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underoossss · 10 months

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Completely Yours – Miguel O’Hara

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

warnings: non, it’s a good old fashioned hurt/comfort fic 💕

an: I had a lot of fun writing this, there’s nothing more comforting than a story where your love being in danger makes you realize you’re in love. anyway I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ✨

masterlist

——-

“Ugh, Miguel, you’re brooding too loudly over there.” You groan, pausing the video playing on your tablet and looking at the tall man pacing on his platform.

It’s easy for anyone who knows you to hear the lack of annoyance in your tone, and rather the concern laced within each syllable. As far as friendships go, the one you have with Miguel is the most meaningful one you’ve had with anyone. There’s a sense of home and protection that falls between both of you whenever you’re together, at least on your side of things. You know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, and the same applies to you; he might be taller, stronger, and smarter but you’d protect him with your bare hands if necessary. The fact that you have a ridiculous and hopeless crush on him doesn’t help.

Setting the tablet down, you stand up and shoot a web towards the freakishly ominous platform before hauling yourself upwards. “Did they cancel your telenovela, hot stuff?”

Miguel’s back is turned to you, and he glances at you over his shoulder when you make your way towards him. “It’s more complicated than that.” He sighs and steps aside, gesturing towards the big screen in front of him.

“No internet connection up here.” You say solemnly; from where you stand you can tell the blinking letters on the screen are an error message –a failed code, but you’re not about to tell Miguel that. It would undermine his surprise when you whip out some smart rhetoric in a moment of need. “Tragic.”

“No, smartass, I’m trying to improve our algorithm, but I can’t figure it out how to do it yet.” Miguel’s eyes scan the screen, his hands placed on his hips and his weight settled on his right leg. You shift your eyes from his back to the error message and smile.

“Can I try?” You ask, concealing the mischief that possesses your body at the idea of getting under Miguel’s skin. “Maybe I can fix it.”

The fact that your grump of a friend steps aside to let you take a look at the code speaks on his stress. He’s tired, you can tell, the shadow under his eyes is darker today; he most likely didn’t sleep trying to get this to work. You shouldn’t make fun of it, you know that, and making a joke is not going to help fix this. But you also need you friend to relax before he gets a neck spasm. Miguel is grumpier than usual when his neck hurts.

You step close to the screen and analyze the code, it’s impossible to know what’s wrong at a glance –this isn’t your forte– but you pretend to. Biting your tongue to keep from laughing you tilt your head and hum. “I see what’s wrong.”

“What?” The sliver of hope in Miguel’s voice tempts you to abort mission and leave him alone. But who would you be if you didn’t annoy him?

“There is not a single legible word in this mess, babe.” You shake your head and place your hands on your hips as he always does. “No wonder your computer’s struggling, this is gibberish.”

“I thought you–” Miguel groans and covers his face with his hands staring up at the ceiling. “Por que yo? Por que yo? Por que yo?”

Naturally you start laughing, arms around you stomach when it begins to hurt. “Honestly, it’s on you. Crazy that you didn’t see it coming, baby.” The endearment falls easily off your tongue, all of them do, you gave up hiding how smitten you are a long time ago. It’s not like Miguel is ever going to act on it or make things weird. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside, this is a one-sided thing you’ve gotten used to.

Miguel turns to look at you, clear annoyance in the pinch of his eyebrows before it lessens when you smile at him. He sighs in defeat, shaking his head at you. “Why do I even let you come here?”

“Oh, come on.” You smile stepping closer to the edge of the platform and shooting a web at each opposing wall. “You were so stressed; I’m trying to get you to relax.” Making sure both webs are safely attached, you jump on the makeshift tightrope finding your balance at once.

Miguel’s amused, you can tell by the way his eyes seem to catch on your actions before he goes back to his computer. “This isn’t a game, the algorithm–”

“Is not as serious as you think either, try to relax. You should join my yoga class.” You shrug, jumping up and down on the rope before it snaps. Having seen it coming you shoot a web at the ceiling and catch yourself at the same time Miguel’s red webs pull you back to the platform and towards him.

“Cuidado.”

His eyes lock on yours, vexed at first before the shift into something softer when your arms go around him. You press your cheek on his chest, trying to push your affection onto him, let him know how appreciated he is. You hope the nano-tech allows it. “Sorry.” You mutter, voice muffled.

Miguel’s arms go around you and he holds you to him; you resist melting into his hold. “It’s okay, you were right.”

Those three words are enough to make you step back and look up at him, smirk on your face. “What was that?”

He chuckles under his breath and looks away. “There’s no way I’m repeating that.”

You’re about to say something else when you hear someone call from the lab’s floor “MIGUEL!!”

A chorus of voices follow the initial call, all coming from the lab’s entrance, and you’re quick to jump down and greet the three teenagers that walk in. “Careful guys, he’s moody today.” You warn with a smile.

“Same as always then?” Gwen says before all four of you giggle.

“This’ll cheer you up!” Pavitr says, before messing with his watch and sending something Miguel’s way. “Another mission complete.”

“So you did your job.” Miguel says once the platform’s closer to the ground. “Congratulations, here’s another one.”

Lyla pops up in front of Miles’ face and fixes her pink glasses. “New anomaly on earth 55. It’s a Vulture variant, Gwen takes point.”

“Why is she always the leader?” Miles complains, gesturing towards Gwen.

But the teenager ignores him and nods once, a determined look on her face before Lyla blinks away. “Let’s go.”

“Wait just one more thing.” Pavitr says, stopping Gwen and Miles on their tracks. “I have a question!”

“We’re full of answers.” You shrug before Miguel can shut down the kid. “Ask away.”

“Is there a monarchy on earth 928? It seems too futuristic to have one. Please tell me they got rid of it.”

“Other than the one in here?” You ask, a smile on your face as mischief makes another grand appearance.

Miguel mutters your name in warning, almost as if thinking you’d reveal the details of Miguel’s earth to the young Spider-Man. It makes you throw your hands up in mock surrender. “What? There is a monarchy here! I mean after all…”

Miguel turns to look at you, eyebrow raised and an unamused look on his face. The teenagers wait expectantly as well, until you open your mouth.

“You’re the king of my heart.”

Everyone groans at your bad joke, and you throw your head back laughing. Resorting to humor to let out all the feelings you have for the one you love, pathetic but necessary. Miguel sighs and turns back to his computer, but you’re almost sure he’s holding back a smile.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Miguel calls over his shoulder, arching a menacing eyebrow at the teenagers. It’s enough to make them scramble out of his lab, pushing each other to get to the entrance faster.

“Get ready,” Miguel then tells you. His mask covers his face once more, and you mourn not seeing his handsome face anymore. “Anomaly on earth 7832, you’re coming with me.”

“You got it baby.” You smile brightly, hopping onto the platform again and putting your mask back on.

“Come on.” Miguel huffs, but his tone is lighter than before. The hug helped, you smile in triumph though he can’t see it.

---

“The anomaly is a goblin variant” Miguel explains once the two of you make it out of the portal. “We need to take him away from this dimension.”

As you look at the buildings around you, shiny and modern, Miguel keeps briefing you on the matter at hand. The Goblin is going to Oscorp, thinking he can have his revenge on those who wronged him. However, this Oscorp hasn’t wronged him, it might have before but the goblin from this dimension already took many lives years ago. Miguel needs your camouflage, as you’re the only Spider-Man with this power other than Miles –though you’d rather have his venom powers instead, they’re so much cooler.

“I need you to trail him.” Miguel turns to look at you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Lyla will track him for you, and I won’t be far behind. Just stop him before he gets there and… be careful.” The last two words are said with emphasis, and it makes you smile. He worries so much; it gives away just how much his heart feels.

“Careful’s my middle name, handsome.” You blow him a kiss before you swing yourself off the building.

“Oh really, most of your records might disagree.” Miguel tells you on your watch and you can hear that cocky smile on his face.

“I hope you caught my kiss.” You ignore his jab, smiling under your mask as you swing yourself upwards and let go, doing a flip mid-air and shooting another web. “Lyla, am I close to our guy yet?”

“Closing in.” Her voice comes from your watch. “Three blocks.”

“Better turn invisible.” Miguel’s voice follows, it’s more agitated that before which you know means he’s trailing after you. Though you’re not nervous, a sense of relief washes over you at the knowledge that he’s close. “And no more talking, this is a stealth operation.”

“Sure thing, baby cakes.” You agree, “Catch you in a bit.” You make sure you’re camouflaged one block before you intercept the anomaly, staying silent, and focused on the mission. That is, until you pass a lilac and orange storefront. “Oh that milkshake place closed last year! Can we go back, later. Please.”

Your voice is merely a gasp, but Miguel’s chastises you. “Y/N”

“I’m gonna take it as a yes.” You shrug before going silent once more.

You spot the Goblin when you turn the corner of the last block. He’s green and wears a yellow hood on his head, his glider looks a lot like wings with green lights on the bottom. The anomaly is heading for a window, to break into the building mode likely but your don’t let him.

Shooting a new web and launching yourself upwards, you kick his glider to destabilize him and miss his shot. He’s definitely confused at what happened and even more so when you shoot two webs at his feet and pull. “I’ve engaged the anomaly, where are you?” You ask Miguel, showing yourself to your opponent so he can follow you to the rooftop.

The Goblin is faster than you, especially with his high-tech glider —you’ve never seen one so advanced— and he snatches you from the edge of the building then proceeds to throw you on the rooftop’s floor.

“How rude.” You shake your head at him, camouflaging again and slipping underneath the floating board he’s perched on. You shoot your webs at the blue ventilation system, knowing it will overheat it until it explodes before a series of red ropes latch onto the equipment and pull it away from the Goblin’s feet.

You roll to your right to avoid his body falling on top of you, at the same time an explosion goes off in your vicinity. Miguel stands there, as the glider’s smoke clears behind him, head cocked to the side. “I’m here.” He states when you stop camouflaging.

“You know, you really have to work on your one liners.” You shake your head. “Miss me? Would’ve been a much cooler thing to say.”

Neither of you can do anything else as suddenly six explosives are thrown both your ways. In a second, you shoot your webs are them, pulsing the shooter three times to change the web’s pattern and create a net-like trap you throw to your left. “Excuse me, we were having a moment here?”

The empty parking lot on the neighboring building shudders at the explosion and that’s when the Goblin attacks.

You try to put up a fight, and so does Miguel but the Goblin stronger than you. Though you manage to get some good punches in, his are stronger and knock the air out of you. He’s fast, too fast for one person to catch up with him, and even with you and Miguel running yourselves ragged, it’s hard to keep up. His bombs run out eventually —you kept throwing them to the empty parking lot, which worsened his mood— and you can focus on keeping Goblin still. The issue is, that no matter how many webs you shoot at his limbs, he snaps them easily before going back to exchanging punches with Miguel.

You try to pin his arms one more time, but he sends you backwards with a kick to your stomach.

“CHUCHA!” You scream one of Miguel’s most common expletives, frustrated with yet another failed plan. “Okay. Babe, I have an idea, but you gotta help me out.” You tell Miguel, voice breathless as he struggles with the anomaly.

“Tell me.” He grunts, trying to keep Goblin from escaping the rooftop, if he reaches the door and gets inside there would be too many people to look after.

“I hold him still and you bite him; I think it’s the only way to cage him.”

When you see Miguel nod, you get to work. You begin by shooting webs to the side of the buildings, much like you did back at Miguel’s lab, before attaching them to the Goblin’s body. His arms and legs are next, which you manage to hold down by circling him until they’re tight enough that he can’t move. Miguel uses his red webs to hold him too, and the front of his mask disappears showing his teeth as he approaches the anomaly. But the Goblin’s stronger than anything you’ve fought before and in mere seconds snaps one web, then another, until suddenly and with an ear piercing scream he’s free and sending a well-placed blow to your chest that leaves you breathless.

You’re out of webs thanks to your plan as he stands before you —to finish the job you’re sure— but it’s hard to focus on anything other than your shortness of breath. Miguel’s voice is muffled when it reaches you as he tackles the Goblin, grabbing at his neck with his claws. You take the opportunity to take off your mask, gasping for air and trying to get your rising panic in check. It barely lasts though, because the anomaly gets away, slipping through Miguel’s clutches, and going back to you. His green claw snatches you from the floor, making you grunt in pain as he jumps to the other building. Next thing you know, the Goblin lets go of you between the two buildings and your stomach drops. You activate your web-shooters in the hopes that even the smallest bit of web can help you but it isn’t your lucky day. Your body is in free-fall and the wind mutes the words coming out of Miguel’s mouth.

All you manage to hear is his scream, a desperate sound, followed by him diving to rescue you without hesitation. You can sense how his mind goes over the million ways he can grab and not injure you. Not even his bright-red webs can help you, he’d snap your back in two or detach a limb. But he will help you, you’re sure of that. You see him get momentum from the building in front of you before he dives in your direction, arms tight to his sides to gain speed. Once you’re within reach, his arms go around you, enveloping you completely before he turns around so his body receives the impact as you crash through a glass window on the opposite building.

“Go get him.” You groan, body limp on top of his.

