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matchibee · 8 months

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Say My Name

short but I intend on adding more. this is more of an intro, if anything. an idea that's been stuck in my head and refusing to leave.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Gojo's voice pierced your eardrums, invading every sense of reason permeating through your mind. It was meant to be a simple day, spending time training with your students, teaching them feats you'd wished you'd learned in your youth -- Gojo unfortunately one of your previous classmates, the pair of you attached to the hip following such trying times.

Well, he was attached to your hip. You simply carried forward, doing your best to break free of his infatuation, to push unprofessional thoughts aside in the pursuit of your career.

"Gojo." You spoke his surname with a huff of breath, closing your book shut, looking up at him with an impassive expression. "I didn't realize you'd be back so soon."

In truth you felt relief was over you, the impossible thoughts that plagued your mind in the dead of the night leaving you awake with anxiety. He had a tendency to forego contact when on a mission, entirely MIA despite any effort of reaching out. Eventually, you'd had to come to terms with the fact he wouldn't return your texts and calls until he'd concluded his task.

It only made your anxiety worse.

He embraced you around your shoulders, squeezing tightly. "You know it's impossible for me to stay away from you for long. How can I leave my darling friend to lie awake in our bed? I can only imagine the torment you must feel when I'm away!"

You roll your eyes at his words, pressing the hardcover of your book against his chest, creating a distance between the two of you. "Our rooms are separate."

"I can change that."

You pushed him away with an immense amount of force, his body fumbling beneath your touch.

He always allowed his infinity to falter around you, craving your touch. To feel you in your entirety, nothing to disrupt your warmth. It didn't matter how fleeting the touch; how long it remained was not a matter for him.

What mattered was that it was you.

"Gojo, I really can't talk right now." You huffed, looking down at your watch, cringing at the time. As it was you were already on track to be late, and with your friend's most recent interruption, it wouldn't be long until that was set in stone. "I promised the First-Years I'd train them, you know how Itadori gets when--"

"Why do you call me that?"

Gojo's lips were a pouty mess, shimmering with that gloss you knew for a fact he'd slather on his lips when nobody was looking.

"Call you what?"

"Gojo. Why do you call me Gojo?"

"That's your name."

By now he'd given you infinite permissions to forego his surname, to call him by that which was given. Satoru. Forever and always your Satoru, a fact he knew in his heart, even if memories previous to you would flood his mind in the dead of the night.

"Not to you." Gojo tutted, snatching your book from between your fingers, holding it high above his head. "You know what you have to say if you want this back."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I don't have time for this."

"That's not what you said last night." He lifted his bandana, iceberg eye closing into a wink.

"Last night you weren't even here!"

There were moments where you couldn't help if Gojo's words made your heart skip a beat, if you imagined him with his arms wrapped around you in the late hours of the night, praying the mornings wouldn't strip him away from you for yet another mission. In such little time you'd lost so much, forced to grieve friends you believed would persist alongside you to this day.

Geto was supposed to be a teacher alongside you, but he'd lost his way, and in the process you lost everything you'd ever loved -- a friendship forged in admiration, undying love flowing from each and every one of you. Shoko had become distant, and you couldn't blame her, though you did your best to remind her through thick and thin you'd still remain.

Gojo was more complicated, more vocal in his efforts. For all he was worth you could only see what he lacked. What he lacked was the spark he had in Geto's presence, that affinity for life lost alongside his best friend.

It wasn't fair.

You couldn't lose him too, couldn't stand to watch another person you love lost to their mind, lost to death. You'd buried too many friends for one lifetime, that which remained would stay as it was in an effort to conserve its integrity.

"Y'know," Gojo's voice dipped into a whisper, book slowly faltering from its position above his head. "Everything I've ever said, all the things I've done..."

You snapped your fingers, clicking your tongue. "Gojo, stop."

"Satoru."

"There can't be anything between us, not the way you want it to be."

"You always say this," You could tell Gojo was approaching a breaking point. Soon the force you pushed up against him, that impossible wall you built, would have to crumble or risk crumbling him. "But you've never given me a proper explanation as to why."

"You know why." In the midst of his vulnerability you'd taken the opportunity to snatch your book from between his fingers, holding it close to you as you tried to push the sensation of fingers brushing out of your mind.

You pushed away how badly you yearned for more.

"I know you're scared," Gojo's voice cracked as though his mind and body had fought for the right to speak, lost in his delusion. "You've made that much clear. But you don't have to be, not with me! I'm the strongest, you have nothing to fear."

You shook your head, brushing stray hairs from in front of your face, entirely exhausted from just a moment's interaction. "It's inappropriate for us to even dance the line of the idea that we could..." Your voice trailed off, Gojo quick to finish your sentence, to appear in front of you in his majesty, palms clasped around your wrists.

"That we could be together?"

You pulled away, shaking your head, the thoughts that ran rampant within them. Your heart was beating a million miles a second, threatening to burst within your chest, and your stomach burned with butterflies fluttering to their own beat.

"You're just a friend, Gojo. You've always been a friend, the best friend."

"That's not enough for me."

"There's nothing I can do to change that."

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #jujustu kaisen #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk season 2 #jjk x reader

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matchibee · 9 months

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i have this urge to make a discord server for everyone to hold me accountable for my writing

#autumnalbee #across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 9 months

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A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 7)

this is my fav installment simply bc of the dialogue at the beginning

Hobie had crashed at your place for the evening, a nice change of pace considering how quickly everything had seemed to progress recently. The two of you had slept on opposite sides of your bed, his socked-feet hanging off the edge, your head bumping against his ankles. It’d been entirely uncomfortable, maneuvering yourselves to fit properly, the idea of being along for the evening a terrifying thought for either one of you.

Yet, despite its discomfort, it was the best you’d slept in quite some time — a light at the end of the tunnel. The beginning of the rest of your life.

“Miguel doesn’t have much trust for me, doesn’t care much, either,” Hobie was fiddling with a mug of coffee you’d made him, looking to it with speculation, considering whether or not he intended on ingesting the beverage. “But you’re new, fresh. He doesn’t know much about you besides the fact that you’re you.”

“That’s meant to be good?” You took an apprehensive sip of your own beverage.

“It’s nothing short of perfection!” His words were laced with excitement, spinning around in the chair he’d swiped from your desk — didn’t believe in proper seating, especially not loveseats.

You hummed, waiting for Hobie to continue. You had no doubt he’d continue.

“You’re gonna persuade Miguel to tell you everything we need to know.”

“Hobie!” You choked on your beverage, “I’m not like that!”

“No!” Hobie stood, “No!” He plopped his mug against the marble island, “No!” He sprinted to you, shaking your shoulders, the contents of your drink spilling against the carpet — you’re making him clean that. “I don’t mean it like that! Get your head out the gutter!” A swat of his palm against your cranium.

“Well my bad!”

“Make friends, man! Play nice, earn his trust! Not everything is about—“ Hobie feigned a gag, “Indecency.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing one leg over the other, still dressed in your pajamas. “I can make friends, I suppose.”

“Great!” A few clicks at the buttons fashioned to his watch and a portal had produced itself in the center of your living. “We’re testing that theory.”

“Right now?!”

“No time like the present, yeah?”

Hobie was going to be the death of you.

Miguel was broody, as expect. A man who wasn’t keen on conversation, absorbed with his work. You hadn’t the slightest idea how to approach him, form a friendship. He was as elusive as they came, a man stricken by tragedy, a lost cause.

In his eyes you saw despair, in hollowed cheeks you saw isolation. In a sculpted back you saw…

Well it didn’t matter what you saw.

Right now, all that mattered was that you make progress. What better way to make progress than to appeal to the one thing you knew he favored?

His place in the multiverse, it’s protector, maintenance.

“What do you need?” Miguel spoke to you rather dismissively, eyes never turning to gaze upon you as he manipulated the various screens before him — texts, images, videos — you could hardly get a glimpse of anything before it was confined to oblivion once more.

If you wanted to get your information, his computer had to be the perfect entryway.

“I was wondering if you had anymore assignments for me?”

