I ever see your face again." You warned him.

"We'll see about that, Mi Amor. I know your secret and I shall have you back if you know what is good for you. Just give yourself to me and everything will be alright."

"Go the hell, asshole." You hung up.

"Who was that?" Miguel asked.

"You'll find out tonight." That was all you said before you started to get back to work.

#spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #spider!reader #female reader

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esmedelacroix · 1 year ago

Text

Coffee Shop Love Pt.2

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, super fluffy, a teeny bit of Spanish, just pet names tbh, implied age gap

author's note: Hi lovies, this is the second part of this series. I'm really excited to continue this series. I hope you are enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. Please comment if there is something you particularly liked, or if you have any constructive criticism for me. Enjoy...

word count: 1.3k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

It was another busy morning at the shop and you and your two employees were rushing around making coffees and serving guests that sat down for breakfast. Despite the Mug & Muffin being such a small shop, the morning rush was brutal. It wasn't your fault you were such a social butterfly and everyone in the neighborhood knew you. "Hey Baby, could I get an iced peppermint mocha-" Mr. Smith started before trailing off.

"With extra whipped cream to go?" you finished smiling as you already had his drink ready. You snuck a little sugar cookie and his bag and sent him off. Mr. Smith was your sweet old landlord. He had Alzheimer’s so you often helped him remember his coffee order, on top of when your rent was due.

Just after Mr. Smith had left you were writing inventory down when your thoughts were interrupted by a deep, rich voice. Smooth like honey he said, "Good Morning Baby, could I get a hot black coffee to-go?"

Your head shot up at the tall man towering over you. His broad shoulders almost completely shading you from the light outside.

"Miguel, good morning," you replied practically gawking at him.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked starting to rub his mouth.

"No no, sorry I just—wasn't expecting you to call me that," you said as you began to take his order down.

"Well, that's what you asked me to call you, no?" he asked passively.

God this man is so sassy, where does he get the audacity? You thought to yourself as you quickly whipped up his brew.

You handed him his drink with a smile. To which he replied, "Thank you, Chula, Have a good day,"

Just like that, he left the shop to go to Alchemax, which was probably about five steps away for him; since his legs are miles long. While he left your legs feeling like jelly, you didn't know what that word meant but it was still hot when he said it.

So as you sat in the shop late at night bored out of your mind, asking yourself the question you asked yourself every day. Why am I still open? Who buys coffee at 8 pm? Your answer had walked right through the door. This time not getting caught in the mistletoe. "You really have to take that down. Do you know how tiring it is to duck into this store?" he joked as walked up to the counter after putting his work bag down.

"Take down the mistletoe? Never, it's a holiday decor necessity," you explained while already starting to make his order.

"What's the purpose of it anyway?" he asked trying to make his point.

"You seriously don't know what mistletoe is? Miguel, if a man and a woman stand under a mistletoe together, they have to kiss, it is the sweetest most romantic thing ever," you explained passionately.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he replied as he took his mug of black coffee and paid.

"How do you have such a shortage of Christmas spirit?" you asked him.

"Well, I've never really celebrated Christmas since I was like twelve years old, and I have no recollection of my life past 20," he explained.

"Ugh, you old fart, your no fun," you teased.

"I'm not that old," he rebutted.

"Really? Because you seem like you’re 35," you guessed.

"Well, I'm 37 but that's besides the point, Im pretty young," he said.

"No, young is me, I'm 30," you replied.

"Smartass," he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear as buried himself in his work like the night before. You continued cleaning up and packing up the extra baked goods for the day. There was one piece of coffee cake left, and you weren't going to eat it. "Miguel, would you like some coffee cake with your drink?" you asked hopefully.

"I thought I already told you, I don't like sweets," he said eyes still glued to his screen.

"Yeah, but you never know until you try, maybe you just haven't had the right one," you nagged. He sighed while taking off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Will you stop talking if I take it?" he teased while looking up at you trying not to smile. You rolled your eyes and brought a plate to him with a fork.

"Yes, this ones on the house," you said.

"Oh, I was never going to pay to have my tastebuds assaulted, don't worry," he joked.

"Just zip it and eat," you said trying not to give him the satisfaction of your laughter but then failing miserably.

You put on a Frank Sinatra vinyl on your record player to get into the holiday mood as you cleaned up the shop. Mopping the sticky matted black and white tiled floors. It was inevitable that something spilled during the morning and lunch rush.

You looked back at Miguel, and to your surprise, the plate of coffee cake was cleared. No crumbs were detected on the plate. His mug of coffee was always finished in record time, yet his head was resting on top of his laptop. He was completely knocked out sleeping like a baby. While his nose was continuously hitting the spacebar.

You took his plate and mug as quietly as you could. You also gently took his glasses off. You finished off everything you needed to and gave the extra boxes of baked goods to a volunteer who would take them to the homeless shelter for you. You even walked up to your apartment to shower and change into your Christmas pajamas.

You slipped on your reindeer slippers and walked down the stairs to the shop. Miguel was still slumped over his table. It was beyond the closing time you shook his shoulder trying to wake him up. His eyes slowly fluttered open. "Miguel, you gotta get up, it's way too late," you whispered softly. He brought his head up still taking in his surroundings and fully waking up. You helped him pack his stuff as he was registering where he was.

He had keyboard marks on the side of his cheek, making you chuckle to yourself as he was completely oblivious to the fact.

He didn't hide that he was so embarrassed that he had fallen asleep well. You found it kind of cute, he even blushed a bit. He thanked you and you handed him a hot chocolate with marshmallows to-go. "Before you say you don't like sweet things, just try it, you drink way too much caffeine, and it's very cold tonight," you said.