Your lack of comment on your position is enough to worry Miguel. He was expecting something that would make him roll his eyes and hold back a smile as he always does when he’s with you. If you wanted some alone time, you could’ve asked, big guy. Woah, take me out to dinner first, handsome. He can hear it so clearly in his mind that your silence at present causes a wave of anxiety to rise in his sternum.

“You’re hurt.” Miguel states, voice strained as he lies you down gently on the floor.

“I’ve seen worse.” You shake your head. “Go find him, I’ll catch up.” It’s a blatant lie, and you know Miguel can tell. He can see you’re barely awake, how you’ve turned a shade closer to grey, how clammy your forehead looks and a quick glance at your abdomen confirms his first guess. He thinks at once, internal bleeding.

He talks to Lyla through his watch but you can’t make out a single world after the system’s name because you’re trying really hard to concentrate on breathing. Since when do you have to think about breathing? You’re suddenly bathed in tangerine light as a portal opens behind Miguel, and though he’s still in a hurry to get you back to the Society, he takes his time as he picks you up.

The movement is gentle but you still whine in pain, a string of curses flying past your lips. “How do I say motherfucker in Spanish?” You ask Miguel as your eyes fall closed.

“It’ll be over soon. Just look at me, okay?” His voice is tight yet calm despite the disastrous turn the mission’s taken. “Don’t close your eyes, you have to stay awake.”

You open them weakly —it’s so hard to stay awake all of a sudden— and look at his illuminated profile. His chiseled jaw, beautiful but so tense you’re sure he’ll crack a tooth. You’re in pain, slowly feeling like you’re fading away into nothing, but you can’t bear to see Miguel so stressed.

“Hey,” You whisper, and he looks down, his expression softening. “It’s Guasha right?”

“What?” Miguel looks so confused you’d laugh if it didn’t hurt to breathe.

“The secret to your cheekbones, babe.” You mumble.

Miguel squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, not annoyed but something else you can’t figure out. “As if I’d tell you.” He tells you, rolling his eyes at you in that fond way of his.

He steps through the portal and a moment later you’re back at the society, spidermen walking left and right to their own dimensions and missions. Miguel’s quick to bring you to the med-bay, at least that’s where you assume you are until you pass out.

It turns out, you were put under so the Spider-Medics could operate on you. Everything’s fine, they reassure you when you wake with a start, a couple of needles pricking your skin. Your eyes search for a familiar tall figure, brooding, handsome, the light of your eyes, but you can’t find it. So, you let the doctors run their tests and give you their diagnostics without another word. It takes a whole day for you body to heal and feel better, all while waiting for Miguel to show up.

He doesn’t. Not once.

Once you’re dispatched with an all clear and a lollypop, you immediately open a portal back home. There’s no use going to see Miguel at his lab. If he doesn’t want to see you, that’s fine. You get it, you ruined his mission and he’s gorgeously pacing in front of his many computer screens. But there’s also the gentle way he’d spoken to you, the look he’d given you before you passed out… No, it’s just childish wistful thinking. You’re the last person he'd like to see at the moment. You’re sure of that.

When you get home, you’re quick to turn on the radio and sync it to the police channel. Maybe chasing some bad guys will clear your head, take your mind away from the heartache threatening to consume you –it’s even worse than your previously broken ribs. But you shower and change back into your suit and no such luck; not even a small robbery to stop. With nothing else to do, you go up the fire escape and to the rooftop just in time to see the sun set in the horizon. It bathes your New York in orange; it’s not nearly as modern as Miguel’s but it’s loud and fun regardless.

“One would think that after that fall, you’d avoid heights for a while.” Miguel’s voice comes from somewhere behind you but it doesn’t startle you.

“Occupational hazard.” Is all you say, staring ahead as your heart aches in more ways than one; for your own feelings and his likely regret of bringing you along to Earth 7832. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

You refuse to look at him, guilt eating you up from the inside out. “Miguel, I ruined your mission.”

“You didn’t.” Miguel sighs. “Why would you think that?”

You huff, then look down at your hands and twist your gloved fingers. “I know you’re mad, don’t lie to me.”

You hear him approach you, his footfalls getting closer before he places something next to you. You look to your right and see it, the lilac paper cup with the orange logo and white straw. What? You take it in your hand and examine it in the sun. “Is this?”

“They closed a year ago, right?”

You turn then, and the sight of Miguel standing there increases your yearning tenfold. He’s bathed in orange light from the sunset, it casts sharp shadows on one side of his face as the wind tousles some rogue strands of his hair. It should be illegal really, to be so beautiful you bring people to tears.

The worst thing is that he’s not mad, you can tell by the way his jaw isn’t tense like a day ago. His brows are relaxed, and his eyes scan your face as if drinking you in. It makes your eyes tear up, much to his shock. If he’s not been angry at you, then he didn’t go to see you because he doesn’t care. You thought you were good friends, despite him trying to conceal it; he’s let you hang out with him all the time, never once has kicked you out of his lab, has taken you with him to multiple missions. Yet…

“You left.” You murmur tearily.

Miguel sighs and sits next to you, his back to the sun and his hands falling between his legs. His shoulder hunch, as he shakes his head. “Do you know how close you were to…”

“They said everything was fine.”

“You almost died.” Miguel’s voice isn’t loud but the pain with which he murmurs those three words make you grimace.

“Oh.”

Miguel shakes his head. “I was scared to lose you.” His right hand reaches for yours and you take it, moving the milkshake to your other side to scoot closer to him. “I might be strong, but not when it comes to seeing you in pain.”

“And after that?” You turn to face him, big fat tears fall down your cheeks, and Miguel wipes them away, setting your skin on fire and comforting you at the same time. “You still didn’t come. I thought we–“

“I was thinking.” He tells you softly, a hushed confession.

“Of course you were.” Even though you’re confused by his words, a grin makes its way to your face. He’s ridiculous. “About what? the multiverse perishing ‘cause of the bad guy we let escape?”

Miguel shakes his head before holding your chin between his thumb and index finger “The fact I was so overtaken by fear when you got hurt I could barely think; that I can’t live without you; that I’m completely yours without even knowing when it happened.”

“You’re mine?” You question, eyes widening in surprise, heartbeat raising at the same time as your hopes with his words. “You mean—”

“That I love you?” He chuckles at your expression, his eyes looking at yours fondly; “According to Lyla, everyone knows I do but you. I thought the milkshake would give it away.”

“Miguel, I thought I was the obvious one. I’m always —”

“You were, baby, you were” Miguel’s hand slowly moves to your cheek, eclipsing it in size as your body lights up at the endearment. “I was hesitant but I’m not anymore.”

“So you got me a milkshake.” You smile, widely this time as you move even closer to him. Damn this man and his acts of service love language.

“I would get you whatever you want, you know that.” Miguel’s voice drops to a whisper at your proximity, his hold on your cheek pulling you closer to his face.

“And you looove me.” You tease him, brushing your nose tenderly against his; there’s nothing you’ve wanted more than to shower him with all the affection you have for him. It turns out you have a chance to do it after all.

He rolls his eyes with nothing but adoration, and love. “Never stood a chance.”

“Wish it didn’t take falling to my death to tell me, hot stuff.” You murmur, brushing your lips against his, drunk with your feelings and the idea of loving him freely, no jokes needed. “You’re the one that bites out of both of us.”

Miguel chuckles and you lean close, closing the gap between you and kissing his lips like you’ve dreamed of for a long while. Your hands move to his hair as you pull him closer and a noise gets caught in the back of Miguel’s throat. His own hand on your cheek tilts your face to the side before his tongue brushes your bottom lip to open you up to him. There’s no testing the waters, no hesitation. No, this is something you’ve clearly wanted for a long time and after the events from yesterday’s mission there’s no way you’re delaying this anymore. You sigh into his mouth, intoxicated in the best way from the taste of him, coffee and something sweet that makes you gravitate even closer to him.

You’re left dizzy and happy beyond words when you part, your lips chasing his for a moment before you press your forehead against Miguel’s.

“Hermosa,” Miguel murmurs. You can feel his eyes on you as he ghosts his lips across your chin, your cheek and jaw, as your mouth shifts to a grin. No one but you knows your moody vampire is so loving.

You move to sit on his lap, your side to his front, smiling widely at the content look you find on his face when you look up. Completely unguarded, for you.

“Okay moment of truth.” You announce, reaching over and taking the paper up in your hands. Your hands cover your face as soon as you take a sip, the creamy chocolate taste coating your mouth and releasing endorphins to your system.

“What?” Miguel asks, his protective mode rising to the surface for a moment before you smile. It makes him shake his head.

“Ohmygod, I missed this so much!” You cry out, taking another sip and sighing in content. “Might have to pop by and get another one every now and then.”

“If there’s another mission there maybe,” Miguel concedes, arms going around your waist to pull closer. “Maybe.”

“You did it though.” You remind him, cheek resting on his chest, making your words come out muffled.

“I’m in charge,” He shrugs, self-assured smile clear in his tone.

“You’re no fun.” You sink against his chest, breathing him in and taking in his warmth. Until a memory flashes in your mind, making you light up and look at him again. “WAIT. Was that a joke earlier?”

—-

*por que yo? (why me?)

*hermosa (beautiful)

*cuidado (careful)

*chucha (common curse word, kind of like yelling shit! Or fuck!)

#miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara across the spider verse

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miguelmarias · 2 years

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#miguel marías #escape from fort bravo #fort bravo #qué grande es el cine #josé luis garci #eduardo torres dulce #eduardo úrculo #1954 #western

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speakspeak · 2 years

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Vento Forte

#Vento Forte #miguel angel asturias #rizzoli #books

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biostatprof · 2 months

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There's a bathroom on the left?

#Nazaré #portugal #Forte de São Miguel Arcanjo #original photographers #photographers on tumblr #beach #ocean #forte #São Miguel Arcanjo #landscape #atlantic #seascape #photography

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tarjapearce · 4 months

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Crimson Crown (Pt. 7)

Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Thanks to @pinkiemme for this amazing cover ✨

Summary: While your bond with Miguel deepens, so does the danger.

Needless to say you couldn't sleep. The initial thrill had turned into a myriad of things surfing through your mind. He had accepted your invitation without much hesitation.

Although your vision and ambitions for the future had been shared along some personal tidbits, the prospect of getting to know him on a deeper level was simply beyond excitement. So far, King Miguel had been nothing but kind to you. Despite the initial clash between the both, your walls had mellowed enough to stablish a good camaraderie.

But sitting in the first line to witness his work and dedication for his lands, had made your heart dance and prance with joy. You were ready to learn from him, and hopefully he could learn a thing or two from you.

And the lab.

Your arms hugged the pillow as a dreamy sigh escaped you. He had given you a lab completely for yourself, one of your dreams fulfilled to a full term and all thanks to him.

You wanted nothing but to hug him and you were about to, however the rational side of your brain prevented you from such thing. Regret remained jared inside, maybe if you had done a more personal and physical approach things would've been different.

Would it be too soon though? Would it be too bold? You certainly didn't want to spook him or make him have a desperate concept of your persona. But he gifting you with things that only nurtured your soul proved it hard to restrain your blooming affection.

Physical attraction was measly compared what he had to offer as a person. Not that his beauty wasn't alluring, but his intelligence, diligence and devotion towards his people had completely captivated you. And today you'll offer to return a bit of his own kindness.

He was always busy, duties prevented him from being a normal person and enjoy simple things in life. Your task for the day was to find out those little mundane things that he relished in, so maybe ahead in your future you could join him when doing so.

Unable to remain in bed any longer, you rose and prepared for the day. Instead of the usual lavish attires you were always dressed in, you went for a more casual set.

The trips in the city had given you the sight of a perfect spot nearby the castle. The ideal place to have your adventure of the day.

Once you had bathed and dressed up, you headed for the kitchen. Cooking wasn't something you excelled at, and even though the occasion was special, his favorite meals were a mystery to you. Miguel didn't seem like a picky eater, but he did favored fish and birds.

Obviously a man his size and weight needed larger amounts of calories. His musculature seemed something that was forged through the years, another thing to marvel about.

Before your brain could get lost in the many qualities he possessed, you kindly asked the chefs to prepare a little portable feast to put in a hamper. Appetizers, a few bits of meats and fruits along some wine and desserts.

In the meantime, you headed for the lab, Peter joined you midway, a little out of breath.

"Your highness"

"Good Morning, Peter."

With a little smile you acknowledged his presence before going to the herbal side of the place. A couple of black roses were pulled out, along some mint leafs. You prepared a little concoction before serving yourself and Peter a cup.

"Drink this. You look exhausted."

Peter hesitated for a second, but again, the smell was too fragrant and good to let go. He drank as you did.

"Do you think the king shows up?"

"He must."

A little chuckle escaped your lips while you finished your tea.

"I know. But, there is always something showing up. I hope it's not the case."

"I'll make sure he's there. Is everything ready?"

"Not yet. Cooking is not my forte, sadly. I wanted to prepare things on my own, but I'm afraid I'd be accused of a murder attempt with my seasoning."

Peter choked on his tea but quickly coughed it away with a lithe laugh.

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Still, I rather stick to pills and potions. That I can do. Even blindfolded. But enough on it. I'd like to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Is there anything that the King wouldn't rather to discuss? I really wouldn't like to make him uncomfortable if I pry too much."

Peter's eyes were filled with understanding.