“Assignments?” Miguel spoke with confusion, skepticism. “Lyla informed me that you were in a state of gr—“

“I just--!” You didn’t want to be reminded, didn’t want to admit it was entirely possible everyone in the facility had known of what occurred. You didn’t want to believe the way they regarded you was with remorse, empathetic of what you’d gone through, having gone through it themselves. “I want something to take my mind off things… Something to help clear up any loose ends in my brain.”

Miguel had willed the orange tincture of his screens away, standing to his full height, approaching you wordlessly. Upon his arrival your throat clenched, realizing how absurdly endowed he was in terms of height. The multiverse had truly taken its time with his creation. “This isn’t a game, toñto.”

“I really wish i paid more attention in class.”

“Better for me, I suppose,” Miguel was circling you, entrapping you within a web of his own creation, reminding you of your vulnerability, where you stood parallel to his position. “I can’t send you out knowing you’re not well.”

“You make it sound like I’m contaminated.”

“I don’t mean,” Miguel bit his tongue, rephrasing, “I can’t risk putting you out on a mission with your mind clouded by…”

“Yeah,” You sighed a defeated gesture, “I understand.” What were you going to tell Hobie? You supposed he’s have you try again, another attempt at your endgame.

“Miguel!” The voice of Lyla piped up just as you admitted defeat, the man suddenly piqued to the AI at his shoulder, the contortion of his features reflecting annoyance.

“What is it, Lyla?” His gaze still wandered along your frame, stance suddenly unsure as you held yourself close, feeling as though you were nothing more than a fleeting thought hardly condemned to memory.

“An anomaly has been detected on Earth-65. Typically I wouldn’t recommend dispatching you but…” Lyla’s eyes trailed to your form just a few feet away, unsure if your conversation with Miguel had concluded.

“I understand.” Miguel waved her off, the AI powering away, the man’s gaze trained to you — your eyes expectant, hoping he’d allow you to tag along. “I’m sure Lyla can find something for you to do.”

With those parting words, he was gone. As cold as ever. Never a fault in his personality, the web he’d wrapped around himself impenetrable.

A shame. You figured this wouldn’t be an easy mission, far from it. His form retreated from his office, leaving you to stand alone, eyes suddenly lingering upon his myriad of technology littered above you.

It would be so easy. So incredibly easy to simply.

No.

There were too many factors, far too many possibilities that stood between success and failure — the potential of being caught weighing heavy in your mind, perhaps a test of loyalty leaving you alone in his office.

You departed, lowering into the main hall of the Society, a particularly empty day considering the time — sun having set long ago, Hobie hyping you up for hours, telling you this was in the bag, only to be called for a mission himself.

‘Bullocks,’ He’d mumbled as he festered through the portal, ‘You got this, man!”

You, in fact, never had it.

Perhaps it’d be an inviting opportunity to visit some of the society’s many sights. They’d done well in curating it to the needs of the various Spiders inhabiting the facility, strength training, leisure, and a cafeteria piled high with the collective favored delicacies of the society.

Something growled within you as you sauntered past the double doors of deliciousness, the scent of freshly cooked meals wafting through you sinuses.

It’d been a while since you’d had a proper meal, hadn’t it? Hobie was away on a mission, and you’d failed your only task.

Suppose a celebration was in order.

A practically empty cafeteria save the presence of a few bodies — cowboy, popsicle...

Jess.

The Spider-Woman was seated on her lonesome, scrolling through something on her mobile device with intermitten bites of the food placed before her.

She was close to Miguel, wasn't she? Surely there was something you could get out her.

Grabbing haphazardly at the food lined in rows upon rows, you darted to her table, a feigned smile plastered upon your pretty face as you approached her.

"Is this seat taken?" You were hesitant, her unglassed eyes suddenly turning away from her phone, trained on you.

She surveyed the various tables, plenty of room within the vicinity, yet you'd chosen to make her acquaintance. Interesting. "If none of the other tables are to your liking, I guess I don't mind."

Nerves seated themselves deeply within you, nodding your head in thanks, tray of spider-themed delicaies -- you'd only just realized this —sprawled out in front of you.

Spider-Man had an orange juice?

"How are you likin' it so far?" Jess questioned, taking a sip from her spider-themed soft drink.

"Liking what, exactly?" You questioned, confused, guilty. Did she know something you hadn't? Perhaps Hobie had set you up, gave you away.

No, you shook the thought from your head. No way in hell he'd pull something like that, not after everything he'd done for you.

"Society, your place here," Jess was quick to clarify. "Have you at least been semi-enjoying it? Even if you're..."

There it was again. That extension of pity everyone seemed to believe you were entitled to, not wasting a beat in bringing up memories you wished so desperately to repress, move away from. You'd far from spoken your piece to Aubrey, hadn't fully recovered from your role in Alador's death, but that didn't mean you had to allow it to weigh on you at every waking moment.

That was reserved for nights of solitude, curled up in your bedroom, convincing yourself you could still hear their late-night shenanigans — Alador's gaming and noises of frustration as noise cancellation headphones hindered his hearing, Aubrey's death metal blaring from a set of speakers.

It was a wonder they'd noticed your disappearances as you slipped out into the evening, shenanigans of your own, a persona to maintain.

"I'm fine," You cut Jess off just as you'd done to everyone else previously. You didn't require their sympathy, didn't need to be reminded every forty-two seconds. "Admittedly, I haven't gone on many missions. I've mostly been tending to my own universe."

Jess hummed, "Yeah, that's typically how it is. You'll be doing that until you prove yourself to Miguel, make him realize you're a valuable member — someone he can depend on."

So he favored loyalty, reliability.

Shocking.

"Do you think..." You paused, contemplating what to say, always needing to be careful with how you extended yoru words. "Do you think you'd be willing to teach me how all this works?"

She would've refused Hobie, downright knocked him on ass. Perhaps it'd be different with you.

"Hobie not teaching you enough?"

You cursed inwardly, doing your best to keep the noise maintained.

"He's been great!" You became defensive, nervous. "I just thought it'd be better to get some lessons from someone more attuned to this work, not just a go-with-the-flow Spider like Hobie...?"

You were lying through your teeth, Jess could see it.

"Stop," She laughed, shaking her head, "I know what you're doing, Spider."

"Y-You do?"

Shit. There goes any chances you and Hobie had of finding the source of these anomalies, where supposed deceit ran deep.

"Of course I do. You think I don't deal with this shit all the time?"

Fuck, there it was.

"Hobie is intimidating you."

"W-What?"

Relief washed over you, every anxiety you'd previously experienced dissipating in a mere instant.

"He's like that, y'know. An odd one but... I don't know why Miguel keeps him around, honestly. I guess as a formality?"

You hummed, shaking reaching for your beverage, needing to do something with your hands before you combusted into a bundle of webs. "He's a character..."

"Tell me about it."

Jess' watched buzzed to life, the hologram of Lyla greeting her in a flash, turning to in the midst of her regard of Spider-Woman. "Oh! We could use you too!"

You quirked a brow, confused.

"Miguel is requesting backup, an anomaly really giving him a run for his and the local spider's money. I'll relay your correspondence." With such few words, Lyla slipped back where she'd first appeared, leaving you at a loss for time, for consideration.

Jess nodded her head, not hesitating for a second, always willing to tussle with a villain despite her condition — she was doing it for her family, stability, the prospect towards a better life.

Why were you doing this?

Jess stood, stretching, the intricacies of her costume moving alongside her, obeying her every whim. She tapped the destination into her watch, a portal manifesting before her as though it was nothing more than a typical occurrence — you'd never get used to that. "Coming, Spider?"

"Coming."

taglist: @coralineyouareinterribledanger @danit152 @l3laze

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #into the spiderverse #spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 9 months

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A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 6)

the plot thickens, a plan ensues

I'm sorry for not updating this recently, writing has been feeling difficult, I'm so emotionally tired, but we persist

You'd found nothing on your hunt for the anomaly, frustrations at the back of your mind as you laid in bed, devoid of joy, unfeeling. You heart was a void where flowers of emotion once bloomed, a luscious garden seeded in your heart.

The garden had long since died, keeping to yourself, confined to your bedroom. Classes went unattended, crime unchecked.

It was as though you'd returned to the worst of days in your prime, a budding superhero, overflowing with youthful prowess nothing more than a shell, a husk.

Hobie had noticed, Jess had noticed.

Miguel had noticed.