"Thank you, Baby, oh great, I can feel the sugar rushing through my bloodstream," he joked. You rolled your eyes at him and hit his arm playfully.

"Now I think I understand why people call you Baby, I mean look at this outfit," he teased motioning at your slippers.

"Get out of my shop," you exclaimed while giggling and pushing him out. You finally got Miguel out and watched him walk to his car. He suddenly turned around and said "Stay warm Baby, goodnight,"

"Goodnight Miguel," you called out to him waving before closing the shop door and locking up.

Just as you were about to walk up the stairs to your apartment, you noticed something strange on the counter. Yet another sticky note from Miguel, but this one had his phone number on it. You smiled down at the paper while doing a little happy dance and then collecting yourself. You little weirdo. You thought to yourself.

Next... Pt.3

taglist:

@br0-please @jewelz-teehe @iite-cool

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tarjapearce · 1 year ago

Note

ok, sorry if this sound dumb but what if Miguel broke his arm on a mission or training or something and his kinky brain can't think of how to fight off his desire for the reader while his right hand is no longer useable? sorry words are hard. just thinking about obsessed simp Miguel and i can't even!

Need a Hand?

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

(no pun intended). NSFW, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Dirty talk, a little of sub! Miguel.

Bizarre.

There wasn't another word that described the situation before you, but a lot of different synonyms. Funny, preposterous, ridiculous.

Him, out of everyone, out of the high endurance and resilient people you've met, had broken his arm while fighting Kingpin.

Fisk had snapped his arm like a twig while trying to stop him from rebuilding the particle collisioner. Even though the big man was put behind bars on his world, Miguel had suffered the consequences of the criminal's misguided wrath.

Another lesson for the Boss, really. He might have encountered many variants and villains through the years, even gotten used to their fighting like a second nature, however he was often prone to forget that some of those variants were even more vicious than the others and that he was still human.

And this Kingpin was either narcotically enhanced or was having a bad bad day.

"Serves you right." You chided him while taking a look at his forearm, tucked in within a thick mesh of resin, allowing his skin to breath and heal properly without restricting his limb completely, something he had designed himself.

"You're not funny."

"And you're a sore loser. Anyways, I'll shall get going. This Spiderwoman needs to face the landlord for increasing my rent without telling. Stay out of trouble and rest, Miguel."

With a pat on his shoulder, a portal was open to your dimension. His eyes fixed on your disappearing form through it.

A deep exhale. His hands rubbed softly where you had touched him. Warmth still lingered for a second before disappearing.

"Heartbeat frequency and neural activity increased, should I arrange a visit to the medical bay?"

"No. Just... get the coffee machine brewing."

"Wouldn't that make it worse?"

"Lyla" He warned and Lyla rolled her holographic eyes

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get Jessica if a heart attack happens."

"That's not how caffeine works."

Lyla shrugged before disappearing out of his sight.

-----

Despite being light and doing it's work as it should, the cast was turning into a nuisance. Even the Spider doctor had told him to keep it easy. Spider people healed fast that was much true, but that didn't mean they had to be as reckless as he was being.

Holed up in his lab, trying to get a proper hold of his cock after his eyes had stumbled upon a rare and delicious gem. Footage of you removing the watch and taking a shower. Other of you getting out of your suit and laying naked on your bed as you scrolled through your phone to watch silly videos.

But the one that had put in him in the predicament he was now, replayed over and over, as if engraving it in his brain wasn't enough.

You in bed, naked, a frequent habit he supposed, dragging slow and lazy circles on your clit while watching a saved porn video.

Smooth flesh parted and toyed with, glistening by the neurological response to such imagery.

His hand stroked himself but it felt wrong and painful. His bone wasn't cooperating, and neither was he with the aftercare.

You'd probably be nagging him on how stupid he was being for being so careless and stupid. A lazy smile crept to his face. You were so annoying, pretty and clearly making a mess out of him. The pain remained in his arm but it mattered little as the strokes were heightening his senses.

But as soon as Miguel tried to increase the pace, the sharp discomfort anchored him back to reality.

"Puta madre" He growled and let his cock go, frustrated for being unable to jerk off properly. He tried with his left hand but it wasn't as coordinated and vicious like his right hand. His upper back muscles tensed before throwing a metallic jumble of things in the wall. Suit quickly trapped his cock again.

What was the use of having it free would be if he couldn't get off without feeling pain?

"Miggy Miggy, where are you?"

Shit

He punched the screen off before you ventured in his room. Just in time to not blow his cover.

"Heard something crash, what's not working properly this time?"

His eyes darted to his own hands, but yours were settled on him, red eyes followed your line of sight and it dawned on him. A little flush bloomed in your cheeks.

"Oh."

A smirk displayed on your lips. Certainly a reaction he wasn't expecting.

"Need a hand?" You giggled while he frowned at your own little joke.

"That's... That's not funny."

"I'm not mocking you, Miggy. " With every step closer you gave, he stepped two back, until his back collided with the TV he had just punched. Turning it on back to life.

The lewd moans of your video echoed behind him and your eyes widened.

"Is that..."

You gulped at the sounds. It was impossible to not recall such moans when you knew them by heart, your favorite video. Something you had fantasized a shit ton of times with Miguel, if you were honest. You pushed him out the way to see what had gotten him all worked up.

"W-Wait!"

Your eyes remained glued on the screen, watching how you played and touched yourself. Fingers spreading and toying your cunt.

"Where did you get this?" He had to snap his head your way to divert his attention from the video and pin it on you.

"You leave the... uh... channel open."

It wasn't a lie. Ever since a little mission your gizmo had been malfunctioning. And the recording had been one of them.

"Makes sense. Told you to fix it and you didn't listen."

