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underoossss · 2 days ago

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Let me help – Miguel O'Hara

pairing: miguel ohara x fem!reader

warnings: tw homelife problems mention, some angst

words: ~3k

masterlist

an: they're good friends in this but feelings are hinted at from both of them. this is definitely not me projecting not at all. but sometimes you just need someone to offer comfort when you're feeling down, which is how i have been feeling for weeks. anyway, have some hurt comfort on this tuesday i guess. we're so back.

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“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Miguel’s voice reaches your ears just as you’re about to leave his lab.

There was a mission with Hobbie and Gwen that needed to be reported, and you stood silently in the back until Gwen was done and the three of you dismissed. Or at least the two of them were.

“No I haven’t.” You say, closing your eyes and chiding yourself for not leaving faster.

You have been avoiding him, leaving before he can speak to you, only spending time with him when a mission is involved and not answering his calls. It’s killing you –there’s nothing you want more than just to spend your time with him like you always do– but if you didn’t avoid him, you’d be in trouble. He would notice something’s wrong; he’d know you’ve been crying. He’d figure out something’s wrong the moment you tear up again, because you can’t stop feeling so sad. Miguel is your friend, and unbeknownst to him, the object of your affections, he knows you and he can’t know you’re not doing well. You can’t be another burden.

“Mentira.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s shaking his head, but you do anyway. He gestures towards his platform and because you can’t deny him, you go. This is why you avoided him. “Did I do something?” Miguel asks you once you’re standing in front of where he’s sitting.

“What? No, of course not.” You shake your head. “I’m fine, just feeling a little off today. Sorry if I’m ruining the vibe for the team.”

“Come on, you know you light up the room anywhere you go.” He says casually, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. The orange glow of the screen highlights his facial features, from the top of his cheekbone to his lips. His eyes meet your masked ones and you look away.

“But I don’t anymore?” You ask, knowing the answer is yes. You half expect him to say it, ‘Your mood is bringing everyone down’.

“You do. But I know you, and there’s something off.” Miguel sighs and gestures towards your face. “You won’t take off your mask anymore for starters.”

“I have a pimple, many.” You lie, sitting on one of his desks opposite him, crisscrossing your legs.

“Uh huh.” The look Miguel gives you is enough for you to know he doesn’t believe you one bit. “You know you can tell me anything” He breathes out again. “I won’t insist on you doing so, if you don’t want to.”

You bite your bottom lip under your mask and shake your head. “I can’t tell you. It’s stupid.”

“Doubtful.” Miguel stands up and walks towards you. Once he’s close enough and looking down at you one of his hands reaches for your mask, asking for permission.

This is why you avoided him, you think again, you can never say no to him.

The most imperceptible nod from you, and a moment later your teary eyes are meeting his brown ones. When his face falls with concern you can’t do anything but wrap your arms around his middle and hug him. Miguel wastes no time returning the hug, arms secure around your shoulders as he holds you.

“What’s going on, mi pulguita, huh?” He says, voice quiet, gentler than it’s ever been. “It’s not stupid if it’s got you like this.”

“Things back home aren’t… good.” You whisper, finding comfort on his warmth and relaxing with his touch. When was the last time you got a hug like this? “God I shouldn’t be complaining, sorry.”

“You’re not complaining.” Miguel pushes you back so you’re looking at him, his eyebrows are furrowed. “Stop apologizing.”

You nod even as your lip trembles. It’s wrong in your mind to say how you feel –not about him, you’ll never tell him, but about your home life. Others have it worse, why can’t you just grow up and put up with your situation. It should be easy, getting through the day despite the chaos and heaviness that seems to plague you. If others have it worse, you have to be strong no matter how much you’re hurting right?

“Whatever you’re thinking about right now is probably wrong.” Miguel frowns as his hand moves up to cup your cheek. “If you want to talk about what’s going on back home, if you don’t like it, that’s okay. Stop thinking it makes you a bad person.”

You shake your head and look away. “Complaining won’t solve anything, Miguel. I just have to get over it.”

“It’s eating you alive; nothing good can come from bottling it up.” Miguel’s frustrated tone shines through but only momentarily.

“You’re one to talk.” You huff, leaning your forehead on his torso, avoiding his eyes.

“That was before.” His hands move to your shoulders and push you back gently. “I’m getting better at that because of you. Let me help.”

Your eyes tear up again and you bite your lip; this goes against every instinct you have. When you’re like this you retreat into yourself, talking about what’s making you so sad is the complete opposite. Yet you find comfort in the concerned gaze that meets yours when you look up again. “I hate living at home.” You confess softly.

“There’s yelling and fighting, and an environment that’s so toxic, every single day. It gives me so much anxiety I don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. Then there’s this feeling when we’re all together –right before an argument breaks out– that I’m letting everyone down, that I’m not the person they thought I would be, and it kills me because I can’t be that person.” You pause to gesture at your suit in a way of explaining what you mean. “And-

With another shake head you cut yourself off and wipe at your tears harshly, falling silent once more.