Your acquaintance might have been fleeting, but it was simple to see how quickly that attitude of yours had changed. A sprightly Spider reduced to nothing more than spunk — it could only take you so far, guide you only part of the way.

If you wished to heal, wished to overcome, some aspiration had to be of your own fruition.

You couldn't heal, not like this.

Not when you'd yet to find closure.

Aubrey had sent for her things, a team of men and women taking every trace of her — scents, sights, sounds — out the door. Alongside them, Alador's family had come to collect his things, leaving you with his parting promise, a joke between the three of you.

"Do you guys ever think about death, what lies beyond?" Aubrey was pushing the brink of her edgiest years, out of pocket questions fueled by black and white social media aesthetics. "I like to think it's the best feeling in the world." "I think you're one of the only people that thinks so," Alador teased, flipping through another page of the novel between his fingers, body enveloped by the plush grass of your backyard, uncaring of the stains his mother would later scrub. "I'm terrified of when it comes, how it'll come. I don't I'll ever be ready."

You hadn't been, Alador. Gone too soon, unfair.

"That's true..." Aubrey pondered his words, tapping his chin. A sudden jolt, yourself and Alador clinging to one another at her sudden takeoff. "I have an idea!"

"That's a new one." You slipped a kernel of popcorn between your teeth, looking up at Aubrey from your seated position, amused.

She was hardly enthralled with what you had to say.

"We should leave something for each other, parting gifts, a promise."

Alador's interest had been piqued, a difficult feat. "A symbol of friendship?"

"Exactly!"

You hummed, prompting her to continue, nestling the bucket of popcorn in Alador's lap. "Alright, I'll bite."

Aubrey spun in a circle a few times, humming a fanfare preceding her announcement "Alador!" Her finger pointed in his direction, "Upon my expiration I hereby appoint you the inheritor of my rapacious manga collection! Treat it well, or else my ghost will burn your house down."

"Ah, yeah!"

"What?!" You couldn't believe between the both of you she'd chosen Alador. Alador of all people to inherit such an honor. Books piles upon books of the most unobtainable series, spanning the length of her entire bedroom.

Alador, really?

Your arms crossed over your chest, looking between them with impatience. "Calm down, calm down." She repeated her previous fanfare, this time gesturing to you, "Upon my expiration you shall inherit my coveted crystal collection! Gems and jewels, minerals and stones unobtainable across the globe! They shall be in your possession!"

"Awesome!"

"What?!"

Giggled erupted between the three of you, falling onto your backs to gaze upon the stars as they slowly freckled across the sky. "Aubrey gets my clothes when I die, you can have my PC."

"Hoodies!"

You turned onto your stomach, peering into Alador's eyes, his words absentminded as he transported to his world of literature. "You'd really leave me something important?"

"That's assuming I die before you," He snapped the red-vine from between your teeth, plopping what remained past his jaws. "Unlikely, considering how reckless you are."

Your fist collided with his shoulder, "In your dreams. The day you die I'll be at your funeral with that PC in my arms, and your ghost will regret not being able to tap into the afterlife video games."

He clicked his tongue, "Whatever. You better treat my darling with respect."

Aubrey cringed, "Did you just call your PC your darling?"

"Yeah! What about it?!"

"Man!" You sat up onto your bottom, "Just when I thought it was impossible for you to be any more of a loser!"

"Oh yeah?" Alador puffed his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest, "And what gift will you bestow upon us, your benevolence?"

"When I die, I'm gonna leave..." You intended on saying super suit, the word on the tip of your tongue, only to realize they hadn't the slightest idea about that part of your life, what you did as they passed their time studying, grades slowly surpassing your own. "I'm gonna leave the code to my safe somewhere in my room. If you guys can find it, whatever's inside is yours."

"A secret?"

"Better be a good one."

Upon your return you believed it time to address the elephant in the room, slowly approaching the end of the hall, Alador's door bathed in shadows, a sight surely foreboding. With a shaky hand you turned the knob, light trickling in from the drawn-back curtain, something that'd never been allowed when the man inhabited the space.

Nothing remained, a room devoid of anything to remind you of your best friend — bed, desk, clothing — it'd all been repossessed by those they were entitled to.

You fell to your knees, a laugh crackling through fits of sobbing.

In the center of the room stood Alador's PC in all its majesty, the laugh stemming from the fact he'd been literal in his promise.

There stood the PC, monitor nowhere in sight.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

The universe wasn't keen on making anything simple.

You hadn't remembered when you'd fallen asleep, curled up on cheaply carpeted flooring, practically cradling the PC within your arms — the device suddenly foreign, devoid of its overused hum, lacking the luminance of LED lighting.

As the sun slowly rose over the horizon, as did you. Pushing yourself off the floor, changing into a suit that felt less like it belonged to you, more like a costume. You felt empty, like a stranger behind your mask, looking into the mirror and seeing a stranger staring back — what did you reflection even look like?

Who were you in all this?

The cemetery was devoid of life. Shocking, considering...

Okay, bad joke.

Clouds hung low in the sky, midnight gates unopened to the public. Suppose you bypassed any sense of public, a greater status, there before the staff had even begun to tend to the grounds after resting peacefully in beds cultivated with the finest materials.

You placed a single flower, one you'd plucked from the beds of the apartments adjacent to your own, before a name etched in stone. It had been such little time, yet simultaneously an eternity. You couldn't remember the smallest details, everything seeming to blur without a beginning or an end.

You felt silly as you pondered your words, carefully selected what you had to say. This was everything, all you had left; what you had to remember him by besides harrowing blurred selfies and a PC you were unsure of how to operate.

"I uh..." You wanted to laugh, pondered how far your sanity had faltered. "I suppose you can guess why I wasn't there?" You gestured to your costume, nothing more than a costume. A scar against your skin, an eyesore. Colors you'd chosen meticulously to reflect not only yourself but your loved ones burning into you, reminding you of why you began this life and simultaneously becoming the reason you wanted nothing more to do with it.

"I didn't know how to tell you, I still don't." You huffed a deep breath, palms against the back of your neck, forcing air to expel, "I didn't want it to come to this, I just..."

What even was there to say?

From behind you, a voice of familiarity, one that seemed to be the only thing that made any sense recently, a constant in these incomprehensible equations. "Condolences."

"Thanks."

A silence befell the two of you, one unlike others you'd experiences in your lifetime. Unlike the silence of fear, anxiety, anticipation. It was unlike the silence that now plagued your apartment, making you run your hands across your face in frustration.

This was a comfortable silence, practically familiar.

"Hobie, do you ever..." You scoffed at the thought, retracing it before it could come into the light, "No, nevermind. It's a dumb thought."

"In my experience," Hobie slung an arm around your neck, allowing your stance to hold his weight, "The only dumb thoughts are ones that go unsaid."

You smiled then, a genuine one despite the struggle you'd had producing them since you discovered everything that occurred. Biting the bullet, forcing it through, "Do you ever regret this?"

"I don't believe in regrets, only teaching moments."

"But I mean," You retracted yourself from his hold, watching as Hobie changed a great deal of colors, "Do you ever wish you hadn't become a hero?"

"I'm not a hero, not a proper one."

You groaned, growing frustrated with the way he effortlessly beat around the bush, answering your questions in fragments, straying from the substance. "I don't want to be a Spider anymore."

Now that piqued his interest. You could see it in the way his posture changed, hue following suit. In the way he slowly closed the distance between the two of you, the brush of his shoulder like a feather.

Within, he was triumphant, ecstatic. But he couldn't expose such feeling without first understanding the extent of your decision.

He opted for a simply response, "What's changed your mind?"

It was something you had to deeply consider, thinking into the depths of your subconscious. You didn't believe you'd ever wanted this title. No, that wasn't entirely true, was it? There was a point in time, the earliest years you took the mantle upon yourself, where you genuinely loved what you were doing. You felt as though you were making a difference, a genuine impact on your community.

Life hadn't been any better, until it wasn't

"It's a decision long time coming," You opted to express, "I don't think this is meant for me, not anymore. It's time someone else took up the title."

"Doesn't work like that, mate. You know that just as well as anyone."

"It's not fair, Hobie."

He nodded his head in understanding. "None of it is."