He swallowed thickly, hoping you'd forget about it. But of course, that wasn't possible.

"Did you like it, though?"

That smirk of yours made his senses to flare up in danger. He shrugged and your brow quirked in disbelief.

"Your cock betrays you, O'Hara"

His eyes narrowed when you stepped closer, but again the chair behind him blocked his escape, he plopped on it while you sat on one of his muscular and meaty thighs. He had to improve the distribution of the place later.

"Let me help with that."

His breath hitched at your words. Eyes locked with his, visual contact sacred to him, as your hand slid down his firm torso, the suit vanishing as you reached down his groin.

Hefty cock sprung back to freedom, a pearly bead of his precum greeting you while you took a hold of his base.

"So big and pretty" You nodded. It sent shivers down your spine, the way he breathed. His generous lips parting to give you a low groan as your thumb smeared the cum on his tip.

"Yeah?" He rasped and you pumped deep.

His jaw clenched and his eyes drooped, lust blown. A fiery flush covered his cheeks. His legs instinctively spreaded more to you, giving you more access to him. We'll worked arms rested on the chair, clawing at the hardened material of it.

Your hand let him go for a moment, fingers collected a good amount of saliva, to then paint his cock with it, making the pumping motion swiftly and faster.

His mouth slacked open, his left hand coaxed your head closer, pressing your forehead against his.

His eyes never left you, just like your hand never abandoned his cock. In fact, your fist had trapped his tip and squeezed his tip, earning you a well deserved whimper.

"You like that, Miggy?"

He nodded in between breathless and deep pants. His groans increased their intensity as you moved your hands to his base. Index and thumb finger circled around him, tightening as much as they could without hurting him. A delicious hiss escaped his mouth followed by a shivering moan.

"Wished it was my pussy right now, don't you?" The pace you settled on him, had his hips slowly fucking into your hole shaped hand, your words only urging the already running rampant imagination.

"So tight and squeezing your cock, hmm?"

"Si" A hiccup as the chair trembled with your ministrations, "Ay por Dios, si"

Fingers focused on his tip again and his teeth ground together. His grip on your nape firmer, as if to prevent you from escaping

"Want to fill my pussy with your cum, Miggy?"

"E-Everyday" He croaked and you smiled above his lips, hot breath fanning over his mouth. Hands clenching and unclenching at the motions your hand provided him. His cum was a magnificent lube.

"My God, so so greedy" You cooed while smirking. You had him a babbling mess since your hand never waned, your voice was like a merciless guide, exposing his deepest desires with such ease it only added more gasoline to his scorching need.

His spine arched subtly, making his head throw back, chest heaved in erratic breaths, matching the thrumming of his heart and the unceasing waves of pleasure, set to drown him.

"Wanna ruin me, Miggy?"

"Yes." He hissed.

His body slowly melting into he chair. You could feel his thighs trembling.

"Are you close?"

His lips searched yours in a measly attempt to placate his babbling mouth, instead you took a hold of his jaw with your free hand, bringing his eyes to yours, and God, you groaned at the sight.

"Give it to me" You moaned. His brows knitting together in a deep yet pleasurable frown, mouth shaped in a messy 'a'.

"Así... Si..." He gulped a choking sob. He inched closer and closer to the fire, calling him to be consumed.

"Wanna cum?"

"No pares por favorno-" He slurred and tripped over his words as thick blobs and spurts of his cum spilled over your hand and wrist. His breath hitched to finally be released in a jagged groan while you gave him the last and deepest strokes.

"Dios..." He whimpered and held onto you, anchoring to something before his soul floated away from his body. The hot of his breath was captured between your lips, granting you a low growl as he rode his high.

Some of his cum had stained the floor. You stood and licked his cum off your fingers, relishing the tangy and salty taste.

"Let me know when you need help again, Miggy"

Before he could reach out again, you were already at the door, waving a little taunting goodbye. He'd definitely need help again.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #t writes✨#miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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cherryberry-sugarandspice · 1 year ago

Text

Night Of Your Life

Miguel O'Hara × fem!reader × Felicia Hardy

Cw: 18+, smut, threesome, p in v sex, oral receiving/giving, F/F/M, slight BDSM, unprotected sex, sem-public sex?, pet names mouse/mousie/kitty/spidey

Summary: Felicia took you hostage in order to see Miguel again, but found you to be cute. You found her utterly attractive. One thing led to another, you two have sex and add Miguel into the mix

Word Count: 6k+

WARNING ⚠️: NSFW below

Suspended in the air, arms tied behind your back, rope around your pelvis and chest. The rope is silky smooth and gentle on your shivering skin. Pink dolphin cut shorts and lacey red panties discarded on the floor, Felicia Hardy—the infamous cat burglar known as Black Cat—buried in your velvet warmth, licking into your hole. Your moans fill the empty expanse of a half finished room of a building half way done through construction. Your breaths come out in white puffs due to the cold night air. You arch your back in a gasp as two manicured fingers rub slow, careful circles into your puffy clit.

“That feel good?” Felicia purred, licking your sweet nectar off her plump lips. Her black lipstick hasn’t once left her lips, but left a good few prints over your trembling thighs and plush asscheeks. “Mouse, baby, tell me how good you feel.”

Felicia licks over your swollen, sucking it into her mouth. You cry out in pleasure, squirming in your restraints. “Ah! So, so good! Fuck, keep—ahhh~!—licking me like that!”

How did you end up in a situation where Felicia Hardy is devouring your cunt as if it were her last meal? Well, let’s go back to two hours ago.

