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the-bittera-one · 25 days

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Chapter Keywords: I did say everything goes downhill from there, rain! date!, foreshadowing, getting sick Chapter CWs: Hurt starts here. Implied self-pleasuring.

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4. Blue Daisy

Another day, another last-minute assignment to submit.

It didn't matter, you were stoked for Saturday to come. The date with Miguel was all set, from the movie you two would watch (some intergalactic sci-fi flick) to the fast food place where you two would pick up your greasy orders, and then finally drive to a certain romantic and secluded spot where you two lovebirds could spend some quality bonding time together in the car while stargazing, maybe even talking about the movie while looking up at the dark, hopefully starry and not smog-clouded, sky.

... Or maybe do some more impure activities. God knew you needed it.

It wasn't just the assignments that kept you awake these days, but also the thought of spending some special time with your boyfriend.

Many nights you had been lying on your bed, the softness and comfort of your blankets and pillows not enough to lull you to sleep. The many cups of chamomile tea you drank night after night only caused you to stumble to the toilet at 2 am.

The culprits behind all this mess? Miguel, your hormones and your damn imagination.

Because those things were what had you lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing that the one embracing you wasn't the sheets, but him.

Wishing that what you were biting down on wasn't a pillow, but him.

Wishing that the thing satisfying you wasn't your hand, but him.

But all that was soon to be resolved that Saturday.

There was just one small, teeny, tiny problem.

Miguel didn't seem to know your plans.

Or maybe he did, you weren't sure. You had sent him the text with the plans for the date the day after you had studied together in the library. Text that appeared just below the goodnight message you had sent him before going to bed.

But he hadn't responded to any of them.

Perhaps the person he was teaching this time burned a lot of your poor boyfriend's brain cells, along with his infinite patience. You would have to reward him for that.

But you grew more and more uneasy as the days went by. He had replied, yes, but you still weren't sure if he had actually read the arrangements for your date because his texts had become monosyllables that functioned as short answers to every question you asked him.

Like:

Did you sleep well? - Yes.

Was tutoring tiring? - Yes.

Can we study together tonight? - Busy

Lol, look at this squirrel. It stole Mr. Crabgrass' toupee after the old man tried to chase it away with a stick - Huh

That last one wasn't even a question yet the answer was the same.

Was he starting to piss you off? Yes, but Miguel was much too kind a soul to do that knowingly, right? He had always been the sweet, caring guy who soothed you during your hard times, even putting his body under strain for you, like the time you twisted your ankle so badly on your way home that he had to carry you on his back for blocks. And that was back when he didn't have any of the muscular prowess that his physique now displayed.

There was no way this sweet summer child was doing it on purpose, he was probably, as he said, busy. College was a pain in everyone's ass, and the two of you weren't as wealthy as other students might have been to be able to slack off.

That didn't mean you didn't feel lonely sometimes. But things would work out eventually, wouldn’t they?

Your mind went to what he had told you back then when your ankle had taken on the shape of a tennis ball.

"Everything will be okay."

A sunny day greeted your weary eyes with a midday sting that Saturday morning, waking you from the peaceful slumber you had fought to achieve all night.

But instead of getting out of bed grumbling as usual, you slipped out of it with a cheerful smile and headed straight for your dresser as you unlocked your phone.

Swiping between Instagram (which showed some girl you know getting married), the weather app (which showed graphs of temperature changes), tumblr (which showed some cheff-kiss quality smut), and the browser, you finally found the two tickets you had purchased yesterday.

Yes, you had called Miguel last night and he had finally given you a verbal answer.

He had spoken rather breathlessly, and you had assumed that he was running late for something, and as the considerate partner you were, you had opted to keep the conversation short. After all, it wasn't the first time you'd caught him being late for class.

But as of now, you had to focus on getting lunch and dolled up. An "everything" shower, skin care products, whatever cosmetic you used and the outfit you had planned for the day were waiting for you, as well as the lingerie chosen for this "special" occasion.

Of course, the golden ring on the bedside table couldn't be forgotten, placed there so it wouldn't bend or slip while you slept.

The movie would start at 8 and end at 9:40. A jacket, your keys and your phone were the only things you would take with you. Miguel would be the one to drive you out of the theater anyway, all you had to do was show up on time.