"His health. He doesn't like talking much about it."

Your face turned concerned, something that Peter offered a little comforting gesture by holding his hand up. Stopping your thoughts from running rampant.

"He is alright. Not terminally ill or any sort of tragedy. If that's what you're concerned about."

"How could I not see this before?"

"Don't blame yourself, your highness. If you didn't see it, it's precisely cause he takes care of himself."

"Well, he has me... My help now, I mean."

Peter chuckled while putting the saucer away, exhaustion leaving his body.

"I know. I'm sure he'll put those skills to a good use."

"I hope so. I'd like to... help him. Ease his kingly duties, I am the future queen of Arachne after all. It's only fair I help him out."

"You're already have done so, your highness. But I'm glad you think that way."

Miguel wasn't wrong regarding you sharing his vision, and for you to help him was plainly endearing for those within his most intimate circle.

You instructed Peter to help you out with a little infusion. A gift for Miguel.

A little ground coffee beans and other herbs all tucked in a burlap pouch. Then it was all reduced into three vials. Similar to the ones he used for his medicine.

"What is that?"

Peter eyes both curiously and suspiciously the dark colored infusion, you just chuckled while sealing them with a lid on.

"An energy boosting drink. Whenever he finds a headache, he should drink this."

"That smells like coffee?"

"It is. But more concentrated."

"Ah."

"You still believe me capable of harm the king? That wounds me so, ser Peter."

An awkward titter came out of Peter's mouth, "Of course not, your highness. He's just wary."

"I know. I have my own precautions as well, but, If I am to stand next to him in whatever years lay ahead upon us, the least we can do is to trust each other. And I want to surprise him with something."

"I understand. I'm sure he has no doubts regarding you."

"You think so? I hope you're right. Is there anything else I should know?"

Peter's grimace furrowed and became solemn for a moment. He was about to warn you about Lord Darko and his tactics, including Dana when Margo approached.

"Your majesty, the chefs are ready. Should I get your horse?"

"Yes, please."

"We'll continue this talk later, alright?"

"Of course."

With that Peter just watched you leave. He knew prying into personal territory was a bit too dangerous even for him, but since Miguel either forgot often or he didn't want you to know, someone had to do the nasty job of warning you.

But now that you had wormed your way into Miguel's head and heart, maybe the truth would spill out his lips without much trouble. He could only hope for the good. He was the king, but also, his friend.

----

You didn't expect to see Miguel at the main gates, both of your horses ready to depart. In all honesty, you'd think that he'd send either Jessica or Ben to excuse himself for the day.

But seizing him, in a more casual yet practical attire to fight, made your heart to jump leaps. He was there, like he said he would. He didn't excuse himself this time.

His eyes narrowed softly at the sight of you, the gleam in them upon taking in your features made your skin crawl underneath the long sleeves. You approached and he readied his horse, making sure the seat was adjusted correctly.

A friesian black stallion that neighed softly as Miguel caressed in between it's ears. Perfect for battle and running in case a retirement happened.

You hopped on the horse, Miguel on his and the basket was attached to Jessica's. She was only there to see the location and bring the basket to then leave you both alone.

"Are you ready, my lord?"

"Lead the way, Princesa."

With a gallop, you settled the pace and soon, the three of you marched away. Leaving a lithe gust of wind after the horse's trotting.

Jessica gave Miguel subtle glances, which he replied with a mildly annoyed scowl. The non verbal communication had been perfected by both over the years, a clear sign of mutual respect and trust. And an even clearer 'Get over it. It's just a lunch'.

Jessica's smug smile stretched when he rolled his eyes and trotted next to you.

The wind blew over, playing with the scattered leaves in your wake, ruffling the different textures of your hairs, it took you some minutes to leave the castle behind, and some more minutes to arrive to the pond.

Short and green grass cracked under the horse's hooves, the smell of wild flowers and soaked earth filled in your lungs with pure air, skin soared in delight when another gust of air blew over the both. The tree's leafs joined in the waltz. You gave Miguel a smile.

"We've arrived."

You hopped off the horse with ease. The chirping songs of the birds nested within the big oak tree made it all feel like God had turned one of his whims into reality. A couple of deers had escaped as soon as they heard the horse's gallop. The faint noise of the water before you and the smell of pines made your thoughts even more enthusiastic.

Jessica left her horse for a bit to put the hamper near the tree and with a final salute she returned back to the castle.

It was only you and Miguel. The latter took the basket and ventured deeper within the curtain of leafs and climbing plants nature had claimed a certain branch of the tree. Like a private room in nature, a perfect getaway from prying eyes.

You took the linen and put it on the grassy and moss textured floor, Miguel helped by moving the basket on the middle of the fabric and then you sat down, patting the space adjacent to yours. He obeyed and rested his back on the tree, just like you after the shoes were removed.

"My trips to the city made me aware of the many lookout spots the castle has. And I found this one. Do you... like it?"

"I do."

His voice contained unsure undertones, cause in all honesty, he rarely left the castle and when he did was either for war, or to patrol. Miguel had never minded to take his time into admiring his lands, that held not only power, but beauty within.

Just like you.

His eyes darted towards your profile, appreciating the landscape when he noticed the shy dimple in your cheek. His eyes raked over your lips, the brief wonder of their taste popped in his mind. The sun rays filtered through the leafs, gently basking within your eyes.

As if the sun had found a lovely place to rest for a moment. His brows twitched upwards yet discreetly. The ally eyes were gone, leaving room for the man he was to take over and be in awe of your beauty. If this was the sight he'd wake up to, he'd gladly become an art connoisseur.

He didn't know what to blame. His pent up stress that begged him for relief, or your mere existence in the same space. Breathing the same air, inches away from him looking like an artist's opus magna materialized into flesh and bones.

"So..."

You mumbled and cleared your rasping throat.

"So."

"Are you hungry, my lord?"

"Please, call me Miguel."

You blinked once, then twice before a bashful smile bloomed on your cheeks.

"Are you sure of that?"

"We're soon to be wedded. Even though nobility is picky regarding titles, I couldn't care less."

That earned him a sheepish chuckle from you, but you nodded.

"Then, it's only fair you call me by my name as well."

"I'll stick to Princesa."

"Isn't that my title?"

"It is. But in my other tongue means something good."

Lovely even

His lips twitched in a little impish and borderline childish smile upon seeing you flustered.

"But if you want, we could go back to-"

"No. I mean... I like when you call me that. Your other language sounds rich and captivating."

"Does it?"

Your head bobbed nervously and his hands reached for the wine bottle to serve on two goblets.

"How much of it do you understand?"

"Barely a thing. But it's your tone that gives a bit of context. I can tell when you mean something good or bad."

"How about this? Te ves tan encantadora cuando tratas de aprender más sobre cualquier cosa." (You look so lovely when you're trying to learn more about anything)

Your throat gulped and your eyes casted away from him for a brief second before exhaling gingerly. Flush blooming in your face.

"Sounds like I'm doing something good."

His smirk deepened.

"And what have you learned so far?"

"Some little phrases, a few greetings and your title."

"My title?"

"Yes, mi rey."

His heart was nothing but a thump-a-thump inside his ribcage, the way you had pronounced such thing had his self control to hold you in such a fine thread that could snap if you ever said something like that again.

My king.

Your king. The idea of being called like that after your wedding made him secretly beg time to go faster. He had so much to teach and show you, your eagerness only made it better.

But he was also learning from you.

You called him by his given name, and oh his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His lips stretched involuntarily at your voice, calling him.

"Yes?"

"I've gotten you a gift."

"A gift? Why?"

"What do you mean why? I'd like to honor you too with gifts as you've done. Is it wrong?"

Your hands reached for the velvety pouch containing the vials, filled in with your caffeinated concoction.

"Here. If you ever find yourself with a terrible headache, drink one."

"I'm afraid I'll need more than these." You chuckled and leaned in a bit closer to him.

"I will prepare as much as you need."

He poured the wine, and handed you a goblet. You sipped it almost right away, nerves wrecked you, but speaking so closely to him made your blood rush hapzardly in your cheeks and butterflies to twirl in your stomach.

"I also wanted to ask for something, away from the council's ears."

His brow arched softly "And what is that?"

"I beg you. Please let me ease your kingly duties. Let me help you."

It was always a Lead the way, sometimes a You need help. others a You can't do it alone. but never precisely that. A let me help you.

"I know that I'm already helping, according to you. But I'd like to do more." You took a small slice of fruit, "That way, we could spend more time knowing eachother. Either through work or... like this."

"What else would you like to do?"

He gestured you while he popped a grape into his mouth, you ate the piece and talked once you swallowed

"Let me take charge of the arts and social agendas. I will improve them. Your people have so much talent. You could size it."

"Then, let's make a deal. You're not to abandon your medical duties, I need you on the front."

Your head nodded eagerly.

"But, I'll assign you a schedule, so you can balance both. But if it's too much, you'll let me know. Understood?"

"Si, mi rey."

Maker's mercy.

You were killing him, his restrain was kept in check and control. You ate and drank in silence, too nervous to ponder about eachother, but the letter he burned into ashes came to his mind.

"Have you had many pretenders before me?"

A cringe worthy nod from your end made his nose flare in an airy chuckle.

"Really?"

"Yes. Though I barely remember about them now."

You shrugged and Miguel could only stare at you.

"Did they ever sent you letters?"

"They did, until I decided to ignore them."

"Why?"

His eyes changed to a more curious and keen gaze.

"They were simple."

"Simple?"

"Yes. You know, when beauty is everything they see. I like deeper minds."

Miguel's chest heaved with excitement upon your words.

"For being a pair of royals that were brought together under political circumstances, we do have alot in common."

"Indeed. May I know more about yourself, my lord?"

"More about me?"

"Yes. What do you like doing in your scarce free time, favorite things and the like."

"And what do I get in return for sharing such information?"

"More of myself to you. And possibly me enjoying such activities with you."

"That's fair."

A small smile appeared in his lips.

You both shared, your own part of the story. Your birthdays, favorite foods, drinks, activities, flowers, upbringing and raising ways.

He was a simple man when it came to things, nothing too extravagant as you had thought. He didn't enjoy hunting. He disliked formal and big events, even had thought of escaping to his room after he had been crowned.

He had found a way to brew his own sort of wine, reducing the importing costs, he was an inventor, and spoke multiple languages. Miguel enjoyed tinkering with machines that were out there making the life of his citizens easier.

His upbringing was everything but easy, since the expectations were put in him in such an early age. Another reason of his premature scowl.

He told you about his first battle and how scared and angry he was. You shared about the loss and mourning of your brother. How it impacted on your parents, your dad specially. And how your mother took charge for the both to prevent the kingdom to sink even deeper in the rickety luck that seemed to tuck in Theleria.

He had his temper and has kept a silent rivalry against Kingpin. However his surprise was much when finding out you were about to marry Kraven in a desperate attempt to keep a bit more of territory. One of your father's suggestions.

"I'm grateful it ended up being you."

Your mother had played her cards well. You had even explained some customs of your country. The mistresses topic was unavoidably brought up, but sensing you tense after explaining the why, he was the one that seemed deep in thought.

" I apologize if my traditions have hurt you in any way."

"It's complicated, cause I really want to understand everything related to your kingdom, I know no nation that is perfect. But I accept your apology."

"Still, I'm sorry for making you feel disrespected, Princesa."

A little smile appeared on your lips. You itched to know if he kept them around, but that bit of solace was enough, you didn't want your dark thoughts to ruin what has been achieved so far.

"Do you wish to return to the castle now?"

"I'd be a liar to say that I don't. But my priorities are others at the moment."

You.

-----

Baron Drako dragged Dana to a secluded room and sighed. Dana could only stare at him, expectant.

"What's going on?"

Darko paced frantically before her, "The king..."

"What about him?"

"He's out. With the princess." He seethed, "They left since this morning!"

Dana's expression soured. Her anger boiled, but fury would do little to solve the evolving problem. You. She needed to think straight.

"Is that so?"

"How can you be so calm?! The crown is being taking right under your nose-"

"Father"

She interrupted while raising a hand. The single motion alone was a clear understanding between the both.

"Tell me you have a plan. You can't... You can't let that Thelerian to be crowned as queen. You are the one and only worthy to be on Miguel's side"

"I know. But don't you fret. Miguel always returns to me. He knows what I am capable of."

Her fingers took her chin, and her eyes narrowed. She'd definitely had been slacking, not cause she wanted. Her own family matters had kept her at bay from the main stage.

But she had seen you both. The glances Miguel gave you, the way he itched to hold your hand, to lay a finger on you. Just as he had longed for her all those youngling years ago.

"Let me handle this."

"What are you gonna do?"

Dana's lips twitched in a wretched and cold smile.

"I think it's time to introduce myself to the princess."

-----

Miguel's hand took yours as you ventured in the shallow parts of the pond to soak your feet.

Despite the day being nice, the humid weather of Arachne always made you itch for a cold bath during the day. Sometimes you dreaded the materials for the wedding dress, but it mattered little when clothes were bound to be discarded through the night.

You swallowed and casted a discreet look his way. His feet submerged in the cool and crystalline waters, pants rolled up to his ankles, and his shirt to his elbows, leaving strong and sturdy forearms bare to your sight.

