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hwasoup · 9 months ago

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Tale As Old As Time

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art credit: marbipa

hii guuyys its soup !! what a crazy week it has been. I have a class where my group is shit except for 3 ppl and i've been really excited for spring break. Talking about spring break, after this update I wont be updating until after my spring break, However that doesn't mean i might release little mini stories that take place during this chapter !! I will still be active, juuust not writing as much. spring break for me ends on March 17th so be on the lookout for an update during that week !!

for this chapter I took some actual lines and dialouge from a book and sonnet !!

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warnings: pure fluff if you're allergic to it and maybe a little smexy thoughts, and some evil planning

words: 3.3k

Chapter 5: A Second Chance

After arriving back at the castle…

Miguel is taken all the way to his room where he could rest and heal from his wounds. Y/N peeked inside his room worried but was shut out by Lyla who softly told her that Miguel is currently having his room cleaned up. Y/N nodded as she waited outside.

After what seemed to be an hour, Y/N peeked back inside with a cloth and some hot water in a bucket. She noticed how his room is tidier and much cleaner from the original state from what it was. She thought that maybe, the Beast was too embarrassed for her to enter his room in such a grave state. Lyla hopped in the room besides Y/N and led him to the bed where Miguel was laying. Everyone was huddled by the bed with worried faces as they hoped for Miguel to feel better. Miguel on the other hand was still a bit grumpy and in pain as he was licking his own wounds. Y/N with a small sigh picked up a stool and sat right beside the bed and placed the rag into the hot water. She then picked it up and squeezed it to remove any excess water. “Here, and stop licking that you’ll only infect it further...” she says softly as she approaches him. Miguel looked at her and snarled a bit, Y/N sighed, and she grabbed his arm and placed the wet rag on the wound. Miguel roared loudly in pain and yelled at her “COÑO THAT HURTS”

“Well if you didn’t move so much then It wouldn’t have hurt!”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T RUN AWAY, THIS WOULD HAVE NEVER HAPPENED”

“WELL IF YOU DIDN’T FRIGHTEN ME, I WOULDN’T HAVE RAN AWAY”

Miguel opened his mouth but then stopped as she did have a point. “W-WELL, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE TO THE WEST WING” he smirks to himself as he thinks that he got the final word. “WELL YOU SHOULD LEARN TO HOLD YOUR TEMPER!” Miguel’s smirk dropped from that statement; she also had a point too.

Miguel eventually gave up as he dropped his arm for her to treat him. He did have to admit, it felt nice being cared for by someone. He growled again as he felt the heat and sting from the wet rag go back on his arm. Y/N looked at him and softly said “sorry if it stings a bit…” Miguel simply had to hold in his growls as he felt the hot water from the rag permeate his wounds. Y/N eventually looked at him and whispered “by the way… gracias ..por salvar mi vida…” Miguel was surprised and even felt touched for her appreciation. He didn’t know what to call the emotion, but he liked it. He turned to look at her with kind eyes “you’re welcome...”

After a while, Miguel fell asleep and Y/N slowly walked out of his room along with the others who were watching their interactions. Y/N turns around and crouches a little as she hears Miles say “Thank you…we’re grateful for you helping him..”

Y/N sighs and asks “why do you all care for him so much ? He’s so…well you know

Peter was polishing Mayday a little and looked up at Y/N “well…it's because we all grew up with him, we basically looked after each other for his entire life” Y/N’s heart crumbled a little for them “But…he’s the reason why he basically cursed all of you, why stay with him?”

Jess waddled up to her and sighed “well…it's because we didn’t do anything when his mother died and when his own brother left him. It was just Me and Peter, the others eventually came in as their own parents couldn’t work in this castle anymore. You see when we knew him…he was this bright boy that thought he could do anything, but…in the end we’re still servants, we couldn’t even do anything when the King took him under his wing and molded him to be the person he is today…”

In that moment Y/N understood everything now, she understood why these people were so loyal to him. She felt pretty bad and well ultimately decided that maybe she should give Miguel a second chance..

As the days went by, Y/N constantly went to see Miguel with medicine and more hot water to clean his wounds. Everyday she would hear stories from the staff of how Miguel was and their experiences with him, Heck even Hobie gave her a funny story. She felt motivated for a strange reason to help him and maybe even get to properly know him a bit better. Y/N eventually found out what the spell was about and she remembered asking Gwen what it meant if the last petal fell. In Gwen’s words she basically said “we become dead antique looking objects” Y/N also asked Peter when she found him on what it would take to break the spell, Miles was eager to tell her but Peter stopped him by simply saying “it's not something you should really worry about” Y/N thankfully took a hint and moved along with her day.

More days passed and Y/N started simply reading aloud to kill time

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,”

Miguel slowly stirred to Y/N’s voice and his eyes fluttered to hear her reciting a sonnet. His heart strangely softened at her voice, but he assumed it was because he appreciated her care for him during the past few days.He then heard the lines she spoke and immediately recognized it and finished the last few lines

“And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines”

Y/N stopped to look at him in awe “conoces a Shakespeare ??” she said in a slightly excited tone. Miguel moved from the left to right side of the bed to look at her, his heart slightly pounding at the sight of her “well..I had quite the expensive education” Y/N smiled at him “My favorite play is Romeo and Juliet” Miguel rolled his eyes and groaned “why am I not surprised” he said shaking his head in utter disappointment. “Como ?” Miguel chuckled and responded “All of that heartache pining, and romance, it's just-” Miguel makes a gagging noise to express how cringe he finds it.

Y/N chuckled a little and smiled. “Well, Mr. Cringe, from this assessment I can concur that you’re feeling a bit better, If you’ll excuse me, I promised Mayday that we would build a snowman” Miguel nodded as he understood and watched her walk out of his room. He lay there in confusion and wondered if he was going mad…"diablo, que hermosa” he muttered as he covered his face with his arm.

__________________________________________

An hour later

Y/N was walking outside with the adorable teacup to build a snowman. She smiled each time that Mayday pointed out little items that could be used to build. The two happily built a snowman and stole a carrot from Felipe’s stables to place as the snowman’s nose. Too bad Felipe saw them and started playing with them as well and squished the snowman. However, at a balcony high up in the castle, Miguel was watching Y/N from a distance. He softly watched her and smiled each time she laughed or smiled. He looked down at his bandaged wound and sighed as he wondered what to do. He looked beside him as Peter was paying attention to his darling daughter, hoping she wouldn't get trampled by Felipe. “Hey Peter…uhh…what do you call it when you-” Miguel gulped a little “when you feel kind of fluttery when staring at someone” Peter turned to him and smirked “is this someone, a certain woman who’s frolicking in the snow” Miguel groaned at his teasing and sighed “coño vale ok, jeez…but uhh…what do I do for her…I mean..she’s done so much for me” Peter then thinks for a bit and then smiled when thinking of something “why don’t you show her the library, trust me she’ll like it.” Miguel nodded as he took his advice and decided to show Y/N the library. A bit later during the day Miguel found Y/N inside the castle playing chess with Miles and asked her to join him for a special occasion. Y/N agreed and followed him, but immediately was tied a ribbon on her eyes “It’s a surprise and I don’t want you peeking.”

Y/N smiled and simply allowed Miguel to guide her into the greatest surprise of her life. She heard a door open and felt his large furry hands take her inside. She kept on walking until he brought her to a stop. "Can I take this ribbon off now?” Y/N asked. “Ya en un ratito” Miguel excitedly went to the windows and opened the curtains for light to come inside. Y/N could see the light seep in through the ribbon, but she still couldn’t make out what she’s looking at. “Can I take the ribbon off now ??” Miguel smiled with his toothy grin and told her “Yes, you may take off the ribbon” Y/N untied the ribbon from the back of her head and then finally looked into the room she was actually in and her jaw dropped. There were books everywhere in this giant room. “Oh my..this library…it's so...Dios Mio, it's so grand, it's wonderful !!”

Miguel smiled at her reaction, it was definitely priceless and worth it to see her cheeks rise and to see her eyes ever so slightly crinkle at the ends of her face. “I suppose it is” he responded “well…then since you like it so much then it's yours to keep” Y/N excitedly looked at him and asked “ Have you read all of these books ?” Miguel chuckles and scoffs “Not all of them, some of them are in Latin” Y/N laughs and smiles “was that a joke ? you like telling jokes now ?” Miguel turned around to a table, but then looked back at her and smiled “maybe”

—- —- —- —- —- —- —- —- —-

It has now been around 3 months since Y/N has stayed in the castle and ever since the two of them have slowly developed a bond. They became friends, but at the same time they really weren’t. The staff noticed it and were just simply happy to be working again. There were certain instances where Miguel was a bit gruff, awkward, or just had odd behaviors, but Y/N found solutions to each one. When eating soup at the dinner table, instead of using spoons they would sip the contents of the dish from the bowl itself. When eating meat, they would use their hands, and when reading books the two must sit together and share the book.

“Who knew that this would work ?” Jess whispered. Peter nodded and smiled “I'm surprised myself, it's quite encouraging to be honest” Little Mayday who was with them looked up at her father “daddy ? what IS werking ?” Peter chuckled and looked at the little teacup “nothing to twist your little head around May, come on now we have things to do in the kitchen” Mayday nodded and hopped along with her father to the kitchen. Jess peering at the newly formed friendship smiled “don’t screw up Miguel”. She left the room to another part of the castle to attend her duties at.

During this period of friendship, Miguel had started to wear clothes instead of the rags he wore, he wanted to look more presentable to Y/N. Luckily the seamstress was willing to sew new clothes for him in his furry stature. Y/N had invited him to walk outside to finish the book they were currently reading: The Count of Monte Cristo. He eventually met up with y/n as they took a stroll outside in the wintery snow. Y/N every once in a while, would peer up at him to spot any grimaces in his face, but was met instead with a calm look. As she read, she couldn’t help but peer at him one more time, her thoughts straying away to some impurities, her thoughts slipping as she imagined Miguel’s furry chest against her own body. She blushed at her own actions and disregarded it. She didn’t want to believe she just thought of something like that. The two finally walked by a bridge as she finally read the last sentences of the book “Gone,” murmured Valentine; “adieu, my sweet Haidee—adieu, my sister!”

“Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?” said Morrel with tearful eyes.

“Darling,” replied Valentine, “has not the count just told us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words?—’Wait and hope.’”

Miguel smiled at her last words and looked at her “well that was quite the story” Y/N looked up and smiled at him. “I agree” Y/N put away the book in a bag and then smiled as she walked quickly towards Felipe, gently petting the horse and feeding him some apples that she had stored in her bag. She gestured for Miguel to come. He gulped as he looked at the horse, he didn’t want to frighten him with his beastly appearance, but the reassurance that y/n gave him was enough. He slowly approached Felipe and tried to put his hand on the horse, but Felipe nickered. The noise startled Miguel as he slightly flinched. Y/N chuckled a little and helped Miguel approach Felipe again, she wondered how he was just so sweet and kind despite his angry facade. When Miguel finally placed his hand against the horse his ears perked up and he looked up at Y/N with a toothy grin. She chuckled as she looked at him dearly, she enjoyed that his curiosity was emerging and his uncertainties as well. She handed him some bird feed and showed him how to feed birds in a quiet manner as well. Miguel looked at her as he was able to pet Felipe and successfully feed some birds. He thought how her glances were just so adorable, how she would always place a hand on him without any fear. He wanted to ignore all of these little things she did, but he simply couldn’t get over her. Her body was so petite against his, it just made his mind wander to farther places. However, his thoughts were interrupted when he realized he had birds perched all over his upper body and feeding the seeds from his hands. Y/N on the other hand was watching silently from behind a tree as she had to make terms with herself that she was finding Miguel’s true personality quite attractive. She always knew as a child that the man that she falls for would be for who he is, but she never expected this to be in THIS way. Y/N looked back quickly at Miguel and chuckled at all the birds on him, but her playfulness got to her as she started a snowball fight with him. The two in the snow played around, throwing snowballs at each other relentlessly, some bigger some smaller, and Miguel using his size as an advantage to make a giant snowball to throw at Y/N.

After a long day of just playing in the snow, the two came inside to sit by the fire to start reading yet another book. Peeking outside the room where the fireplace was located. Miles, Gwen, Lyla, Peter, Mayday, and Jess were looking at the two of them.

“Y’know…I think they like each other” “Y’know what miles, I think you’re right.”

“Shush you two do you want us to get caught.” Peter chuckled “alright Jess, just let them have their moment.”

Mayday looked up confused and babbled “whaddaya mean they like each other” Peter laughs alongside with Lyla who tells her “We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

__________________________________________

However, in the village…

Ben was having a meeting with a man in the middle of the night in his cabin. Eddie was there as well but simply sighed as he knew that this plan was horrid

“Yo usualmente no salgo del Psiquiátrico en la madrugada, but I was told this is worth my time..”

Ben smiled wickedly and placed on the table a large bag of gold coins. The man looked at the money and smiled as he picked up a coin “i’m listening”

Ben smiled “so the plan is that I am dead set on marrying Y/N, but I’m starting to believe that she needs a bit of persuasion per say..” Eddie rolls his eyes and mutters “more like being flat out rejected” Ben sneered at Eddie, and quickly used his look to silence him.

“Everyone knows that her father is a loon, he was in the tavern I believe 3-4 months ago raving over some beast in a castle?!” The man sighed “Mauricio is harmless though, he hasn’t done anything to harm the villagers to put him IN the asylum.”

Ben smacked the table “Listen, the point is that Y/N would do ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING to keep Mauricio out of the asylum” Eddie mumbled again “might marry him too” The man thinks “So you want me to throw her father into el psiquiátrico, a menos que ella se ponga de acuerdo de casarse contigo. Oh that is just despicable…” The man chuckled as he looked at the bag of money and he starts laughing menacingly “I LOVE IT”

__________________________________________

Back in the castle as the days slowly got warmer

Miguel was sitting down in his budding rose garden, the sights of spring finally peeking through the icy cold. He sat down and hummed as he enjoyed the book he was reading, flipping through the pages, enjoying each time the story escalated. Y/N sees him from a distance and approaches him at the rose garden. “What are you reading?” Miguel surprised closed his book as he cheekily responded “oh, nothing” Y/N smiled and chuckled as she sat beside him “Guinevere and Lancelot” Miguel corrected her “Actually, King Arthur and the Round Table, lots of blood, men, sword fighting and stuff.” Y/N hummed “It's still a romance” Miguel groans “Esta bien, you win” Y/n smiled and laughed a bit. Miguel smiled and looked at her with adoration in his eyes “I never thanked you, for not leaving me to be eaten by the wolves” Y/N laughed again. In the distance laughter was heard from the staff as they all chatted and teased little mayday.

“Well, it seems that they know how to have a good time” Miguel rolls his eyes “and yet every time I walk in the room laughter just dies.” Y/N smiles at the similarity that they share and lays her head on Miguel’s shoulder, shocking the man to his core as his ears flattened in embarrassment. “I get it, the villagers would say I'm a funny girl” she moves her head away to look at him “I don’t think they meant it in a nice way” Miguel’s face drooped at her words “I'm sorry you had to experience that…Your village sounds horrid, terrible people there” Y/N chuckled as she agreed with him. Miguel looked into her eyes as he could see the sun glinting against the lovely shade that adorned her face. Without hesitating he didn’t realize what he said

“Estás haciendo que todo parezca tan bonito en mis ojos... crees que algún día podria bailar contigo?”

Y/N softly smiled as she took his hand and held his, feeling the warmth radiate from his palms.

“Of course, Miguel...”

taglist:

@cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles,@xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n,

@badbishsblog, @faimmm,@keendreamnight, @texanadmirer,@stargirrls, @itzsab,@delectableworm

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel atsv

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reverieblondie · 1 year ago

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Hello and welcome to my silly little blog where I write about all my fictional boyfriends!

You can call me Rev, Blondie or whatever you want! 26 y/o, She/Her. This blog is 18+ so minors do not interact!

I write for the BG3 fandom and the ATSV fandom (Rolan and Miguel are my favorites)

If you want to chat at me send me an ask, But Request are currently Open!

Characters I write for list first: Here

I also have an AO3 by the same name, but I only post series there.

Support me on Ko-fi? ko-fi.com/reverieblondie

Enjoy!

Masterlist

18+ SMUT for all list.

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

ATSV Masterlist

Other characters I write for!

TASM!Peter Parker

Series:

Neighbors: Moving to a new city could be challenging for anyone. Maybe you could meet someone to help you navigate your new home...

Chapter 1 - Spider-Catcher

Chapter 2 - Heroic Spiders

Chapter 3 - Web-Heads

Chapter 4 - Via the Window

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #gabriel o'hara x you #peter b parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #kaine parker x reader #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan x reader #bg3 rolan x tav #baldurs gate 3 x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 1 year ago

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On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

Y’all… this word count… I’m was almost gonna slept it up but decided not too. Anyways hehe. Also the last chapter is gonna be posted on Halloween at the witching hour in PST, cause Halloween chapter! so I’m excited about that lol. The usual, not proofread, Miguel might be ooc.

(Y/F/N)- Your full name.

Not much Miguel and reader interaction but what is there is worth it. Me attempting to write about sports stuff I don’t know anything about even though I promise I did attempt research. Cursing (I think tbh I can’t even remember but probably), fluff (if you squint?????), I’m giving up on these tags lmao.

Word count: 2.8k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 14: Ever thought of callin’ when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do.