Miguel’s warm touch in on you again, wiping a rogue tear more gently than how you did before. His other hand shoots his red webs and brings his chair over, letting him sit I front of you until you’re in the same eye level.

“And?” He says, prompting you to keep going, mostly likely wanting to know everything so he can find a way to solve it.

It shouldn’t be his problem. You tell him that.

He rolls his eyes at you, not annoyed, but frustrated. “It’s not a problem. No entiendes que…” With a deep breath he looks at you again. “I care about you, and I hate seeing you cry so let’s see if we can at least make it better.”

You fiddle with your fingers until Miguel gives you one of his hands and you hold it tightly instead. “And I feel so lonely, Miguel.” You whisper as you squeeze his hand. “I feel lonely and then I feel selfish for even wanting anything to change in the first place. Other people are going through worse situations, so why do I cry because I feel so alone in that universe...

“Sometimes I feel like… like I’m such a problem that if–”

“No.” Miguel’s gaze hardens but not unkindly. This is protective Miguel and he’s trying to save you from your own train of thought. “I know what you’re going to say and it’s not true.”

“But what if it is?” You whisper, letting go of his hand to wipe away your tears again.

“Lyla, bring up file 7200” Miguel says in lieu of an answer. He nods towards the screens and stands up.

You follow him wordlessly, wondering what this is all about until you’re standing right next to him and see yourself on the various screens. They’re all different missions, some of them with Miguel fighting alongside you, some of them with your spider friends. There’s footage of you wiping the floor with the Scorpion until you capture him; you, trapping a Doc Oc for Miguel to cage inside his high-tech cells; you, being Gwen and Jess’ backup when their mission with a Sandman got out of control; and finally, you, comforting a little girl that got hurt in a fire back in your home world as you bring her over to an ambulance. The girl looks at you with teary eyes but a growing smile, then giggles at something you say until you put her down on a stretcher.

Next to you, Miguel lets out a breathy chuckle as he looks at the same footage as you –you and that little girl. “‘Want some smores?’ I can’t believe you said that.”

“I knew it would make her laugh.” You whisper, the corner of your mouth lifting.

“Do you see the positive impact you have?” Miguel asks, his voice is low as his hand gestures to the screen. “None of this would have happened without you. So you’re wrong.”

“Miguel…”

“Everyone would feel your absence, so don’t think the opposite is true.” Miguel closes his eyes and turns to you. “Who’s going to visit me at the oddest hours if not you?”

The fondness in his voice makes you look away. “Probably another variant of me.”

“They all hate me.” Miguel reminds you, then brings your gaze back to his with his thumb and index finger on your chin. And I love you, you think, fighting so hard not to show it as you look at him. “We can fix this.” He nods.

“How?” You ask him, heart beating louder, anxiously, at whatever he’s going to suggest.

“You, are going to move out of your house.” He says decidedly, walking to a smaller monitor. “It’s not doing you any good.”

“No.” You shake your head. That’s selfish, that’s–

“That’s putting yourself first for once.” Miguel says, making you realize you were thinking out loud. “You need to be yourself in your own world, and not just here. You can’t do that if you’re frozen with anxiety by living at home. What’s something you want to do?”

“Ballet.” You mumble, knowing deep down he’s right. “Ever since I got bitten, I haven’t been to the studio once.” It feels like a selfish act to do something for you instead of patrolling the city, no matter how joy it would bring you.

Miguel sighs and walks over to you, a glance over to the screen confirms he was searching for apartments in your home world. His hands find you face, and he shakes his head. “I know all I do is work and go on missions, but that’s me. That’s not you, and the world is not going to end if you have a hobby.”

“I like being here.” Your voice is a whisper as you look at him, calming down the thrumming of your heart so he doesn’t notice it. With you. “I like the society.”

“Then do ballet here, the Gwens would love that.” He insists.

“Miguel, I don’t think I can.” You shake your head as much as you can manage with his hold on your face. “It feels wrong, doing something just for me feels impossible. I always feel like I should be doing more.”

“Is that you talking? Or your family asking more and more from you?” His hands move down to his hips as he looks at you, a quizzical eyebrow raised.

When your eyes tear up again, they wordlessly answer his question.

“Look at all the things you’ve done.” Miguel motions to the screens behind him where the footage still plays on a loop. “You’ve never been one to back down from a fight, no matter how dangerous it is, and I don’t think you’re starting now.”

This is another battle entirely, internal with your negative thoughts and external with all the triggers and stressors in your home world. Fighting variants is never scary, not even the Goblin, but why does your stomach sink at the thought of freeing yourself from your torment, of opening up to something new and hope. Yet letting things stay how they are scares you more.

Eyes glassy, and breath shaky you look up at your friend –the man you’re secretly oh so in love with– and nod once in determination. He doesn’t smile, yet his eyes light up with relief and pride before pulling you close again. “There she is. You’re not alone, you’ve got us… me.”