You were late, it didn't take a genius to know that when your phone displayed "8:20" on the screen. The numbers looked so bright that they were downright mocking you.

It wasn't your intention, really, but your bed had suddenly looked so soft and cozy as you waited for what felt like hours for your moisturizer to work its magic.

The marathon you had to run had left your lungs stinging, but your mind was focused on something else.

"Miguel won't be upset, will he?"

The sentence itself sounded ridiculous to you, but it escaped your lips as you rested your back against a wall, puffs of hot breath accompanying the escaping question.

The cold air outside the theater was doing nothing to cool your body temperature after such a long run, so you knew that "sweaty" would be the first thing anyone would think of when looking at you.

An embarrassed sigh was the one that escaped from you this time as your fingers went to your phone, unlocking it and texting an apologetic "I'm here" to your ever loving and understanding boyfriend.

You felt sorry, you had hyped up this date so much and yet you were the one who was late? But, well, nothing a good smooch couldn't fix.

You were quite sure that the one who needed the smooch this time was you.

A couple of hours had passed and there was no sign of your man anywhere, no texts or calls. The movie had long since ended, and yet you were still there, waiting.

Hoping.

Nervousness had turned to annoyance, annoyance to anger, and anger to worry.

Was he okay? Did the rain catch him?

What seemed to be a sunny and otherwise cloudless day had given way to biting winds and a light rainstorm that soon brought bigger raindrops than the weather forecast had originally predicted.

Your calls fell unanswered, and eventually all signal went down as the power went out in a large part of the city that still had a shitty power grid.

By the time you made it back to your dorm, you were too exhausted, cold, and wet to make another 100 calls to Miguel. You did give him 5 more, but they went unanswered, just like the 5 texts you sent.

Feverish, you had barely managed to get into bed with clothes that were supposed to keep you warm in what felt like the worst cold of your rather short life.

And that's how sleep claimed you, sick, worried and cold, with drenched garments lying next to your bed, left there to wet the carpet as it took on a musty smell.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #divider by cafekitsune #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfic

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the-bittera-one · 25 days

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Chapter Keywords: Say goodbye to fluff, It all goes downhill from here. Chapter CWs: Studying, very light mentions of sex

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3. Primrose

College was going to be the death of you, you were sure of it.

Or so you thought for the fifth time that evening as the book between your hands seemed to contain unintelligible words that your eyes and tired, over-caffeinated mind failed to decipher.

A month and a half had passed since you returned from your hometown, and as much as you wanted to say that everything was fine, it wasn't.

Nothing too serious, really, but you weren't a fan of the fact that the only time you and Miguel had available consisted of dates that were really just studying together in the library.

Still, his presence comforted you, it kept you from banging your head against one of the many brown wooden shelves that surrounded you at the moment.

And while it wasn't your style to spend your time together in a huge, crowded room where you could only hear the turning of pages and the occasional murmur, it would suffice for now.

The weekend was just around the corner anyway, and you were plotting a wicked plan to steal him away for a few hours or so to spend some well-deserved couple time together.

The problem was where to spend that time.

His place, too casual, just like yours.

The arcade was fun, but not exactly what you wanted.

The movies, maybe, but then you would spend your time together watching films instead of interacting.

A nice dinner at the local steakhouse was too expensive for your current budget... combined.

"Hmm..." The sigh and grumble that escaped your lips didn't go unnoticed by the man you shared a table with. His eyes went from his own book to you, that familiar friendly smile appearing on his features when he knew you were ruminating, deeming it his duty to ease any worry of yours.

"Something wrong, chiquis?" He said as he pushed his chair over to yours, putting a hand on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you in a warm embrace. The nice scent of laundry detergent combined with the aftershave you had gifted him months ago made for a combination that instantly had you both feeling at ease and on edge at the same time.

You might have purred a little.

He had you spellbound, each and every part of you responding to a call he didn't even know he was making.

The infatuation had done nothing but grow and consume you from both in and out since that afternoon when he'd pressed you against your childhood bed, a palm around your neck and your knees bouncing on his shoulders.