—

It wasn’t entirely surprising how quickly you got everyone in your group to agree to go to the game later, although you were expecting Logan to be against the idea since he hates the sport, but apparently his want to see you and Miguel get together was stronger than his hate for hockey since he immediately agreed.

You were currently in your 4-way shared Airbnb getting ready for the hockey game, having already been kicked out of the dorms by the university despite there being a game tonight, which didn’t make sense in your opinion, but that’s neither here nor there. Usually you would usually travel back home during the breaks, but due to you and Logan participating in regionals this year, you had to stay in Nueva York, you had both decided to stay in one rather than a regular hotel since it would be cheaper, Kate and Xavier tagged along for emotional support.

“I’ve never actually attended a hockey game, what do you wear? Probably a crew neck or a hoodie right? It’s still an ice rink. Maybe I should wear school merch, ugh but the only school related jacket I have is our skating team varsity jackets.” Kate, Logan and Xavier just stayed silent as they watched you rambled on, their faces full of amusement (and from Logan just the slightest bit of annoyance) as they watched you freak out , glancing at you every once and a while as you kept pacing between the hallway bathroom and your room as you attempted to get ready for the game despite it not starting for another 3 and a half hours.

“You should have asked Miguel for one of his spare jerseys.” Logan teased as he wandered towards your doorframe and leaned against it as he watched you dump your suitcase over your bed. How the hell do you not have a red or blue jacket??

“Shut up Logan.”

“You’re overthinking this, you know.”

“What? No I’m not.” Oh, you totally overthinking this.

“He’s got you whipped.” Logan snickered, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. You in response threw a pillow in his direction, which he hit to dodge.

“You’re not funny Logan. Do you have a school sweatshirt I can borrow?” You said, releasing a deep exhale through your nose as you turn to look at him.

“I think I think I have a spear.” He replied as he picked up the pillow off the floor and tossed it on your bed. “I just don’t want Miguel trying to beat me up over you wearing my jacket.” He added as he walked over to where you were standing, stopping once he was right next to you.

“He wouldn’t, I promise. I won’t let him.”

—

“This is actually kinda fun to watch.” Xavier said to Kate, as she glanced over to you before back at the rink. The spiders were currently in the lead 2 to 1 and it was about to be the end of the first period, a little less than 6 minutes before the timer reaches zero.

“It’s totally scary though.” Kate said as she took a sip of her soda, you nodding in agreement.

“So glad I went into figure skating…” Logan muttered as his eyes widened, an almost horrified look spreading on his face, but he couldn’t look away. You would have giggled at his reaction if you didn’t feel the same way. Both sports are dangerous just in their own ways.

You turned your head as you saw Peter pass the punk to Miguel, who you believed was playing center, (you watched one of those 10 minute crash course videos on how hockey works before you came to the show because whether if you were aware of it or not, Logan was right about you being whipped already) as he was making his way closer to the goal, when one of the players on the opposite team came crashing into him back first. The other player’s elbow “accidentally” hit Miguel’s face, and Miguel was knocked back, landing against the wall as the player on the opposite side took the puck.

“What the fuck-.” You muttered under your breath in shock, cringing slightly as you watched Miguel’s hand going up to cover his mouth, his face wincing in pain, your hands going up to mirror his actions. As soon as Miguel’s hand made contact with his mouth, a timeout was called. The spider's couch went up to Miguel first, talked to him for a bit before walking over to where the referee was. You couldn’t hear anything from either interaction, so you just watched silently, ignoring your friends glances towards you, keeping your eyes on Miguel, worried written on your face. Miguel’s eyes shift around the arena, before finding yours, you can tell he’s trying not to cringe as much as soon as your eyes meet, as if he didn’t want you to see him in pain.

Once you two were looking at each other, you took your hand off your face and mouthed an “are you okay?” to which Miguel took his hand off his mouth and gave you a thumbs up and a smile, but his smile didn’t free you of your worries, in fact, it made it worse, before you could stop your body, you let out a gasp as your eyes widened. His mouth was bleeding, and it was bleeding a lot.

His expression seemed to falter a bit upon seeing your reaction, to what though you couldn’t really tell. Panic? Worry? You don’t know. Other then the initial pain he felt when the elbow made contact with his face, Miguel wasn’t really worried about his injury despite the metallic taste filling his mouth, he didn’t feel anything break or a tooth fall out, sure he’ll probably be sore from a few hours and will have to clean his mouth guard, maybe think about getting a cage instead (this wasn’t the first time someone has elbowed him in the face during a game) but he knows it’s a part of the sport, that’s what he signed up for when he started playing. So why was it that seeing the concern on your face made his chest tighten with guilt? Miguel didn’t have another time to dwell on his thoughts before his coach sent him to the locker room to clean up.

—

Miguel felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t get the taste of blood out of his mouth. He’s already gone through 4 sticks of gum and had to refill his water bottle twice in an attempt to flesh out the coppery taste from his senses. He let out a frustrated huff of annoyance as he spat out another piece of gum and brought his water up to his mouth and took a big swig, gargling it a bit before spitting it out in a sink and finally started to make his way out, his bag with his gear slung over his shoulder as he exited the locker room. They had won the game luckily, but Miguel wasn’t as happy as he wanted to be about the victory, maybe it was because he was still mad about getting elbowed in the mouth, maybe it was because he had to be benched due to him getting injured so early in the game or maybe it’s because out of all the games he played this season, of course he got injured at the one you were attending.

Most of the team has gone home already, some stragglers were left, two of those being Miguel and Peter, and Miguel wouldn’t be surprised if you had left already, he probably would have if he was in your shoes. Maybe you got the ick from him now after watching him get hit in the face, and he would be back in square one all over again, the thought was more painful then the hit to his mouth. His mind was running a mile a minute as we made his way down the hall and towards the main exit to head to his car where Peter was most likely already waiting for him. As he walked, he was trying to keep his thoughts on his sore jaw and about the game, trying to to not think about how you saw him get hit, or how your face twisted in disgust at the sight of his bloody smile after you asked him if he alright, the embarrassment and angry he felt when after he came back from the locker room Coach Turner benched him, how-

Is that you talking to Peter in the parking lot???

“I should turn around and wait till she leaves…” he told himself under his breath, but his feet continued to move him closer to where both of you stood near Miguel’s car. Once he was a big closer Peter noticed him first, since your back was facing him, talking to him about something he couldn’t quite pick up on.

“Ah speak of the devil.” Peter said with a smirk, one you would haven’t thought much of, but Miguel knew that there was a smug undertone to it, as if he was right about something. “Sup Mig, we were just talking about you.” He continued as you turned to face him, your eyes widened for a split second as they scanned Miguel’s face, as if checking for more injuries, before you took a step closer to him, you hand instantly going to rest gently on his arm.

“Hey! Oh my god, are you okay? That hit looked brutal, god that jerk.” Miguel didn’t know if it was the way your tone and face went from concerned to annoyed as you spoke, or the way you hand went traveled from his arm to his chin, lightly gripping it and moving his face from side to side gently, mirroring his actions earlier in the day when he did the same to you after he bumped into you at lunch, but god did you make his heart burst with warmth.

“I’m okay ice princess, calm down.” Miguel assured you with a small smile, a chuckle escaping his swollen lips as he took your hand and brought it down away from his face, giving it a light squeeze as he did so. Neither of you have realized that Peter had slipped away into Miguel's car.

“Okay, okay good.” You sighed and nodded, glad to know he was relatively okay.

“Didn’t mean to get you all worried Princesa.”

You scoff, taking your hand away from him and lightly hit his chest.

“God, you always gonna say something stupid, huh?” You rolled your eyes, but your tone couldn’t hide the smile forming on your face.

“Of course I do, ice princess, how else am I supposed to annoy you?”

—

To say you were nervous was a complete understatement, you have never been more terrified for a skating performance in your life. It was your first time performing for regionals after all.

You had barely gotten a wink of sleep, a few hours at most, but you mostly spent the night twisting and turning, glancing at your phone to look at the time, before letting out a frustrated groan and pulling your sheets up a bit higher in an attempt to get yourself to finally sleep. But your attempts were mostly futile, finally throwing in the towel around 5:00 in the morning, deciding it would be better to spend your time Getting ready for the day you’ve been anticipating rather then attempting to get another hour of sleep you know you won’t get.

By the time the clock had struck 5:30, you'd already packed your equipment in your bag, and had loaded it in Logan’s car, not surprised when you saw his back already packed, before making your way to the kitchen to make yourself breakfast, something light but enough to keep you full till lunch.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” Logan asked when you saw him enter the kitchen, two Starbucks cups hand, passing you one as he took a sip of his, his voice low as to not wake up Kate or Xavier. You let out a hum and nodded your head as you took the one he handed you and took a sip, the caffeine making you wince as you feel it try to wake your body up a bit.

“We should hit the road soon, coach Kavinsky said we should be at the rink by 6 so we can make it in time for check in and make it for our off ice warm up.” You said as you stood up from your seat, putting your dishes in the sink.

—

“God, I didn't know our short program would take so long…” Logan huffed as you both threw your figure skating jackets over your performance outfits for the first half of the competition, as you both rushed down the arenas long hallway being careful to avoid running into some of the other pairs as you made your way back to the locker rooms to change.

“Did you see Kate and her boyfriend?”

“No. Did you see Miguel and his friend?”

“No. I didn’t get enough time to look around the seats to find them.”

“Same.”

You both dropped the conversation once you both reached your respective locker rooms. Quickly changing out of the first dress and slipped the second one on, it was a full black dress with long mesh sleeves and smoke black mesh on your sides, being sure to be careful with the gemstones that were placed around the waistline and the chest, and the black feathers that accented the back in order to look like a pair of small wings as you slip your jacket back on, before going to change your lip color and eye makeup.

You were stressing hard, hell, you were surprised you were able to apply your eyeliner with a steady hand. You didn’t need to rush, since you and Logan weren’t going back on the ice for a while since they still had a few short programs to go through before you were supposed to go back on, but you tended to rush when you were nervous. Once you finished fixing your makeup you went to touch up your hair, placing two feathered wing hair clips that pinned flat against your head to match the ones of your costume, one of each side of your head. As you were placing some more bobby pins in your hair to help keep the small wings in place you heard your phone ding next to where you had placed it next to all your supplies. Once placing the last bobby pin in your hair, you grabbed your phone to open it and look at the notification.

Hey, you did amazing, can’t wait to watch your other dance. -unknown number

Fuck how your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t even need to ask who it was to know it was Miguel, although you never gave him your phone number, so you were a bit curious as to who he had asked for it, but for now you’d have to push that to the back of your mind and focus at the more important upcoming task at hand.

—

“Next skaters going for the free skate, (Y/F/N) and Logan Martinez.”

A pause as the two go into their starting positions before Swan Lake by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky begins to fill the arena, the two skaters cladded in black, the gemstones on their costumes, despite their small size, shimmered brightly from the lights. No sounds other than the music filling the rink and the occasional swish from the skates slashing the ice.

You might be representing the black swan but you’ve never looked more like an angel in Miguel’s eyes. Despite the tragic atmosphere that the performance was depicting, you looked absolutely heavenly to him, he shouldn’t be surprised, this is what you love to do, what you wanted to do for a living. But he’s never got the chance, no starch that, the privilege of watching you do a routine in all of your full glory. He’s caught glimpses of you and Logan doing both routines during practices, but that was different, you wouldn’t portraying the emotions like you were right now, you wouldn’t wear the performance outfit like you were now, and the energy you were putting into the routine was far more grand than when you would practice back on the uni’s arena. He could already see himself watching from home as you and Logan were representing the country in the Olympics, but then again, maybe it was just his heart talking,being overzealous. He didn’t know if it was the performance or just your presence that he couldn’t tear his gaze from, but he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to look away in the first place.

You and Logan were selected to advance to sectionals.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @miguel-ohara-eater @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @sukioyakio @minimari415

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #on thin ice fanfic #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #figure skating au #hockey au #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

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glaciertea · 8 months ago

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Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

Ch.3<< >>Ch.5

Notes: Miguel is only supervising. That's what he does best.

Chapter 4: Even When I Doubt You...

Word count: 2.2K

Three weeks passed after you and Miguel unwittingly crossed paths in that park.

Three weeks ago, you towed him to your place, granting him your bed to recover after his immune system went through an unwarranted drug trip.

Three weeks where he was made aware that you weren't frightened by him. Where you two conversed pleasantly at your dining table for over an hour and a half, waiting for his caffeinated beverage to arrive.

It was three weeks when he made his first mistake. The first slip-up.

“I can relate. I never catch a break on this side either.” He crossed his arms, giving a smirk.

“Always running ragged. Miguel, how do you do this? Mr. Miguel, I need that. Miguel, can you fix this? I swear it just starts blending into one at that point.”

Miguel slid his hand over his face, groaning at the many laborious, bothersome tasks he received at the HQ.

“Miguel. That name definitely suits you. But I'm sorry that they run your name thin so often.” You traced the rim of your cup.

He froze. Panicked thoughts.

“What? What did you just say?”

“I-I'm sorry that they run you-”

Miguel planted his seathed claws on the table, voiding to conceal his now uneasy concern. “Before that.”

Your color seemed to drain. “That it definitely suit-”

“Before. That.”

You wondered what you possibly did wrong. “Mi-Miguel.”

Miguel couldn't be agitated with you. If he hadn't let his guard down, if he wasn't so caught up in the moment, you would have never known.

It's one thing to have a face to the suit, but now you have the face and a name.

He didn't know what else to do. He distraughtly paced back and forth in your living room as you swore you wouldn't blab a single word about him to anyone.

Though he wanted to trust you, Miguel wasn't convinced enough. He barely knew you, so you could have effortlessly declared a bold-faced lie.

And as his control crept over him, it sparked an unprompted number exchange.

Honestly, you considered it to be some smooth way of flirting and scoring your number, but with how unnervingly he overreacted, you realized that was NOT the case.

Now Miguel, unwittingly, has a new acquaintance under his belt. A new problem to keep tabs on. Well, ‘problem’ was an overstatement. You weren't that unpleasant.

You occasionally text him, asking about his day, taking the time to learn about each other, or sending pictures of stuff you presume he'd find interesting. He would respond back if time allowed, cordially liking a few of the interactions.

Only a few.

Miguel sought to keep the conversations to a bare minimum. It was just enough to ensure that he could positively depend on you keeping him being Spider-Man classified.

Pushing his curls back, Miguel was glued to the monitors, doing his daily responsibilities. He couldn't stand any more distractions; he wasn't going to allow any more to sneak into his domain.

“Hey, hey, Miggy! I finished that mission for you!”

An overly cheerful voice, followed by the sounds of joyful cooing, sprang out below. A voice that he knew all too well, a voice he grew to spurn at any given moment.

E-616 Peter. Peter B. Parker.

“¡Ay coño! What did I say about bringing May with you on your assignments?!” Miguel pinched the bridge between his nose, struggling to hold back his infuriated temperament.

“I know, I know! ‘Keep the baby at home or else, Parker.’” Peter curved his arms low in some muscle stance, deepening his voice to do his best impersonation of Miguel.

“Last minute. Couldn't find a babysitter. Ahh, I'm sure you know how it goes!”

He shot a web onto Miguel's desk, flinging him and Mayday up as Miguel bared his fangs at the spider, only for it to be discarded.

“Jeez, Miguel, when was the last time you cleaned around here?”

“Peter, don't sta-”

“And that mission was such a back killer! Don't think I've seen a Mysterio so spry before!”

Peter cracked his back as Mayday managed to escape from her carrier and began to clamber up the walls, squealing out gleefully.

“Ah! Be careful, Mayday! Watch your head!”

Miguel grinded his teeth, his jaw clenched from the sheer stress of the current display. He muttered a slew of curses in Spanish. He caught no breaks.

“By the way, Miguel, I've been meaning to ask you about this week. I'm going to need this Friday off, so-”

Peter abruptly paused, his gaze attached to something. Miguel whirled to deny the request but stopped, following his trail.

They landed on his phone.

Peter saw a profile icon of a young lady. Your hair (Peter knew a thing or two about hair thanks to Mayday), skin, and eyes were glowing as the sun cast on them, as you gave a cheery grin and thumbs up to the camera.

“Who's that?” Peter's tone was intrigued by the person occupying the small circle.

“Go away, Peter.” Miguel snatched up the phone and turned it off.

Peter harrumphs at the sudden switch from his pal. He's dismissive, but not that easily. He was dismayed that he couldn't quite catch the name, but he did snag the last message sent.

And the last one was delivered by the brutish man, frantically typing away.

“Is she a new friend of yours?” He leaned on the edge of a metal table before Miguel nudged him off it.

“Don't worry about it.” Miguel's pitch dropped.

“Oh, don't be like that! I'm glad you're finally putting yourself out there! You deserve this-”

“Peter. Quit. It.”

“I mean, she must be a friend if you're asking her about how her job is going!”

“Peter!” Fury boiled in his chest.

“Or maybe you guys are still on the surface base level, but you're getting to that point of evolving into something more-”

“She's no one!”

Miguel smashed one of the computers as glass shards sprayed on the flooring and table surface. He panted harshly, his breathing irregular.

Peter stuck his hands up at the violent outburst. Mayday's shrills of laughter echoed throughout as the other two were frozen. He encountered Miguel's temperament plenty of times, even on his worst days, yet in this moment in time, even Peter was marginally timid.

Peter inhaled and swallowed that air bubble in the lump of his throat.

“No one. Got it. I'm sorry for… I was just happy that you found someone else to chat with in a more casual setting.”