You had just gotten off of work and took a quick shower before running to the bank. You were wearing pink shorts and a white tank top with no bra. The slickness of the water made your clothes stick to your body, the tank top showing off the color of your nipples. You hardly cared, as you were trying to get to the bank before they closed. Today was payday and the online app wasn’t working, and tomorrow rent is due. If you don’t deposit the check in time, you’ll be late on rent again and your landlord will kick you out for it.

Approaching the counter, you shoved an old lady with an oxygen tank out of the way. She falls to the ground and crumbles into dust, blown away by the wind. You deposit your check and receive the receipt, relief flooding into your body. It’ll hurt watching your money drain out of your account, but at least you get to stay another month. You walked out of the bank, about to head home when Felicia came running, narrowly avoiding the cops. She spotted you and scooped you up in her arms, tossing you over her shoulder and climbed up the side of the building.

It all happened so fast that you didn’t realize what was going on until she stood on top of the building, patting your back. “Back off! I have a hostage. If you want her safe and sound, then the only person who can save her is Spidey.” She blows the police a kiss, winking. “Until next time!”

Felicia brought you here to the top of the half built building. She tied you up to one of the exposed metal pipes in the ceiling and pranced around the room, waiting for Spiderman. The sun had fully set and the light of the moon reflected off her tight black leather suit that hugged all of her curves. She ran her slender fingers through her plantium blonde hair, staring out into the city of Nueva York.

A cold breeze had blown against you and you shivered, shaking in your confinements. Goosebumps rose on your arms and legs, and you tried to get your mind off of how cold you were. Due to taking a shower piror, you were absolutely freezing.

Felicia caught wind of this and smiled slyly, sauntering up to you with the sway of her hips. She placed a hand on your foot and spun you around as she walked in a circle. Your trembling form is adorable to her. As if you were a mouse trapped. “You’re shaking, little Mouse. What’s wrong? Scared that this kitty will bite?”

“N-No,” you stutter, teeth clacking against each other. She walks a few feet away as you slowly spun. Her hands were on her hips, playful green eyes staring at you. “I-I’m cold. That’s a-all.”

The woman had hummed, nodding her head in understanding. She looks around. “Sorry, Mousie, but I don’t see any blankets for you.”

“I-It’s okay. Will I be let go when S-Spiderman gets here?” Spiderman is a giant hero with broad shoulders and a jealous looking slim waist. He’s a brooding man with little patience and tends to sometimes snap on the people he’s saved if he’s annoyed enough by his villains. But he is kind and gentle to those in need, even if he comes off as an asshole sometimes.

“Of course, Mouse. I just needed an excuse to see Spidey,” she reassured. She walked back up to you, loosely laying her arms on your shoulders, green eyes gazing into yours. Her face was inches away from yours, her warm breath a welcoming feeling on your cold skin. “I won’t hurt you, little Mouse, in case you were wondering.” She propped her elbow up on your shoulder and played with your hair. “I’m a girl’s girl, ya know?”

Felicia’s beauty makes your heart skip a beat. From up close, you see all the delicate features of her face. Smooth, milky skin. Round cheeks. Heart shaped face. Perfectly shaped eyebrows. A beauty mark right above her plump upper lip. Beautiful smelling hair you ache to run your fingers through. Everything about the cat burglar makes your stomach flip and you’re tempted to lean in and kiss her.

“You’re beautiful,” you mumbled outloud. You blinked, realizing you spoke your thoughts instead of keeping them hidden. Felicia only stared at you, her playful expression not once having left her face. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that! I MEAN—I didn’t mean to say that outloud! It’s just you’re really pretty and it’s not like I find you attractive—NOT SAYING THAT YOU’RE NOT ATTRACTIVE BECAUSE YOU ARE—”

A slender finger is pressed against your lips, silencing you.

Felicia tilted her head, hair falling against her shoulders, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re so cute, little Mouse.” A claw poked out of her finger and she traced your face. She placed the claw beneath your chin and lifted your head up, exposing your neck to her. She leaned down to plant wisps of kisses along your neck. “I like cute things.”

Oh my god, is this really happening? Your body shudderedin anticipation, sweat beading on the side of your head and trickling down to your chin. “I-I’m glad you find me cute, F-Felicia.”

Felicia giggled, kissing up to the corner of your lips. “Want to make this a memorable night for you, little Mouse? Want this kitty to make you feel good?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

“Hmm, so polite,” she purred, right before kissing you.

And that’s how you find yourself like this, moaning loudly as she sucked on your clit. Your feet kick, tongue rolling out of your mouth, coating your chin in spit. Tendrils of heat crawls up your gooseflesh and to your eyes, causing tears to well up due to the overwhelming heat of pleasure. Felicia kneads at the flesh of your ass, landing a couple of smacks. Your round ass jiggles from her hands smacking against your plushness.

Felicia swirls her tongue around your button, teeth grazing against it. You jump, accidentally swinging forward and smacking your wet pussy against her face. Juices sprinkle out of your pussy due to the impact and it lands in droplets along the ground.

“S-Sorry!” you yelp.

“Oh, Mouse, don’t apologize,” Felicia coos, breath hot against your cunt. Her fingers rub along your wet folds and spread your lips apart. Cream pushes out of your pulsating hole and she bites down on her lip, her own cunt dripping arousal. She licks up your fluids, smiling at your cute little mewls. “Mm, your pussy tastes so good. No wonder kitty cats love eating mice.”

Her face is back in your pussy, tongue silthering into your hole. Her nose rubs against your puffy clit, sending shocks and tingles of pleasure into your core. Her tongue rolls around in your canal, lapping against your gummy walls. Your walls clench around her tongue, attempting to keep it in place, but she easily wins against the fight.