"Nothing, it's just..." Mind back to reality, the hoarseness of your voice did not escape you, nor did the way your lungs felt empty and burning, had you forgotten to breathe?

You resumed your own respiration, putting it into "manual mode" (sorry) to prevent yourself from basically passing out.

His puzzled look still managed to get through to you, and you had to take another induced inhalation because of how cute he looked like that.

"Just... just... planning something." You said, tapping the wooden table with the pad of your fingers.

Calm down, calm down…

But then that damn quizzical brow of his appeared, "... Something?"

So maddening. "Yes, something. I'm allowed to think about stuff, you know."

Luckily, that didn't come out any harsher than anticipated, but it was thanks to the pout on your lips you failed to notice was there.

And such a sight was enough for him to know that you weren't upset, just overthinking.

So he smiled, and kept smiling as he took you into his arms. And kept smiling as he kissed your cheek. And kept smiling as he rested his chin on your head, hugging you close as if wanting your bodies to merge.

"You are, but your head is too pretty to let it go up in flames from overthinking, you know?"

Ah, shit.

Your face got red and hot, there he was again with the nice compliments, always directed at you, your mind, your intelligence, your looks too, your personality. He knew you too well and because of it, he knew where to attack.

You were vulnerable.

So you sighed.

"I... I was thinking about going on a date... this weekend..."

A pause.

Two.

Three.

And he chuckled, but he was not making fun of you, he would never. He liked the idea as much as you did.

"This weekend, huh? What do you have in mind?"

The million dollar question was here and you could just confess:

"Nothing... yet. I wanted to be the one planning it, is that okay?" You asked, sounding and feeling a little insecure now. He wouldn't feel undermined by your proactivity, would he? You just wanted him to relax and enjoy, at least for this once.

Yet another chuckle slipped from his lips, vibrating against the top of your head as its presence soothed your worries.

Unfortunately, what also vibrated was his phone on the table as a notification came in.

Picking it up with a sigh, he unlocked it and read what was on the screen.

His glasses didn't seem to be doing their job very well as he still had to place the screen at eye level and to read it up close.

Your snooping needs remained unsatisfied because of that.

"I have to go." He said with evident regret, planting a kiss on your hair before letting you go.

"Ah... tutoring?" You asked as you watched him gather his things.

Right, you knew that Miguel had decided to start tutoring other students for some reason. He said he wanted the extra money, that it would help for something he had planned.

You couldn't contradict him on that.

"Yeah, I think it's someone from one of your classes." He replied, slinging his bag over his right shoulder and turning to you.

When he saw your disappointed face he smiled again and leaned in, planting yet another kiss on you, but this time on your lips.

"Text me later, yeah? Maybe you'll have come up with something for the date by then..." He suggested as his thumb caressed the spot between your cheek and your jawline.

The circles he traced sent sparks through your body, it had you speechless.

So you just nodded and watched him leave, the date dilemma still lingering in your mind.

Fingers played with a cheap golden band. You sighed, this man had far too much power over you.

He could unintentionally lead you to heaven with only a couple of touches and a few sweet whispers.

Once in your dorm room, you texted him and waited for his reply as you got ready for bed. An idea had come to you, a date that wouldn't be too boring, too much or too expensive. It was perfect.

But his spellwork could also drag you to hell.

However, a reply never came.

And you were about to find out that very soon.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #dividers by cafekitsune

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the-bittera-one · 25 days

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the-bittera-one · 25 days

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Chapter Keywords: Another attempt of fluff was made, childhood friendship recount, wonky english Chapter CWs: Implied sex, light mention of bullying, alcohol consumption, a squishmallow was traumatized in this fic. Prev - Main - Next

2. Phlox

The sound of a door opening and closing echoed through an occupied kitchen. The person inside, who was busy drying some cups with a cloth, calmly turned around. She already knew who was the one that entered. And because of it, her lips had naturally curved into a smile even before settling her eyes on the brown-haired man that looked like he had been caught red-handed.

"Miguelito! Here to hang out with my spawn, I suppose." Said the older woman, who looked friendly and at ease thanks to the laugh lines on her mature and beautiful face, not at all bothered by the younger man's sudden trespassing.