Sensing an indication, Mayday swung her body over to her dad, squirming all over until he settled her back into her carrier. Miguel withdrew from the hole in the screen, sinking his clawed hands on top of his dome achingly.

Peter debated if he should say anything as he chewed on his tongue and exhaled from the nose.

“She's… she's just someone I ran into. She doesn't hold much significance.” Miguel spoke, whipped, and outright defeated.

Peter went to open his mouth until Miguel's phone buzzed a few seconds in between each message he received. He ceased his accusations, not wanting to prod anymore beyond that. He ultimately took Miguel's word for it.

Wishing him a farewell, May wiggled her arms with a merry cry, and the two were off venturing deep into the HQ. Staring absent mindlessly into the destroyed monitor, Miguel collected his device and double-tapped the screen.

Four unread messages from you.

He hovered his thumb over, contemplating if he even should reply. He meant it when he howled that you don't have too much value to him.

Slightly, yes, but wholly? No.

He thinks.

You know his identity, so that credits some purpose of priorities. And he's been upholding keeping tabs, making sure no contrivance was stirring within your brain, so there was also that bit of importance.

But you're still just some random stranger.

Miguel opened up the texts, skimming them in one go.

‘Work is going a-okay. Pretty slow day, but I'll take it. A couple of window shoppers in their own little world.’

‘How's work coming for you? I hope they're not hassling you too much!’

‘Oh! Btw, someone brought in this crate of albums! A lot, if not most of them, are in Spanish, specifically from Mexico!’

The next was an image of a scratched-up light blue milk crate with the music collection piled up. Another text was under it.

‘Do you have any you want me to scope out and save for you? Do you even have a record player?’

You don't have any virtue to him. You don't have him in this vice– this radiating magnitude that magnetizes him to you. It's only been three weeks!

Three weeks of… naturally, normal conversations, even if they're sporadic throughout the day. The sincerest exchanges that sometimes have the tips of his mouth curl upwards.

He doesn't have this peculiar fascination with you.

Three weeks. It's only been that long.

‘Any Santana? Selena? Jorge Ben Jor?’

He wasn't indulging. You don't spark anything. He's vastly positive about that.

A few minutes passed as Miguel assumed you were preoccupied. This was perfect; he didn't desire any interruptions. Miguel is a restlessly engaged leader whose profession is mandatory.

Then the phone vibrated.

‘Guess who's in luck? I found all three! But do you have a record player to listen to any one of these?’

Miguel glanced over at the orange glow bouncing with footage feeds of dimensions and parts of the establishment… him and Gabriella… before turning back to his device.

‘No, I don't.’

‘Ohhhh, well, the store sells a bunch, so I can try and get you one on my next paycheck! But do you wanna come over to my place and listen to them? Whenever you're free of course!’

You don't overtake his mind. You don't do anything of the sort.

‘How about tomorrow night?’

You're just a disturbance that he can effortlessly stick aside.

‘Sounds like a deal! I'll text you my address just in case you forgot!’

Miguel, flabbergasted by his own actions, shakingly put the phone back on the desk. He didn't know what the hell possessed him to do that. He couldn't just halt everything for some music with a woman who could blackmail him with such ease.

He has dimensions to overlook. He has workers to oversee, constraining their operations so they won't damage anything. He doesn't have time for free nights away from his tasks. Why? Because if he doesn't do it, no one else will. So he can't wrap around what is compelling this contiguity towards you.

Sure, those weeks going back and forth, learning about how you enjoy working in a thrift store, relishing random antiques that hold many stories that are intriguing to you. Or the various hobbies that draw him in whenever you adorably ramble on about them before apologizing about your disjointed enthusiasm.

Or how you actually welcome and actively listen whenever something outrages him. Ranting and raving as you impart patience and even earnest words of advice.

Or this sense of charm whenever he receives photographs of items that remind him of his childhood. How you both reminisce late at night about the days of the past. Well, as much as he chooses what he'll spiel.

“¿Qué demonios estoy haciendo?” He grumbled, particularly at no one.

This wasn't him. Anything that yielded him inside or away from the HQ was a deep-rooted aversion for him.

This wasn't right. None of this was.

“Lyla.”

“What's up, boss?” The A.I. appeared in front of him.

But he couldn't stop.

“Make sure my line is disconnected tomorrow evening.”

“Wait, what? That's highly unusual for you.” She raised an eyebrow, lifting her legs into a criss-cross posture.

For Miguel to stray elsewhere from his work surface indicates there's something pressing occurring.

“Is there something going on? Obstructive anomalies that need the requisite attention? Headquarters monthly surveillance inspection? Well, no, that's not until the end of the month. Oh! Is it that weird time with the whole heat thi-”

“Lyla!” Miguel gnashed his teeth as the unpleasant sound grated in her digital ears.

“Okay, okay! Jeez! Then what exactly is being concocted? It's not like you to just dip.”

His phone hummed with new text messages. Miguel strived to pluck it from Lyla's wandering, tantalized eyes, but she glitched herself right near his cell.

“Oooh, got yourself a date with her, huh?” Lyla smugly grinned, wagging her brows in a teasing manner.

“It's not a date. She's just showing off some objects. Nothing more, nothing less.” His right eye twitched at the assumptions being directed at him.

“Hey, I'm not doubting you, just how I'm personally perceiving it.”

Lyla launched her hands up to exhibit she meant no offense, even before Miguel could refute.

He wasn't exhibiting any indications of it being a date. He was only visiting an acquaintance that he still subsisted on keeping track of.

“I'll trace any calls over to Jess, but you know she won't be too happy.” She sang, emphasizing ‘happy.’

“Just tell her I'm doing coding to enhance the Go Home Machine, and I don't want anyone harassing me.”

Lyla lazily saluted with her pointer and middle finger and vanished. Miguel was once again isolated as he justified his choice of conduct.

He was just… Supervising.

Nothing more, nothing less.

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #Tales the Songs Weave #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel x fem!reader

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bloodiedrogue · 1 year ago

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LESSONS IN CONFESSING (5)

SUMMARY: You and Peter go on a little field trip!

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 7,023

WARNINGS: Angst, canon typical violence, misuse of a hockey stick, descriptions of a panic attack, a little bit of comfort at the end I SWEAR.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, hope you guys are liking the fic so far. I'll be honest we only have one chapter left! At least... of this arc. >:)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

The feeling of his lips still lingers as you crash to the ground. In a heap of pain, you crumple to the floor ass first, your head barely missing the leg of your bed frame, causing you to let out a frustrated huff and bring your hands to your eyes, palming the sockets in frustration because what the fuck was that?

The last thing you expected going into this was a kiss. Really anything other than an earful of curse words and repeated avoidance was all you anticipated. You didn’t think in a million years he’d kiss you and then shove you through a goddamn portal!

“What the fuck, man?”

You’re not sure whether to cry or laugh as you lay there, shell-shocked over the whole ordeal. Nothing about that interaction made much sense now that you’re thinking about it. Instead of exhibiting his usual aggression, Miguel tried to reason with you, his voice almost apologetic as you screamed in his face demanding answers. In the moment you didn’t notice, but now that you’re away you can see everything differently —clearly in a way that has you squinting at the ceiling trying to remember.

His body looked different, almost smaller. His eyes, no longer in their usual narrowed stance, looked soft. Worried. As if your presence there was less so an annoyance and more of an actual problem. Not to mention the coolness of his voice. Usually, Miguel’s as hotheaded as they come so to hear a tone without any fight behind it felt unusual. Wrong in a way that makes you wonder what the hell changed. In those short hours between conversations what happened that made his hostility subside?

And what the fuck is Alchemex?

Shooting upward, you make a beeline for your desk. As per usual it’s a mess, covered in empty bottles of beer and Gatorade as well as protein bar wrappers. Angrily, you swat a pile of the latter away, cursing under your breath as you turn on your laptop, groaning at the streamline of notifications that begin to roll in. Where are you? Sweetheart, are you okay? Call me when you get this. Pete’s looking for you!

There’s about nearly thirty or so texts synching in through your phone. Most of them are from Peter and May, but sprinkled in between there’s a few from Gwen and MJ too, all of them filled with words of worry making you swear again and race to the living room. You’re pretty sure you left your phone on the coffee table. It’s either there or somewhere on the couch, you guess, sprinting across the hardwood floor only to stop in your tracks, noticing Peter.

His back is to you but regardless, you can see that he’s talking to someone through his watch, his voice low and broken. You figure whoever’s on the other end of that call is probably telling him what happened. Either then or bad-mouthing him for doing a bad job of keeping this all a secret. For letting his stupid, civilian sister jump into another world unsupervised.

“Thanks, I uh, gotta’ go.”

It’s the one thing you hear before he turns to face you, eyes narrowing to take in your dishevelled appearance.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Fuck, he’s mad. Not that that’s surprising. You’d be mad too if you were in his shoes. It’s just you’re not used to mad Peter. Peter whose eyes are barely visible through the rage that collects across his brow. Peter who crosses his arms over his chest and anxiously taps his foot just like Ben when you were kids.

“Out?”

He scoffs, loudly. Angrily. A loud eruption of reverberation that has you closing your eyes and flinching, waiting for the impact. “Out? Are you kidding me? I leave for five seconds and somehow you end up across the universe by yourself with no phone?”

“Would a phone even work in—“

“You’re lucky Hobie was there. If it were anyone else you could’ve gotten in serious trouble.”

You open your mouth to argue but ultimately stop, realizing he’s right. You did something recklessly stupid. Something you promised to never do since he got bit by that spider and started swinging through the city fighting crime so you and the rest of his family would be safe.

“I’m sorry.”

As expected, he ignores your apology, groaning as he pinches the bridge of his nose and begins to pace. “I mean, seriously, what were you thinking? Had it ever occurred to you that maybe following me into a portal was maybe not the greatest idea?”

“Well yeah, of course I thought about it.”

“Did you really?”

You did, obviously. You thought about it for as long as you could before you decided, but he’ll never know that. Not with how fucking stubborn he’s being. “Look, I only followed you because I thought you’d be on the other side! If I’d of known you’d be long gone already I wouldn’t have jumped!”

“Somehow I highly doubt that.”

You can’t help but frown knowing this is a losing argument. No matter what you say or do will end in an ever-growing rift. Peter’s trust in you will falter the longer you speak and all you can think about is how much you don’t want that.

You’ve already lost the trust of one Spider-Man tonight. You don’t need to lose another.

Defeated, you cover your face in your hands, letting out a heavy breath as you walk toward the kitchen to grab the scotch.

“Oh, please don’t bring that out.” Peter groans as you grab the bottle along with the usual glasses, flashing him the most apologetic smile you can muster as you usher him to the couch and begin your ritual.

“I don’t want to drink with you.”

“Then don’t. Just sit.”

Thanks to Miguel’s past visits the bottle’s pretty much gone anyway. A detail you can tell confuses Peter as you empty the last of its contents into the glasses and set one in front of him.

“Look, I’m sorry I jumped into another dimension without your permission. I had —I mean—“

“Are you okay?”

You stop, confused. Peter always asks if you’re okay. Unlike most, he’s actually considerate of the way you feel in stressful situations, but something about the way he asks this time feels different. Unplanned. Spontaneous in a way he wasn’t necessarily prepared for.

“Yeah, why?”

“The scotch is gone.”

“So?”

“You only ever bring it out when I’m here,” he points out.

“Usually.”

“Usually?”

You nod, reaching for your glass to take a sip. When it hits your lips you can’t help but cringe, suddenly feeling wrong. As if the taste inside your mouth has been replaced with something inherently false.

“You’re hiding something.”

“No.”

You are. Sort of. At least, you didn’t realize you were until now. Over the course of the last few months, you figured Peter knew about Miguel’s visits. About his weird, overbearing boss hopping through your window semi-regularly to get patched up and sleep on your couch. It seemed like something he would mention, given the amount of intimacy you shared when you cleaned his wounds. All those countless nights of scotch fuelled arguments and the never-ending debate of identity.

Stupidly, you assumed Miguel told Peter everything, but now that you’re sitting next to him, glancing between the empty bottle and his troubled expression, you know that he didn’t. Not a single fucking word was uttered between the two of them and now you’re the one that has to bear the news.

“You’re horrible, you know that?”

If you weren’t already so stressed you’d laugh. But considering everything that’s happened over the course of twenty-four or so odd hours (maybe, honestly you have no idea at this point) you’re too exhausted.

“God, this is all so messed up.”

You’re at your wit's end, falling into the abyss. Your head is hurting and your chest feels like it’s a ticking time bomb with the way your heart rate suddenly rises. In the corner of your eye, you can see Peter’s face begin to soften, his eyes floating in a space between stern and concern. Ever so slowly he inches closer to you on the couch, pulling you tightly against his chest as you inhale a little hard and find yourself struggling to get it back out. At which point, the air in your lungs grows three sizes, filling the cavity of your chest; tightening around your innards like a half-tied noose ready to slide into its final form.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.”

His voice is simultaneously beside you and distant. The way it sounds is morphed by the time it hits your ears, distorting in waves as if you’re falling further into the ocean. You can’t hear or breathe and as time passes you can feel your vision start to go fuzzy as you try to focus on the glass in front of you.

It makes you think of Miguel, stupidly. Of all those nights spent sitting beside each other, talking about whatever topic of interest arose in the moment. Somehow, despite the countless hours spent together, the level of importance in those conversations was minimal, ranging from things like favourite dog breeds to the most influential shows of the 90s.

In those moments, the details he gave were vague, bordering on mass-produced opinions rather than ones of his own. Each time he answered one of your questions you were sceptical of his answer, always raising your brow in question before diving into some bullshit debate.

Staring at the fuzzy outline of the glass, you wonder if any of what he said was actually true. If he actually preferred baseball over football. If he thought video games were a pointless medium. If he favoured the smokier scotches over the brinier ones.

In the moment he could’ve said anything and you’d partially believe it. Out of the desire to know more about him, there was always this sliver of acceptance. This willingness to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially with the easy topics. Revealing to you his favourite things seemed pretty low on the overall secrecy scale, so it always felt like there might be some truth there. A desire of his own to offer up a part of himself.

You know now it was probably all a lie. Every last word uttered inside your cramped apartment was nothing more than a diversion tactic to keep himself guarded and fell for it like some fucking idiot.

God, you hate him. More than what you started with, your hatred grows as you pull yourself from Peter’s grasp and steady your breath, wiping your face in the process.

He doesn’t deserve your tears. Or any time spent thinking of how that kiss made you feel so completely full and warm and —fuck, enough of that.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you lie, hoping he’ll drop it; knowing he won’t.

“Okay, well we both know that’s a lie.”

You roll your eyes and watch as he downs the liquor in front of him, barely even registering the strength as he swallows it whole. “Fuck you and your stupid spider senses.”

“I think this time they’re just plain old Parker ones.”

“That’s even worse.”

“Sure is, now spill.”

It’s hard to come up with the right words, at first. Each time you open your mouth, ready to tell him everything you’re met with a reluctant nagging at the back of your head, telling you to shut up. To keep this all a secret because it’s classified. But then you remember this isn’t about him. It’s about you in this universe among all the other ones.

“Before I start, I uh —I need you to promise you’re not going to tell anyone. Like, seriously anyone.”

Peter looks at you with questionable eyes, obviously wondering what you mean as you sigh and begin to go into detail.

“Truth is, Miguel’s been coming over,” you say, trying to gauge his unwaveringly neutral reaction. “After that horrible brunch day he showed up in the middle of the night all fucked up so I let him stay. We talked briefly. I offered him ol’ the painkiller and scotch trick and since then he’s been coming over.”

“How frequently?”

You shrug. “Semi.”

There’s a pause, during which Peter’s jaw tightens as he leans back, raising his hands to his face. “Do you have —oh, I don’t know—an exact amount maybe?”

You mirror his position, resting your head against the backing of the couch. With a sigh you glance up to the ceiling and try to count every individual visit, realizing quickly that they sort of just flow together like one long conversation spanning over the course of eight or so weeks.

“I think twelve?”

His mouth drops open in shock. “Twelve?”

“Give or take.”

The next thing you know Peter’s grumbling into his hands, muttering about the double standard of rules —about how Miguel should know better and how this could ruin everything.

You’re sure it has something to do with some inter-dimensional laws. Like time travel, there’s probably some sort of code all the spiders live by where they don’t mess with the order of things. People from other universes aren’t meant to mingle unless it’s for the purpose of keeping order. Where you’re from is where you stay and Miguel showing up time and time again without anyone knowing is a direct violation of that.

“I don’t know if this is like, against the rules or whatever but he told me… things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Uh, things about me?”

It sounds wrong when you say it like that, especially when Peter sits back up, dropping his hands to look at you with wide eyes. You discover then that you definitely could have worded it better —thought about the implications of your phrasing before letting the words fly out of your mouth. This is a serious matter after all.

“He told me he knows me —sort of,” you explain. "I can’t remember the exact words, but it was something along the lines of in every universe you are infuriating followed by him arguing how he understands me more than I think he does.”

As you roll your eyes at the memory, you can see that Peter’s still processing, his gaze darting around the room at full speed. At the same time, his chest rises and falls in quick succession, his entire body fidgeting throughout the breaths until suddenly he’s completely still and staring at his watch.

“Did he say anything else?”

Despite everything he’s kept from you, you feel obligated to lie for Miguel. To stop the conversation right there and call it a day. In the long run, it’d save him a lot of grief —probably you as well depending on how he responds. If you stop now, that’s it. The book closes and you get to move on.