You slumped beside the tombstone, pulling your knees to your chest, Hobie watching from where you'd once stood beside him, unchanging. The gears in his mind were turning, pondering. "I think Miguel is lying to us."

What a way to bite the bullet.

"To some extent, that is."

You removed your mask from its place against your face, needing to look to Hobie without its obscurity. "Why would he be lying to us?"

Hobie threw his hands in the air, hue emanating a series of colors, confusion. "Hell if I know! He's proper professional with concealing his emotions, keeping to himself."

"What do you think he's hiding?"

"There's something off, something stressing him out. It was only recently that these anomalies started popping up like crazy. Something had to have caused them."

You nodded your head, supposing he was correct to some extent.

"What do you intent to do?"

"We're gonna find out what's going on with the Bossman, bring it to light, let chaos ensue."

"Are you doing this to do the right thing, or to fuck shit up?"

"Uh..." He tapped his chin, "Suppose the chaos is a perk."

Hobie had been a part of this much longer than you, witnessed things you couldn’t begin to understand, even as Miguel’s explanation rang true in your mind — canon events, moments in a Spider’s life that were intended to happen, had no choice but to happen.

Were the deepest parts of your misery nothing more than intentions divined by the multiverse?

How is that fair?

“Your choice, of course,” Hobie circled where you still sat with your knees to your chest, “But consider we’d be doing some good.”

“We’d be real heroes then.”

Hobie practically gasped as your proclamation. “No! No, absolutely not. I am not a hero, far from it, anything except!” He’d removed his mask in the midst of his ramble, confounded face on full display for your enjoyment — a laugh sounding from within.

“You really think the pair of us, a duo of delinquents, are capable of something like this?”

“I don’t believe in labels.”

“Is there anything you believe in?”

Hobie moved to speak, opening his mouth only to close it, a fish out of water. He had no idea what to say. “Y'know what let’s get back to that.”

Hobie’s fist extended towards you, looking down at you with an ever-present smirk gracing his features, “You in?”

“Like I’d let you take all the fun.”

taglist: @coralineyouareinterribledanger @l3laze @danit152

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara #autumnalbee

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matchibee · 9 months

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𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙✍

a collection of what I’ve written, entirely Miguel, subject to change.

A Web of Their Own Design - Being a Spider is difficult, impossible to navigate. You’ve learned loss, love and lies. But what if that wasn’t the entire truth? pt.2 pt.3 pt. 4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7

Domestic Bliss - my brain had domesticity + Miguel in an unrelenting grip. This is the result.

Enchanted - Miguel has a crush on you, you have a crush on Spiderman.

Sparks - pt.2 of Enchanted, life that follows.

Dreaming of You - pt. 3 of Enchanted, the culmination of love and fear.

Wedding Ring - a misunderstanding between you and Miguel.

Stay - you get injured, Miguel is there.

United In Grief - your Miguel left this universe long ago, but you didn’t know there were other variants of your husband, didn’t know you’d meet one.

Miguel + Proximity - in which Miguel gets too close.

Proposal - Miguel proposes to you.

Situationship - title is self explanatory, enjoy the ride.

Quit - enemies to lovers.

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matchibee · 9 months

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would anyone like if i wrote for tasm!Peter? Ik i typically write for Miguel but it’d still be spiderman?? :>

#tasm #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm!peter x reader #autumnalbee

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matchibee · 10 months

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you write so beautifully 🥺

thank you so much, lovely person! I try my best 🫶

#autumnalbee #autumnalbee anon

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matchibee · 10 months

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Quit

enemies to loversish? not proofread

“You’re injured.” Miguel’s face contorted with concern as he looked at your battered state — dirt and grime sticking to you like a second skin. dried blood trailing down your face, indicating with undeniable accuracy where your injuries had been sustained.

You pushed him away, Miguel one to always do the same to you. No matter how desperately you tried to meet him halfway, he was always hesitant to establish friendship, the two of you drifting apart like leaves in the wind — a forbidden dance that mirrored the other, yet never seemed to come together. “I’ll live.”

Miguel grunted. “Obviously. You wouldn’t be here if I thought you’d die.”

The closet thing to a compliment you’d ever gotten out of him, and yet it was frame entirely like an insult, further reminding you of your place in his web of lies. A pawn in his game of chess, all his pieces on the board.

“I’m flattered.” With a hitch of your breath Miguel took hold of you, palms encapsulating your cheeks as he surveyed the damage, brows furrowing into an even deeper scowl as you winced in pain upon contact.

You pushed Miguel away, licking your thumb as you wiped away the grime that bothered you most, wiping whatever you could with the sleeve of your suit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Miguel sighed as though you were a disruptive child, as though you were a nuisance to his very existence, a constant that didn’t cease. “You can’t go back to HQ looking like—“

“Like I failed a mission?”

He didn’t wanna say it, looking to the ground with conflict in his eyes, the very words you’d uttered raking through his mind as though reopening a new wound. It hadn’t been what he thought, not in the slightest, and the fact that your mind had drifted there nearly automatically left a pain in his chest.

You continued, throat unbearably dry. “You just don’t want them to know you made a mistake.”

“But you’re not—“ His voice trailed off, eyes turning to look anywhere except you. He feared that if your eyes met he’d say the wrong thing, perhaps reveal too much. And where would that leave him then?

Besides, Miguel didn’t care. He never did. He despised you just as you despised him, made you feel as though you were nothing in the face of his affections. He couldn’t love, refused to teach himself how to piece himself back together, and in the process any prospect of change slipped through his fingertips.

“We’ll get him ‘em time.”

“No,” You scoffed, opening up a portal with your watch, flicking the accessory off your wrist with little effort. “You’ll get ‘em next time. I quit.”

“You can’t just—“

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am!” Miguel’s voice grew in volume. “And as your boss, I’m telling you—!”

“Goodbye, Miguel.”

He grabbed your wrist as you dipped into the portal, half your face obscured by blinding lights as you turned back towards him. “Let go—“

“Don’t leave me.”

His eyes shimmered with your image, a radiance so ethereal he feared it be fiction, his mind blurred of all conviction. Miguel looked down at you with a pleading gaze and a heart that bled the color of your eyes. Your skin was what he saw when he closed his eyes every evening before bed, your voice like a melody a song he mumbled throughout the day.

But he hated you, despised you because no matter how badly he loathed to admit it, in another universe he’d lost you. When he first saw you in your own universe he’d been thrown in for a loop, hands oblivious of where to fall, mind begging for reason as his heart prepared to fall in love all over again.

So he did what any rational man would do, he ran. Like a thief in the night he made way with your thoughts, refusing to return them, refusing to even look in your direction.

Thought his body called your name, his heart sang a different song, one of longing and ache. An internal conflict that physically pained him, scorched his feelings of any semblance of continuity, leaving him a husk of a man that once was — a man that did not deserve to love.

You’d tried so hard to make him comfortable in your presence, rationalizing he simply needed a friend in these trying times. And in your efforts you were met with a cold shoulder, with a gaze that could kill and a voice that dripped with venom. Miguel wanted nothing to do with you, was the only voice of reason permeating through doubt, and as much as you despised to admit it, you simply knew you had no choice but to concede.

“I’m not gonna stay and let you treat me like shit. I’ve put up with more than enough of that.”

“I don’t mean it, you have to believe me. I’m so scared. Scared of who I was, scared of who I am when I’m around you.”

You shook your head, doing your best to slink further into the portal, but Miguel pulled you back as far as he could will himself, cradling you in his arms, begging the heavens not to take you away.

“I’m not who you think I am, Miguel. That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

Should he speak, Miguel might as well have been condemned. But he gave himself a final opportunity, perhaps the only opportunity.

“I don’t want that person, don’t you understand? I want you, I-I think I always have.”

The words that fell from his lips invaded your mind, kissed the very essence of your soul. But that didn’t make the way he treated you right, that didn’t mean he had any excuse for the way he tossed you aside as though you were nothing.

“I’m not the man I was. I’m broken, scared. I don’t like this feeling, this way you…” He searched his mind for the words, languages jumbling within his mind in the midst of such unrelenting emotion. “The way you make me feel isn’t like anything I’ve felt before. Not with friends, family… Not even them.” His mind drifted to you, that variant of you that he would’ve moved heaven and earth to please. But in Miguel’s heart he came to realize he would condemn creation itself, make a mockery of its efforts as he placed stars of his own design in the sky for everyone to see, stars that twinkled with the glimmer of your eyes as his pressed his lips to yours.