Your mother was a kind person, but reserved with those she was not close to. And that specially the case if you were involved in the equation.

In the beginning she had treated Miguel with caution. It wasn't anything to do with him, really, he was just a child at the time, but his household's (or more precisely, his parents') reputation was not something that could be simply dismissed.

She feared for you at first, but after a few years had passed she came to realize that he was harmless; a victim of his environment, yes, but not impressionable enough to let it dictate his behavior towards you and others, or even towards his own future.

He was a kind one, studious and patient, specially with you who sometimes had uncontrollable bursts of chaotic energy. Your occasional "zoomies", as you both had named them. But he was also determined and caring, brave enough to confront whatever bully crossed your path, even if that meant his frail and weak body was going to bear the brunt of it.

"Yeah… We're, uh… going to… that… thing…" With a poor attempt at lying, he replied. Listening to himself made him wince, knowing that his lack of familiarity with the action was causing him to perform terribly at it.

Ah, he was also honest… to a fault.

But luck was on his side, because as caring as your mother was, she also had her flaws. One of which was that once she started trusting someone, that trust was rarely questioned, unless major inconsistencies began to show.

And your mother trusted him. A lot.

So she just smiled, her eyes going back to the cup and cloth as she spoke. "Go upstairs. And be quick, my husband went shopping a while ago, I'm sure he'll be back soon."

A cold ran down his spine. Your father was the complete opposite of the woman before him. Many said he had the personality of a golden retriever.

And he did, he was such a lovable and high-spirited man that put your own chaotic energy to shame. Even Miguel himself had agreed with that comparison...

At least until you hit puberty, and then your father went from viewing Miguel as your friend to viewing him as a bespectacled wolf who could take his baby away in a heartbeat.

To say that your father was protective was a sickening, gross understatement. So the first thing Miguel did after hearing the news was to scramble up the stairs and hastily push open your bedroom door with a

BAM!

...

"…. Dude, what the fuck?" You said, arms up and stuck inside a shirt, leaving most of your torso exposed. He had just caught you in the middle of a shirt change, but you didn't seem as startled as any other person would have been considering the situation.

"No time, put that shirt on before I drag you out half dressed." He said as he picked up your bag and pushed you towards the door from behind.

"Are you really going to let everyone see me like this?" You replied, waving your shirt-bound arms for emphasis.

That, not surprisingly, did made him stop.

But not for propriety's sake, oh no. One look and it wouldn't take to be a person who had an English accent and used the term "mind palace" to figure out that you had been ravaged recently.

Those dark pretty spots on your waist and chest were as bad liars as he was.

And if your father were to see it-

"…Shit"

So he let go of your bag, making it fall to the ground and then helped with sliding your shirt down to its rightful place, one that covered all the sins he had committed with you over and over again.

Besides, he wasn't keen on anyone else looking at something he was just starting to enjoy.

The quick footsteps of two people descending the stairs were what followed, accompanied by a hasty "Bye Mom!" and then the slamming of the front door as you two made your escape.

That was the last thing the older woman heard before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The thing was…

No one really knew what was actually going on with you two.

Yes, you were still spending time together. And yes, things between the two of you were becoming more and more ambiguous over time.

You hadn't really talked about what had happened that sunny afternoon. Or the mornings/afternoons/evenings/midnights that followed.

The lack of formality didn't stop your little fling though; your intimate encounters continued, becoming more frequent, more intimate, and more risky.

You were friends and you were not. You were lovers and you were not. You weren't keeping it secret, but you weren't making it public either.

Your relationship was Schrodinger's cat, its status uncertain until the fragile box in which it was contained was opened, revealing either Pandora's curse or the most sublime of joys.

So instead of finding out if the cat was dead or alive, you chose to pretend that everything was just the same, even as you kept screwing under the sheets, or on his desk, or on his parents' kitchen counter, or even inside the car the two of you just got into.

People did have suspicions, like your mother, who had just finished drying cups and was now drying plates instead, or your father, who was just entering the house, carrying bags and more bags filled with groceries with him. But those suspicions had been there even before anything had happened.

In fact, they had been there ever since you became teenagers.