Do you even want that?

You’re not sure you do. Not after Miguel’s final words. Sure, you don’t really know what they mean —how they apply to you and him and all the rules that have been set in place, but at this point you’re not willing to wait to see how things play out. Your patience is thin on a good day, and considering the severity of everything happening the idea of staring at that ticking clock, waiting for whatever it is to happen, isn’t an option.

So you have to tell him. About Miguel’s confession, about the conversation in the control room, about those final words uttered before he kissed you.

“Hobie took me to HQ.”

It’s the only thing that needs to be said for Peter to understand that the situation is going further downhill. Immediately, his face falls into a panic, his hands moving to grip the roots of his hair as he sighs and leans back, waiting for the other bomb to drop.

When it does he’s a mess of anxious energy. Every thought that zips through his ears is showcased across his face, ranging from confused to angry, ending in desperation you’re not sure you’ve witnessed.

“I have to talk to him.”

He’s standing from the couch and stepping over your feet before you can even blink. Quickly, you follow and reach to grab the wrist that houses his watch, pulling him back to a reality where it’s just you and him and the urgency of everything is paused for just a minute.

“You need to talk to me first, Pete,” you beg, feeling him peel himself away from your grasp.

“He should’ve known not to come here.”

His fingers are rubbing rough circles into his temples now, pressurizing the stress. Turning it into a physical sensation he can work through. You know this because you do the same when you’re stressed. Something about feeling that pain on your skin instead of the inside of your head makes everything easier. More palatable when the world feels like it’s ending. It’s something Ben taught you to do when you were kids. “Localize that feeling and take deep breaths. It’ll make you feel better,” he’d say.

In this moment you want to repeat those words. To pull him close and tell him that everything’s going to be fine. That you’re never going to talk to Miguel ever again if it means that things can go back to the way they were.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just you and him —it… it wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

“Like what?”

Your voice is harsher than you intend it to be. Full of an impatient venom that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You want to know what he means without all the necessary filler. Already for weeks, you’ve been kept in the dark, longing to learn the truth and every time you get even an inch closer it always feels like you’re thrown three feet back, scrambling to remake progress.

“Peter, please. For once in your life don’t keep secrets just because you think it’ll keep me safe.”

It feels like you’re begging to no one. As if, instead of a person, there’s this empty vessel who’s staring back at you, lifeless in the eyes and face but still moving to press the screen of their watch.

“I’ll jump in after you.”

“I know.”

He says it so quietly you can barely hear it over the whirring of the portal that begins to form, shrouding you in a light that warms your skin as Peter motions you to follow.

Even though he single handedly has one of the most stressful lives in existence, it’s very rare you ever see Peter on edge. No matter the situation, there’s always an aura of calm that surrounds him. In high-stress environments, he’s able to push through the problems with little issue, ignoring the onslaught of doubts you’re sure are still there.

Because of this, seeing him all tense as you wander through the streets of an unfamiliar city, you find yourself frowning —worrying that maybe you’ve pushed him too far.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” he tells you, sighing.

Stopping at a crosswalk, you both look left to right and back again, surveying the snow-covered streets in awe. It’s colder here. A good fifteen or so degrees below what it is back home. Everything in sight is enveloped in a white blanket twelve inches deep. Beneath your feet you can feel the presence of ice crackling against the pavement, making you cautiously step out onto the street when the light inevitably goes green.

“Where are we, anyway?”

“Earth-1867.”

You meant to ask which city, completely forgetting you’re in another dimension, but reserve asking him, knowing deep down you don’t really need to know. You’ll never be back here, anyways.

“It’s fucking freezing.”

Thankfully, before stepping into the portal, Pete handed you a jacket and some boots —both of which you nearly declined to take before noticing the look on his face. You figured because the weather was pretty mild back home you wouldn’t have to worry about it here. Then you quickly realized how ignorant that sounded and threw them on without question.

Now that you’re walking through the streets of some winter wonderland, you’re thankful for once you managed to listen.

“That’s what happens in Canada.”

“Canada?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly interested, you start to glance around a bit more, taking in all the unfamiliar buildings that line both sides of the streets. As expected, they look pretty similar to the ones back home. Small hole-in-the-wall shops with dark-coloured doors and big windows. Most of the signs are flipped closed, revealing nearly pitch-black interiors that have you squinting to look inside, but there’s also a few that remain open.

“Wait, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

Groaning, you throw your head back in defeat to see the darkened sky. In the corners of your vision, the city lights glow faintly, shadowing the stars while simultaneously showcasing the huge puffs of snow that fall toward your feet.

Almost immediately, it makes you blink and look back down, noticing a masked spider-woman a couple of feet away. She’s waving at you excitedly with one hand while her other remains occupied by a drink tray full of cups.

“Hey!” Peter smiles and immediately returns the gesture, his pace quickening to meet her in the middle of the street, both of them going in for a hug.

“What’d you do get lost on the way or something?” she jokes once you’re near, nudging her elbow with his before handing him the drink tray. When he takes it he shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“You and your gifts.”

“What? It’s the way of my people, don’t be a dick about it.”

Peter raises his free hand in defence before offering you a cup. When you take it you practically melt against the heat, sighing contently as you thank her.

“No problem. Figured you could use a little pick me up after… y’know?”

You look at her confused, moving the cup to your lips to take a sip of arguably the best hot chocolate you’ve ever tasted.

“Pete texted me on the way over,” she explains then. “He didn’t give me details or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Just said you wanted a little tour of the abandoned Alchemex building we got out on North York.”

Alchemex.

The liquid inside your throat catches, prompting you to double over and cough, causing panic in both Peter and his friend. Both of them jump to your aid, placing soft hands on either shoulder, watching intently as you clutch your throat, gasping for air, wondering what the hell’s going to happen next.

It can’t be good. Peter said it’d be rough and although he’s often the type to lie and keep secrets about the betterment of your health and safety, you’re certain this time he’s telling the truth. What lies behind the doors of that Alchemex building will be anything but easy for you to swallow and regardless of wanting to know, you’re still not sure you're ready.

“You okay?”

You nod slowly, feeling them both sidestep away to give you space. By that point, you can finally breathe again. As you inhale, you can feel the cold air rushing through your lungs, erasing the warmth entirely. It makes you shiver upon impact, your gaze catching the two of them staring at one another.

“I’m fine, sorry.”

“Right, well, uh, we should probably get going then. Let the tour commence and all that?”

Both you and Peter nod, causing the spider to clap her hands.

“Alright then, drink up. It’s about a twenty minute swing away.”

Her name is Riley Gaboury.

While you’re swinging through the air, clutching onto Peter’s back for dear life, she tells you this, then follows up with the same kind of spiel Hobie gave you earlier. The one about how she got bit by a spider and became Toronto’s one and only Spider-Woman.

As she speaks, you try your best to listen, feeling your ears sting from the chill of the air pelting against your skin. Based on the quickness of her voice you can tell it’s been a while since she’s had any visitors. Her voice feels never-ending, like an overexcited child explaining their favourite TV show.

In any other instance you’d be happy to talk with her —get to know her a bit better— but right now all you can feel is the cold anxiety creeping through your limbs.

All your extremities have pretty much gone numb, pulsing underneath the surface of near frostbitten skin and it’s becoming too much. More than anything you want to ask if you can stop and walk but knowing the obvious urgency you keep your mouth shut, trying your best to distract yourself as you take a particularly rough turn.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbles under his mask.

You groan back, barely able to think, let alone speak as he propels both of you forward over a nearby rooftop.

“We’re almost there, just a couple more blocks,” Riley calls out.

As you whizz past the traffic below, you can feel your stomach churning with anticipation. Although it’s only been a few hours, you can feel the oncoming disaster of knowing begin to move. Closer and closer it inches the further you swing, reminding you of the potential consequences. Of the inevitable complications that’ll come with knowing why you’re meant to remain in the darkness.

It feels almost too much as Riley points to a tall building lined entirely with windows, prompting both her and Peter to suddenly divert their path, building enough momentum so that they can gain height.

You almost vomit when you realize how high up you are. When Peter’s hands land firmly against the building’s side, you close your eyes and tuck your head into the crook of his neck, muttering curse word after curse word as he crawls you to the top, laughing once you fall onto the roof in a heap.

“Oh, my god, land,” you mutter, your body covered almost completely by the snow.

Riley snorts. “Whatever you do don’t look over the edge.”

At this point you wouldn’t dare, knowing how high up you are. Instead, you merely stand, feeling your legs shake as you brush off all the snow and turn to Peter who’s already wandering toward the rooftop entrance.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?”

“Stay close.”

You nod and wander over, watching him attempt to open the door but to no avail. “Locked?”

He groans and nods, turning towards Riley who’s already wandering over, producing a small metal rectangle with a button on it. “Move,” she says. Then out of nowhere, a large stick grows in her hand, causing you to stare in awe as she takes the end of it and starts to whack the window out.

“Is that a fucking hockey stick?”

As she pulls the contraption back, she nods her head. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah, cool,” you and Peter say in unison, watching her stab out the edges of the broken glass before reaching in to unlock the door.

After that you make quick work of moving through the building, quietly rushing through various halls and stairways, trying your best not to get too distracted by the pictures that line the walls. Most of them are abstract pieces you’d see in virtually any office, strips of colour layered overtop of each other, but scattered between there are employee pictures too. Faces of people you’ve never met, smiling in lab coats both by themselves and in groups.

You find yourself lingering on those, glancing down at the plaques that list their names. Jordan Boone. Liz Allen. Paul Phillip-Ravage, etc.

In the picture in front of you, there’s around a team of twenty all clumped together, smiling and holding each other tight. Due to the wear and tear of the building though, some of the faces have been scribbled out —graffitied over with a black sharpie. At the centre, there’s a pair of faceless people leaning against a giant tube of liquid, both of their hands pressing against the glass so closely you can see their pinkies interlocked.

“Hey, c’mon!”

As much as you want to defy orders and continue snooping, you follow Peter through a set of double doors and turn toward Riley. “What is this place?”

“It’s uh, hard to explain,” she says, her tone full of discomfort as Peter stops you in front of another set of doors.

“Mind keeping watch, Ri?” he interrupts.

Riley nods her head, offering you a blank look before barreling forward, shooting a pair of webs towards the ceiling so that she throws herself out of sight.

Once she’s gone you swallow hard, remembering why you’re here. Why after all this arguing and travelling and breaking and entering you find yourself standing in the middle of some barely lit hallway with your superhero brother.

You motion to the door. “This is it?”

“Yup.”

“A bit lacklustre, don’t you think?”

He scoffs and pushes open the door, holding it open as you follow closely behind, suddenly feeling the need to retract your statement because the room before you is anything but mesmerizing.

Filled to the brim with abandoned equipment, it’s almost as if the team located here just up and left, leaving everything as is. Desks covered in research papers and old monitors line the walls with little disturbance. Test tubes filled with unknown substances are stacked haphazardly throughout the room, taking up cupboards and tables.

Taking a few steps in, you notice all the small details of a testing lab. Coats hanging off hooks by the door, a kitchenette with a coffee maker and toaster oven, a whiteboard filled with old writing that’s been scrubbed away and replaced with crude drawings.

It’s as if the whole room’s been frozen in time.

“Holy shit.”

At the room’s centre, you see a tube identical to the one in the picture outside. The only difference is that it’s sustainably bigger and empty, the double-layered glass encapsulating nothing but air.

“What is this?”

“A battery.”

You look at Peter who’s now standing next to you, staring at it with his mask off.

“For what?”

“Inter-dimensional travel. In this universe it was the first of its kind —a breakthrough in modern physics,” he explains. “Alchemex employees in this department had been working on it for a while when one of their geneticists had a breakthrough.”

You stare at him, mouth half open, waiting for him to continue but he doesn’t. He just stands there, reaching out to touch the glass with a shaky hand that has you breathing heavily and looking around, trying to put two and two together.

It’s you, right? The geneticist. That’s why he brought you here.

“Wait, Peter, I—“

It’s too much, at first. This idea that another version of you could help create something so big. Obviously, every version of yourself is different. There’s no set standard for the level of understanding one has on certain subjects. In another life, you could be anything from a barista to an astronaut and it wouldn’t matter, because every universe is different. Every universe is unique and thriving and while, sure, some of them may overlap with the same sort of details, at their core they’re still completely separate.

“Everything’s connected.”

Or not.

“This event —the creation of a device that can ensure the use of inter-dimensional travel– is meant to happen in every universe. It’s canon, which is a term we spider’s use to explain various moments in our lives that have to happen.”

“Like a prophecy?”

“Sort of, yeah. Each of us have a set story that’s meant to be followed in some way. The spider bite, ASM-90, the tragic passing of a family member…” He trails off for a moment, looking at you, an air of guilt coating his features. “All of it has to happen for every universe to remain intact.”

When you go to look back at him, there’s a blooming of warmth that hits the side of your face, spreading throughout your cheeks and nose until it suddenly dissipates and you’re left watching your brother get slammed into the ground. Then suddenly, the room is filled with pained groans and angry grunts, the flashing of limbs struggling against each other making you realize that this was a mistake. That you were never meant to house this information.

As nothing more than a human, all you were meant to do was stand by and watch as the chapters of Peter’s predicted life unfolded around him. You were meant to turn a blind eye. To pretend that spider people were nothing more than vigilantes and that the secrets your brother withheld were for your own good.

You know now, watching him fight against Miguel’s heavy hands, that he was right about all of this. And that this is your fault. That you’re the reason the ground beneath him is breaking apart and there’s blood spurting from his mouth and nose.

“Miguel, stop!”

You scream louder than you ever thought possible as you rush to your brother’s aid, witnessing the onslaught of scratches and punches he receives. As you get closer, you see no signs of Miguel stopping so you stupidly reach out to grab his arm, earning yourself an elbow to the temple that you barely register through the adrenaline.

“I thought I told you not to tell her,” Miguel says through clenched teeth, ignoring your hands and how they claw at his back through his suit.

“Says you, asshole!”

You don’t expect Peter to reply, so when you hear your voice you stop for a moment, jumping at the presence of hands that quickly pull you away.

“Sorry, uh, just… stand here for a second,” Riley says, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, making you thankful because as much as you’d like to help you can’t do anything. You’re not a superhero nor do you have a retractable hockey stick that you can use to smash Miguel in the back of the head.

“You know, if we were on the rink you’d make the perfect goon,” she says, doing just that; using enough force to get him to stumble backwards.

“What does that even mean?” Scrambling to stand back up, Miguel groans and lunges for her, giving you enough time to rush over to Peter; he's heavily breathing, dripping in blood with his eyes closed.

Without even thinking you go in for a hug, hearing him moan in pain, prompting you to pull away and apologize.

“God, your boyfriend sucks,” he mumbles then, cringing as he pulls himself slowly out of the rubble before wiping the blood off his face.

If you were in any other situation you would have punched him for saying that. But considering he looks like he’s already knocking on death’s door you settle for an eye roll that stops midway, noticing the ongoing fight.

Both of them are up in the air, swinging back and forth to meet in the middle. Miguel reaches out to claw Riley’s webs but misses as she leaps off her tether and knocks him in the face again, sending him toward the floor.

“Goal!”

Peter, despite the shape he’s in, lets out a laugh and stands up, moving to stretch his limbs before shooting a web into Miguel’s chest. When it attaches directly at the centre of his solar plexus, Peter shoots another web towards the roof and begins swinging in circles, using the movement to begin wrapping Miguel in layers and layers of webs.

Following suit, Riley does the same thing, both of them floating around like a carousel until Miguel’s struggling against his newfound prison, loudly cussing them out in Spanish.

It’s quite the sight, seeing his seething form so suppressed. His nostrils flare out in heavy puffs as he stares at the three of you; his eyes narrowed eyes darting around until they land on you. Ever so quietly he says your name then, trying to ground himself through the rage that refuses to go away.

A part of you wants to move in closer —to tell him that everything is going to be okay— but deep down you know that isn’t true. Miguel came here with the intention of keeping this from you and having come this far you’ll be damned if you let that happen. No matter how wrong you know it is.

“Please, if you’d just listen.”

The way his mask fades away when he looks at you tells you he already knows this. As the moments pass, his expression turns from angry to anxious, his brows softening under the dim lights, casting shadows over his skin that make you frown and turn to Peter.

“Can you give us a sec?”

He’s hesitant at first but ultimately gives in, telling you that he and Riley will be outside before he plants a soft kiss to your injured temple and leaves.

“I'm sorry, I just—“

You barely give him enough time to explain before you're wrapping yourself around him. Your arms, tightly wound around his neck shake with a fear you’ve never known as you borrow your face into the crook of his neck, breathing so hard you think you might pass out.

“I hate you,” you lie, moving to press your nose into his throat.

“I know.”

You place the softest kiss on his Adam’s apple, feeling it vibrate beneath your lips. “I hate everything you stand for. I hate your secrets and your rules and your stupid society.”

“I know.”

Your forehead is firmly pressed against his chin as he says this, the breath of his voice bouncing off your skin in hot puffs that are swiftly replaced by his lips. Gently, he then places kiss after kiss across the expanse of your skin, ignoring the fact that you hate him. Ignoring the fact that he’s completely unworthy of everything that you’re offering him at this moment. Ignoring the way you glare at the decal of his suit with such an unbound rage you want to rip it apart.

“I don’t understand how talking about the canon breaks the canon.”