And when he pulled away, hands cupping your face, your injuries still on full display, he hadn’t the faintest idea what to say — what you would say in response.

“You’re broken,” You whispered, pressing your palm to his chest. “Because the multiverse took your love for granted.” Miguel wrapped his hands around your gesture, nodding his head as tears beaded in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

You nodded your head. It was perfect, this wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

“I know, Miguel.”

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 10 months

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Situationship

angst? angst. minor injury (reader), arguing

not proofread with my eyes, but in my heart it’s perfect.

Miguel's fingertips trailed the skin covering your ribs, claws sending a shiver as the whispered across your skin like a specter. He was always so painstakingly gentle with you in the mornings, a man whose heart swelled with love.

But then afternoon would come. You'd watch from your place beneath the covers as Miguel ripped away from your embrace, pulling denim over defined legs and a t-shirt over tense muscles.

"You could stay." Your voice was always a whisper, Miguel tensing at the sound, shaking his head in denial - in an effort to rid your voice from his mind, convincing him to stay just like you'd been able to all those times before.

"You know I can't."

Because staying meant Miguel fell further and further into an abyssal attraction, one he fought his mind to remain unnamed.

Love.

And loving you meant staying, staying meant Miguel couldn't pull himself away. He'd run his fingers through your hair, feel the warmth of his lips against his own. Miguel would trail his palms down every surface of your body, worshipping your skin as though it were gilded in glimmers of gold. His lips would trail your skin until they burnt from your warmth, and he'd conclude the time spent with your fragility pressed to his chest.

A paradoxal issue that Miguel couldn't seem to pry himself away from.

He didn't want to pull away, he realized one painful evening, watching as your chest rose and fell in hushed breaths. This was everything he wanted, all he yearned for.

"We shouldn't do this anymore," Miguel croaked. The confession, one he knew would never become a promise, was spoken nearly every time he stood to leave. But this time it was different. This time his voice was laced with determination. "This was a mistake."

"What?" You rose from your plush sheets, a thin blanket draped over your most intimiate places, face contorted into one of fear.

Miguel hated that look. He hated it when he'd seen you in harms way all those months ago, hated it when you first saw him in the suit, and he especially hated it now.

"You deserve better," That much was true, and Miguel knew it. He knew that you could do so much better if you'd just look, if he'd just

"You are better."

"I'm not. You know that."

"Do I?" You approached him so hesitantly it hurt him to gaze upon you. It burned when your palm pressed to his cheek, stung as you pressed your forehead against his chest. "I love you, Miguel."

Three words he'd sworn never to speak, made you swear you'd never even consider. And yet here you were breaking the promise while Miguel broke your heart.

"I can't."

"Don't do this," Your hands fell from clutching the sheets to clutch the fabric of his shirt, blanket pooling at your feet. His hands hovered your back, over the ins and outs of your body, a mind-numbing spiral of uncertainty as he experiences your hopelessness all over, as though for the first time. "Not again."

His palms held your shoulders, pushing you back, maintaining eye contact no matter how badly he wanted to dip below the surface. "You really do deserve better." Your name fell from his lips, tears flowing from your eyes.

"Then be better." Your voice was desperate, cracking at every opportunity. You want this, wanted him. Too long you'd dedicated yourself to his eternity, even longer you found you loved him.

"I can't be the man you need me to be."

"You can't?" You wiped the tears from your eyes, fingers coated in liquid sadness. "Or you won't?"

That struck a nerve and you knew it, but the words fell from your lips before you could even consider the consequences. You loved him more than you loved the summer sun, needed his touch more than you needed to breath. In Miguel's absence you only knew uncertainty, suffering at the hands of a mind that betrayed you. He was the only thing right with this cruel world and he wanted to strip you of the right.

"I- Both. Neither." Miguel growled, pressing fingertips to the bridge of his noise. "You're putting words in my mouth."

"Yet you still can't say the right thing to say."

"What do you want me to say?" Miguel bounded towards you, a predator on the prowl. "You want me to tell you I fucking love you when I don't?"

"Yes!" You threw your arms up in exasperation, pressing your hands against your eyes in an effort to stop the tears from falling, one by one gathering discarded articles of clothing, gradually returning them to their rightful place against your frame. "I'd rather you tell me a lie than this bullshit back and forth we always go through - everyday, every night - I can't win with you!"

"I'm not going to lie to you. I don't want to do that to you!"

You walked away from your shared bedroom, bare feet padding into the kitchen as you prepared yourself a coffee.

"Don't just walk away from me!" Miguel's voice was shrill, more pitched than you'd ever heard it previously. "I'm talking to you, damnit!"

"Why?" You slammed your mug against the kitchen island, eyes stained red with regret - regret for letting this get so far, for letting him make you feel like a fool. "You're walking out anyways, Miguel. Why the fuck can't I walk away?"

His mouth snapped shut, eyes that once held the world becoming your own personal hell. "I'm not trying to be your enemy-"

"Really? Because it seems to me you only come and go when its convenient for you. And you expect me to think its nothing personal?"

"That's why I'm trying to fix this!"

"For who?" The sound of coffee falling into the ceramic filled the kitchen. "For your ego? For your conscience? Or am I actually meant to believe you're doing this for me?"

Miguel slammed his against in the counter, the vibration knocking you off balance. "For once in your life will you just-!"

You groaned in pain, Miguel's gesture having spiraled into making you spill hot coffee all over your hand that held the mug, Miguel watching with regret as you moved towards the sink, running your hand beneath the cool stream in an effort to calm the ever-present throbbing.

In your pain Miguel saw everything he hoped to shield you from - the pain and suffering of this cruel world, the one that cast the both of your aside, dooming you to an existence of eternal damnation. He saw the care he felt for you at every waking hour, though his mind refused to admit it. The love you let blossom in his heart, a garden of your very creation.

"Ay, Amor-"

"You don't get to call me that." Despite your condition you proved more than capable of rational thinking. "You don't get to act like everything is alright."

"I-I'm sorry." Miguel fell to his knees beside you, his face pressed into your stomach, hands clutching at your clothing just as you'd done moments before, if not more desperately. "I didn't meant it. You know that, don't you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore, Miguel. I thought you loved me. I thought you cared for me. But obviously I was wrong then. Why wouldn't I be wrong now?"

With every passing second you drove a stake through his heart just as he did yours. In your palm you held the very essence of his being, his love and all its ability fitting neatly within you. Yet, even in your grasp, Miguel could hardly hope to express the words that plagued his mind.

I love you.

But he couldn't say it.

I love you.

But Miguel was terrified to love again.

I love you.

But he was scared if he'd allowed himself this vulnerability, you'd disappear too. Miguel couldn't stand to lose you, couldn't stand to lose the first good thing in a break from all these years of torment.

I love you.

A blessing, a curse and a promise.

"You know this isn't good for us, you know I'm only hurting you."

"Then why are you still here?"

Miguel knew, he knew why. Yet he couldn't say it, couldn't think it without his mind running rampant with possibility. In your love there was comfort, a familiarity he craved no matter how badly he denied himself. But Miguel wasn't allowed to love, not in this lifetime. If he tried, he feared he might break you in the process.

But couldn't he see that's what he was doing, anyways?

"Let me make it up to you."

But you didn't respond, didn't even look at him. If he wanted to bring an end to the only good thing you'd known in such a long time, far be it from you to hold him back, far be it from someone so seemingly insignificant to keep Miguel from what he truly craved.

If loneliness called his name, you didn't want to piece together broken parts that yearned to escape from you, fled at every opportunity.

And when Miguel woke up the next morning he knew nothing but pain, your body nowhere to be found, taking any semblance of ever loving again along with it.

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 10 months

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Proposal

Miguel proposing? not proofread.

He was terrified, rightfully so. In all his years of living he’d never felt so helpless, so uncertain for the imminent future, a man swinging on the precipice of ruin.

“Will you… No.” He’d been rehearsing his speech in the mirror a million times over, double checking his appearance, smoothing out the wrinkles that’d formed in the frenzy of his panic.