Would he like to consummate the marriage? Probably. Would he notice your total lack of expertise in bed? Definitely.

The more you thought about it, the more red your cheeks grew. But it was impossible to not think in such things when the behemoth of a man next to you was looking to the horizon, deep in thought about something you didn't have access yet.

His skin glistened under the sun, but his lips were the main attraction to your now not so discreet ogling. He smirked upon catching you red handed, a hand of his raked through his curls on purpose, making his muscles flex and be outlined underneath his shirt.

His whole frame offered you solace from the blazing sun, but also granted him enough to see your flustering.

His eyes softened and his shoulders slumped, relaxing within your presence.

Eyes studied you for a moment before they stopped at your lips.

By instinct, he took your hands. Your fingers grazed his palm softly in a shy caress.

"It's been a while since I've taken a break."

You smiled and his eyes mellowed.

"I'm glad I was able to distract you from your duties, even for a bit. We all deserve to rest."

"Now you sound like Peter."

With a giggle you pulled him deeper to the pond, letting the hem of your skirt to soak lightly.

"Well, he is right. The more you take care of yourself, the longer you'll live."

Hand in hand your feet wiggled underneath the water. He stood next to you, gazing at your hand in his.

His heartbeat steady, despite pounding in his ears by that touch alone.

"If I'm honest, I didn't want a marriage initially."

"I know. Neither did I."

His grip tightened slightly and you looked up at him.

"It's funny how life weaves it's threads, isn't it?"

"What do you mean, Princesa?"

"Well, neither of us wanted to, yet, neither opposed greatly." A faint shrug of your shoulders, "I might have given a little tantrum. But we just agreed because of our duties."

His eyes casted down briefly before speaking again

"If... circumstances were different, would you still agree to a marriage?"

That was a question you weren't expecting.

"With you?"

He nodded

"Certainly."

He was definitely holding onto you tighter.

"Why?"

"Quite curious you are, my lord."

He chuckled and you grazed your thumb on his warm flesh.

"But, it's because of your kindness and consideration"

"Sorry to disappoint but I'm everything but that."

"Towards others perhaps. But to me... You're not the bloodthirsty man everyone makes out of you. You're more than that."

A faint pained look came across his features.

"Bad habits are hard to kill."

"My lord. Tell me something."

"Hm?"

"From all the times you've waged a war, was your land under threat?"

"Yes."

"Was your kingdom sovereignty at stake?"

"It was."

"Do you love war?"

"I don't."

"Sometimes hard choices must be taken. We might not always like it, but someone must do it." You inched closer to him and entwined your fingers gingerly in his.

"And those who chose to do the right thing, even in pain, are the bravest souls of all."

His hand enveloped yours in a tender hold. Words like a reassuring balm to his aching soul. Fingers secured tightly yet gently on yours.

"And, I'll be honored to be brave with you. If you'll allow me, that is."

The urge to clutch at his chest only grew the more you spoke. You could kill him out of joy and you wouldn't even know.

"My words might be clumsy, I'm rather a man of action. But believe me when I tell you, Princesa."

His eyes looked into yours.

"Regret regarding this, had left me a long time ago."

----

You way back to the castle was quiet, yet comforting. It was safe to say that you had came closer, not only as royals, but as two individuals bound to share their lives. Obligation was no longer a word that hovered over both, willingness had slowly seized that spot.

You wanted the same, and he could have you. There was no hidden truths behind, no second guessing or intentions. Nothing that made him suspect. Just raw and utter admiration from you. And something else.

You understood with little. He was bad with words or anything that involved feelings, but the urge to prove his blooming affection and admiration for you was greater than anything, sometimes even from his own duties.

But that kiss on the back of your palm was more than enough for you to know your advances weren't in vain.

A chaste, yet loving kiss that made you understand that the acquaintance and friendship threshold had been blurred and crossed.

You weren't afraid of the intensity of how your emotions displayed, and hoped that he wasn't spooked away by them. But it was unerring that your temporary escape had brought to light so many things hidden by fears and insecurities on both ends.

You settled for another outing within the following days.

Upon returning to your chambers, and another kiss on your palms as a temporary goodbye, you prepared for your evening activities. Meaning, you'd be back to the lab and instruct your new subordinates, ready to prove and honor your words.

Peter however followed Miguel to his war room to deliver a report. The sight before him made him chuckle. Slumped against his chair, a lazy smile on his peaceful face.

"If escaping your duties with the princess leaves you like this" He gestured to a slumped and lazy smiling Miguel, "Then I'd have to ask her to keep you for herself as long as she wishes."

He could have you.

The realization upon you saying such things filled in his body with many things he couldn't understand completely, but was no longer wary and mistrusting to explore.

"The wedding is a month away. Many things have changed."

"Sounds like you're eager to get married."

"Not for the reasons you think." One of his bushy brows quirked, mildly annoyed.

Peter rose his hands in defense, "I haven't said nothing"

"Good. Prepare Dana's family for a trip."

"What?"

"I'll send Baron Darko a-"

"No, I heard you. Really, Miguel?!" An exhausted and cloy sigh came across his lips, "I'm getting tired of you playing this childish games. That wretched woman is dangerous."

"I know."

"Then why you keep her?!"

"Cause I'll kill her myself. But not within my castle."

"I don't believe you."

"Not my problem. Don't want her blood stain this fortress."

"... Miguel-"

"In two days. Tell Commander Reilly to prepare the east manor."

His personal slaughter house. Peter's eyes remained on him, there was no lies behind his dark ruby eyes.

"Understood."

-----

You had taken dinner in your room, too excited to keep your thoughts to yourself. A flurry of entries where added to your diary.

A scholar having a crush was nothing compared to how you felt.

Everything seemed to be finally be on its way, but something didn't belong in there. You had been too eager to start your teachings that completely ignored the letter left on your desk, placed by an intruder.

The bright red wax seal captured your attention. A letter written in an impeccable scribbling, not as refined as yours. The seal was broken, initial joy vanishing upon reading its contents.

A letter that undoubtedly, had all the intentions of harming with a simple message:

"Your majesty. I believe it's time for us to meet. Join me at the rose garden after midday tomorrow.

-D."

Another council member you didn't know about? No. You've already met Baron Darko. Who could it be and why such pithy words filled you with anxiety and dread?

You put the letter in the desk where you found it, and headed to your bed. The memories shared with Miguel today were far too bening to let the intrusive thoughts to win over.

Sleep came easier when the last thing in your mind was Him and the events of today.

-----

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feyhunter78 · 2 months

Note

I just found your page and I totally didn’t read all of your Miguel O’Hara fics. One I love how you write kissing you caught that spark off a kiss with someone you love in a way most books don’t get right.

I can’t sit here and sing your praise all day but I do have a question. Fully up to you and if it’s just a Drabble that ok but will you ever being writing something else for Side walk kisses? It’s so cute and I can see more moments with Miguel and Y/N just being silly cute mindless college students so helplessly in love. Fluff smut angst whatever you decide to Drabble in I will be fully ok with

(This is the first time I’ve done an ask so sorry I I seem a little over excited)

AHHH I love when I'm people's first asks, it always makes me feel so special!!! I thought I'd try my hand at a bit of angst for you anon!

Insecurities

You know you shouldn’t be jealous. Shouldn’t feel bad about yourself, shouldn’t be debating making up some excuse and dashing off to the humanities building to rid yourself of this pit in your stomach like a snake sheds its skin.

But that would require leaving Miguel alone with Xina, and you think you’d rather die than do that. So, you’re stuck in the courtyard right outside the library, holding onto Miguel’s bicep possessively as you struggle to keep up with the flow of conversation.

Now you wouldn’t say you’re an insecure person, sure you have your insecurities like everyone else, but they don’t plague your mind, or weigh heavily on you as you go about your day-to-day business. Right now, though? As you take in Xina, her long thick dark hair, her stunning almond eyes that sparkle with intelligence, the flawlessness of her skin, the way she so easily keeps up with Miguel as they discuss the intersection between genetics and robotics, you’re feeling pretty insecure.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, when making your calculations you have to factor in the deficiencies in the code, just as you have to factor in potential genetic flaws.” Xina says, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips, excitement clear on her face.

“Of course, with genetics it’s harder to eradicate flaws than in code, but I could see it following a similar pattern.” Miguel responds, nodding at her words.

You’re so lost. If they wanted to discuss the intricacies of the English language or the way philosophers can so heavily affect the development of a nation’s culture you would be there, front row and ready, but science? Science is not your forte.

Xina laughs and smacks Miguel’s arm, pulling you out of your thoughts, Miguel is laughing too so you do the same which draws her attention to you.

“Oh, y/n, I’m so sorry, we’ve been so rude, what do you think?” She asks, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely curious, or just hates you.

You stumble for a moment, then say, “I agree with Miguel.”

She laughs again. “You think Charles Darwin would be a good computer programmer?”

Miguel joins in, and for the first time ever his laughter sounds sour to your ears.

“Oh, um, no, I just—”

Xina smiles sympathetically at you, but it feels a bit patronizing. “It’s okay, not everyone can keep up with us.”

Okay, maybe running and hiding was a good idea.

“Y/N is actually top of her sorority for GPA, she’s read more books than anyone else I know, and she helps me write all my lab reports.” Miguel jumps in.

“That’s so cute.” Xina coos, looking at you as if you were a kindergartener presenting her with a crayon scribbled drawing.

You give her a tight smile, then squeeze Miguel’s bicep. “Hey, I’m gonna head to class, but I’ll see you later?”

He nods, and lets you go, reabsorbed in his conversation with Xina.

You toy with the bracelet Miguel got you as you sit at your desk, waiting for class to start. It’s a pretty thing, a birthday present, simple and elegant, highlighting your birthstone, the words, mi dulce, engraved on the inside in a small, flowy script. It jingles pleasantly as you mess with it, and glints under the florescent lights.

“The professor isn’t here yet, right?” Kelsey slides into her desk next to you and starts unpacking her bag.

“No, he’s running a little late.” You say, absentmindedly shading one corner of the blank page in your notebook with your pencil.

“Okay, good because I have something kinda fucked up to show you.” She says, pulling out her phone and scrolling until she finds what she’s looking for.

You lean towards her, the thought of gossip perking you up a bit.

“So, you know that Ava girl, the bitch who used to date your man?”

“I wish I didn’t, but yes.” You grumble, feeling that familiar gloom settle back over you.

“Okay well she’s been trying to get with this Kappa Sig, and you know how the brothers are like obsessed with me because my brother is their president and an absolute legend as they always remind me.”

“Yeah, it’s the reason we got into their parties freshman year.”

Kelsey’s brother was a decent guy, all things considered. Older than you two by a year or so, with the charisma of a cult leader but lacking the desire to start a cult. Throughly satisfied with his fraternity and the Fortune 500 company he’ll go on to work at once he graduates. He was nice enough, extending his protection to you and anyone else close to his sister while in the Kappa Sig house.

“So, one of them texted me about her trying to sleep her way through the frat, but then, my brother sent me this video. I gotta warn you, it’s not school appropriate.” She says as she slowly turns the screen towards you.

At first, you recoil. It’s Ava, half naked, and some guy, on a bed that looks vaguely familiar. The guy’s face is out of the frame, but he’s shirtless, his pants pushed down exposing his dick to the camera, Ava’s hand wrapped around it pumping furiously. “Um, what the fuck is this?”

“Just wait.” Kelsey says quietly, glancing around the room to make sure no one else is watching. They’re not, they’re too busy with their own phones or side conversations.

You half watch the video, feeling weird about watching, your idea of a good time isn’t watching your boyfriend’s psycho ex jack some guy off.

The guy finishes, his hips bucking and Ava saying something you can’t hear since Kelsey’s sound is off.

The camera shakes as Ava picks it up and shows off the face of the man. Dark hair, glazed brown eyes with hints of crimson, perfectly formed lips parted. You know that face, but you don’t want to accept it.

“Is that Miguel?” You’re horrified, sick to your stomach, head spinning, every unpleasant feeling and sensation you could feel erupting all at once.

You can see Ava go to grab his face, guide him lower, moving to take off her underwear, and you turn your head, unable to watch any longer.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know when it was filmed, but Darren said he had one of the brothers send it to him yesterday then made all of them delete the video from their phones. He knows Miguel’s your boyfriend, said he was just looking out for you.” Kelsey puts away her phone and looks at you, eyes searching your face, before giving you a one-armed hug. “I’m so sorry y/n, I can ask him to see if he can find out when it was filmed?”

You want to cry, you really, really want to cry. “It looks recent, that’s Miguel’s bed, I’ve been there, I’ve slept on that bed, I—I can’t think about this right now. Thank you for telling me, and tell your brother I said thanks too.”

Kelsey nods and squeezes you tighter before letting go and giving you a sad smile.

The professor finally shows up, and you throw yourself into your notetaking, graphite digging into the pristine white paper as you try to drown out the images in your head with the sound of your professor droning on.

Part 2 here!!!