His lips freeze against your face before he pulls away with a groan, realizing that you know. “It doesn’t.”

“So—“

“The multiversal timeline is delicate.”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” you snap, moving away to look him in the eye.

“Anything that deviates from it constitutes as a direct violation of the canon,” he explains, glancing down to watch you scrunch up your face in annoyance. “You know if I actually put in the effort I could break out of here and easily kick your ass?”

“Says the man who lost to a hockey stick.” Fighting the urge to laugh, you press your forehead against his chest, feeling the air enter and exit his lungs.

“It’s not a hockey stick. It’s a fucking titanium bar shaped to look like one.”

“Still.”

The silence that falls over you after that is hard to navigate. You want to talk to him —to ask him more questions so that all of this can be over, but obviously, you know that’s not how it works. One complicated conversation doesn’t lead to an end. It just leads to more complicated conversations. That’s how life works, no matter what universe you’re in, and it sucks.

And it hurts, realizing that no matter how this plays out that Miguel and you can never happen. Sure, he’s never explicitly said it. The words we could never be have never been said or heard between either of you, but you know that’s how this ends. He tells you, he leaves. He doesn’t tell you, he still leaves.

It’s not fair.

“How come this can’t work?”

The question flies out of your mouth before you can even begin to suppress it, causing Miguel to widen his eyes and turn away, almost embarrassed.

“How come you get to go on living life knowing everything that’s ever happened between us in every single universe until the end of time while I have to sit here, pretending to know nothing until I forget?”

When he doesn’t say anything, you pull away, glaring at his chest and hands and face as you stand up. “Why does me knowing what we could’ve had mess with the canon? Huh? What part do I play? Is it because of that stupid battery? Is it because I’m the cause of this that you won’t talk to me?”

He’s staring at the floor now, completely avoiding your eyes and mouth and hands as they continue to ask all the questions he’s never wanted to answer.

“Did I do something to upset you? Did I fuck up your life or something because, Miguel, I don’t fucking know until you tell me!”

You’re crying now. The tears you’ve been holding on to since he pushed you through that portal are falling. Crashing onto the floor in small puddles that hit your knees when you inevitably drop back down. Throughout your frame there’s a rush of pain as you hit the ground and lean forward, pressing your elbows against the space in front of you as you curl into a ball, wishing that he’d say something.

When he doesn’t, you cry more, your body breaking under the pressure of understanding that this is all you’ll get.

It’s obvious then that Miguel isn’t a good man. He doesn’t care for you in the way you deserve. He just wants you. Or more so, this idea of you that he’s formed at the back of his head. To him, you’re nothing more than a temptation he’s created over time. A familiar body surrounding a completely different soul that’ll he always long for.

As you realize this you can hear ripping followed shuffles that grow closer until they’re wrapped around you, pulling you into a chest you wish to crawl inside for all eternity.

“I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you everything, just… please don’t cry. Please.”

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#who are you when nobody's watching?#miguel o'hara fan fic #miguel o'hara series #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst #summer writes

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asimplearchivist · 1 year ago

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𝑪𝑯. 𝑰𝑽 — 𝑭𝑼𝑳𝑳 𝑶𝑭 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬.

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary 🕷️ ⤏ spider-woman of earth 928c has a painfully short adjustment period to her new predicament. she isn’t the only one. pairing 🕷️ miguel o’hara/spider!reader word count 🕷️ 4.0k a/n 🕷️ [gif credit] ⤏ this chapter was originally planned to be entirely passive, just to catch up on reader’s feelings through the last couple of chapters. however, jess (or should I say miguel) had other plans. they took it from me and I had to run with it. next chapter we’ll see a little more progress in reader and miguel’s dynamic, hopefully. 🕷️ MASTERPOST 🕷️ 🕷️ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ 🕷️ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER 🕷️

The infamous, so-called Spider-Society wasn’t nearly as…prestigious as you’d initially anticipated, after all the buildup that the alternate Miguel had laid down convincing you to join. Meeting so many other Spider-People was certainly as elating as it was stressful (honestly, you never thought that you would see as many of the same person at one time, multiverse theory be damned, much less the stark differences between the lot of them—it was a good thing that you weren’t allergic to rocks, because there sure was a lot of Peter). The majority of them seemed to come and go as they pleased, only turning up to HQ to report in occasionally or to share information about any new anomalies that may have cropped up in their dimension.

Oh, yeah, and the whole anomaly thing…combined with the canon events theory…there was a reason you’d focused on robotics and nanotech rather than physics during university. Being told that because of your involvement in the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse (and Christ, Miguel needed to get a new name for that, it was just too damn big of a mouthful) you were basically guaranteed to undergo negative experiences that would drive most people into depression or madness didn’t…sit well. Although it was a slight comfort to know that virtually every other Spider-Person had gone through something similar to you in regards to grief, it still didn’t sit quite right with you—but perhaps that was the hero complex in you speaking. If I had just tried harder, been faster, put my life further out on the line…

Nevertheless, it did help you to relax slightly. Peter B. was infectious with his easy affection and lighthearted demeanor, cracking jokes and knowing just what to say to help you circumnavigate your awkward interactions with the others. His wife was about five months along, expecting their first child—a little girl they’d already decided to name Mayday after his deceased aunt. He introduced you to Jessica Drew, who herself was due to have a baby in seven months—she was cool and calm but had a lot of heart and humor, and you appreciated her honestly as much as her sincerity.

Some of the others were…quite a handful. You weren’t quite sure what to think of Hobie Brown, besides the fact that he was hilarious. You had the distinct impression that he was always watching you, though, dark eyes as scrutinous as your trigonometry teacher back in high school. You didn’t really want to think that he was waiting for you to mess up or something, but…he always seemed to know something more than you at all times and it made you just a tad uncomfortable. The quiet, observant sort like him often were the greatest troublemakers—his standing track record in his universe, which he claimed with no small amount of pride, notwithstanding. You liked him, you really did—he’d been nothing but kind to you during your brief introduction—but you couldn’t help but feel like he had something up his sleeve.

The rest were just as, if not more, colorful characters. The mind-boggling quantity of alternate Spider-People overwhelmed you after Peter B.’s tour, so after he herded you back to the cafeteria and helped you to unload your cart, he showed you the basics on opening the portals.

“Try not to use them in crowded areas—you don’t want a bunch of junk getting in the way. Or, you know, splicing into your body like a redshirt being beamed up. Type in the universe number here, enter the coordinates—looks like Miguel already saved your previous location as the default, so you can teleport directly from there to HQ whenever you need to—then tap this, and…voila! There’s a communications tab here, so you can contact LYLA or call any one of us if you ever need backup, or to report an anomaly.”

You nodded along, squinting in hopes that you could commit the motions to memory rather than have to ask multiple times how the damn thing worked—you were a roboticist, yes, and you could probably whip up a circuit out of cardboard, gum, and a lemon—but even this level of technology was beyond your paygrade. Miguel’s work was truly phenomenal, you had to give him that. (And…well. You didn’t want to wind up like a redshirt, either.)

You imparted him with another half-dozen cupcakes to take home to the missus as thanks for taking his time with you, dragged your cart through the portal back into the kitchen of your bakery, and as the maelstrom of mindfuck physics disintegrated into thin air within the blink of an eye as though it had never been there to start with…you sank against the countertop and buried your face in your hands.

This Miguel was different from your late husband, in countless ways that you’d been doing your best not to take notice of too closely. (Would it be considered rude to compare them? They were inherently the same person, just…under different circumstances.) But, at the same time, they behaved so similarly: that same low, even, soft-spoken cadence; those half-lidded eyes feigning disinterest but to hide the exact opposite after years of having any enthusiasm beat out of him as a child; the tension he always carried in his shoulders to hold them back, his chin angled up, his hands always ready at his sides, always ready to move at a moment’s notice (and those shoulders…you hadn’t been joking, asking Peter B. about the man’s dieting habits—he easily dwarfed your husband twice over, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional or whether it was due to whatever sort of spider abilities he’d inherited).

Even still, that was only the start of the differences. This Miguel was snippier, shorter-tempered, and mumbled as though he had a mouthful of something packed under his bottom lip all the time. He had a clipped walk like a panther, a long, stalking stride that made far too little noise for a man of his bulk. He kept his hair slicked back rather than allowing his curls freedom. His mildly unsettling carmine eyes were tired, and you were half-convinced that if he were to sit too long he’d likely pass out based on the way he hyper-focused on everything around him as though to compensate. His exhaustion was obvious, but maybe that only had to do with your familiarity of the canvas rather than the difference in hues and brushstrokes.

They said your name the same way, however. You weren’t sure how to feel about that.

By the time you pulled yourself together (because you had wept enough the night before and didn’t want a repeat incident—you’d probably tripled your water bill hunkering down in the shower to muffle your misery and you were not going to cry again, thank you very much) and made it back upstairs, the night had set in and plunged your apartment in total darkness. It was a bit odd, as in Earth 928B it had been about noon when you left, but you supposed that temporal unalignment was the least of your concerns.

Your cat, a silver tabby your husband had named Alba upon finding her abandoned as a kitten in the park, greeted you at the door letting you know exactly how late you were for serving her evening meal. You long-sufferingly doled out the kibble in the kitchen and watched her inhale it in less than a minute before coiling around your legs in a figure-eight once and retreating to her bed set in the windowsill overlooking the street below.

You shook your head with a sigh, trudging around to feed your other pet Horchata before retreating into your bedroom, stripping off your clothes as you went. You tossed them all into the overflowing hamper, stored the compact belt containing the technology housing your suit in your nightstand drawer, and slipped into the bathroom to wash away the flour and confectioner’s sugar. You carefully removed the not-watch (as Peter B. had been so kind to inform you that Miguel hated them to refer to it as a watch) and set it on the counter alongside the ring you wore on a delicate chain around your neck.

You wondered what this new Miguel saw in you, to want you on his top-secret strike team so badly. You weren’t exactly perky yourself. You’d laid out all your flaws for him, and yet he hadn’t even flinched. He’d only seemed agitated at your immediate refusal, if nothing else.

The next day passed in relative normalcy—you woke early to start work on your stock, had coffee with your aunt (who spent more time daydreaming about her doctor than actually sharing the report of her yearly physical, although everything seemed normal, fortunately), and opened up shop all before the sun rose. You dealt with all the catering and pickup orders as they came in and kept tabs on everything baking in the back while Maya dealt with the storefront. You dipped out at noon to get lunch for the both of you, listened to the police reports on the way, and breathed a sigh of relief that Nueva York managed to retain its peace for another day.

The afternoon crept by far more slowly, and by the time closing rolled around you got to share the news with your business partner.

“I’ve made a deal with a company to sell out our stock at the end of every day,” you told her while you swept and she dusted the countertops. It was ten ‘til but it helped to clean up before since she always went straight home once the sign was turned off. “It’s, uh…an all-day type-thing, and they needed extra stock in their cafeteria. I think it’ll help with keeping up.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Maya exclaimed, smiling broadly with glittering eyes. “I always did hate seeing it go to waste since the donation centers never took all of it. Do you need any help packing it all up?”

“No, I’ve got it. It’ll only take a few minutes, and I can be the only one to deliver it. Kind of a hush-hush type thing.”

She quirked a brow, glancing over your shoulder as the bell over the door jangled. “So long as it’s not for the mafia.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not working for the mafia. I’m not pretty enough to work for the mafia.”

“You don’t have to be pretty to work for the mafia.”

You turned to find Jess standing there with a lazy smile, dressed in sleek civvies. You swallowed. “Hey. I thought I was dropping all this off?”

“I’m in a bit of a time crunch,” she said with a smile, but you didn’t miss the subtle urgency in her eyes. “I’ll help you pack it up and get it there.” She nodded to your aunt. “How’re you doing today?”

“I’m just fine,” Maya beamed, coming around the counter. “Thank you for your business. What’s your name?”

“Jessica Drew,” the other Spider-Woman introduced smoothly, extending a hand. Maya shook it. “Your niece told me good things about you.”

“Oh, as she should!” Maya laughed, eyes twinkling. “I’ve been taking care of her since she was knee-high to a grasshopper!”

“And I think it’s about time for you to head home to take your meds,” you interjected, face warming as you set the broom to the side and moved towards the back to get her things for her. “Want me to call you an Uber?”

Maya scoffed quietly, casting Jess a look that screamed, ‘can you believe the nerve?’ “I’ll walk. I didn’t get all my steps in this morning.”

“Be careful, then.” You dipped into the kitchen, grabbed her purse, and reemerged to find them chatting about children—your aunt had a sixth-sense when it came to babies, and evidently she’d picked up on Jess’ glow. “I’ll see you tomorrow for supper.”

“Don’t forget to bring the pickled beets,” she reminded you, slipping into her jacket despite the sun still shining bright upon the pavement outside.

“Believe me, I won’t. They’ll never get eaten if I don’t deliver them.”

“They’re good for you.”

“I’m sure they are. But my tongue says otherwise.”

You waved her out, locked the door behind her, and flicked off the neon sign. You turned back to Jess, brow furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

“Under normal circumstances, we’d introduce you to anomaly-catching a little more gradually,” she responded, face schooling into business-mode, “but Peter B.’s out and Miguel thought he could handle it on his own. Again. I need backup.”

You nodded, already moving to shed your apron and the unnecessary outer layers that would interfere with the UMF. You slipped back into the kitchen to toss them into the hamper and, this time, she followed. “Do I need to be concerned about his evident tendency to jump in head-first without looking?”

“He’s been like this for as long as I’ve known him.” Jess began to type into her (not) watch. “He’s one of the most headstrong people I’ve ever met.”

“You’ll meet few others that are more stubborn,” you muttered without really thinking. You tried to hide your wince by tapping your belt to activate your suit. “Where to?”

The portal blossomed open, and Jess gestured towards it. “After you.”

You swallowed, eyed it for just a moment, then moved through the vortex.

It spat you out on top of a brick office building in a version of New York only slightly less futuristic than your own. The sheer noise of screaming in the streets below, both from humans and vehicle brakes alike, precluded the rumble of an explosion that rocked the infrastructure beneath your feet. You whipped around to the cloud of smoke that arched up into the dusky sky, the lenses in your mask automatically adjusting to locate the heat signatures of two individuals caught in a grapple amongst the flames.

“I’ve got a visual,” you told Jess as she emerged next to you. “Over there.”

“Let’s go. Looks like it’s already gotten out of control.”

The pair of you leapt off the rooftop, swinging out into open air. You watched a rapidly moving shape bulleted from the plume off to the left, and you could hear maniacal laughter even with the wind battering your ears.

“Oh, great,” you muttered, “we love the crazy-ass grenade enthusiast.” You jerked your head towards the crumbling building—the other heat signature had yet to move. “Go check on Miguel, I’ll track our escapee.”

Jess looked like she wanted to argue, but she only released a sigh. When it came to split-second decisions like this, there was never enough time to deliberate. “Be careful. Don’t get in over your head.”

“You got it.” You diverted to swing wide around a warehouse, setting a waypoint on the villain-of-the-week rocketing through the buildings. He was a fast bastard, but fortunately he had yet to start dropping bombs on the bewildered population below—that’s when things with the Goblins always got tricky.

Soon enough, you managed to pick up speed to catch up, and with a well-timed turn and tight swing you lunged for the glorified hoverboard. You connected, latched on to the edge, and the added weight caused the entire platform to dip and sway dangerously.

“Another little spider!” crooned the Goblin, banking sharply to the right in an attempt to knock you off with a light pole. The reverberating collision with your hip hurt like a bitch. “How lucky am I to have as many new friends with which to play?”

“Save it, Osborn!” you growled, using the momentum of his next whirl to get a knee up over the edge. You grabbed his ankle and dislodged his foot from the hook, cooling a loop of webbing around it and securing it out of place to hinder his balance. “If you’ll just make this easier on every one of us, that would be appreci—”

You should have expected him to slam his heel into your elbow, but in hindsight you’d thought him not nimble enough to outspeed you.

“But that would take all the fun out of the game,” he crowed, stooping down and planting a fist into your temple. Your vision swam and your grip loosened. “And teaming up two against one is hardly fair to start with!”

You gritted your teeth and grabbed the nape of his neck, wrenching him down towards you and flipping the board in the process. You managed to yank his other foot out of the stirrup and then the both of you were freefalling. You snatched the board with a web before he could reach it, slinging it at the nearest building and embedding it into the side.

Unfortunately, he decided to latch onto you, instead. With the talons built into his gloves, no less. Sharp pain pricked your thigh and side, respectively, and when you landed on a terrace all the wind was knocked from your lungs. The Goblin dug in deep, hefting you up and over his shoulder to throw you bodily over into the street below.

The next impact was softer than you expected. You blinked the tears from your eyes only to find that Miguel was the reason for it, the lenses of his mask narrowed dangerously at you.

“You shouldn’t have gone after him alone,” he growled, reaching out with his free hand to pierce the mortar with his claws and suspend you against the wall. You struggled to catch your breath, especially with his tight, unyielding grip around your waist. “That was stupid. This one could easily do a lot of damage, and—”

The squawk of the Goblin over your heads caused both of your gazes to snap upwards, watching through the bars as Jess kicked him down. Within seconds she had him webbed in place, face pressed against the iron, glaring down at you. His wrists were bound together over his head, and you caught the subtle movement of his fingertips against the device coiled around his wrist. The grind of stone, the hum of fission, and the flash of light all activated your senses.