Miguel was worried, a man teetering towards certain insanity, and it was all because of you.

You, who brought a blinding light into his life. You, he seemed to right every wrong that plagued his mind. With your smile you cast aside the shadows of his self-doubt, and with your love you reminded him what it meant to exist.

You deserved everything, more than he could possibly give you. Miguel knew it, loathed it, despised the fact that no matter how diligently he worked to be the best man he could possibly be, it would never be enough for him.

Because you deserved more than his feeble mortality could ever hope to offer, a man who was nothing if not yours.

Which was why he was so terrified for your answer.

“You’ve been together, what, four years?”

“Lyla.”

“I’m just saying! Elevated pulse and breathing pattern, excessive perspiration. You’re nervous.”

Miguel cleared his throat, fiddling with the fabric of his tie he’d watch tutorial following tutorial learning how to tie — he could simply never get it right. “I’m not nervous, Lyla. Not that that’s any of your concern.”

“So it doesn’t bother you they might say no?”

Of course it bothered him.

Ever since Miguel came to the conclusion he wanted to marry you, there was nothing that ruined his domestic longing more than the prospect of your refusal. In Miguel’s eyes, you were the very embodiment of Elysium, a real he could only hope to traverse in his wildest dreams.

And yet you stood beside him at every waking moment. When he was ill, ridden with heartbreak, and even when he’d stumbled into your apartment on the brink of death adorned in the symbol of the midnight vigilante Spider-Man.

Miguel was, and will infinitely remain, the being that lays dormant in your heart. The very flame to your spirit, the twin flame spoken of in childish prophesy.

And yet he’d made such fairytales a lovestruck reality.

“They’ll say yes.” Miguel looked to his reflection with determination, a smirk gracing angular features as he rationalized there was no need for doubt — if it wasn’t your intention to be his, you surely would’ve slipped from his fingertips by now. And while the thought ailed him, only heightened the tension between his ribcage, he did his best to remain optimistic. “I love them, and they love me. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.”

“Wow,” Lyla’s voice was dripping with sarcastic prowess. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Please shut off for the day.”

Miguel’s hand was pressed firm on your waist, possessive as always, keeping you away from the public eye of those who could potentially catch your attention, pique your interest.

“Where are we going?” Your voice was one laced with laughter as Miguel led you down the sidewalk of the park, both of you dressed in casual attire — as casual as Miguel would allow in the frenzy of choosing his outfit, meaning he was suspiciously overdressed.

“In a minute, querida.” The nickname brought a smile to his lips, knowing it was one reserved between the two of you, something nobody in this world or the next could possibly take away from him. “We’re nearly there.”

When bramble and bush cleared, thicket foregone for pristine greenery, your hands flew to your face in a gasp.

In the midst of golden hour greenery — sickeningly sweet honeysuckle, lovely lavender and trees that encapsulated the two of you in your own private existence — a picnic had been made up atop of a thick blanket woven with woolen fabric.

“Miguel, is that your cobija?” The very one he set out for the both of you every winter, ensuring that neither of you grew chilly in the midst of nipping cold.

“Si, amor. I thought it was perfect for the occasion.”

“Con tigre y todo?”

“Especially, con el tigre.”

You smiled up a him, pressing a kiss to lips, standing tall to reach his majesty. Slowly, his hands found yours, leading you to sit on the plush of the cobija, the fabric perfect for cushioning your descent.

He truly always thought of everything.

Beside him, a basket of your favorite delicacies— within reason — to be shared between you.

“Ay, Miguel.” You brought your hand to your heart, his mind swirling with your adoration. “This must’ve taken ages.”

He shrugged his shoulders, feigning passivity, when in reality he’d been a stressed man at the grocery store — gripping the cart with an iron force, a dent in the handle — onlookers terrified as an enraged man stomped from isle to isle in search of everything that would ensure the perfect late-afternoon. “It was nothing, amor. Anything for you.”

Shared giggles and looks of longing were passed between you the entirety of your time spent in each other’s presence. Slowly, painstakingly, the sun dipped below the horizon, a promise of an evening with stars that kissed the sky.

Miguel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms on the fabric of his trousers, a mantra in his mind like music to his heart — you can do this, you can do this.

“It’s hard to believe we’ve been together for so long.”

Smooth Miguel, so smooth.

You nodded you head in confirmation, looking to the stars that glimmered in your eyes, galaxies reflected in your vision. It was everything Miguel saw in you, an eternity of love in a galaxy of possibility.

His hands reached deep into his pockets, a smile on his face as he held eye contact, the tension building like a balloon prepared to burst. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time, amor. A question that’s been on my mind since I first met you.”

“It seems like we met so long ago.” You took a moment to reflect on when you’d first met him, bumping into him while picking up your nephew from school, his own daughter in the same class. He knew then and there he couldn’t live a life without you in it, couldn’t stand mortality if it meant expiring without your hand to hold his. “I’m so glad mi sobrino ended up getting sick that day.”

“No hablas así, vida.”

“Lo siento.”

The two of you fell into fits of laughter, falling into each other’s embrace once more, only pulling away when Miguel’s previous words ran rampant in your mind. “What were you gonna ask me, Miguel?”

“Oh!” Miguel dug his hand deeper into his pocket, sure the ring was there, only to find nothing but lint in his touch. He tried the other, only to come up with the same result, his blood running cold.

“Where’s the ring…?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Ring? What ring?”

“M-My uh…” Miguel surveyed the area, his eyes landing on his keychain. “My key ring! Can’t get home without it!”

“…Okay.”

Miguel could feel tears prickling in his eyes, throating itching with worry as he tried to retract his steps, thinking to every possibility. When could he have possibly lost it? How could he do something so juvenile.

Your fingertips brushed something cold against Miguel’s cobija, a silver band glimmering in the moonlight, you hand clutching your chest. “I think someone left their—“

“You found it!” Miguel was desperate as he practically leapt on top of you, fumbling to grasp the ring between his fingers, sighing as he made contact with the band he’d thought to be lost forever, his perfect moment overshadowed by idiocy.

And when he looked to you, your eyes filled with all the love this world had to offer, glazed over with sopping tears of admiration and joy, Miguel knew he’d made the right choice.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Yes!”

“Vida, I have to ask first.” His lips were curled into a smile, the ring held impossibly close to his heart, an extension of his love to rest on your finger until time called your name. And even then, even when Miguel’s heart could no longer beat, it would forever sing a song of your love.

“Will you marry me?”

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 10 months

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lowkey rlly wanna write a Dad’s Best Friend Miguel x Reader but idk if anyone would be interested

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 10 months

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Miguel + Proximity

a little drabble I was inspired to write in the midst of a daydream when I should've been paying attention to the road.

not proofread, but when is it ever?

The two of you were in pursuit of a Chameleon variant when the tides had turned on you, forcing the both of you to flee the scene until you could regroup with the rest of the Spiders, come up with a new plan to face someone who dawned an infinite number of faces - the only issue being it was difficult to tell who was real and who was not, innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire, your friends surely next on the list.

"Hobie!" The call of his name was abrupt, your eyes falling upon Spider-Punk on a nearby rooftop, the Spider hopping off and onto one just below. With all your strength you bounded towards him, flailing your arms in the hopes of gathering his attention, detailing the new plan - though he wasn't one to indulge in such frivolities.

But when you arrived at the spot you'd seen him last you were entirely alone, the wind whipping around you in whispers of warning, begging for your attention, only for a growl to sound off gruffly from behind you.

before you could fully turn around you found yourself pinned to the wall of another building by Miguel, the man's forearm pressed harshly against your collarbone, face only inches from your own.

"Who are you?" His voice was gruff, having lowered itself a great deal of octaves in an effort to sound threatening, something you'd observed on many occasions, your face heating up from beneath your mask; the proximity of his touch, his voice, leaving your mind blurred with lovesick delirium. Slowly, carefully, you brought your arms up in the form of surrender, pressing your fingertips to the fabric of your mask as you slid the obstruction away.

"I-It's me," Your voice rippled like a shiver, as though your body was overwhelmingly cold despite the heat erupting between the pair of you. "We're partners, Miguel."

The Spider growled, pressing himself deeper into you, nearly constricting your breath. "Prove it."