“My mind hates me sometimes.” You murmur as your eyes close at the physical touch– at his words.

“Tell me when it happens.” Miguel says, voice low. “I’ll listen.”

Lyla pops up next to you. “Hm, words of affirmation seem to be your preferred love language, as well as physical touch.” She looks at some data on her phone before she addresses Miguel. “I’ll add it to her file.”

“I can’t believe you actually have a file on me.” With a shake of your head, you reluctantly step away from his embrace to look up at him. A weight has lifted from your shoulders, so much you can genuinely grin at him this time.

His expression doesn’t change, though his brown eyes give away how pleased he is. “Are you surprised?”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” This time you do smile, maintaining eye contact even as his thumb caresses your chin gently one last time.

“Come on, we’re finding you an apartment and you’re getting out of that house.” He turns away from you and walks towards the screens, closing your file and opening multiple real state webpages.

“Can I stay in a spare room until we find it?” You ask, sitting on his abandoned chair.

Miguel’s already focused on his task, but he pauses long enough to reply. “You don’t have to ask, pulguita.”

Part 2

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reblogs are super appreciated, let me know what you think!

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mentira: lies

pulguita: term of endearment for someone short (literally it would mean little flee)

mi pulguita: the same as before but calling her his

no entiendes que: don't you understand that

#crying feeling like this #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x reader

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underoossss · 15 days ago

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answering a couple questions i got on this post since i realized ppl genuinely wanna know:

tl;dr:

israel lets very, very little aid get into gaza. even the UN can't get in as much as they want to. funding individual families, gazan led initiatives, and mutual aid collectives operating out of gaza ensures gazans can provide for themselves and pay for the extremely expensive aid that is available.

with all the civil infrastructure destroyed by israel, the situation on the ground has devolved into unrestricted capitalism, driving up the price of aid (that should be free!). this makes it more urgent for people to have funding for daily survival.

the post linked above has examples of how donating to individual families can help a lot. if you want to help more than one family at a time, there are many gazan-led initiatives focusing on rebuilding their infrastructure and distributing aid fairly that are worth donating to instead of large charities that already get the majority of donations.

as i mentioned in the last post: @/careforgaza on twitter is a nonprofit started by gazans, it's been endorsed by multiple palestinian journalists.

the sameer project is a collective organized by diaspora palestinians offering emergency shelter to gazans.

ele elna elak is a project aiming to bring water, food, shelter, etc. to gazans and has been promoted by bisan owda.

and the municipality of gaza itself is fundraising to rebuild water infrastructure.

all of these organizations are active inside gaza right now and are being run by gazans. if anyone knows of other gazan-led mutual aid projects, nonprofits or charities feel free to link them in the notes! hope this helped!

long answers under the cut!

if you wanna donate to a charity that's absolutely fine, but the thing is most charities (and even the UN!) are unable to make it into gaza in the first place, leaving aid rotting at the egyptian side of the border or subject to israeli settler attacks

not to mention, charities and nonprofits also maintain a paternalistic colonial relationship with the indigenous people they are trying to help, determining what aid they need for them instead of returning power to them and letting them make their own choices

i'm not here to say that one option is better than the other, just that they achieve different things and are equally legitimate. there's an attitude among people who question the legitimacy of these gofundme campaigns that somehow the people promoting them are telling them not to donate to charities. nobody is stopping you from donating to charities. we are just asking that you do not dehumanize the very real gazans in your inbox just because their method of asking for aid is more direct and risky.

unfortunately that's exactly what has happened. because israel destroyed all of gaza's more formalized infrastructure, it seems that organized crime and rampant inflation has taken its place. aid is supposed to be free, but in order to save for evacuation or the cost of living, people have started selling them at an inflated price. and aid that is truly free attracts intense, large crowds that are dangerous to navigate.

this was posted on abc a few days ago

it's pure, unrestrained capitalism. i've had multiple palestinians describe this situation to me confidence. that's why everything's so expensive now. why people have to rent out tiny plots of land for their tents to sit on, why my friend @siraj2024 still has to buy tarps to cover the broken windows of the overpriced bombed out apartment he rented, and why a bag of flour can cost a thousand bucks in the north.

even before israel closed and then bombed the rafah crossing, the egyptian hala travel agency was only allowing people to cross the border if they paid a hefty $5000 USD per adult / $2500 USD per child bribe. it denies doing this, but the hundreds of stories from palestinians say otherwise.

with regard to the economy, here in america we saw something similar happen in the wake of hurricane helene and milton. the podcaster margaret killjoy describes how she saw dual economies rise after asheville was fully cut off from the rest of the country - some people offered each other supplies for free in a sort of mutual aid honor system, and some people required payment when they lent supplies because they themselves needed to buy stuff for their families. these dual economies exist in gaza too. and this means they all still need money to survive.

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