“Mig—!” you started, head whipping to the other side. You grappled at his rigid form to wedge yourself into his side, blocking him from the glider that launched itself at him at full speed. You absorbed the blow, but the force of it knocked both of you from the wall and tumbled down to the street. Your vision blacked out briefly when you landed roughly on your side.

“Por los clavos de Cristo!” Miguel snarled, breathing harshly even as he scrambled up from the concrete. “Idiota!*”

“Imagine cussing someone out for keeping your ribs from getting caved in,” you wheezed, hearing the glider sputter. You twisted to squint up at Jess decommissioning the damned thing. “De nada, cabrón.**”

Miguel’s silhouette shaded your eyes as he kneeled next to you, lenses narrowed to slits, but the quiver in his hands as he reached out to you caught you by surprise. He carefully prodded your bruised side, retracting his touch instantly when you hissed.

“I’m fine,” you said, slowly sitting up with a low groan. “Just a scratch.”

“Hey!” Jess called, hauling the goblin over her shoulder. “Do you have the field?”

He didn’t move an itch, save to hover his hands over you as you clambered back to your feet. There was scarcely half a foot of space between you, his hunkered, hulking form blocking your view of much else beyond the glowing nanites highlighting his contours.

“Miguel!” Jess tried again, jumping nimbly down near you. “You all right?”

That finally seemed to break him out of whatever trance he’d been caught in, and you watched the tension return in full force to his body as he straightened to his full height once more. “Here.” He snatched the device from his hip and tossed it on the ground. She unceremoniously dumped the Goblin into the field, then moved over to pick up the glider. He didn’t look away from you, finally croaking, “That was reckless.”

“You don’t seem to have the Spidey-Sense,” you pointed out wryly, rubbing your ribs gingerly. “And it could’ve been worse.”

He brandished a pointed finger in your face, the hook of his claw gleaming with the UMF stretched over its surface. “Don’t,” he growled, “do it again. I mean it.”

You quirked a brow at him, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it. You folded your arms over your chest so he’d get the message. “Don’t jump in by yourself again,” you returned evenly. “You’re not invincible either, Miguel.”

And he did look worse for wear. Now that your vision had cleared, you could see that he was favoring his left leg, the UMF along his shoulders was glittering as the nanobots attempted to stitch themselves back together, and the lens over his right eye was cracked.

“This isn’t about me,” he started curtly.

“It is, because you came here without backup.” You smacked his hand away and returned his previous gesture, fingertip centimeters away from his nose under the mask. “Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to think that you could handle all this by yourself.”

His extended silence, grating and aggravated, was answer enough.

You rubbed your forehead and let out a heavy sigh. “Let’s just…finish this up, shall we? You need to get checked out.”

He tilted his head, and you had the distinct impression that he was scowling at you. “Since when did you become team leader?”

“Since when did you become so damned irresponsible?” you shot back.

Jess’ face slackened into shock, her eyes cutting away as she pursed her lips. She looked on the verge between laughter and wanting to leave immediately. “Opening a portal back to base,” she offered mildly, turning her back on the both of you for some illusion of privacy.

“Look,” you hissed, gesturing towards Jess and the Goblin, who was chuckling quietly to himself despite being caught in a rather humiliating predicament of being tied ass-over-head. “I understand that you’re the head honcho and that you seem to have your bluff in on everybody else in the Society. Most of them are terrified of you, from what I gathered yesterday. And I don’t know to what extent that you’re familiar with me, like you said, but I know you, too, Miguel. I know that you’d sooner eat drywall than admit you’re wrong, and that your head is harder than vibranium. I know that you always take on too damn much on your shoulders because you feel like no one else could or should have to handle it. But I swear to God, I am not going to let you run yourself into the ground. You’re just like…” You stopped abruptly, swallowed, then dropped your head to shake it in frustration. “...look. The whole reason you have these dozens of Spider-People recruited in the first place is to help you manage all this, not to pick you back up when you inevitably fall apart trying to carry it all by yourself. You’re not fucking Atlas. And if you’re going to be like this all the time, I’m not going to have any part of it. Comprendes?***”

He glowered at you for a long moment before his low, gritted tone reached you. “Comprendo.****”

“Great.” You thumped him in the sternum for good measure. “Now I’m sure there’s a long, drawn-out, laborious process of paperwork following this, so the sooner I can get it done and deliver the heaping pile of croissants I had leftover today, the better.”

You turned as the portal blossomed open once more, waving Jess off and slinging the Goblin over your shoulder, and marched right on through back to HQ, feeling Miguel’s eyes burning into your back the entire way.

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unfortunately-obsessed · 1 year ago

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Canon Events, The Multiverse and Miles Morales

Most theories about Canon Events, discourse about the ATSV's plot holes and BTSV prediction started pissing me off. Decided to summarize ATSV myself. Let's start with the following image:

Lol

What are Canon Events?

The basic.

MILES: And these nodes, where the lines converge?

MIGUEL: They are The Canon. Chapters that are a part of every spider’s story, every time.

– ATSV Script. MULTIVERSAL MAP SCENE.

Canon events are pivotal moments – milestones in their storyline– that change the course of the rest of narrative in a Spider-Man's life. The events end up shaping a series of fundamental elements including personality traits, insecurities, career prospects and more. It includes constants origin stories, significant victories, losses, and character-defining moments that contribute to the hero's identity.

Or, A moment or action that must happen to certain Spider-Men – otherwise their universe risks being destroyed.

The Canon Events connect every Spider-Person's lives together, in what Miguel name Web of Life and Destiny. It's a constant through the Multiverse.

Canon Events are real, Event ASM90 makes it clear: a police captain close to Spider-Man dies saving a kid from falling rubble during a battle with an arch-nemesis...

But Canon Event seems to be fairly flexible. Uncle Ben dies in Peter’s arms; Peter dies in Gwen’s arms; Miles loses Uncle Aaron. Every Spider-Person loses somebody they love, and this somebody can be adapted to the Spider-Person's own story – in other words, The Canon might not exactly be a prewritten rule but a guideline.

Something that need to be cleared: Miguel did study the Multiverse. It's not clear if it was after Gabriella's universe collapse or not, but he studied it to the point of being able to categorize and cross-reference the events. So far he is not wrong, much less lying. It is clear that Canon Events are a thing that exist.

Does Canon Events equal Fixed Points?

( Disclaimer: It's been years since I watch anything from the MCU. So what I'm about to say is from what I gathered from multiple wiki pages and an overview of comics. Funnily enough, the last thing I watched from the MCU was Spider-Man: No Way Home. Edit: it's been so long that I forgot the movie's name. It was actually Spider Man: Far Away From Home).

Fixed points are events in the timeline that are deemed unchangeable. Attempting to alter these points would have severe consequences, potentially destabilizing the multiverse. Fixed points are like anchors, ensuring a degree of stability in the multiversal continuum.

Miguel claims that if a Canon Event are disrupted it'll destabilize the universe up to the point of self-destruction.

Does it mean that ATSV is following the MCU take on the multiverse? Not necessarily.

In the MCU there's this thing called Incursions. Here's a short description:

An Incursion occurs when the boundary between two universes erodes and they collide, destroying one or both entirely.

Several people in the fandom dove into the conclusion that this is what happened to Gabriella's universe; Miguel interacted with it, his different molecule's resonance might have interfered with the syntonic nature of Gabriella's reality, the boundary between the two universes collided and her universe collapsed.

It even could be true, even if it was the rare case where the Incursion killed only Gabriella's universe and somehow Earth-918b – Miguel's universe, where the HQ is located – survived.

But it's not. Incursions are exactly what divert the Sony Animated Universe of the MCU, ironically. Why?

Because if the Incursion was a thing in the ATSV then the Spider-Society wouldn't be able to exist, and they couldn't constantly interact with each other, or interfere in another multiverse (even if it's to hunt down an anomaly).

One could argue that they can interfere because of their Dimensional Device – that stabilizes then enough so they can walk around multiple universes without falling dead from molecular decay.

But if that was what prevented Incursions then Gabriella's universe wouldn't be destroyed at all.

"Maybe it only works because they don't stay a lot of time in another dimensions plus they only go to other universes to deal with anomalies!"

Y'all forgot that Gwen was crashing in Hobie's dimensions? She said that it's been months since she was recruited (months since she reveled her identity to her father and, since then, apparently didn't go back to her dimension). Months, and it wasn't to deal with an anomaly, yet neither her or Hobie's dimension collapsed.

Even if she wasn't in his dimensions constantly and was somewhere else, or did go back to her dimension, don't forget the whole HQ in Earth-918 full of people from other universes – has a gym and a cafeteria, therapy offices, wouldn't be surprised if it had dorms, encouraging the Spider-Heroes to stay there for longer and interact with each other.

Mayday wasn't supposed to exist if Incursions were a thing. She was born because of Miles' influence in Peter B.'s life.

Which means ATSV doesn't have Incursions, at least not the way MCU has it even if the writers want us to see it as the same Multiverse. Ergo, Fixed Points are not necessarily Canon Events.

We know Canon Events exist and are constants through the Multiverse, but we don't know if breaking a Canon Event can cause the death of an universe because the only instance where this happened before our eyes Spot was involved and thus disqualified the data. All we have is Miguel's word for it.

Maybe Canon Events are just a pattern.

But if Canon Events are just a pattern, then why did Gabriella's universe collapse?

Here's two not-mutally-exclusive theories:

When Miguel assumed the place of his variant, the universe saw him as a parasite, someone that should have died but didn't. It self-destructed itself as a form of self-preservation that went wrong – just like we have fever when we where sick. This theory anthropomorphizes the universes, and through I like it, it's not the most probable cause. If that's what happened, then Miguel confused correlation with causation and, possibly, The Canon has nothing to do with Gabriella's universe dying.

Gabriella was supposed to be Spider-Woman. Maybe her father was who she was supposed to lose. He broke The Canon by assuming the place of his variant and this destroyed the natural order of things, resulting on the collapsing of the universe.

Let's go back to the script:

MIGUEL: That’s how the story is supposed to go. Canon events are the connections that bind our lives together. But those connections can be broken. That’s why anomalies are so dangerous...[...]

MIGUEL: You break enough canon, save enough captains, we could lose everything.

Did you notice it? Miguel worries about anomalies not only because they're ordinarily dangerous to innocent people, but they can break the connections – break the canon.

Think with me: The canon is the thing that binds Spider-People together, so wouldn't it make sense that anomalies only show up when a canon event is about to happen, if they're snatched by holes in the multiverse's fabric? Wouldn't it be easier for them to show up at the points where the universes naturally junction? Or somehow it triggers a canon event?

Take Vulture as an example. If Miguel hadn't showed up, were Gwen going to die before her time? Get permanently wounded? Something else? We know that the Canon event was supposed to happen that day because of what Layla says, "The Canon remains intact", indicating it was something that were already being monitored, the model already had a prediction for it.

Coming back to Miguel. He is determined that he broke the Canon, trillions of lives died because of it if you consider the whole universe collapsed, which goes further into other planets, other galaxies. And, if so far he was right about the Canon, wouldn't he be right about this too? Or do you think he – a man that lost his (foster) daughter – wouldn't look into why the whole universe collapsed, why she died in his hands?

There's no way to soften this. Her death is his fault and her blood is in his hands.

He's the founder of Spider-Society, assumed the role as leader. He settled a supporting system through it for mourning Spiders. If he wasn't competent and fundamentally good then a legion of Peter Parkers wouldn't follow his orders, the Spider-Society wasn't going to exist.

Miguel doesn't want anybody else to make the same mistake– this doesn't mean he doesn't make other mistakes. That's why he lashes out at Gwen and why he explains to Miles what will happen to his dad. This was a mistake that he undoubtedly committed. He shouldn't have told Miles what would happen if he wanted utmost trust that the Canon wasn't going to be broke.

He wanted Miles to believe in him.

MIGUEL: You have a choice between saving one person and saving an entire world. Every world.

He wanted Miles to do the right thing. The Trolley Problem with extra lives at risk.

That's why he antagonizes Miles afterwards. Yes, only afterwards.

Miguel knows that he could spare Miles the pain if he listened. He only gets angry and haunts Miles down when he notices Miles won't listen and that the same story will repeat just in front of his eyes.

Miguel knows what will happen if Miles save his dad. Miguel is trying to save people.

But then what will happen to Miles' dad?

Two things:

Gwen already proved that it's possible to circumvent the Canon.

Actually, her dad did. Captain Stacy stopped being a Captain. He resigned from the Police Force. He isn't going to die anymore. You can see her relief when he says this.

The Canon wasn't broken, but it doesn't mean event ASM-90 needs to happen.

But also:

The Exception Proves The Rule.

Under [the scientific version] of the phrase, the word 'proof' is to be understood in its archaic form to mean the word 'test' (this use can be seen in the phrase the proof of the pudding is in the eating).

The example is of a hypothetical critic, Jones, who never writes a favourable review.

So it is surprising when we receive an exception: a favourable review by Jones of a novel by an unknown author. Then it is discovered that the novel is his own, written under a pseudonym. The exception tested ('proved') the rule and found that it needed to be understood a little more precisely - namely, that Jones will never write a favourable review, except of his own work.The previous evaluation of Jones's ill-nature toward others is re-affirmed by discovering the manner in which the exception falls outside the rule.

– The Exception that Proves the Rule

Let's go back Canon's definition: a moment or action that must happen to certain Spider-Men – otherwise their universe risks being destroyed.

So: a Spider-Man's Canon Events are never meant to be broken or the universe will be destroyed.

Miles Morales is an anomaly. "The spider that gave you your powers wasn’t from your dimension! It was never supposed to bite you!"

If we apply that the exception proves the rule: a Spider-Man's Canon Events are never meant to be broken or the universe will be destroyed, except if the Spider-Man himself is an anomaly.

This also proves Miguel's theory of Canon Events further.

Anyway I'm going back to sleep.

#atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #atsv meta #miles morales #Miguel O'Hara #miguel o’hara #gwen stacy #did i prooferead this? no.#me!rambles #me!theories #me!headcanons #me!meta #me!atsv

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inklores · 1 year ago

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miguel o'hara── a study in security

it's really funny how most of my finals this quarter have me reading so many pieces that relate with the fics i'm writing and the characters i have brainrot over. i'm reading chapter 6 of eva illouz's book, "why love hurts," and the section about how love and security can't always co-exist hit me... because that is exactly how miguel o'hara regulates his life and shapes his influence within the spider-society.

"Security is often seen as incompatible with passion, or even as leading to its demise. But I would argue that this need for “security” and/or for “adventure” is not an invariant constituent of the psyche; or if it is, then security and adventure take on changing shapes in different cultural structures. They are also outcomes of the social organization of the psyche. Security derives from the capacity to control and to predict one’s environment; adventure, by contrast, derives from feeling challenged, either in one’s social identity or in the ways in which one knows how to do things." (Illouz, 219).

rewatching atsv and i notice just how locked and authoritative miguel runs his facility. micromanaged down to the knick-knacks hobie swipes. the differences in lighting and color theory with how miles & the gang associate with different spider-people, being lit in white and warm shades... then we meet miguel and he is in pitch dark with reddish and deep blue undertones. his character design is similar to the spot, where the sketch design is still visible amidst the rendering and coloring. this color palette carries with him and it sucks all his interactions in with it. from berating gwen after miles escapes to watching archival footage of his daughter, it's so deeply rooted that breaking out of that sphere will quite literally destroy what little he already has left and what he managed to preserve.

the man is STRESSED. we see that from his design to his dialogue. he believes he is single-handedly keeping the multiverse together and he expresses it multiple times. he thinks he can't have comfort and duty at the same time, believing that is what it means to be spider-man. it takes away his humor too, pointed out by peter b. when he says all spider-men are supposed to be funny. the only time he really shows any sort of wit is when he interacts with lyla and maybe jess, but even then, it's so dry and sarcastic. (save his interaction with baby mayday bc that man is also a father.)

but he's "okay" with this great responsibility. this is his security because it's what he's able to control when once, he wasn't able to control anything and it left him so badly wounded that it isolated any possibility of change or evolution for the order of things. when miles left, he shouted, "ALL HE HAD TO DO WAS LISTEN!" and then a softer, almost baffled and frustrated, "why didn't he listen...?"

illouz talks about how visual stimulations or even the presence of something we can hear or see can shape or crush the way we look at ourselves.

Research on the impact of media images on how individuals perceive their bodies suggests that images of perfect bodies have negative effects on self-esteem and self-concept because watching these images suggests to people both that others can achieve them more easily (competitiveness) and that others view them as important (normative legitimacy). Media images thus become a source of disappointment through the implicit mediation of what we think they say about others’ expectations of us and about their achievements compared to ours. Widespread images of love may instill ideas that others achieve love when we do not, and that achieving love is normatively important for successful life. (Illouz, 220).

hobie mentioned it before we officially meet miguel. he says miles seemingly has it alright with his parents and stable family life. and someone like miguel, who keeps a watchful eye over everything that goes on with spidermen, knows that. and he's jealous of it, i would argue. he believes as spider-man, there is a required sacrifice or weight of loss to carry.

while it is a very recurring trope with every iteration of spider-man that's been watched or read, miles has felt loss and loneliness. but he hasn't felt it in the way miguel has because what miguel went through is so singular and unique to him. the only ones who may understand what that would feel like would be gwen or even pav, seeing their dimension and/or livelihood beginning to crumble.

but miles has everything... and is also spider-man and i just know that burns miguel. it's not what he believes should be the order of the "spider-man journey," even though happiness and responsibility can and has worked together. example, peter b. and his daughter.

it's inconceivable for miguel to think something or someone can deny him or run the other way. because everyone is primed to understand that it's his way or quite literally, the destruction of everything. nobody can suggest another way. nobody can say no. aside from the doomsday vibes, miguel is also objectively scary when he’s genuinely angry. not even irritated or annoyed. irate. he’s also colossal. he’s mr. property damage. this need for control and this ability to maintain it under his thumb fuels his antagonistic relationship with anomalies or things he sees as a threat to his security. he doesn't like to be challenged, he likes to be listened to because he knows how the multiverse works and what can come out of it if even a single spider-person has a foot out of line.

and with all the hints left over at the end of the film of how miguel may be wrong, that there is a way to fix the multiverse while protecting the people they love, there will be some serious fractures to his security and everything will open up once again.