There were a number of ways you could've proven it to him, none of which you found rather appealing, so you settled for something he couldn't possibly deny, something that had bound the two of you together far deeper than anything else in this world. The fingers from your mask slid down along Miguel's arm, your eyes maintaining contact with his own, hand slotting against his watch as you pressed and prodded against a great deal of buttons.

The mask of his own suit fell away, Miguel's face before you in all its glory, the majesty of which you yearned to touch.

So you did.

With hesitant movements, Miguel having a proclivity for biting, you brought the palms of your hands against his cheeks, whispering your love for the man you called your own as you pressed your lips to his - chapped and plump, they were the very sensation you'd memorized, his body a puzzle you could solve in the depths of night

Fireworks erupted between you whenever the two of you shared an embrace, an act of love. The same was true for this moment, Miguel's lips feeling like heaven against your own.

And when you pulled away, his forearm still pressed to your clavicle, you whispered your response in a tone only Miguel could recognized. "Does that answer your question?"

"I- Well." Miguel flushed crimson, loosening his grip but still keeping you in place, palm pressed against his lips in a gesture of embarrassment. "Amor, we're on a mission you can't just-"

"I proved I'm yours, didn't I?"

Wordlessly, Miguel released you from his hold, sliding his own fingertips down your arm, resting them just below your knuckles. His thumb ran down the ring finger of your left hand, the familiar band secured neatly in his place, a symbol of devotion he'd placed upon you all those years ago. "This would've sufficed."

"I'm not a fan of predictability."

"Ay, Vida." Miguel huffed, pressing his forehead to yours. "You gotta stop hanging around that Punk."

#across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #beyond the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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matchibee · 10 months

Text

United In Grief

based on this post by @ldhluvr that had me sprinting.

not proofread, a lot of emotion, my brain hurts

Days were long, evenings even longer. An empty bed to reflect the void spreading throughout your heart, threatening to consume the useless organ in a plume of despair.

Miguel was everything, your multiverse.

For so many years you were fruitful in curating the life of your dreams, everything you desired within the palm of your hand. A loving husband, a brilliant daughter. The pair of them were more than everything you could've conjured in the crevices of your mind, a duo of delight you wouldn't trade for the world — for everything that encompassed continuance.

"Ya me voy," Miguel spoke through a tired sigh, his chest slotting up against your back, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. "I won't be back until late, Amor. Don't wait up for me." He peppered kisses down the nape of your neck, relishing in your scent, in the warmth of your skin pressed up against his own.

But evenings that left you waiting for Miguel's return were detrimental to your work, finding you couldn't sleep without his warmth enveloping you, fueling the very battery you swore had long-since emptied.

You knew he was home, knew that when you slipped through the window of your apartment another person entirely, he would be safe and sound.

But tonight was nothing like the evenings previous, a lump in your throat as you walked towards the pot of coffee that had long gone cold, pouring the liquid into a mug Gabriella had made you during school — infinitely talented, forever yours.

The hairs of the back of your neck stood on end, the pot slipping from your fingertips, shattering onto the floor.

Gabriella called out to you, concerned by the sudden sound of shattered glass — a sound that reflected the very feeling present in your heart, breath heaving as you frantically travelled the inner-workings of your mind for an answer. "S-Stay in your room! I'm alright!" You called out to Gabriella from the kitchen, the young girl still have yet to see you dressed in your suit, nothing within your immediate vicinity available to cover your body.

You practically flung yourself towards the windowsill, January rain flooding the evening in puddles of despair, the reflections in the bodies of water displaying a mask ridden with apprehension.

'He's fine,' You'd mumbled to yourself as texts went unanswered, as the clock continued to turn. Time didn't rest, an entity that obeyed the will of its whim. 'He just got held up, had too much work.' But as minutes transitioned into hours, you knew something was wrong, you knew there was more to Miguel's absence than meets they eye.

The activation of your Spider-Senses only confirmed your worst suspicions, droplets of water shielding your mask as your frantically flung across the city, entirely dismissing the sound of civilians chanting your name — their savior, the one to deliver them from evil.

But who would be there to save you?

It happened in a blur, a figure in the night illuminated by streaks of lightning, your web snapping as you lost concentration. You tumbled a great deal, skin scuffed beneath your suit.

"Shit!" Voices piqued your interest, standing to your feet, you were met with a pair of thugs who seemed to struggle with an array of items, your webs doing well to restrain one of the assailants.

"What are you up to at this time of night?" You called out to the pair, doing your best to look for the other obscured in darkness, your foot catching on a lump before you. Your brows furrowed, dropping to your knees as you recognized the shape to be one of a person, every fiber of your being erupting with Spider-Sense.

"Miguel?" His name left your lips as you flipped his body over, your husband lifeless before you, a trickle of blood flowing from his lips, your eyes trailing to find a splotch of blood at his stomach — a gunshot wound, one that was seeping with blood.

And it was then you realized you were standing in a puddle of his blood, Miguel's essence coating your shoes, staining the fabric of your suit as you dropped to your knees. "Miguel." You whispered his name, the sound of struggle from behind you shielded by the beat of your heart - one that now beat alone, without the accompanying acoustics that seems to always persist by your side. "Miguel, we need to go home. Let's go home, Miguel."

But he didn't hear the call of his name, the plead of your voice.

Your webs were torn from behind you, the sound piquing your senses, but you couldn't keep your eyes away from Miguel — from the groceries strewn around him, his cellphone cracked just inches from his fingertips.

The twin bouquets of flowers bathed in his blood.

Your suit-clad fingers caressed the expanse of angular features, a man who personified the very definition of ethereal, everything you loved slipping from your fingertips in a singular fluidity. Where he once sat jovially in the palm of your hand he now proved nothing more than a fleeting memory, one you'd forever keep within your heart, whispering his name, your prayers falling upon deaf ears.

It happened too fast, so abrupt. One second he was there, your shimmering beacon, even when life made you feel as though there was nothing more to this life than an arachnid persona. But the next, Miguel lie in a heap of what once was. A memory on the stain of your vowed eternity.

You called out his name once more, whispered it like a mantra, praying something, anything would bring him back. Desperation creeped up your spine, interlacing your fingertips with a demon of this universe's own creation, one who hadn't an ounce of empathy in the face of your suffering.

But you knew better than to believe this line of work would have mercy, that anyone could find it in their hearts to grieve for someone they perceived as a beacon of perfection .

You knew better than to think your grief would be spared.

"C'mon, let's get going." One of the men whispered to his counterpart, their eyes trained on your vulnerability as they scrambled to retreat. Still, they worked to gather everything they'd taken, fragments of your memories of Miguel.

But you wouldn't let them get away, couldn't possibly fathom them getting away with what little remained, with what they'd done.

And when you finally snapped out of it, finally found it within yourself to stand, they were gone.

So you returned to his side, returned to stroking along his angular features, allowed yourself to fall against his chest despite the blood that stained your entirety.

Miguel's phone dinged with a message, your eyes lingering on the screen as you viewed the words of his co-worker.

When you unlocked his phone, you found the screen lingered on your messages together, Miguel in the midst of typing one, the text still unsent in the box.

'Picking up something for the three of us to make together. It's our favorite! I love you, see you soon, amor.'

You hit send, your own phone chiming in the pocket of your suit, and you fell apart all over again.

Days blurred into existences of grief, months having spanned the time since you'd lost Miguel, and yet every day felt as though you were reliving a nightmare. The bed remained empty, his toothbrush untouched, body wash forever in a state of stagnancy.

Everything seemed to stand still, yet time ticked on, you were still expected to live with this grief hanging over your head for eternity.

The men had gotten away in the midst of your surprise, taking advantage of your vulnerability.

But you never forgot a face, vowed that evening as you slipped back through your window, tears shimmering in your eyes, that you'd bring the men to justice.

That was your job, your purpose in this life, and you would rather die than deprive yourself of this right, this closure.

"I'll be back late tonight," You mumbled into Gabriella's hair, tucking the little girl in for the evening. Your suit was concealed by a coat, fingertips webbed in fabric unknown to Gabriella.

"Can't you stay here for tonight?"

Of course you'd come to realize that Gabriella was missing you, the loss of Miguel hitting harder than everything she'd experienced in her short years of living.

But you were doing this for her, doing this for your family.