Your moaning loudly, mouth wide open with drool slipping out of the corners. You twitch and squirm with every lick the Black Cat gives you, tugging against your restraints. Her claws rip apart your tank top, the fabric falling to the ground in shreds. Her hands find your breasts and she squeezes, rolling your buds between her fingers. You whimper, tongue darting out to moisten your lips.

Felicia’s claws run down your shivering stomach, making your lower stomach twitch. Her claws lightly scratch at your skin, leaving little red streaks. She tilts her head, humming as she devours your yummy pussy. Her tongue is coated in your sweet nectar with each pump. Arousal soaks her chin and slides down her leather suit.

“So delicious,” she moans, her voice muffled by your folds. She laps at your hole in rapid succession, making your toes curl. “Mousie, your pussy is so addicting. Love how you spill your juices on my tongue.” She shakes her head against your cunt, laughing as you mewl. “Doing so good for me, Mousie. Such a good girl.”

Your moans rip out of your throat in screams as she continues to munch on your heated essence. She grabs your hips tightly, shoving your cunt against her face, slowly suffocating her. A tight coil forms in your stomach and you curl into a ball, legs resting on her shoulders.

“F-Felica!” you gasp, brows furrowing up in the up-coming high of your orgasam. “I-I’m gonna cum! Oh, fuck!”

“My little Mousie gonna cum?” Felicia chuckles, continuing to drill her tongue in your hole.

“Ah! Ah! Yes!”

Felicia keeps her face buried in your cunt, keeping the pace of her tongue as she rubs your neglected clit again. She smacks your right buttock and gives a tight squeeze. “Cum for me, Mousie. Make a mess on this kitty’s face, you cute little slut.”

Her dirty words give you the final push. You cum with a cream, white filling your vision as you cream all over her face. She lowers herself a bit, mouth wide open with her tongue rolled out, catching your elixir into her mouth.

You tremble, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Felicia spins you around and captures your lips in a long, sensual kiss. She licks your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter, which you happily grant her access for. Her tongue rubs against yours, tasting your juices on your taste buds. When she pulls away, there’s a string of saliva connecting each other’s tongues.

“How do you feel, Mousie?” Felicia asks with a deep purr, her expression just as fucked out as yours. Her knuckles brush along your cheeks, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Wonderful,” you say breathless, a small smile on your face.

“I’m happy to hear it.” She kisses your neck, nibbling on the flesh. “Want to continue this, beautiful? Want to fuck?”

You nod eagerly, pratically whining. “Please! Please!”

Felicia laughs, helping you down from your ropes. “Such a needy little Mouse. You sure you’re not scared of this kitty cat?” She bites at you, teeth clacking against each other. You only breathe in response, chasing after her lips. She allows you to kiss her as she places you on your feet, your body pressing against hers. Felicia is taller than you, standing at 5’10. Her body is soft yet hard against yours, her breasts on either side of your face. The moment your hands were untied, you wrap your tingling arms around her neck, pulling her down. Her hands rest on your hips, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

Felicia’s soft hands rub up and down your heated skin, claws poking at you. Your heart flutters in your chest, knees turning to jello from her tentative touches. The kiss is long and slow, the two of you taking the time to get a proper feel. But soon, teeth clack against each other, her hands trailing down to grope your ass and bring your hips against her. The kiss is dizzying and sloppy, smacking noises echoing out into the room.

You’re the first to pull away for air, heaving as she licks your cheek. She attacks your neck with tender kisses, helping you to lay on the ground. Felicia stands on her knees as she undoes her suit, hungry green eyes never leaving yours as she strips naked. You prop yourself up on your elbows, breath catching in your throat.

Felicia’s body is gorgeous and alluring. Round hips. Perky breasts. The outline of forming abs. She hovers over you again, her nipples rubbing against yours. “Like what you see, Mousie?”

“I love what I see,” you rasped out, cupping her cheeks. Your thumbs swipe across the space beneath her eyes and you gently peel off her mask to get a better look of her beauty.

Felicia leans back down to kiss you, lips smacking against each other. She hums, fire burning deep within her core. She loves how cute you are. How gentle and sweet you act towards her—yet so needy. She grabs the back of your knee and lifts it up, placing her own knee right next to your waist. Her pussy slowly rubs against yours and you gasp against her lips. She swallows your noises, laying your leg on her shoulder. Clits bump against one another, pussies drenching each other with slick.

“Ready, Mouse?” Felicia asks, her lips lingering on yours.

You nod, blinking your shiny eyes up at her. Your chest rises and falls with your heavy breaths, lips parted slightly. “Please, Felicia.”

“I love how polite you are. Makes me want to keep you as my little pet,” Felicia teases. She straightens her back, tongue darting out to lick her lips, and begins to grind. Your back arches, eyes rolling to the back of your head as her pussy grinds against yours.

Yes, you’ve had sex with women before, but this session with Felicia is nothing compared to the other times. This one is more intimate, sensual, and heat inducing. Her clit grinds perfectly against yours, her juices spilling into your velvety warmth. Her breasts bounce slightly with each movement of her hips, yours rocking back and forth on your chest.

“Ah!” you moan, reaching up to squeeze her breasts. She smirks in approval, pushing against your cunt roughtly. You twist and pull at her nipples, hands dropping when she sneaks a finger between your lips to play with your bundle of nerves. “Oh, fuck! Yes! Felicia, feel s’good!”

“Yeah, Mousie?” she purrs, sweat beading along her body. With every grind against each other’s wet pussies, squelching noises elicits from them, juices coating the other one’s plush thighs. “Love how my pussy feels against yours? Hm?”

“Oh, Felicia, it feels so damn good!” you scream. The joints of her fingers squeeze your clit, shaking it. You pant heavily, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as she plays with the button. Moans and mewls escape your wet lips, body squirming as her cunt continues to grind against yours.