#⁎⋆ ꙳✧∘ gena talks !#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spiderman: into the spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099

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spiderparentsfam · 11 months ago

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Ok, chapter five of the fake dating au is up! (Emergency Girlfriend Program)

Excerpt:

“Wait,” Miguel ordered, before the other person could talk.

The line was quiet. Miguel carefully, quickly, got out of his bed, pulling the comforter over Gabi and then went out of his room. With a sigh he put the phone back to his ear.

“Alright, you can talk.”

“You sure? Or do I need a doctor’s note giving me permission?”

“Parker -“

“And would it kill you to give me a proper greeting?”

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. “Morning.”

“Good morning Migs!”

“Is there a reason you called me?”

“No, the next order of small talk is to ask how I slept or make a comment about the weather. And then I’d ask you and then we’d fake laugh about how California doesn’t really have seasons -“

“Let’s pretend we just did that.”

“Alright, not a morning person.”

“I like mornings. I hate unexpected calls.”

***

Read on (ao3)!

#syne writes #fake dating au #spiderparents #pbm&ms #rosefang focused #but still Peter/Miguel and Peter/MJ interactions #miguel o'hara #peter b parker #mary jane watson #this chapter will make you laugh and cry #rated m

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redstarwriting · 1 year ago

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potential hobie x goth!reader

was dying to read an enemies to lovers hobie x reader, and then i remembered i write LMAO. here’s a little snippet of the beginning of an enemies to lovers hobie x goth!reader ;) lemme know if anyone would actually be interested in this

The punk lifestyle is that of beliefs and hopes. The world can be changed. Anarchy can be accomplished, it’s not just a dream.

The goth lifestyle is that of cynicism and despair. Nothing changes, definitely not the world. Anarchy can never be accomplished, the selfish nature of humans assures that.

IT’S NO LONGER POTENTIAL!!! HERE’S THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE CLASH! MASTERLIST TO COME! i. hey, ho! let’s go!

In theory, the two of you should have been great friends. Best friends, even. He’s called Spider-Punk, and you’re called Spider-Goth, this alone made Miguel assume the two of you would get along better than all of the Peters. Unfortunately for Miguel, he was dead wrong. It was fine at first, a good introduction. “Spider-Punk, meet Spider-Goth,” Miguel says, motioning to the two of you. You simultaneously turn your heads towards him, “Don’t call me that.” You look at each other, seemingly sizing each other up after speaking the same words at the same time. “Fine. Hobie, meet (Y/n). (Y/n), meet Hobie,” Miguel says as Peter B. Parker hops next to him, excited to see the two of you interact. Hobie clicks his tongue. “Goth, eh?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem with you or something?”

“Feisty for a goth.”

“Insitgative as all punks are.”

“...I don’t suppose there’s no reason we shouldn’t get along,” Hobie suggests, raising an eyebrow at you. “I agree. We probably think similar things… for the most part.”

“For the most part, huh?”

“Just that we have similar ideas, but most likely not the same,” you respond and he crosses his arms, his guitar moving loosely behind his back. “Opinions on anarchy. Go.”

“It’s the ideal society—”

“Good start—”

“But completely unrealistic.”

“Excuse me?” Hobie looks at you with a glowering expression. “Humans are inherently assholes. Selfish, shitty, assholes. As amazing as it would be to have anarchy running rampant,” you shrug, “It’s unlikely it will ever happen.”

“You can’t actually believe that,” Hobie says, exasperated, “I mean you actually think that we can’t achieve it? You get enough people angry and they rebel, they push for anarchy. I’ve seen it happen, I’ve led a rebellion.” You roll your eyes. “And do you live in a perfect anarchical society now?”

“Not yet, but we’re getting there,” he clenches his teeth and you sigh. “I admire your blatant idiocy disguised as an ambitious dream,” you say and he huffs. “Would you just talk like a normal fucking person and stop using these dumbass words and shitty poetic language?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, or are you as deaf as your ideologies?” This time you scoff. “I don’t have the time to be berated by someone who lives in their own delusions to try and feel the slightest bit less angry at the world for giving him the shitty cards he was dealt.”

“And I don’t have time to listen to the rubbish ramblings of a miserable twat who digs desperately into their black hole of a heart to try and feel something when the truth is they don’t even know what they stand for,” he fires back. You glare at him. He glares at you. As if on cue you both flip each other off before you web away. Peter’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Well, that went horribly!”

#hobie x reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spider-punk x reader #spiderverse x reader #spider-verse x reader #hobie #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse

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runa-falls · 1 year ago

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scratches and bites?

scratches and bites - miguel o'hara x spider-girl!reader

s&b was my first miguel fic and was initially going to be a smutty one-shot, but clearly i had issues sticking with some plotless porn. first there was one part, then two, then three, and now 4 (the last one has been sitting in my google drive XD).

i really enjoyed introducing an "extremely-new-doesn't-even-know-about-her-powers-yet" spider-girl into spider society because it was almost like i was writing how i'd react to the changes the spiders go through.

the first part introduces grumpy impatient!miguel and the reader who's barely through her transformation into spider-girl. i used this part to create some undeniable tension in their first meeting bc i wanted to make it clear that despite miguel's rough nature, he'll always fall for the reader.

in the second part, when the reader goes to nueva york, i wanted to focus on the dynamics between different characters (peter, gwen, hobie, etc) + how miguel and the reader's relationship evolves (jealousy, missing each other, defiance for attention). this chapter had the most plot and least interaction between the love birds, but i thought it was important to push miguel to the edge.

the third part was...mostly PORN. finally right? it did seem like most people skipped the second part (which is a bit disheartening) but i get it. i mean, i wrote this series thinking it would only be porn.

this part included the big fight scene and the big FUCK scene. i love writing arguments but irl i HATE conflict, so this is how i get my fill <3 from what he almost says (he was interrupted by the reader lol) it's clear that miguel wants to keep the reader safe, but he isn't ready to admit that he cares for her.

i know it seems to early for miguel to have feelings for someone that he barely interacts with, but the reader is the only person he's even considered opening up to after all these years. i think the fact that the reader is so new to being spider-girl makes miguel feel like he's needed + that's all he's really wanted since the accident.

later, after the fucking and sedation-kink, i wanted to highlight miguel's attachment issues due to his past. i mean, he's particularly needy in this third chapter (NSFW):

“Be mine, baby, and I’ll take care of you forever.” His claws dig into your web-pasted as he works himself into you, post-orgasm slick smothered carelessly over the both of you. “I promise.” He whispers breathlessly next to your ear.

sry this was so long. i honestly didn't know i had this much to say, but i guess i just wanted to convey my understanding of the story in case anyone is curious.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #anon #scratches and bites #director's cut asks

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dadilovefishing · 1 year ago

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The Start of the Beginning… Again

Miguel O’hara x Filipina reader

Chapter 2

Previously

Earth-6301

Year 2099

Peter groans waking up with a throbbing headache, he tries to move but notices that he’s been hogtied up with his limbs in the air behind him.

‘Well isn’t this great’ he thought

Earth 1610

“Honestly if I had a nickel for every time I woke up bruised and tied up I would have 2 nickels which isn’t much but I wouldn’t be surprised if it happens again.” Peter says, shrugging it off while Miles laughs awkwardly remembering their first interaction together.

“Anyways” Peter continues

“I woke up in this office lab looking room. Couldn’t really tell where I was but I saw that the goblin I was supposed to bring back to HQ was in the same position as me but still passed out, then I saw (Y/n) hunched over on her desk.”

Earth-6301

Year 2099

“I guess now I have to deal with you too huh.” You say out loud getting up from her chair, turning around and leans back against her desk.

“Gabi, can you keep looking into that device while I deal with him.” You tell her, a purple hologram of what looks like a teenage girl pops up and salutes you then disappears again.

“Gabi?” Peter questions quietly to himself but sees the gizmo on your desk plugged with a bunch of wires, he panics.

“H-hey you shouldn’t be messing with tha-” Peter exclaims but was cut off from the excruciating pain of glitching.

“Just like the goblin huh?” You mutter to yourself as you watch Peter glitch and writhe in pain.

“Well I certainly don’t miss that” Peter groans. You drag your chair in front of Peter and sit back down and lean back against it. You bring out your foot to tilt Peter’s chin to look up at you. You look down at him, deactivating your mask then clicking your tongue.

“So you wanna explain why you’re messing with inter dimensional travel hm?” You question him. Peter looks up at you taking in your appearance, he feels like he’s seen you before and he also notices that it looks like you haven’t slept in days. You patiently wait for an answer as Peter continues to ponder who you look like, but sigh as you retract your foot back letting his chin hit the ground bringing Peter back to reality and scoot back away from him.

“I mean do you even know the dangers of entering another dimension where you don’t even belong? You could rip a fucking black hole into my universe just by interacting with it.” You groan pinching the temples of your forehead trying to soothe your oncoming headache.

“Look like I was trying to explain earlier but you decided to knock me out instead. I was just here trying to get this guy over here.” Peter motions his head at the passed out goblin beside him.

“And take him back to where he belongs, because long story short there was someone who was messing with multiverse stuff which caused a ripple effect onto every other universe causing people getting sucked into these vortexes and getting shot out into a different dimension.” Peter explains and pauses looking at you for a reaction but you just stare at him.

“Before you know it… the universe that they enter will collapse since they obviously don’t belong there.” Peter adds and chuckles awkwardly, inwardly cursing at Miguel for forcing him to pick up this mission.

“I see…” You say leaning back into your chair and slouching against it crossing your arms.

“I was afraid that his theories would be right.” You sigh solemnly, the hologram of a teenage girl pops up in front of you.

“Sooo I found out that the watch has the same coding as papa's temporal displacement machine but with a few changes, and it’s probably because they’re using it to travel between dimensions rather than time travel.” Gabi concludes, kicking her holographic soccer ball and keeping it up.

“Thank you Gabi, just keep looking into it if it’s unstable”

“You got it mom” Gabi fizzles out

Earth-1610

“Wait wait wait wait- hold on!” Gwen cuts Peter off from continuing his story.

“(Y/n) has an ai assistant?” Gwen questions Peter rolls his eyes.

“Kid, if you forgot she literally lives in the future” Peter reiterates.

“No, no I mean her AI assistant is…” Gwen pauses then whispers the next part “Miguel’s dead daughter?” She asks and Peter shrugs.

“Surprised you haven’t met her yet. She hangs out with Lyla a lot but yeah, as I was saying…”

Earth-6301

Year 2099

“Wait time travel?” Peter asks incredulously, you look at him weirdly as if that’s the first time anyone has ever heard of time travel.

Earth-1610

“She calls her mom?” Miles asks

“Just let me finish!”

Earth-6301

Year 2099

“What, you’ve never heard of time travel or something?” You question him

“No no no, I’ve heard of time travel… of course I’ve heard of time travel! It’s in the name.” Peter exclaims and you still look at him with a blank stare.

“So you guys never explored inter dimensional travelling?” Peter asks, breaking the silence only to be answered with a sigh, you pull out your watch and put up a display of your theories.

“A long time ago… I think maybe four years ago the idea of inter dimensional travelling was brought up by my boss. You see I work at alchemax, you probably have a version of a high tech science company or something in your world… Anyways our boss was grief stricken he wa-“

“Was your boss’s name kingpin by any chance?” Peter cuts you off and you look at him weirdly

“W-what? No, what kind of name is that? Anyways he was grief stricke-“ you were cut off once more by a loud crash, you turned your attention to the source of the noise and saw that the goblin was thrashing around trying to get out of his confinement. You sigh, getting up to activate your yantok and shock him again, he passes out once more.

“Ano ba?” You click your tongue in annoyance and return back to your chair. “At this point he’s just embarrassing himself. Like I was saying our boss… his name is Tyler Stone, was so grief stricken from the loss of his son and wife dying in a shootout that happened not too long after the alchemax here in Nueva York was established he proposed the idea of inter dimensional travelling. Of course he didn’t push through with it since it was brought to his attention that it would be too dangerous and risky to mess with anything beyond our current understanding so it was decided that time travel was the best option. You see with time travel, it’s quite much more simple and less complex than travelling through the multiverse or getting something else from somewhere else. With time travel you’re just travelling in your own dimension and the only thing you’d be disrupting is the certain events that people have experienced which in turn would alter their personalities which isn’t really an issue because our theory was that somewhere along our timeline it’ll split when an event that would have a major consequence which would be balanced either way, you win some you lose some. So for example, it’s simple really.”

You pull up a picture of what looks like to be a tree branch

“Let’s say this is you, the moment you were born. This could split into many different ways of what could happen.” You say and point at the start of the tree branch

“In one timeline, you could’ve died from SIDS, you’re done, this timeline of your story ends here. In this timeline you live with no freak accidents and whatever, and in this other timeline your mom could’ve dropped you or you had a life altering injury something like it that would leave you with lasting effects. That’s just the gist of it, at some points different versions of you in this universe can experience the same thing but because of how your past experiences shaped you, you could have different outcomes depending how alternate timeline versions of yourselves react to said cross point event. Anyways don’t take my word for it too seriously since theory is just theory unless you can prove that it’s absolute law.” You turn off your watch

“As I was saying, disrupting your own timeline or universe or whatever it’s called, as long as you're interacting within your own world, everything should be fine because there will always be that one time line that will split off with a different consequence which creates some sort of balance. But the catch when it comes to time travelling and fixing the past to create your desired result, you MUST follow every single path down to the very second to prevent any thing that you don’t want to deal with and want things to be almost exactly the way it is when you come back to the present. Yes, yes I know ‘but what about the other version of yous in the other timelines?’ Well you don’t have to think about them because they’re not your problem, just need to accept it even though it will leave you with an icky feeling but hey what would I know? This was how I got the explanation for this stuff. I might be missing some things but that’s most of it I believe… Who knows, I’m just a geneticist trying to find cures for up and coming diseases that don’t have any known antidote and help the betterment of man kind. But yeah I need to stop getting side tracked.” You yawn and look at your watch to check the time.

“Bwiset, it’s almost five am. Yeah we chose time travel since it’s the least dangerous option but long story short, Tyler was so desperate to get his family back that he rushed the whole process and fired up an interns shit job of a temporal displacement and that sucker exploded as expected since that stupid intern stole early drafts of the temporal displacement that still had a lot of setbacks and wasn’t deem stable by any of the actual professionals and rushed it in hopes to get a promotion right away. And yeah a lot of people died… yeah after that alchemax went back to “normal” and is now under strict guidelines if we want to start up another experiment like that to prevent shit like this happening again.”

You sigh leaning back.

“Diyos ko, bakit naman kailangan harahapin kong ito ng nag-iisa” you groan and spin in your chair to face your desk. Peter took notice of your silence and saw that you were staring at a picture frame, he couldn’t make out who was in the picture frame thanks to the sunrise’s reflection.

“I’ll deal with you later but right now I have more pressing matters to deal with right now.” You state and start working with chemicals and pull out a tray of Petri dishes.

“Uh so do you plan on letting me go or something? Did you forget about what I just told you?” Peter asks, staring at your back remembering that he was hogtied up in your blue digital webbing.

All of a sudden a bright orange vortex appears in your room.

“Ah shit I forgot about him.” Peter groans

An: sorry for a really late update, I was tryna make this scrumptious and had to revise a lot of plot lines. Like⁉️ I had three very different drafts of chapter 2😧

#miguel o’hara x filipina! reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miles morales #peter b parker #hobie brown #atsv gwen #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #pavitr prabhakar #astv lyla #jessica drew #miguel x reader

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 1 year ago

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Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader[HS Academic Rivals AU])

Hehehe. I had a bit of writer’s block but then I didn’t. Not proofread.

(Y/N)- Your name

Cursing, injuries, mentions of death, angsty, shit goes down. Villains villaining.

Word count: 2.4k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 2: and no one could save me but you.

—

Well you kept your promise. Was Miguel surprised? No. Was he still furious at the fact you got a better score than him? Of course he was. To make matters worse you weren’t doing a very subtle about it either, having “accidentally” dropping the paper on his desk as you walked past him to your next class while he was still packing his supplies in his bag, before turning around and picking it up, flashing him a smile before you walked through the door as you giggled about the interaction with MJ.

Miguel hunched over to place his hands on top of his knees, taking quick shallow and shaky breaths as he attempted to get his heart rate down and his hands to stop shaking, but the cold Nueva York air wasn’t doing him any favors. You needed to get out of his head, and he needed to calm down and focus. He had bigger things to worry about then you right now. A quick rush of air and a flash of metallic green pass him by the corner of his eyes, quickly pulling Miguel out of his thoughts and back to the task at hand. Quickly standing up at his full size, before shooting a red neon red web in the direction of the movement before jumping off the rooftop.