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho

#meg's writing #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #nerd!miguel o'hara #college!miguel #college!reader #college au #sorority!reader

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kissitbttr · 10 months

Note

you think miguel would have a positive reaction when he finds out you like him?

i’d like to think he’d be sooo awkward about it lmao. also not knowing how to react (+doesn’t even believe it)

he’s never had any real relationships before (unless with one many years ago) , maybe few flings here and there but it was never that serious. talking to people has never been his forte, that man is too fucking stoic that others would basically mistaken him as a rock. he holds too much of serious conversations and never know how to let things go, so to some, that could be an ultimate deal breaker.

there had been times where he got hit on multiple times, and he always brushed them off by saying ‘beat it’

he’s never willing to try again. not like he needed to anyway. his mind is already occupied with work.

but then came along you.

you with your pretty eyes,pretty hair, cute bubbly personality and flirty persona that got everyone hooked. he’s seen how you interact with others and he hates it. because you’re so distracting that it would make the others lose focus and he doesn’t appreciate that. he hates it.

or maybe the reason he hates it so much it’s the fact that you always flirt with Ben and call him ‘puddin.’ always running up to him and give him a hug—sometimes he’d see you wrap your legs around him too.

why would you do that? don’t you know that he fucking. hates it?

why would you ever create a nickname only for Ben? what about the others? why not him? why not Miguel?

do you like Ben?

Miguel doesn’t even know why it bothers him, but it does keep him up at night. he doesn’t like you, does he? you two barely talked and even when you do talk it’s mainly work matters. he refuses to like you.

“you’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

Lyla’s playful voice snaps him out of his train of thoughts as he quickly remains his posture,

Miguel clears his throat. “don’t know what you’re talking about.” his brows furrowing as his eyes remain focus on his computer screen,

“oh come on, you’re not fooling anybody. i can see the way you look at her when she’s talking or laughing. you’ve got heart eyes, my man.” Lyla teases, smirking lightly. “and i also remember correctly how you almost smash a laptop towards Ben when you saw him with her at the cafeteria and you gave him a ‘pep talk’?”

“because it wasn’t professional. this is not a place where two coworkers can flirt with each other as they please.” he responds lamely, knowing that is not a good enough excuse for Lyla to believe. she’s smarter than that.

“one. i didn’t say anything about them flirting. two. Ben came out of your office shaking and refused to talk to anyone for days! you’re crazy you know that?”

Miguel rolls his eyes, waving his hand over. “get back to work Lyla.”

“you like her.”

“no i don’t” he lies, gulping slightly. see that’s the thing about him. when he lies, he gets nervous. and Lyla can see that crystal clear.

“oh my god you totally do! i knew my instincts never wrong. Jess thought the same too”

“what the—“

“you know, usually? when a guy likes someone he’d ask the girl out. Not being a creep about it and threaten almost everyone at work to stay away from her.”

“i do not. like her” he emphasizes quite heavily, pinching between his forehead with his finger and thumb. “this is not important Lyla, we’ve got better things to do.”

as she about to say what a bad liar he is, she sees a silhouette of a woman walking into the office. you’re entering the room with a smile on your face and give Lyla a small wave as she returns one,

“speak of the angel herself. gotta go!” Lyla cheery voice causing him to whip his head. “Good luck!”

“wait what?! Lyla! Don’t—“ his voice gets cut off once the hologram disappears, groaning afterwards.

he hears your footsteps getting closer but he tries to keep his composure and not acknowledge you. perhaps he’s being an asshole but hey, what else is new?

“ouch. never met someone who’s very unhappy to see me. you’re definitely the first.” you pout pretending to be hurt, taking few steps closer to where he’s at,

he ignores your comment as he keeps his eyes fixated on the screen. “I’m working. what do you need?”

“just stopping by. it’s getting pretty boring out there you know? Miles is nowhere to be seen, Peter is busy with Mayday, Gwen is catching up with Jess and Hobie— i don’t even want to begin. Thought I’d come and see you.”

his heart definitely isn’t beating hard. definitely not.

“aren’t you usually with Ben? i see the two of you always talking in the hallways. why not go to him?”

you groan, throwing your head back as you start walking around. “ugh! all he talks about is muscles and protein sources! not to mention he never skips flexing. he’s got penis for brain, i don’t why you hired that guy. such a Ken doll.”

Miguel is glad that you aren’t facing him. because you manage to bring a small smile to his face with that comment. you’d never gonna let that one go if you see him smiling.

“well he’s good. he’s a great partner. better than Peter, I’d say. no reason to kick him off.”

“oh I’ll kick him alright” you roll your eyes as if it’s the obvious thing and you miss how miguel tries to hold back his laughter. he likes how feisty you get sometimes,

“have you—eaten already?” miguel awkwardly tries to start a conversation once he realizes the two of you sit there in silence for fifteen minutes. he must’ve think that you’re waiting for him to say something,

your lips curve into a small smirk as you watch how adorable he gets when he’s nervous. scratching the back of his head and trying his best to avoid an eye contact. it’s easy to tell how you make him shrink like a little kid crushing on his classmate.

yeah, Jess and Lyla told you everything. so this would be fun

“nope” you shake your head, rolling the chair closer in front of him as you slightly move forward. you admire the way his eyes stare intently into something, how his lower lip poke out in concentration and the way his thick brows knitted together making it impossible for you to stay sane.

does he know he’s handsome as fuck? and sexy too? his rough image and demeanor maybe look a bit intimidating to some but to you?

biggest turn on.

“why, you wanna take me out to lunch or something?”

he chokes at that, eyes finally looking up to you as he sees the playful smile on your face and the way your head tilt to the side. as if you’re teasing him,

“no. it was just a simple question.” he replies boringly. “why haven’t you eaten yet? it’s almost three. quieres enfermarte?”

“well” you start, moving slowly towards his side with him watching you like a hawk, eyeing every move. “i’m actually waiting for you to buy me lunch. there’s a new Asian cuisine in the cafeteria called beef rendang… i think? and boy it smells so good! why don’t we go together? plus you need a fucking break, man. you’ve been at this shit for hours.”

miguel is both surprised and confused. why the sudden invitation? why are you even talking to him? he lightly scoffs at how bold you are but he will never admit how much he likes it,

“why are you suddenly taken an interest in talking to me?”

“what are you talking about?” you ask playing dumb, looping a finger around the belt hole of your flared jeans. “I’ve always been interested.”

his heart skips at that. and he has no idea if you meant it or actually joking.

he says nothing only a hum. you assume that he’s disappointed with your answer because it isn’t specific. so you decide to continue,

leaning your body forward, you’re close enough to invade his personal space as you pretend to whisper a dark secret. “because i like you. like—like you like you. isn’t it obvious?”the answer is simple. pretty straightforward and you guess that he doesn’t get that often because of how he reacts.

he halts. beautiful eyes widen in surprise as he slowly turns to you who wears the opposite expression. a wide smile painted on your glossed lips, legs swinging back and forth—he admits that you look cute doing that—blinking your eyes rapidly in flirty manner.

you’re the only person who can make him weak on his knees. everyone can see that.

“what?”

“what you just said.” he points, now his work left abandoned. deciding to focus on you. “did you mean it?”

“every word.”

“are you sure?”

“why is it so hard for you to believe me?” you ask out of curiosity. brows furrowed as your arms crossed,

“nothing it’s just—“he scratches his head, looking down because he’s afraid if he looks into your eyes he’d form into a puddle. “you were never—you never said anything, carińo. i didn’t even think you like me.”

you nod, crossing your legs. “I’m just gonna ignore how you call me that unless you want me to get down on my knees and give you the best fucking head you will ever have.”

for what it’s like a hundredth time, he blushes at your choice of words. God, you have no filter at all.

“how could i say something when all you do is talk serious shit all the time? can’t even joke with you Miguel. people are basically scared of you. hell! even I’m terrified of you.” you confess,

“is that why you never—call me names?”

“what, a dick? or an ass?”

“no!” he exclaims, sounding offended. wondering if that what you must have thought of him back then. “i mean—you never give me a nickname—only with Ben” he mutters, feeling embarrassed of having to admit that out loud,

you scrunch your nose. “puddin? why is that even—ohhh” a sudden realization hit you and that’s where you laugh, throwing your head back and Miguel looks irritated at the fact you’re laughing,

“something funny?”

you nod your head vigorously, still laughing a bit as you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye. “Jess and Lyla are sooo right. you’re jealous.”

“i’m not!”

“hmm yes you are.” you giggle, seeing how his lips form into a pout and the skin between his eyebrows wrinkled. “that’s cute though. i promise not to tell anyone.”

he huffs, but internally relieved that you’re keeping your mouth shut. he will never hear the end of it by anyone if that one gets out.

“so..” he trails, releasing a small sigh. “you.. like me..?”

once again you nod, “i do.”

“g-good cause uh—i kinda like you too.”

“kinda?” you pretend to get hurt, hand over your heart. “is that all?! I’m quite offended! i poured my heart out to you!”

“ay, bueno listo! a lot! i like you—a lot.” he finally confesses, leg bouncing up and down due to nerves. “i just don’t how to say it or at least—act like it.”

“i can see that. you’re horrible at showing emotions except for anger, Miguel.” you reply, standing from your seat as you extend your hand to him. "but don't worry. i'll show you how to love. now come on."

he quirks an eyebrow, giving you an questioning look. "what are you doing?"

"uhm, getting some food? i'm starved. and you're coming with me. you have to eat something" a smile reaches your lips as he begins to mirror your expression while placing his hand on yours before standing up as well. you like how he towers over you. he’s a freakishly large man

“okay. i’d like that actually, querida.”

you give him a toothy grin. both of your hands are intertwined as the two of you walk towards the exist. you sense Miguel feeling awkward about the hand holding thing so you decide to ease his nerves by rubbing your thumb slightly against his skin.

“oh and also. you shall worry not a single thing about the whole nickname thing. you can choose what you like to be called by me and it’s all yours.”

a/n: this turned into a long ass fic im sorry lol

also does this one make sense? i feel like it’s rushed:// nevertheless hope you enjoy!

[i would let this man tear my pu—*phone drops*]

#miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs

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stigmalarity · 9 months

Text

Crimson

miguel o'hara x f!reader, fluff, smut, blood drinking, vampiric qualities, fingering ☆ crossposted to ao3

———————————————————————————

Hey, everything okay?

Call me back when you can.

I’m getting really worried — I know you weren’t feeling well last night, can you just let me know if you’re alive?

I’m coming over.

You let out a sigh, scrolling through your messages to Miguel over the past twelve hours. He’s not a big texter, but it’s odd for him to go this long without responding to you. When you’d seen him last night you could tell something was up, but he’d just waved you off after you’d asked if he was feeling alright.

He hadn’t only looked exhausted, he seemed seriously on edge, his responses stiff and almost strained. The two of you hadn’t planned much for the day, seeing as he was currently on “vacation” with Jess and Peter B. holding down the fort at HQ. Something about mandatory quarterly time off to protect the spiders’ mental health. You’d thought it was a nice policy.

It wasn’t long after you’d arrived at his apartment above the HQ that you noticed how dazed Miguel was, movements sluggish as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table, responding to you only after you’d had to repeat yourself.

After the third instance of this, you got a bit concerned. “You tired, baby? I wouldn’t mind a nap before we start the movie.”

He pauses, sighing. “I think I’m getting sick,” he said, running a palm over his face.

“Oh no, really? You sure?” you asked with concern, shifting toward him on the couch with one hand raised to press against his forehead. Miguel hardly ever got sick. In fact, you thought it wasn’t even possible.

Miguel pulled away from you, just out of your reach. “Don’t get too close. I don’t want you to catch whatever it is,” he said. “Honestly, you should just go home. We can watch the movie another day.”

You frowned, then. “I don’t care about the movie, baby. Have you eaten at all today?” you asked.

Miguel’s guilty pause was answer enough.

“I can stay over,” you declared. “I’ll sleep on the couch, so you won’t get me sick. I don’t want you to have to do everything by yourself while you’re like this.

An odd look had crossed his face, then. Anxious, almost pained. “I’m not a child.”

Though he hadn’t snapped at you, the words had come out shockingly cold. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to mother me.”

That took you by surprise, your eyes going wide. It was unlike Miguel to take that tone with you. “I-I’m not trying to-“ you stuttered, hurt bleeding into your tone. “I’m just worried,” you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

His eyes softened as he took in the furrow of your brow. Another sigh. He sounded so tired.

“I’m sorry, I know,” he said, reaching his hand out to lace his fingers through yours. “I’m alright, querida. I really don’t want to get you sick. Just go home, okay? I’ll text you.”

You gave him a long look, then. He was paler than usual, dark rings under his eyes looking more pronounced as evidence to his exhaustion. You hated the thought of leaving him alone like that, but you didn’t want to push him.

“Okay, just-,” you sighed. “Just stay hydrated, and keep me updated on how you’re feeling. Call me if you need anything.”

He nodded, trailing after you to walk you to the door. “Text me when you get home. I love you,” he said, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the top of your head.

Now, you were standing in front of Miguel’s door, a plastic bag full of supplies in your hand. Since you weren’t sure what he was sick with, you’d brought a few different medicines, a large water bottle, empanadas and some pozole. You decide that if he gets upset, you’ll just drop everything off and go back home. Though you might just force him to accept your care, depending on how ill he is.

You take another breath before pushing the door open.