“Ahh, do you hear how filthy you sound, Mousie?” she coos, adjusting herself so her fat pussy buries itself a bit within your folds. “Who makes you this way? Huh? Has anyone else ever made you sound like such a dirty slut or is that only my specialty?”

You pant like a bitch in heat, drool covering your chin and neck. “Ngh! You! You, Felicia!”

“Yeah? Tell me how much you love my pussy, little mouse.” Her fingers wrap around your neck, claws poking into your flesh. She smirks a bit when she hears a heavy thud towards the end of the room, footsteps making their way over to this scene. She tightens her grip, making you whimper. “I said tell me, you cute little whore.”

“Ah, ah~! I love it! Fuck, I love how wet it is against my pussy!” you cry out, wrapping your fingers around her wrist and smiling as she chokes you slightly. The overwhelming pleasure is becoming too much again. The familiar coil tightens in your stomach, and you’re a bit embarrassed by how you’ve reached your oragasm so quickly, but who cares? Felicia’s—

“W-What is going on here?” A deep voice says in pure shock.

You freeze, all moans cutting off and head snapping up to see who’s here. A few feet away from Felicia is Spiderman, the red outline where his eyes are supposed to be wide in surprise. He’s in his blue UMF suit, the fabric sometimes twinkling. He blinks a couple of times, shifting on his feet, unsure of what to think or do. He’d been informed of Black Cat taking a cilvilian hostage, which he found strange. She never usually takes anyone hostage, as she’s quick and fluid in her antics. But he believed she was only doing this to get his attention. Right up until he found her doing you.

Felicia slows the movement of her hips, peering over her shoulder with a smirk.

“Spidey! Took you long enough,” she giggles, hand on her hip. She clicks her tongue in mock disappointment, raising a brow at him. “You do realize that I had a hostage, right? She could’ve been in real danger here.”

Spiderman looks you over and you shudder, cheeks burning in a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Somehow, the hero walking in and discovering you two in this position is enticing. Being caught makes your hole clench tightly around nothing. “She looks fine to me,” Spiderman said, rubbing the back of his neck. The red outline of eyes were still wide, and if you squint hard enough, you can see a heavy blush beneath his blue mask. “Do…Do I even need to be here?”

Both you and Felicia stare down at his cock, which has been erected to full length. He’s clearly enjoying the sight in front of him. Two attractive women were having sex with each other—why wouldn’t he like it?

“If she’s okay with it,” Felicia informs him, returning her gaze to yours. She rubs your chin affectionately. “What do you say, Mouse? Want him to join, watch, or leave? Whatever you want, I want, cutie.” She then looks at him. “If she tells you to leave, you leave, got it?”

“Obviously,” Spiderman grumbled, crossing his arms over his muscular chest. “What do I look like to you? Some weird, gross pervert?”

Felicia gestures to his erection and he only glares at her.

You do take a moment to think about it. The thought of Spiderman of all people fucking you is mind blowing. Of course, you’ve fantasized about his cock penetrating you over and over again until you were a sobbing mess, body coated in his cum. Then add Felicia into the mix? She’s already pleasured you wonderfully, her tongue like magic and her pussy creating delicious friction against yours. Honestly? A threesome with Black Cat and Spiderman is a dream come true.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, gaze switching from Felicia to Spiderman. “I-I mean, if he wants to join…I’m perfectly fine with it.”

Spiderman tenses up a bit, clearly surprised by your answer. His cock twitches in excitment. “A-Are you sure.” He walks over and squats down next to you. When he speaks again, his voice is gentle. “I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“He’s right,” Felicia whispers, caressing your cheek with her hand. “Don’t feel like you have to say yes. Besides, he’s a stinky man.”

Spiderman gives her another glare.

“I’m okay with it, I promise,” you reassure, looking at them both. “If I wasn’t, I promise I’ll say something.”

Felicia leans down to kiss your cheek. “Let’s come up with a safe word. If we’re going to continue with this, we’re going to need a safe word.”

Spiderman nods, his hand hesitantly reaching out to brush your hair off your forehead. He’s afraid to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or feel unsafe. As much as having sex with you and Felicia excites him, you come first. The pads of fingers were rough against your skin and you shiver, breath coming out in puffs. A gush of arousal spills from your slit and you purse your lips, embarrassed at how turned on you are even though nothing is happening just yet.

“You come up with the word, Mouse. Say it anytime, even if you’re so close to finishing. We both want you to have a fun, enjoyable time,” Felicia tells you. Neither Spiderman nor her move, waiting for you to come up with a safe word.

“How about…blueberry?”

“Is it because he’s blue?” Felicia gestures towards Spiderman and he rolls his eyes beneath his mask, landing a smack on her ass. She yelps, cheeks flush as she gives him a sensual stare. “Been awhile since you’ve done that, Spidey.”

Spiderman’s mask disappears, fevealing a handsome man beneath. Your breath catches in your throat for what feels like the millionth time tonight. God, why are they so hot? He grabs Felicia by the chin and brings her close to his face, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Kitty, tonight, there’s going to be a lot I’m going to do that I haven’t done with you in a long time,” he said huskily, kissing her. She hums in delight, kissing him back with a fierce hunger. He growls, his fangs poking through his lips. He squeezes her plump ass, landing another smack. He pulls away and turns his gaze to you, the pupils of his red eyes blown out in arousal. “And you,” he said, leaning down to hover his lips above yours, “I’m going to show you a lot of things.” His lips ghost yours for a bit. “If you’re okay with it, nena.”