—

“That stupid Goblin really did a number on me…” Miguel groaned to himself as he slowly traced the bandages around his waist, looking at his covered stomach from where he stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

He didn’t know what time he got home last night, all he knew was he got one hell of a scratch on his side from Green Goblin’s glider during the fight, not to mention a brush in his cheekbone and a few cuts on his arm. He barely made it back to the dorm building after having stopped the goblin, dizzy and disoriented, making sure he was quick enough to not leave any of his blood on the campus ground but having to make sure he was being quiet since it was the middle of the night and he didn’t need the news to know that Spider-Man was a student at NYPA. Once he had slipped in through the window he left out of earlier, he stumbled and practically collapsed on his bed, his brother half awake, waiting to help patch him up afterwards.

With a sigh, he dropped the hand that was tracing the white wrapping on his body to grab at his white shirt, putting it on, before throwing on a black Polo quarter size sweater overtop. Despite it being a Saturday, he had so much to do, first was the gym, then he was going to have to fix the rips in his suit from the fight, he needed to complete his internship paperwork from Alchemax, and he had to study and do his homework with Peter, plus his usual night patrol. He really needed to get more than one suit, or figure out how to get the fabric to be more durable or something else similar, he’ll deal with that later.

Miguel finished changing, before quickly applying some hair gel and slicking his dark brown hair back, doing a once over of his appearance in the mirror once more before leaving the bathroom, Gabriel was already gone for the day, having said something about going to hang out with his friends, Miguel was only half listening, a bit preoccupied with the soreness he felt spreading through his body. Going to the kitchen and popping an ibuprofen to help with aching before putting on his shoes, grabbed his bag and made his way out of the dorm room.

—

“What is the Pauli exclusion Principle?” Miguel asked Peter in a bored-almost monotone voice, as he brought his head up from his notebook to look at Peter. Peter who was too busy spacing out to focus on the study session that he was begging for. Miguel’s eyes traveled to go follow where he was looking, only to land on Mj and you on the other side of the courtyard, both of you sitting down on a blanket as you talked and ate some snacks that were placed in front of you, you were having a picnic, Cute.

Miguel let out a huff as he realized he let his eyes linger on you for a bit longer then he should have. So they snapped back to look at Peter as his eyebrows scrunched together and he let his lip come up in a slight snarl.

“Peter. Focus.” He scolded his friend as he brought a hand up to snap in front of his friend.

“Huh- oh- Sorry? It’s- I-“

“You were too busy drooling over Mary Jane?” Miguel deadpan, causing Peter’s face to blush darkly as he continued to stutter. Despite Miguel’s annoyance, he couldn’t help but think the reaction was funny. “You look like a creep. Just go ask her out.”

“You say it like it’s easy!”

“Because it is.”

Peter lets out a groan and he plops his head on top of his open notebook.

“If it’s so easy, why don’t you ask out (Y/N)?” Peter retorted. Now it was Miguel’s turn to act like a bit of a fool, his eyes widened and he chokes on some of his own spit. Once he was able to clear his throat he spoke once more.

“Why the hell would I do that? I can’t stand her.”

“Really? Maybe I’m wrong but I was kinda picking up a vibe between you two-“

“Well you weren’t.” The tone in which Miguel spoke made it clear that the topic was not up to discussion, and Peter knew better to poke the bear, especially when it involved you, so he simply nodded his head, a bit too quickly. “Let’s get back to what we’re here for.” It was an order, not a suggestion.

“Why aren’t we studying in the library again?” Peter questioned as he picked his head.

“It’s too stuffy in there, it makes my head hurt. I need the fresh air.” Miguel stated, to which Peter just nodded his head as his brows furrowed together in concentracion while looking back at his notebook. What Peter didn’t notice was Miguel’s eyes glancing in your direction one last time as he spoke. “Now what is the Pauli exclusion principle?” Peter’s silence and confused look was enough of an answer for Miguel, so with a sigh, he made sure to explain it in a way Peter would understand.

“Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same point in time.”

—

Today was simply amazing. You have been out and about all day with MJ, first you both went out for breakfast, then you both went shopping down at the nearby mall, followed by a picnic at the campus’s courtyard while you too gossiped and giggled. Talking about anything and everything that came into mine, you teased her about her little crush on Peter, she would tease you about Miguel, which got under your skin a bit but that was neither here nor there, then you talked about some books you read and she told you about some gossip that she’d hear on campus.

It was now later in the evening, you and MJ had found yourselves at the metropolitan museum, deciding it would be fun to use your student discount to get it and explore more, haven't been able to see everything the first time you visited the building due to just how much was in it. The sun was setting, shades of dark lilac seeping through the glass ceiling windows as you wandered from one exhibit to the next. Lingering a little bit longer at center paintings and sculptures, ones that would speak to your soul, you stopped in front of Perseus with the head of Medusa, your eyes staying on hers. Oh how your heart aches for her, she deserves the world. You knew if Miguel was here he’d make fun of you-wait why were you thinking of Miguel for?

You didn’t have a chance to dwell on it too much, your thoughts coming to a screeching halt when the sound of glass crashing came from above you. Your fight or flight instincts kicked in, your arms going over your head to protect yourself from the falling glass shards. Your heart rate picked up as the adrenaline started to course through your body, your eyes wandering the museum that not even a minute ago was peaceful and tranquil, now a scene of chaos. Where the fuck was Mj??? You quickly looked around some more despite your body starting to shake and your vision beginning to blur, tears of panic forming in the corner of your eyes. Your body was telling you to run, but your brain was more concerned about finding your friend as unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face passed you going to the nearest exit they could find.

A manic laugh rang through the building over the screams before the floor shock underneath you, hard enough to make you lose your balance. You let out a whine as you fell, scraping the side of your left leg in the process, feeling the burn of the wound that was probably going to be nasty when you get a chance to look at it, if you get the chance to look at it. A shaky breath left your lips as you attempt to stand up, but once you go to put your weight on the injured leg, a shooting pain traveled all the way up your leg. You let out another, more pained and desperate whine, trying to make the sobs that attempted to follow afterwards die in your throat. You bring a hand up to wipe the tears that began to run down your face. You took a deep breath and went to exhale it, but instead the exhale came out as small hiccups and sobs. Your tears only made your vision blur more, and your ears began to ring.

You were scared, you were hurt and you felt like you were going to die.

But hey, look at the bright side, at least if you were you would be dying in a place you love, that’s nice right?

Fuck you didn’t wanna die.

Your breathing only became more rapid, quiet sobs turning into loud and panic wheezing as your lips and body began to tremble in fear as you saw a creature-like man cladded in green and purple on top of some sort of sauser or glider fly in the room, holding something in his hands. You didn’t need any context clues to know that this man (thing?) meant danger, you needed to run, or well, crawl. So that’s what you did, crawling, while still incredibly painful, was more bearable than trying to walk. But you could only crawl so quickly. Not quick enough to move out of the way of a pillar that was coming crashing down after that person threw an explosive at it with another laugh. You stopped crawling, knowing that it was useless, you weren’t gonna move out of the way in time, and let out a small sob, squeezing your eyes shut, only hoping that your death would be quick and painless.

But the impact never came.

Instead you felt a pair of muscular arms grab you, before the sound of the pillar hitting and denting the white tiles of the museum floor filled your ears. You slowly and hesitantly open your eyes once you feel the sensation of wind hit your face and body, causing goosebumps to form all over your arms and legs. Once your red and puffy eyes were fully open, they widened in shock as soon as they landed on your savior.

“Oh-oh my god! Spider-Man! You’re Spider-Man! Thank you!” You started to babble before your brain could get you to stop. He had one arm wrapped around your waist as he used the other one to swing around the now very destroyed building, presumably to find you a safe spot for you to refuge in. If you weren’t in a current state of crisis, the sight would have broken your heart, but the thought of still being alive was greatly overtaking the heartache with relief instead. In your frantic state, you accidentally looked down and realized you were very high up in the air, causing you to let out a small yelp as you instantly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest so you couldn’t see anything but darkness as you closed your eyes again.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Just don’t look down okay? I’m gonna keep you safe.” The masked hero reassured you in a soft tone despite the current crisis that you were both in, his arm gripping you tighter. His voice was so familiar, like you’ve heard it before but you couldn’t remember who or from where. You just nodded as you held onto him tighter, your hands forming into fist to keep them warm against the cold wind.

Eventually, he stopped swinging once he was a few buildings away, and gently placed you down on the rooftop, you were shaking and didn’t want to let go of him, but you knew he had a job to do, you reluctantly let go of him and bring your arms around yourself in an attempt to soothe yourself after experience this whole ordeal.

You are definitely gonna need to go to therapy after this.

He seemed to realize your hesitation when unwrapping your arms from around his neck, the lines on his mask that were around his eyes scrunched together as he stared down at you.

“I’ll come back for you okay? Don’t leave here. I’m gonna go deal with Goblin, and then I’m gonna come back and take you home okay?” His tone was soft and calm, but also stern, making you know that it wasn’t a question or a request, it was a command. So with a shaky sigh, you nodded your head, before you watched him swing back in the direction you both just came from. The sky was now dark, and it was cold.

Part of you wished you were still pressed against him to keep you warm on this freezing fall night, surely you’ll develop a cold on top of your injury. But that’s a problem for tomorrow, for now all you can do is wait for the masked hero as you look out at the Nueva York skyline.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini12 @cowboylikeevie @thedevax

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara au #miguel spiderverse #academic rivals au #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #love me or hate me fanfic

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firewalkzwit · 1 year ago

Text

peace of mind // miguel o'hara x reader (4)

guys very minor detail but in this story i decided to errase the part where miles is an anomaly chased by the entire spider society bc i love him too much sorry :>

Masterlist

AO3 parallel

summary: In the eve of 2050, Spider-Woman is New York’s vigilante trying to maintain order in a revolting society, soon to collapse. The only reason to keep going is the hope for change, as the darkest hour is just before the dawn, but an unexpected turn of events will result in more than just New York to watch over.

(Contains some elements and references I gathered off other pieces of media to inspire the universe and, vaguely, the character.)

word count: 1.8k

Chapter 4

She turned and tilted her head at the sight of another Spider-Man in a pink robe and an empty baby carrier. "Don't freak her out like that Miguel, she'll run away from us!" The Spider-Man opened his arms as he chuckled trying to lighten the mood. He rested a hand on her shoulder "Don't worry, most of us aren't like him. I'm Peter, but I'm sure you guessed that.. Wow, you really are on the tall side, kinda' like Jess, huh Miguel?" Miguel sighed behind them, shaking his head in a theatric performance of exhaustion as he jumped up into the platform that had descended from the ceiling earlier. She introduced herself without opening up too much, trying to shake off the commotion of the sole idea of the canon itself. Behind Peter followed other Spider-People who gathered around her, checking out her suit and asking her all sorts of questions about her dimension and how she ended up there. She was soon warmed up by the feeling of their kind welcome, and a part of her felt very comforted by the existence of a place like the Spider-Society, where there was thousands of people who understood what being her felt like. Despite the uncanny nature of being united by being forced to live a series of events that more or less made them all the same person, it felt good to know she wasn't the only Spider. While she leaned more on the introvert side, she was very friendly and welcoming to those who approached, even having a sense of humor if one teased it out of her. As she held trivial dialogue and received more information that Miguel skipped mentioning about being a member of the Spider-Society, she analyzed everybody thoroughly, gathering information on their character based on how they composed themselves around her. While Peter was the first one of the group to approach her, he soon wandered off in the search of his newborn baby, which awoke brief curiosity in her given the fact that his unconventional fathering gave him the questionable idea to allow a baby to roam freely with web shooters of her own. Around her stood Gwen, Hobie, Pavitr and Miles. Visually, the most arresting was easily Hobie, his suit tuned up with uncountable punk accessories which reflected great fashion taste, vintage for someone from her times but a timeless sense of style nevertheless. Pavitr quickly caught onto her character and sarcastically pulled some humor out of her, which gave her a relieving sense of peace. Being able to laugh reminded her of how much she longed to interact with other people without her mask, even if her new acquaintances surged thanks to it, being able to hold a conversation of no grave significance with strangers felt like a breath of fresh air she would probably never get in her dimension, where people were increasingly reclusive and asocial, and those few who were close to her were no longer around. Miles was the youngest of them all, and radiated the same friendly energy that seemed to be able to get her to open up so fast and so easily, she unwinded with them like she'd known them for a while, which wasn't usual in her character. The fact that all these people had so much in common with her made her feel closer to them, even though they were still strangers. She however, felt the closest with Gwen out of all of them, easily attributed to the fact that she was the first Spider-Woman she got to talk to since she arrived. Whenever they crossed words they understood eachother, causing her to giggle under her breath in a contention of excitement.

Miguel seemed to have derivated the responsibility of dealing with her to the group, who assumed the implicit task with no opposition, touring her around the headquarters and giving her a more detailed tour around the place, allowing her a chance to also meet some of the other Spider-People in the way. She quickly gathered that Spider-Men named Peter Parker were an overwhelmingly common sight, which contrasted with how different her new group of friends seemed to be between eachother. Despite the standard Spider-Person similarities, they all had different names and unique suits, which she thanked for thoroughly as she struggled to keep up with how many Peter Parkers she was greeted by in the short spawn of time she had been walking and swinging around the lobby. As they walked, the watches of the group lit up, and the hologram of another Spider-Woman allerted them of an anomaly they had to take care of in another dimension. Which to her seemed like a shocker was handled by the group like another Tuesday afternoon, quickly gathering to leave. "It was really nice meeting, you but we gotta' run." Miles exclaimed as they ran and soon disappeared in the multitude. There she was left with nothing but her own company, soon realizing she was completely lost on what followed. Miguel had communicated to her in a strange and rather unsettling manner that she was recruited to be a part of the Spider-Society to fight against the collapse of the multiverse, she had been made aware of the threat Spot posed to it and how it was their job to try to eliminate him, and had been given her own gizmo including a rich tour of the place, now what? She stood looking around. Seeing how everyone made their way to somewhere, she eventually realized she needed to get going herself. She found her way back to headquarters with some help of the other Spider-People, and as she entered she felt the contrast of the light in the lobby compared to the darkness of the office, which resembled an eerie bat cave. Her swift and agile movement dodging dozens of questionably placed gadgets and screens was performed in complete discression, which was not intentional, but almost an instinctive way of moving that she could no longer detach from herself, even when she wasn't playing Spider-Woman. She hesitated on whether to call out for Miguel or not. Her interactions with him ranged from absoulute intensity to awkward silence, and he was very distinctive from the other Spider-Men, not only by his height and the unique appearance of his suit and physique, but also his strange lack of a sense of humor. Unlike herself and the other Spider-People, Miguel failed to make a single joke in the spawn of time they'd spent together, and when he did try it came off as a mean bark, or a passive order. He sure wasn't her favorite Spider of the bunch, but he scared her enough for her to want to make a good impression on him. She was serious in the workplace and as far as her critical-self could tell, her performance was quite decent, however it would take more than that to gain a reputable name, as she assumed most members of the strikeforce, with the exception of Hobie, aimed towards a similar goal. She webbed her hair into a pony-tail, using the comfortable and limitless source of unconventional hairties.

"Miguel? You around?" She hopped onto the central area of what she could only call 'the cave', looking around for the Spider-Man. "You're still here?" An unwelcoming voice that only could be perceived as a sigh came from the floating platform. "Well, I haven't been told to do otherwise.." She struggled to find the propper words to express herself with, her tongue tripping on her own palate as she spoke. The platform descended in it's usual slow pace. "Fair enough, you're free to go. I'll let you know if we need you here." Her head tilted in confusion, was that it? She thought to herself about the disappointing outcome of her visit, after such a chilling premise of 'the fate of the multiverse', she was left with no tasks or anything she could do to help, and the fact that Miguel himself wasn't rushing to find Spot and 'retire' him only made her think it was probably harder than it seemed. "Is there really nothing more I can do?" Miguel jumped down from his base, walking past by her. "It's okay, you've done... enough today." What was that supposed to mean? The tone with which he spoke was holding back hostility, probably referencing her failure at stopping Spot back at her dimension, but it was ridiculous to hold any grudge at her for it, not only had he been just as futile as her, if not more, but she still had plenty of energy to run on anything else necessary. He was clearly dismissing her, but his speech had frightened her enough to make her wish like she was more useful. At least if the multiverse did collapse and they failed at completing their mission, she could be obliterated from existence knowing she tried her best. "Look, I get that my performance back home today was subpar, but I now know stuff I didn't. I really don't intend to brag but I think I'm good enough to do something around." She expressed calmly but persistently, following behind him. "I know you're good, you think I'd take you in if you weren't?" Miguel retorted before volatilely pushing devices and equipment out of his way, he seemed to be holding back aggression, yet visibly upset. "Look, it's good that you have that drive, but it's not necessary right now. Go home, I'll contact you through your gizmo if we need you." He didn't wait for a reply, leaving her alone in the cold office after sending her off. She shrugged to herself calling a victory for the rather snappy compliment. Still, she lingered thinking about Miguel's attitude, wondering what was the cause of his temper. Whatever it was didn't stress her much, as he seemed short-tempered himself and quite prone to lashing out, like he did back at her dimension. The more she thought about home, the more tempting resting seemed and the more greatful she was that Miguel considered her dispensable for the day.

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction #atsv #atsv fic #atsv fanfiction #angst #slowburn #friends to lovers

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