“Miguel?” you call, looking around the entranceway. All the lights are off, save for the glow of the TV in the bedroom. You kick your shoes off, walking towards the light. A quick glance into the kitchen tells you that he has either been well enough to do his dishes (and not text you back), or that he just hasn’t eaten at all. Both possibilities worry you for different reasons.

When you reach the doorway to the bedroom, you finally spot your boyfriend swaddled underneath the comforter, seemingly out cold. The TV’s volume is low enough to have lulled him to sleep, and you can’t help the fondness you feel for him when you see the Ghibli movie he’s put on.

You pad towards the bed, carefully placing the bag on the nightstand and taking a seat beside him on the edge of the mattress. “Miguel?” you call gently, smoothing away the stray hairs matted against his sweaty hairline. The heat emanating from his skin makes your eyes go wide. “Shit, you’re burning up, baby.”

You lean forward, digging through the plastic bag for the cooling towelettes you’d picked up at the drugstore. Miguel shifts behind you as you search, the mattress sinking under his weight. By the time you turn your head he’s already sitting up, arms snaking around your waist to hug you from behind.

“Why’re you here?” he murmurs weakly. “Told you I could take care of myself.” There’s no malice in his tone. Just him, nosing into the side of your neck.

“You call this taking care of yourself?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Lay back down, Miguel.” You’ve got the cooling towelettes in your hand now, ready to slap one on his forehead and then maybe slap him for making you worry so much.

“You smell so good,” he sighs dreamily, tugging you backwards so that you’re practically in his lap. His grip is surprisingly strong for how ill he seems to be. “Shouldn’t have come. You should go home.”

“Stop hugging me before you tell me to go home,” you respond. But he just pulls you with him as he leans back against the headboard, pressing little kisses along your neck and awakening butterflies in your stomach. It’s so warm and comfortable having him pressed against your back that you nearly forget why you came in the first place.

“Hey! Come on, Miguel. Stop being weird. I thought you didn’t want to get me sick?” you frown, smacking lightly at his arms. “I brought medicine and stuff. We have to get your fever down.”

“It’s not going to help. M’not sick like that,” he slurs, exhaustion tinging his voice.

“What do you mean, you’re not sick like that? You have a fever, baby,” you say, twisting at the waist to press the towelette to his forehead. “You gotta drink some water next.”

“Don’t need water.”

“Stop being difficult,” you sigh.

“I’m not trying to be,” he says, breath hot at your neck. “You smell so good.”

“You said that already,” you say, cheeks heating.

He may be sick, but it’s never taken much for Miguel to get you flustered. You’re feeling the effect he has on you especially hard now, with his towering form swelteringly hot and wrapped around you like this.

You sigh as his hands slide underneath the hem of your shirt, rough hands skirting along the skin of your waist.

“Can you just let me take care of you, please? At least take some of the medicine I bought you -”

“M’not sick like that,” he sighs, switching to open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat that have your breath shallowing.

“You’re repeating yourself again,” you murmur, though you’re not really focused on what you’re saying as he hums against your neck.

“Miguel,” you start again, sliding a hand along the back of his neck and threading your fingers through the hair at his nape. “You keep saying weird stuff. What are you talking about?”

Miguel shudders behind you as your nails graze his skin, and his forehead drops to your shoulder. “You love me, right?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm, need you to say it.”

“I love you, Miguel.”

“You wanna take care of me?” He asks, lips pressing against your shoulder blade.

“Any way I can,” you whisper. You have the inkling feeling that he expects you to respond badly to whatever he’s about to tell you, but whatever it is, you know you’ll be with him for the long run.

“M’not sick with the flu,” he slurs, turning his head against your shoulder to meet your gaze. He’s still so handsome, even like this.

“Can’t get you sick. I’m- m’thirsty,” he breathes, warm breath huffing over your skin.

“For blood.”

“Blood?” you ask, brows furrowing. “Like, like you want to kill someone or-”

“It’s a spider thing. My specific genetic makeup gives me more… vampiric qualities,” he interrupts, though a light smile stretches across his pallid face at your assumption.

“M’sorry I- I should have told you from the start,” he adds. It looks exhausting for him to even get the words out, but to add even one more shred of context while he’s in this state, he’ll do it. “I usually have a stock of blood bags on-hand, but there was a situation in the med bay. They needed it more than me. It’s why I’ve been off for a few days. With no blood, my powers are on low output.”

You pause, absorbing the information. He has no reason to lie to you.

“O-okay,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat. “Do you know when they’ll have-”

You freeze when another violent shudder rips through him, and both of you are reminded of the reason why he’s told you all this in the first place.

“Miguel, you can drink from me, right?” You ask gently, cupping his face in your palms. He’s getting even warmer, you think, watching a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “C-can you just bite me? Does it work like that?”

He can only hum an affirmative, brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut at the awful lurching in his belly.

“Okay- okay baby, go ahead,” you say, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside as you turn back around and bring a hand up to the back of his neck, guiding him into yours.

His mouth hovers over your neck, warm breath whispering over your skin. “You trust me?” he mumbles weakly.

“Yes,” you respond hastily, tilting your neck for him as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your skin. “Yes, of course.”

That’s all he needs to hear. His mouth opens wide, and he bites.

You jerk as pain blooms along your pulse point, but Miguel’s arms hold you in place, four little incisions from his fangs drawing blood to the surface. Then he sucks, audibly swallowing down a mouthful of your blood, your fingers tightening in his hair at the sensation. It had hurt when he’d bitten you, but now… you’re not so sure.

“It- it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” you whisper, loosening your grip on his hair and combing through it in apology. “This’ll make you feel better right? T-take as much as you need.”

Miguel moans against your throat at your go-ahead. For a few moments you’re stiff, avoiding any movement that could jostle his fangs in your neck. He uses his hands to soothe you, resuming their movement against your skin, palms running up and down your sides in a gentle caress.

In moments you’re feeling warm all over, loose and comfortable in Miguel’s arms. The feeling of his feverish hands on you is so nice, every sensation heightened though you’ve gotten so lax — like there’s nothing you can do but take what he gives you and feel.

You’re surprised at how quickly the pain completely subsides, your senses focusing in on the feeling of his hands on your skin and the pleasurable heat spreading outwards from the bite. That sensation you’d picked up when he’d first bitten you – it’s clearer now, making your mind hazy. His venom.

—

Miguel lets his eyes flutter closed as he finally tastes your blood. He’s always loved the scent of you, but your taste is so much more concentrated, sends his mind to mush.

It had never been this difficult for him to curb his thirst for you in the past. For all the years he’s known you, he’d never needed to push you away like last night to keep from biting you. The throbbing in his gums had been so painful then, the scent of your skin so near. Even now, the conscious part of him feels guilty for biting you without a more extensive explanation. This isn’t how he’d wanted you to find out, but the euphoria of finally quenching his thirst far outweighs his hesitance to continue.

You’re feeling the effects of his venom now, he’s sure of it. He can feel it under his lips, your pulse slowing beneath your skin as you relax into him. He’s drinking slow, hyper aware of how much he’s taking. He wants to make this last so that he can show you that it isn’t something to be afraid of.

His eyelids lift, dark eyes looking down at his hands splayed across your skin. The sight that greets him is tempting; your skirt is rucked up around your thighs, the fabric just barely covering what lies underneath. The straps of your bra had fallen down your shoulders in your haste to pull him towards your neck, and he takes a deep breath through his nose as his gaze roves over the swell of your chest underneath the lacy edge.

He can’t see your face at this angle, but he knows your body. He knows how needy you’re getting, soft pants echoing in the quiet room as you rub your thighs together under his gaze. His venom has you the same as him, after all — achy and wanting.

A different kind of thirst plagues him now, one that has his cock throbbing where it’s pressed up against your ass. And with the taste of your blood coating his tongue – making his head spin, he thinks he might go mad from how badly he wants you.

His hands leave your waist, skirting up over your belly to reach your chest. Gently, he tugs the cups of your bra down, bringing both his hands to your tits and squeezing. The moan you let out when he tweaks your nipples is so wanton that he can’t help but echo you.

“Sensitive,” you breathe. “Feels good.”

I know, he thinks. And he’s hoping to make it feel even better.

He drops a hand down to your thighs, sliding his palm lazily along your skin as he eases them open. You’re so pliant, spreading your legs wide so that he can feel the softness of your inner thigh beneath your skirt. You really are so sensitive, breathing out a soft sound as his fingers skate upwards until he grazes the hem of your panties, teasing.

“More, Miguel,” you whine. “Please, want more.”

And who is he to deny you?

He takes one last gulp before pulling away from your neck, licking blood from his lips. He’s taken enough for now. What he really wants is to see how your body reacts to his venom – how much harder he can make you cum while you’re under its effects.

“You’re so wet, amor,” he marvels, finally sliding his fingers over your covered slit and feeling the wetness soaking through your underwear.

You whine as he brings his digits to your clit, rubbing little circles to the bud over the fabric while his free hand wraps gently around your throat. “How are you feeling?” he asks carefully.

“So good, Miguel,” you murmur hazily. “Feels amazing.”

“Does it?” he asks carefully, licking away at the blood oozing from the bite.

You nod against his chest, and a little mewl escapes you when he presses his fingers in just a bit harder. “M’so sensitive.”

“It’s my venom,” he says. “It’s supposed to make you let your guard down — stop you from struggling.��

“Not that you are,” he adds, huffing a soft laugh against your skin.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he continues playing with your clit. You’re so cute that he can hardly resist dipping his head, sweetly brushing his nose against yours before meeting your mouth. You’re so eager, sighing into the kiss and reaching your hand up to his cheek, pulling him closer despite the coppery tang of your blood coating his tongue.

He’s no better off, on a high after finally satisfying the thirst that had him run ragged for days. Any other time he would have touched you slowly, running his hands and his lips over your skin before reaching this point, but all he can think of is you. He can feel his cock spilling pre into his sweats, but the press of your ass against him is enough to relieve some of the tension. All he wants now is to make you cum hard, and to make you cum fast.

He can tell that you’re getting close, lashes brushing against his cheek and rhythmic little pants breaching your lips as you grind backwards into his lap. You’ve still got one hand on the back of his neck, and he can feel your nails giving him crescent-shaped bite marks of his own.

The taste of your blood is still fresh on his tongue, but he already wants another bite — wants to feel the way your pulse jumps under his lips and your blood rushes into his mouth when you cum. And once he’s had his fill, he’ll fuck you all boneless and lazy into the mattress, if you want it. You won’t have to lift a finger. He has to pay you back for taking care of him, after all.

You whine as his fingers leave your clit to wrap around the waistband of your underwear. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tugging the lace down and cooing praise into your ear as you lift your hips for him.

“Good girl, ángel. Being so good for me,” he says against your lips, dropping your underwear to the ground before bringing his hand back to your pussy to spread your folds open for him. His cock throbs at the sight of your little hole fluttering around nothing. He’ll make sure to fill it up for you soon enough.

You whine as the hand on your throat moves to your jaw, tilting your neck just a bit further for him so he can lap at the bite mark there.

“You taste so sweet, querida. Will you be okay if I keep going?” he asks, fingers rolling over your bare clit while he waits for you to answer. Some part of him is still hesitant, still wants to make sure you’re alright with him like this.

“Y-yeah, please, Miguel — it felt so good before.”

He hides his smile in the curve of your throat, nosing lovingly into your skin at your response. He’s always happy making you feel good, but this time it’s different. He’s not just giving — he’s taking, too. So he needs to make it all up to you.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Think you’ll cum if I bite you again?”

“I-I might,” you breathe. He can tell — you’re so tense, veins straining beneath his lips as his middle finger dips into your entrance. “I want it.”

“Good,” he murmurs, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle as you let out another shuddering moan. “Just relax for me, mi amor. Relax for me and I’ll give you what you want — that’s it,” he coos, pumping slowly in and out. You’re so tight, walls pulsing around the digit even as you rest your weight against his chest, trying to follow his instructions.

“That’s it, good job, ángel.” he says, pulling all the way out just to push back in with two fingers, his own breath stuttering at the way your pussy sucks them in deeper at the stretch. “It won’t hurt this time if you’re relaxed, okay?”

You let out a little hum of affirmation, cheek sliding against his hair as his fangs graze over the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. He can spot your reflection in the mirror on the dresser at this angle, and the sight has him biting down, injecting you with another dose of his sweet venom.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the mirror, watching you writhe with pleasure; eyes screwed shut, pretty mouth agape, lips swollen and smeared with red, tits spilling out over the cups of your bra. His eyes drink it all in, and his stomach lurches when his gaze drops down to watch his fingers fuck you open just the way you like it.

You’d already been so close before he’d pulled away earlier. It’s not long before you’re trembling in his hold, walls getting tighter and tighter around his fingers as he pushes you closer to the edge. He wants you to cum — fucks his fingers into you a little harder, a little faster, prodding upwards just to moan against your skin when he feels a little burst of wetness hit his palm as he hits your favorite spot.

You’re slurring your words, practically drooling as you tell him how good it is, how close you are.

He gets to watch it all in the mirror — the sight of you spread open and dripping around his fingers is so obscene that it’s a wonder how he doesn’t cum in his pants. Most especially when your hips jerk, catching his tip in the slippery mess dripping down to your ass.

“Cumming, cumming-“ you cry, breath hitching as he finally brings you to your peak.