“Mouse,” Felicia corrects, climbing off of you to sit by your side. She places a hand over your twitching stomach, lightly squeezing the soft flesh. “Her nickname is Mouse, or Mousie. Because look at how much she shakes. Isn’t that so cute?”

“Cute,” he agrees, staring at you with hunger in his red eyes. He plants his lips on yours more firmly this time, gently kissing you. “She’s very cute.”

Hands rub along your waist and stomach, sending wavepools of heat into your core. “What’s your name?” you ask Spiderman, eyes fluttering shut when his bare hands knead your mounds.

“Promise not to tell?”

“I-I promise.”

He pecks your cheek, smiling against your skin. “Miguel, little Mouse. My name is Miguel. I believe you’ll put it to good use, right?”

“I know I have before,” Felicia purrs, winking at the hero.

“Well, uh, It’s nice to meet you, Miguel.”

Miguel chuckles, kissing your cheek again. “It’s nice to meet you too, little Mouse.” His suit disappears, revealing his naked, rock hard body. Your hand instinctively rubs his abdomen, fingers tracing the lines between his abs. He watches you as you take the time to get a feel of his body, his cock twitching upwards against his lower stomach.

Miguel’s cock is erected at a full ten inches, his girth thick. Veins pulse at the sides of his massive penis. Precum leaks from his fat tip, the pearly breads streaking down his shaft. You’re tempted to lean over and lick him clean. Felicia also has the same desires. She sees the look on your face and smirks. She rubs Miguel’s chest and pushes him to sit back, arching her back as she gets on her knees.

“Hmm, let us take care of that for you, Spidey,” she purrs. You immediately scramble onto your hands and knees, eyes never once leaving his cock.

Miguel leans back on his hands, a smirk on his face. He gestures towards his member. “Go ahead, girls. He’s all yours.”

Felicia wraps her arm around your waist and brings you close to her. “Shall we?” You nod at her, leaning down to give a kitten lick on his tip. The pearly white beads soak into your taste buds, the salty taste of his precum delicious. Felicia lowers herself to lick his shaft up and down, her drool trickling down his shaft.

Miguel groans, head falling back against his shoulders as the two of you lap at his cock. You hum, tongue swirling around his fat tip before wrapping your lips around it to suck. A spurt of precum shoots into your mouth which you happily swallow, peering up at the hero through your wet lashes. He’s trembling, the pleasure insanely good for him.

Both you and Felicia sloppily attach his cock with lips and tongues, making him tremble and moan. Pleasure crashes through his body. The muscles in his thighs ripple with every movement he makes. He grits his teeth, head shaking from side to side, a throaty whimper escaping his thick lips. For a moment, he takes in the sight of the beautiful girls in front of him.

Sweat makes Felicia’s almost white hair stick to the sides of her head and he pushes the strands out of the way, allowing her hair to fall down her back. Her skin is flushed red and covered in sweat, her plump ass high in the air as she slobbers all over his cock. Miguel rubs his knuckles against your cheek, red eyes staring into you as you go back to give his leaking tip special attention. He came here to deal with Felicia’s antics and ended up getting his cock sucked on by what he considers to be the world’s most beautiful women.

How did he end up being so lucky?

Felicia grazes her teeth along his shaft, teeth tracing the outline of his pulsing veins. She plants kisses on his cock, green eyes peering up to try to see his expressions. His brows are curled upwards, eyes beginning to roll to the back of his head. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips, spit trickling out and down his chin.

“Fuck, y-you girls are doing such a good fucking job,” Miguel moaned, claws digging into the wood.

His praises spur you on. You suck a couple of times on his tip before taking him into the warmth of your wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks. This elicits a loud groan from the hero, your clit throbbing in desire. You attempt to reach down to rub yourself until you realize you hadn’t touched Felicia. Not once. You kissed her and played with her breasts, but you didn’t give her pussy any of your attention. You gain the courage to snake your hand between her thick thighs and rub at her bundle of nerves.

Felicia moans against his cock, pressing her nose along the shaft. Her green eyes peer over at you in approval, licking her lips. “Hmm, feels good, Mousie. Keep—ah!—rubbing me like that. Fuck, such a good girl.”

Her own hand sneaks between your thighs to shove two fingers into your hole as she returns her focus back to the massive cock in front of her. You moan around Miguel’s tips, slowly grinding your hips down on Felicia’s fingers as they pump in and out of your velvety essence. Her thumb rubs your clit as she fingers you, creating more pleasure.

Miguel watches as his two girls pleasure each other as they pleasure him and he growls, licking his lips in pure glee. Fuck, this sight is delicious and it’s all for him.

Felicia lowers her head to lick his balls, swallowing one into her mouth. Her free hand massages the other testicle, her thumb massaging his taint.

“Fuck!” Miguel moaned out, biting down on his bottom lip.

You bob your head up and down on his cock, eyes shut as you suck him off. Your body trembles in pleasure and desire as you slobber all of his cock, your cunt spilling sweet nectar. You pick up the pace of your fingers, rubbing Felicia’s clit quickly. She moans around his balls, staring at you with such an intensity that you swear she was rutting her pussy against yours. A mixture of precum and spit spills past your lips and down his shaft, which you use as an opportunity to wrap your hand around his girth and stroke him. You twist your hand with each stroke, making the hero tremble beneath your touch.

“Just like that, Mousie,” he growled, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “I’m going to fuck you so good after this. Going to show you a world of pleasure.” He whimpers when Felicia takes both of his balls into his mouth. “And you, kitty, are going to sit on my face. I want both of you cumming all over me.”

“What do you think?” Felicia asks you, licking over his balls. “Should we give him what he wants? Or should we make him beg?”