For Miguel.

"I'll be back before you wake up, I promise."

Your words seemed to soothe her, calm her nerves as she snuggled into her sheets, into the various stuffed animals Miguel brought with him every time he walked through that door.

You missed the jingle of his keys, the sound of his footsteps as he did his best not to wake you up.

You missed Miguel.

When Gabriella had finally dosed off, confining herself to the safety of sleep, you hopped out through the window, your mind set on your first target, the initial hit on your self-written list.

Two names, two assailants, both linked to a single moment.

You'd tracked them to an abandoned apartment complex they seemed to frequent in the evening hours, meeting at a different location every night but ending it in the same place.

So that's where you waited, impatient as you clung to the crumbling roof, the sound of voices the only thing ringing through mind, headache inducing. The pain becoming increasingly profound the closer they arrived, proximity practically nonexistent.

One of the men lit a lighter, illuminating your suit, gasps falling from their lips as the three of you were once more shrouded in darkness. Your webs thwipped in every direction, binding the men against the wall, their struggled groaned filling the space. Dropping to your knee, you brought the lighter between your fingers, igniting the flame before your masked face.

"S-Spider—!"

"Don't." Your voice was foreign to your own ears, malice dripping from your lips like venom.

"I don't know what we did but—!"

You thwipped your webs to cover the mouth of the man who seemed incapable of keeping his mouth shut, approaching the other before you, your full attention on him. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Fuck if I know." He spat, eyeing you with a bored expression.

You hummed. "You'll find out soon enough."

Glimmers of spark erupted from behind you, illuminating the once dim space, figures slipping through the occurrence, standing before you.

Your senses stood on edge, looking to the trio with an expression of confusion.

"How ya doing?" A woman you realized to be pregnant spoke in a soothing voice.

"You're like me..." The words slipped without your permission, a hand flying to your lips, concealing your words.

A much smaller figure shrouded in multicolored shades, white dominating the mass of the fabric, was the next to speak. "We're here to help you," Her voice was like honeysuckle, dripping like ripples of heaven. "You just have to come with us."

"I'm kinda in the middle of something." Despite the invitation you weren't intent on slipping away after everything you'd worked towards, after dedicating your life to this very moment.

"We aren't asking." This voice was much more gruff than the two previous, tone entirely bored, as though fed up with being here.

And yet it sounded so familiar.

You stepped up to the man, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm not going anywhere."

So, you ended up being forced to leave. The trio had worked against you, confining you to a glorified bubble that hindered your escape, producing you in the sanctuary of a man clad in red and blue.

"Let me out or so help me—!"

He chuckled, looking down at you through his mask. "Or else what?"

"Miguel," The woman from earlier, Jessica, slipped into the conversation. "Maybe be a little more compassionate?"

Miguel?

"Leave us." He spat, the pair of Jessica and Gwen leaving with remorseful expressions, obviously not keen on defying his will.

No, it couldn't be, it was unfathomable. You shook the thought from your head, removing your mask to look into their eyes without the obstruction. "Send me home."

A mask of blue and red dematerialized before your very eyes, a face you hadn’t seen in the flesh for forever — condemned to what remained on your phone, on the plaque that garnered his picture in the cemetery you and Gabriella frequented, unable to deliver him from your memories.

Eyes of vermillion stared into the crevices of your soul, a man who was yours yet far different than how you remembered him. Where smile lines traveled along your Miguel’s face, this man seemed to have an expression pressed into a permanent frown, incapable of any emotions apart from anger. He wasn't yours, yet eternity whispered otherwise.

"I can't do that." Miguel spoke, but you weren't focused on his words, only capable of registering his face, his entirety. Here before you stood everything you'd ever lost.

Your past, present and future.

"Miguel," You pressed your hand to the bubble that kept you confined, entirely entrapped within a state of disbelief. "I thought you were—"

"Dead?"

You nodded wordlessly, slipping to your knees as Miguel turned away from you, your crimson confinement slipping away as you were met with the crisp air of the near-empty room.

"I'm not from your universe. In your universe, I'm dead."

You furrowed your brows. "That doesn't make any sense! I know what I see, and right now I see my husband!"

The words left Miguel in a state of shock, his body rigid as he fought every urge to bound towards you with open arms, hold you and never have to release you again.

"There are an infinite number of universes, an infinite number of Spiders just like us."

Miguel pressed on with a tangent that had your thoughts spinning, mind fighting to make an understanding of the information he was spewing, everything seeming more akin to a fever dream than anything else.

"We all go through canon events, moments that connect us, that make us who we are."

Your eyes drifted to various screen baring different scenes, instances where those cursed with this ability had lost everything. A man with his uncle, another with their best friend.

You with Miguel.

"No," You swiped the images away, the room returning to its previous luminance. "That's bullshit. It doesn't make any sense."

Miguel sighed, his back still turned to you as he held up his left hand, the multicolored suit dematerializing with a technology you'd never witnessed before. "I wish it was," A silver banned shimmered in the artificial light, glimmering with love, a reminder of vows that were bound to eternity and stripped by oblivion. "In my universe, you're dead."

You felt at the ring beneath your suit, shifting the jewelry uncomfortably, the piece having never felt so unbearable until this very moment. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"That's why I couldn't let you go through with it."

"What?"

"Killing those men — the ones that took me... Your husband. All it does is make everything worse, it doesn't solve anything."

As though you hadn't learned anything you scoffed, "How do you know?"

"Because I went down that same road when you—shit... When my version of you died." His voice was shrill, seeming to lose his composure with every passing second. In your eyes he saw everything he'd ever lost, standing before him as though you'd never faltered to begin with. "I went looking for the people that took you away from me, from our family that wasn't a family yet."

"Then what?"

You could see the remorse in his eyes, a gaze of regret, the memories too painful for him to share, yet he pressed forward — for you, for himself, for an unspoken closure the both of you desperately required. "I missed you more than anything in this world. I went looking for you, disrupted universes until I couldn't handle it anymore, until I convinced myself I was better off alone — not meant to be a father, a husband."

You gasped. "You were gonna be a dad?"

The though brought a smile to Miguel's face. "You had our little girl with you when they took you away — took both of you from me." Miguel's eyes were glazed with tears, vulnerability on his sleeve as his mind fought for him to remain logical, remember why he's the person he was in that very moment. "I wish I'd gotten to know my darling Gabriella."

A lump in your throat, the sensation scratching you with claws like fire. "She's wonderful, Miguel."

He chuckled, a smile forming on his lips, one he forced himself to push away. "What's she like?"

"Just like you." The response was instant, absentminded, thinking to a universe where he no longer existed. "Everyday I'm scared I won't be able to face her because she looks more and more like you, acts like you."

Miguel could picture it, the life he deserved, the one he was destined to live. In his heart there was a love that would forever remain his to keep, bound to his soul. And while the thought left him in a state of elation — the fact that his daughter was happy in another reality — it wasn't his joy to experience.

It was yours. Yours and a Miguel that wasn't him.

"I can't send you back to your universe unless you swear you won't go after those men."

"I can't just-"

"Swear you won't go after those men or else you'll never see Gabriella again!" Miguel's voice thundered through the room, shaking you to your core, a chill rushing down your spine in wisps of terror. He couldn’t stand to see another variation bound to the universe’s clutches, lost because of selfish, something he could easily prevent. Miguel didn’t want to see to see you suffer all over again. lose everything just as he had. And if this was how he had to get his point across, it was what he would do for the sake of the canon.

For the sake of his love that transcended the multiverse itself.

"I..." Your voice was weak, tears brimming in your eyes. Miguel had never yelled at you, never dared raise his voice. And the fact that this variant of him had done it so simply, without an ounce of effort, had brought you back to the cruelty that was reality.

This wasn't your Miguel.

"I promise."

No matter how you begged and pleaded, no matter what you did to change the canon, he would never be yours.

"Good."

The Miguel O'Hara from your universe was gone, and all you had to remember him was memories bound to blood, crimson staining a suit you hid away, unable to bring yourself to wash the stains of grief, ridding your fingertips of what once was, all that remained.

But just as the vows of your eternal love were broken upon the death of Miguel...

This promise would soon be broken, too.

#across the spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderverse #into the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse x reader #miguel o’hara

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