There’s blood slipping past the seal of his mouth and dripping down your shoulder as he fucks his fingers in faster, banging against your spot to fuck more squirt out of you, spraying across his wrist and up to his forearm. Your blood gets so hot when you cum, the flavor sweetening in his mouth as it spikes with endorphins and makes his mind hazy.

Miguel pulls his fangs out of your neck and his fingers out of your pussy, resting his hands on your hips. He holds you steady as he drops his head down to your shoulder blade, flattening his tongue against your skin to chase a crimson bead rolling down your back. You let out a tired moan as he presses a trail of kisses from your neck to your hair, arms wrapping back around your waist.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the space behind your ear. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hum sleepily as Miguel continues to shower you with affection, barely registering his movements as he reaches for the plastic bag you’d left on the nightstand and pulls out the bottle of water you’d originally bought for him.

He thinks he may have overdone it, making you cum so hard while so low on blood, but you deserve it. You deserve the world.

“Drink up, ángel,” he says, lifting the bottle up to your lips and coaxing you into taking a few sips. Once he’s satisfied with your intake, he sets the bottle on the counter, using the extra towelette in the bag to wipe your cum from his fingers before pulling an empanada out for you.

He’s still cradling you against his chest, legs all tangled up with his as you twist into him, nudging your cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I should be asking you that question,” he replies, dropping the wrapper into the plastic bag. “I’m fine, thanks to you. But you lost a lot of blood. You need to eat something, okay?”

He lifts the empanada to your mouth and watches you take a bite. The two of you are quiet as he feeds you, and once you’re finished, you lean forward to kiss the tips of his fingers. The action is so loving that it makes him shiver.

“You’re really okay with this? With me?” Miguel asks, skirting the back of his index finger over your cheekbone. The two of you are lying down now, your head on his chest as he runs a palm over your back. You’re still so sensitive, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Of course I am, Miguel,” you say, peering up at him through your lashes. “I love you.”

He lets out a shuddering breath as you cup his cheek, the softness in your tone making his heart throb. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“I love you, querida,” he murmurs into your skin. “Thank you.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #atsv fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #spiderverse fic #atsv fanfiction #spiderverse fanfic #winnie writes

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politemenacephd · 3 months

Text

Arachnophilia: (Part Seventeen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Mostly relationship fluff + some worldbuilding. Also Peter content.

Word count: 4890

It was early morning once more, and today light was streaming in through every hole in the nest. The sun was bright and high over the canopy in a sea of pale blue, sitting in an sky barely touched by clouds. It was quiet, calm, even verging on warm, with the morning heat creating a low mist across the grass.

You liked to believe the weather was a reflection of your mood, because today you were finally taking Mig with you to the Society. You were elated, almost giddy, but him? Not so much.

‘Ogh. Look at you. So handsome!’

You grinned up at Mig as he paced about the nest, his eyes solely focused on his chest. His usually bare torso had been covered by a single, plain white shirt, and he seemed to be struggling with the sensation.

‘Mm… It has been, far too long since I had to put one of these on. How do you wear these all the time?’ he grumbled. He kept pulling on the shirt, awkwardly shifting it in and out of place. You were trying to not get distracted by how tight it was. You’d gotten the largest size you could, but it was still sticking quite close to his chest and shoulders, the smooth white fabric perfectly highlighting the rounded pounds of his pecs.

It was rather unfair, really, how you teased him for his constant ogling. You weren’t any better. He was just so damn pretty, with the plain white sitting on his warm skin, hugging his hefty chest.

‘You’ll get used to it’ you reassured him, ‘I did argue with them about the clothing but… they said, you know, society protocol. No shirtlessness. Not even for this most beautiful of men.’

Miguel shot you a smile to acknowledge your praise. ‘Yes. I should have suspected it would not be easy. Still, I appreciate you trying, mi tesoro.’

With those dreary words he crept forward to comfort himself with your touch. His forelegs pulled you in and clutched you to his abdomen, and you nestled back so tight that the fluff went up your nose and caused you to sneeze.

‘Aw—Mi arañita, qué menso eres’ he murmured affectionately.

‘Mean’ you retorted.

He was purring now, his abdomen vibrating and rustling with joy. ‘I will be grateful to have you with me’ he said as he brushed your suit down. It wasn’t dirty, he’d just gone so long without clothes that he assumed you brushing off his shirt was a sign of affection, and he wanted to return it. ‘I would never have gone alone, even if the offer was made again.’

‘I’ll be there the whole time, I promise’ you said. As Mig smiled you sealed that promise with a kiss to his claws. ‘And if Miguel tries anything, I’ll rip his claws out one by one. I promise that too.’

You saw Mig’s smile falter a little. ‘Ah. Yes. Him. He will, be there as well.’

Your smile dipped too. You were trying to joke about the situation but you both knew, deep down, how strange everything had gotten.

There was a tension between all three of you, one that was strange and multilayered in ways you couldn’t discern beyond a constant, simmering, anxiety inducing pressure.

Miguel had remained on watch at your nest after the first time you mated in front of him, and for two days while you prepped he’d stuck to his stubborn word and remained. He’d mostly stayed outside, only coming in occasionally to ensure you were being ‘safe’ as he put it, but he never spoke a single word to either of you.

The only thing you’d noticed is that his eyes, when they fell on you, were no longer cold; they were burning hot, simmering and seething, filled with something unspeakably strong.

You shuddered at the thought.

Luckily Miguel was gone today as you were visiting the HQ, so he could monitor you there, but it felt like his presence was always hanging over your head.

‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go’ you said, gently urging him to follow you with a tap to his belly. For a moment he hesitated, his little paws tapping back and forth on the nest floor, but it was only for a moment. With your face beaming and urging him on he reluctantly followed.

You’d been prepared for Mig to struggle with the portal. He’d never gone through one before and everyone struggled at first, so you were as patient as possible with the big guy.

You just hadn’t expected how badly he’d take it.

The moment you stepped through the lack of weight and gravity seemed to throw him totally off balance. You were used to keeping with the flow, to angling your body so that you flowed seamlessly through the void of space time and out the other end, but Mig didn’t have that.

He immediately crashed into you and sent you both hurtling through the portal at a speed you could not keep up with.

You both rolled out of the portal at max velocity, his enormous body crashing into the HQ floor with such force that it cracked. In the safe, fluffy grip of his legs you were thankfully unharmed, but it didn’t stop you from being dazed. As he tumbled to a stop you gasped.

‘AH—Fuck, oh Mig I am so sorry, I should have done a trial run of—oh god—’

You tried to scramble out of his grip to check on him but he refused to let go. He was terrifyingly strong, with his spider legs folded in tight to his belly, pinning you to his abdominal underbelly.

‘Mig? Mig?’ you panted.

‘Mmm.’

His low groan vibrated right down to your core, and you nearly cried with relief. ‘Oh, Miggy. Are you okay?’

‘I did not enjoy that’ he said bluntly. You managed another breathy laugh. ‘No, no, I can tell.’

As his legs slowly loosened you crawled out from his grip and stumbled to the floor on all fours. You glanced up.

To your horror, hundreds of spiders were perched on every surface available, all of them staring directly at you. It was a sea of suits, a sea of bodies and eyes, all staring with a mix of disgust and curiosity. You turned and immediately patted Mig, urging him to stand.

‘Mig—Babe, uh—’

‘Argh—my, legs—who designed these portals?’ Mig grunted. He was struggling to stand as he unfolded his long legs. ‘They are not safe, didn’t you say there were quite young spiders who—’

A wide-ranging, multi layered gasp of horror momentarily interrupted Mig’s grumbling, finally drawing him to look around. Everyone was in a defensive position, their eyes trained on his body. You instinctively sank against his side.

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay’ you whispered to him. You could see his eyes sinking already. He tried to step forward, his claws outstretched, but when every spider jolted in fear he froze up.

‘Hey! Sorry, guys, don’t um—he’s safe, he’s fine’ you cried. You impulsively stepped forward with your hands raised, hoping to de-escalate the situation. ‘This is—Miguel, or uh, Mig? If that’s easier, he’s a variant, he’s safe! He’s fine!’

To your continued discomfort, nobody said or did anything.

‘Hey! You two!’

You turned to see Jess making her way through the ogling crowd. She seemed to be trying her best to ignore them. ‘There you are, you—did you break the floor? My lord—never mind. So, obviously you guys know about the mandatory work you gotta do before you can be sent on missions?’

You awkwardly nodded in response, but Mig was too fixated on the crowd staring him down. You’d never seen him look so small.

‘Okay, good’ Jess said, ignoring Mig’s discomfort. She just ticked a few boxes on her hologram. ‘You have a few today, just—do your best, you’ll be fine. I just needed to give you this to fill out for HR and then you can get to work.’

She handed you a pile of papers before turning back into the crowd. She paused briefly to gage the amount of spiders and their curious eyes.

‘HEY! What are we, a circus? Do none of you have work to do?’ she yelled. The overtone of her voice quickly scattered the spiders as they flung themselves in all directions, and with a huff she followed after them. You and Mig were left alone.

‘A whole… new world.’

You looked up to see Mig murmuring to himself. His eyes were fixed on the building, on the view of the world beyond the big glass walls. He shone with a deep melancholia.

‘A whole, new world. And… everything is the same.’

Your heart sank. You shyly took his paw in yours.

‘Well, that was… a bad start, but, it’ll get better. It’ll be fine. We’ll be-- fine’ you said.

…

You were wrong. The rest of the day wasn’t much better.

You had certain activities you had to finish before you were cleared. The society wasn’t a workplace, but it functioned like one, and you were constantly in life-or-death situations. That meant all relationships needs to be safe.

You were expected to do three things: mandatory couples therapy, de-escalation and crisis training, and monthly reviews with an elite.

All of them went terribly.

You went to HR to hand in your forms and found only one person waiting at the desk. They were curt, almost rude, rushing through your paperwork, and after leaving you peered through the door only to find six other people had been hiding behind desks. You heard them gossiping and left in shame.

At your first de-escalation training for couples, you couldn’t even fit Mig through the front door, and you were forced to both sit in the hallway with the door half open to listen in. Every other couple there barely focused on the course; they just stared at you both, making little whispers and comments to each other.

You ended up failing that session due to Mig’s heightened anxiety. Any mention of a scenario where you were hurt caused him to panic and clutch you close, with his fangs overproducing venom as a protection tactic. They had to tape off the area as a hazardous spill zone. More mess, more eyes, more morbid curiosity.

Even your mandated therapy was unbearably awkward. The therapist assigned kept making suggestive questions regarding your safety, your wellbeing, questioning if Mig had some kind of fetishistic problem.

It wasn’t just Mig though, or at least, not just his body. People were clearly fixated on your closeness.

At the start of the day you were as physically affectionate as you usually were, since that’s what you were used to. You kissed his claws and he held you with his forelegs, he would scratch your head and you would hold his hand.

But you could see, now, the overt morbid curiosity in those around you. Even when you tried to find time alone, either in corridor corners or darker rooms, you kept spotting people staring.

As the day wound on you got more and more stingy with your affection. Mig kept dropping your hand to avoid people staring at you, and you had to hide your kisses when they happened.

With every activity you attended you felt a little isolated, a little less welcome. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, or even good, but you just hadn’t anticipated how bad it would feel. You began to feel guilty for doing this to Mig.

After your last therapy session, you began making your way through the lobby together. It was here, whilst making small talk and enjoying the brief moment of solitude, that you felt the hair on your nape stand up. You turned.

Miguel was up in the rafters above, his masked eyes following your every move. In the shadows you could only see the deep, sharp red lines of his suit as they shifted.

‘You—fuck.’

With a hiss you turned and sped forward. Mig rushed to catch up.

‘Ah—arañita?’

‘It’s all him’ you hissed angrily. ‘It’s all- him! He’s spread it everywhere, because he’s trying to embarrass us into giving up!’

‘Who? You mean—’ Mig paused midsentence. He didn’t need to say it; he knew who you meant. You hurried into a small, darkened corridor between two other meetings rooms, a space where you could avoid any prying eyes.

‘That—fucking, asshole’ you whisper shouted. Mig squished himself into the tight space and tried to grab you for comfort, but you were too busy pacing. ‘Fucking—Who does he think he is? Why won’t anyone say anything to him?!’

‘Mi tesoro’ Mig whispered back. ‘what is it? What do you mean?’

‘He—’ you paused to breath as you felt that guilty tug in your gut once more. ‘I’m so sorry, Mig, I—I knew this would happen. I knew it. Miguel knew I wanted you to join, and he said he—he said if he did let you in, he’d make sure we, quote, would learn why he keeps his relationships private. Obviously he wants you to feel unwelcome.’

‘Ah—yes, that—sounds like something he would do’ Mig said slowly.

‘I’m so sorry, I really—I wanted you to feel better’ you stammered. ‘I wanted you feel, just… I don’t know. I wanted something. I wanted the OPPOSITE of this!’

‘Hey, hey, arañita. It’s okay’ he said softly. As his foreleg gripped your arm you felt a wave of hopelessness wash over you.

‘Is it okay?’ you whispered back. ‘Is it? Are you okay? After what he’s done?’