You come off his cock with a wet pop to say, “Make him beg. I-I want to hear him beg.” You scoop up some of Felicia’s arousal and lick your fingers clean, the other woman doing the same thing.

Miguel lifts his head up, seeing the mischievous looks on both yours and Felicia’s beautiful faces. “Y-You can’t be serious.”

Felicia presses her cheek against yours, smiling innocently. “Oh, Spidey, but we are. I mean, if you want us to ride you, then you’re going to beg for it like the little bitch you are.”

One thing about Miguel: he’s arrogant and prideful. He has always been this way. Dominating at work and in bed. There’s no way he’ll beg to be pleased.

“Please, please let me fuck you two.” Oh, nevermind. “Felicia, I want to bury my face into that fat pussy of yours. I want to taste you again.” He grabs her by the chin and brings her up to his face, kissing her passionately. Her hands rest on his thick thighs, breasts rubbing against him. He then grabs you by the throat and brings you up to his face as well, removing his lips from Felicia’s to place them on yours. “Hmm, little Mousie, I want to feel your tight pussy on my cock. I want you to struggle to take me in at first and then go crazy. Please, you think you can do that? Please?”

Something about a big, buff man begging is such a turn on. You lick his lips, humming. “I think we can. Should we, Felicia? I mean, he did beg like a little whiney bitch like you wanted.” Miguel squeezed your ass cheek for that and you whimpered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. But hey, no regrets.

“He earned it. Besides,” she began, shoving him down to the ground and hovering her cunt above his mouth, “he eats pussy as if his life depends on it.” She then looks over her shoulder, nodding towards his cock. “Take your time with him. When I first rode him, I struggled a bit. But after you ride the bull, you’re going to want to go for another spin.”

Miguel grabs Felicia’s hips and shoves her cunt into his face, taking a whiff before licking her hole. Felicia moans, her sounds of pleasure airy and high pitched. He keeps a firm grip on her rounded hips, his large tongue rubbing against her bud. He groans deeply, lapping up her secretions. The last time he and Felicia had any kind of sex was two years ago. Two years too fucking long.

As Miguel devours her pussy, you place your knees on either side of his hips and grab his spit covered cock, gulping. His cock is insanely massive. You don’t think you’ve ever had anything this big. But, as Felicia said, take your time.

It’s time to take on the beast. You rub the tip against your slit, electricity shooting up your spine. Fuck, this is going to hurt, isn’t it? The tip is already stretching you out and you haven’t slid onto him fully. With a deep breath, you begin to sink down on his cock.

Oh my.

He’s got a fucking monster cock.

Your head falls back on your shoulders as you cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, hips trembling violently. You further slide down his cock, mouth dropping agape by how full you feel. He’s stretching you out well, a bulge appearing in your lower stomach. His veins pulse within your gummy walls and his tip slides past the spongey spot within you.

Miguel’s thighs tighten when your walls continuously squeeze around his cock, milking precum out of him. Felicia lowers herself, hands on the floor as he eats her out. She grinds her pussy against his face, moaning out a series of ‘yes! yes!’ and ‘fuck, just like that, Spidey!’. Hearing her moans makes your pussy clench tighter around his cock and he has to pull away from her cunt.

“Mousie, please, stay still or relax,” he groaned out, his body trembling. “You’re going to make me cum.”

You’re not fully down on him yet, but you nod, freezing your body to allow him to calm down. You breathe in and out, chest heaving. Your cheeks burn in heat, sweat sliding down the sides of your face. His cock feels delicious inside of you and as you relax, your walls loosen, spikes of overwhelming pleasure attacking your inner core.

“Mm, I-I want to ride you now, Miguel,” you whine, growing impatient.

“Go ahead, you got the green light to continue,” Miguel said, returning to eat out Felicia.

With that, you finish sinking down on his cock, bouncing a bit when his tip pokes the entrace of your cervix. You take a moment to adjust before rocking your hips in fluid motions, moaning loudly. His cock rubs against your velvet walls delectably, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gushes of elixir spill out of your pussy with every bounce, skin slapping against skin. Streaks of white cream are left on his shaft with every pump.

Miguel O’Hara is having the time of his life. Eating out Felicia’s yummy pussy while your delicious pussy engulfs him in warmth. He’s so happy he decided to respond to her silly antics. If he hadn’t, it would’ve been another lonely night on his couch instead of fucking two beautiful women.

“Fuck, Miguel, g-gonna cum,” Felicia moaned, suffocating him within her thighs—just how he likes it.

“Ah! Ah! Miguel! Your cock feels soo good!” you scream, bouncing on his cock faster and faster, the coil from earlier returning. “Fuck! Ima cum! GOD!”

Miguel begins to thrust up into you, hips meeting hips. He wants the two of you to cum at the same time. Wants to be drenched in fluids.

Moments later, just as he dreamed, both you and Felicia orgasam all over him. You lean against Felicia’s back, gasping for air. Felicia removes herself from his face, sitting down.

“I think…me and Mousie should switch, right?”

“Oh fuck yeah.”

“I-I’m down for it,” you breathe. You remove yourself off his cock and sit on his stomach, shivering as his cum slips out of your slit and leaks onto his stomach. “But may I have a moment? Because fuck, that was amazing.”

The three of you take a moment to come down for your highs and recover. Then, Miguel is burying his face into your pussy, Felicia sinking down on his cock and bouncing. For the rest of the night, the three of you do a crazy amount of positions, fucking like wild animals. Sometimes, the three of you will either focus on one another or all pleasure each other at the same time.

Thank God for the online banking app not for not working, otherwise you never would’ve found yourself sandwiched between the hottest people in the multiverse.

#miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #across the spider verse #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #felicia hardy #felicia hardy x reader

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