Mig opened his mouth, but no words came out. You could see it in the dim light; the flash of his red eyes as they drooped and narrowed, the way he looked down and to the side out of shame.

Not one person besides you had even acted neutral to him. They’d all treated him like an animal, a monster, without shame.

You didn’t want to call this effort a failure. He deserved to be loved, to be valued, to be heard, but how did you do that?

Something had to change. Even just one thing. You closed your eyes and sighed.

‘HI!’

You and Mig both jumped in unison as someone’s cheery voice erupted right against your ears.

Mig launched himself into protection mode. With his fangs bared and his claws spread he pushed you to his back, but it was you who stepped in to call him off when you realized who the assailant was.

‘No, no, wait—I know him!’ you stammered.

Mig obediently stayed his hand when told, and after checking you were safe he turned to the speaker.

Peter B was standing on the ceiling, his head upside but more or less at the same height as Mig’s. He beamed at you both. ‘Shoot, sorry—did I scare you guys? Wow that feels weird, me scaring the big spider’ he blurted in his usual chatty tone. You stepped forward to greet him.

‘Ah, hi! You’re uh—Peter, right? I mean that’s half the people here but—’

‘My name is Peter, yes, and as you just pointed out that’s really a lucky guess, but I’m ASSUMING what you mean is I’m Peter Peter, the uh—’

‘The sad one’ you said, far blunter than you’d usually be. He beamed and snapped his fingers.

‘There it is! Yes, that’s me. Or I was.’

‘R-Right. Well, um-- Hi! Can we, help you, with anything?’ you asked. You could sense Mig was still a bit tense, so you decided to step in and speak in his place.

Peter dropped to the floor with an oomph before responding. ‘Ah—well, sort of. I’m not here on an errand though’ he cheerily explained as he stretched. You raised a brow.

‘You’re not?’

‘Nope! I’m here for—him!’ With a gleeful squeal Peter turned to Mig, his eyes eagerly running up every inch of the man’s body. You saw Mig tapping his paws in confusion.

‘Have I- done, something offensive?’ Mig murmured awkwardly.

‘Oh, he’s exactly like I thought he’d be’ Peter cooed. ‘He’s so awkward! No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to see if I could uh, tag along with you guys for a bit.’

‘You did?’ you and Mig both said in unison.

‘Oh you’re adorable’ Peter said with a dramatic sigh. ‘You’re both so… well, whatever. You don’t need me fawning over you. But yes! Obviously! Who wouldn’t wanna learn more about the Miguel variant with the spider body? I wanna hear everything!’

‘You do?’ You and Mig repeated together.

‘Yeah! I—look, I feel bad at how strict the others are being on you two. I mean I don’t get it, the whole, spider thing, I mean he is very handsome but the spider is a bit of a deal breaker for me. But I’m just like, hey, good for you guys, you know? Good that it works for you!’

You blinked in surprise as Peter continued to ramble.

‘Plus, look, uh—my wife, Mary, she—well, she’s pregnant!’ he squealed, ‘like, right now! Ah! And I don’t have anyone but Jess to talk to about relationships and I mean she’s always so busy, and Miguel can’t hear about baby stuff, but YOU two! You guys, I can talk to! So, can I? Can I uh—hang around for a bit?’

You glanced at Mig, expecting to see the same hesitation on his face as you felt in yours, only to find him utterly elated. He looked so happy.

‘Ah—yes, of course’ he stammered, his enormous abdomen shifting and vibrating. ‘Of course, a-absolutely. Let us, talk.’

Peter clapped his hands with joy, and you realized you had no other option.

‘GREAT! You guys wanna see the canteen?’

…

‘And I swear, I begged for HOURS, but Mary just wouldn’t come around to it! I said come on, what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened at a gender reveal party?!'

You chuckled politely as Peter finished his dramatic story, a sharp contrast to Mig who was erupting with his sweet, gruff, awkward laughter.

You were sat at a booth in the HQ canteen, with Peter on one side and you on the other, while Mig was awkwardly folded on the floor at the tables head. You’d tried to make room but there just wasn’t space.

You knew everyone was staring at you. You knew they were keeping their heads down so you didn’t suspect them of listening in, even though it was obvious they were. Even the people serving in the kitchen were craning their necks over the counters to watch.

You sank a little deeper into your chair.

‘Your mate sounds very responsible’ Mig said. He shuffled a little as a couple of people had to hop over his body to get around the corridor. ‘Ah—and it is, wonderful to hear your attempts to have offspring were successful. I don’t blame you for being excited. I would be, inconsolable in your position, from joy that is.’

‘Right! I’m just excited, like come on’ Peter said loudly as he grabbed a fry from his plate. ‘Like I was scared, you know? Who knows what my weird spider genes will do! It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.’

‘Yes. I worried about the same things’ Mig said softly. ‘With my biology being so… poorly constructred, I often lie awake wondering what I would create. But it is hard, to deny yourself something when it is so… close, to your heart. It is what I always wanted, and I know many like us feel that way.’

‘Oh—yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive’ Peter whispered. Mig shook his head.

‘No, no. As mi tesoro says, we’re all strange on the inside.’ Mig turned to you with a smile as he spoke, and you returned it.

‘Right! Sorry, sorry, ah— enough about me though, I have so many questions for YOU. How DID you two meet?’ Peter asked as he folded his hands over the table.

‘Oh, that is an interesting story. Mi arañita, do you—’ Mig turned and gestured with his claws, politely offering you the chance to step in. You quickly swallowed the single fries serving you’d ordered and tried to respond.

‘Oh—oh! Right, um—I was sent to fix an anomaly in his universe, it was my first proper mission and I uh… I, botched it, pretty badly.’

‘Don’t say that arañita, you did well considering the circumstances’ Mig cooed. You waved him off.

‘Yeah, yeah. Well, I messed up and needed help, everyone was busy but I remembered Miguel saying he had a variant in that universe. He said not to reach out, but, I did. And I met Mig.’

‘Yes, I—found them cowering beneath a tree. Such a handsome creature, I thought. So pretty. Que chula, that’s all I could say. I was so attracted I momentarily forgot that they likely would try to kill me out of fear’ Mig dreamily reminisced. Despite your anxiety your smile widened.

‘Oh, you, you’re such a romantic. I could tell’ Peter added as he circled his finger at Mig.

‘Anyway, they—did not hurt me, which I was glad of. I helped heal them and fixed their web shooter, and, they offered to return. To, spend time with me. So we kept doing that and—became friends’ Mig said, finishing the brief and work-friendly version of the story.

‘Oh, that’s— nicer than I was expecting, honestly, considering how we first met you’ Peter teased.

Mig missed the teasing and responded bluntly. ‘Yes! Well, that is the first half. After that, one day they happened to visit while I was rutting, and when I pleaded to mate them, they agreed. We became a mated pair from then on, which is why they were hiding at my house, the poor thing went into quite a severe heat due to my presence.’ His soft, satisfied smile never wavered as he recalled that day.

You could hear a pin drop in the canteen; Mig was talking, but nobody else was.

You immediately sank so low you almost fell beneath the table. Oh god, you thought, why. Why. Why. Why did he have to be so blunt.

You’d shown off in front of Miguel in relative private, sure, but this was different. That was to humiliate him. It made you feel powerful to be in Mig’s arms, beneath his body, but the eyes on you were turning that power to shame.

Peter maintained his smile, but you could see he was a little surprised at the blunt swerve in conversational tone. ‘I—I mean I wasn’t gonna ask about it, you know, it’s rude’ he stammered. ‘You don’t seem like a man who’d kiss and tell—’

‘You mean the mating?’ Mig asked. You shrank into your seat as his words echoed.

‘Ah—yes, the—is that what you call it?’

‘Is that not what it is?’ Mig asked as he tilted his head. ‘I believe that is the proper term. Or, do you mean, here it’s called sex? Because that is also what I meant, and I see no reason to hide it. We’re all sexually mature.’

You noticed Peter stifling laughter as he listened to Mig. Instinctively your stomach clenched; was he just here to make fun of Mig? To make fun of you both? Had you been tricked?

Luckily, Peter spoke before you could spiral further. ‘Oh, you’re so delightful! Isn’t he delightful? I can see why you like him’ he said with his finger pointed at you. ‘I wish I had the guts to say half this stuff, my god, the confidence! I love it! And I can tell he clearly likes you.’

‘Oh, they are—wonderful’ Mig purred in response. His abdomen began to vibrate as he closed his eyes, his thoughts lingering in memories of you in his arms. You gripped the table and begged for the strength to not physically slam your hand over his mouth.

‘Isn’t the size difference a little difficult though?’ Peter whispered. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but—’

‘I was worried about the same thing, but, they take me remarkably well’ Mig said calmly. You thought your teeth would crack, and yet still Peter seemed utterly unphased. ‘I always ensure that they’re not in pain and that they’re enjoying it, and I’ve never had issues.’

‘Oh, well that’s good to hear! I know it’s tough, having issues, especially in those uh—very, intimate areas, and especially I imagine when you’re uh—well, you! So, different! And so early on in a relationship, I mean my god you’re doing better than I did at this stage. You guys must really get along.’

Peter turned to you as he spoke, as if prompting you to engage with the conversation a little more. He must have noticed your silence. Unfortunately, you were still too mortified to really say much more.

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah’ you stammered, unsure of what more to say. Peter seemed to notice your hesitation; Mig did not.

‘Yes. I—I like them, a lot’ Mig said wistfully. ‘It’s not been easy, even now, adjusting to this—body, but… In truth, I feel more wanted now than I did when human. When I was, considered attractive. When I fit into places. That means the world to me. They are, priceless. Mi tesoro.’

You felt your face start to glow as Mig looked down at you in the booth. For just a moment, in that silent space with your eyes locked on, you recontextualized your embarrassment. You felt, guilt.

You were struggling with all the attention. You couldn’t deny that. You knew this was Miguel’s plan to pry you apart, to leave you at the mercy of their constant ridicule. The eyes on you, the constant judgement, it was rough.

But, seeing how happy Mig was, it made you wonder: why did you care?

He looked so happy as he gazed at you. His soft, affectionately creased eyes, his upturned lips showing the thick fangs beneath. What a pretty man.

And Peter, despite your initial reservations, didn’t seem phased at all.

When you’d had everyone’s approval, when you’d been just another replaceable spider doing everything routine and by the books, you’d been ignored. They hadn’t wanted you then, so why did it matter if they didn’t want you now?

Now, you had someone who did. Who cares that you were infatuated with a monster? At least you were wanted.

You smiled. ‘Mig, is… Wonderful, at what he does’ you said softly. ‘I really couldn’t ask for more. He’s so attentive, he—knits me suits, the pillows, and blankets, he refurbished his entire nest for me, he’s always making sure I’m well taken care of. He never raises his voice, never avoids me. I am… very, very, happy.’

The emphasis and tone you put on ‘happy’ was more than enough indication of your sincerity, and was certainly enough to put plenty of unwanted images in the heads of those listening. You didn’t care. You let them imagine, and you beamed up at the real thing.

‘PETER!’

You, Mig and Peter all turned as that chilling voice echoed through the canteen.

Miguel was walking stiffly down the canteen corridor, his eyes roaming. He seemed to be looking for someone, most likely the man he’d just called for.

‘Peter, you’re supposed to be on mission with me. You—’ Miguel paused. He looked up to see you and Mig, sitting comfortably with his friend at the table. The two people he'd been viciously targetting. The two people who had humiliated him in the worst way possible.

‘What is this?’ he hissed.

‘OH! Hey big guy, big fella, big boss man’ Peter cried back, cheery as ever. He didn’t seem to notice the tension as he hopped the back of the booth. ‘I was just making friends! I can say that, right, uh—Mig, is that what people call you? Can I use that?’

Peter spun back to Mig who, under pressure, immediately nodded. ‘Ah—yes, of course. Friends. Yes.’

‘GREAT! Great! Oh, I got two Miguel friends! I’ll catch you two around, okay?’

‘You sure will’ you replied. Peter waved you off as he clapped Miguel on the back.

‘Man those two are great. You never told me your variant was so nice! He’s hilarious!’

You could see that hot, burning anger in Miguel’s eyes even from here as Peter rambled on at him. It was barely disguised beneath his usual calm, collected expression.

You saw him realizing that, even by a small amount, his plan was failing. Mig was being treated as normal, and not by just anyone, but by someone close to him, someone who he could never let find out about your voyeuristic escapades.

Miguel grit his teeth as he tried to find any words to say. ‘Peter, you—’

‘Come on, my god—you were so urgent a minute ago.’ Peter laughed as he dragged Miguel away by the shoulder, and while the man’s eyes lingered on you both he did not strain against Peter’s grip. He reluctantly followed.

Back at the booth, you made a choice. You crawled up onto the table, pushing the fries aside, and with both hands you grabbed Mig’s face. You turned him physically, as he’d been gazing after Peter.

You smiled up at him without a care.

‘My Mig’ you said softly, and then you kissed him. He eagerly kissed you back. In front of the whole canteen you nestled into his fluffy forelegs and let him kiss you from your forehead to your chin.

It wasn’t exactly a perfect first day, but it was good. It was enough for now. Mig had one more friend than he’d had at the start.

But you knew, deep down, Miguel wouldn’t just let this go.

Link to next part!

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