So, in a sense, no one actually knew what was really going on. The only ones who knew the truth were you, him, and your poor flattened Axolotl Squishmallow who to this day remained there, in the corner of your bed while facing the wall ever since that day.

The dates you had together were mainly focused on having a good time. And just like now, he would drive you to a place where you'd perform your usual hanging out routine: talking, bantering, playing with your phones (or the game machines if you were at the arcade), stealing each other's food and gossiping even after you both said that activity was beneath your extraordinary minds, and giggling when he finished the session with a "pero quiénes somos nosotros para juzgar" (but who are we to judge).

Of course, there were a few things thrown into the mix that weren't there before, like you deliberately using clothes that were easy to get under and then discarded, or him needing to bring wet wipes and some little square packets made out of aluminum foil, or both of you needing to eat mints before going home to keep the smell of certain fluids from clinging to your breath.

But it felt like it wasn't enough. It was never going to be when it came down to him. Which is why your friendly time together was sometimes clandestinely continued under the veil of the night, and maybe even under the covers of your bed.

Your plushy still faced the wall while your pillows were riddled with bite marks. The walls of your bedroom were ticker than his, after all.

Vacations were getting shorter and you began to hang out a lot more, as if you felt your time together was coming to an end. For some strange reason, you had a bad feeling about the next semester…

Maybe it was the dread of knowing the amount of academic load that was waiting for you.

As much as you loved having made it into this specific college, the assignments, tests, and other crap were already beginning to weight on your mind.

That was why you were now lying on the verdant grass of a park in the middle of a beautiful afternoon, hangovered and wearing the same clothes you'd grinded on Miguel the night before at a party.

How did you get there, you ask? Let's just say it all started with a trip to a board-game-themed bar with a very unethical owner who was willing to offer alcoholic drinks without the requirement of an ID and a bet on who could do more damage at a party thrown by one of your ex-classmates you planned to crash.

It was wildly uncharacteristic for both of you.

But then again, you had both been acting out of character for quite some time.

The cold can that suddenly touched your eyelids brought you back to the present, and your hands went for it as Miguel's retreated.

"Do you feel better now?" He asked, concern coloring his tone.

You grunted as a response, the weight of your own body felt so heavy that it crushed whatever desire you had of replying verbally.

That, and the spinning of your head.

You were the one who came up with the idea for the bet, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that you were 4 drinks in when you placed it.

Why were you doing this to yourself? Had you finally awakened your wild child phase that your parents had dreaded so much when you hit puberty, but which never came?

"Should I take you hom-"

"No," you finally replied.

And have your time with him cut short? Not a chance.

So you sat up as more pained groans escaped from you.

"I'm fine, see?"

Your voice came out hoarse, worse than your Aunt Rita's who had spent 5 of her 7 decades on this earth smoking like an overworked steam train.

You guessed that cigarettes did make her healthier than a horse just like she proclaimed. She had managed to outlive her 4 husbands after all.

The can between your hands made a sizzling sound as the tab was discarded. A peachy scent accompanied the smell of fresh greenery that surrounded you. Your eyes went back to him, who looked as handsome as ever, even after such a long night.

"I… went too far last night, sorry." Your apology came out mumbled as your eyes went back to your opened drink, the fragrant bubbles not enough to distract you from the sense of guilt you were experiencing.

"I know you're not much of a party person, and yet-"

His deep laugh distracted you from your self-deprecating session, and your attention returned to him as he flashed those canine teeth that normally put you on edge, especially when they sunk into the skin of your neck.

"Don't worry, it was fun. I don't know what you're doing with all that booze, though."

You groaned again.

Right, the booze… it hurt to think about it. Of course, you had managed to steal the entire liquor cabinet's content without that idiot of Allen McNamara noticing.

His stupid ass was way too focused on the lap dance he was receiving from a drunk girl who was clearly not old enough to be there.

Had you had more time, you would have stolen his parents aifryer too. He deserved it, being one of the guys who had bullied Miguel for years just because he refused to do his math homework. Was algebra really that hard?

"Sell it? There's way too many bottles for me to give them all away," you said, pointing to your tote bag, which was filled to the brim with bottled goods whose labels were unrecognizable to your penniless self.

But before the conversation could continue your phone vibrated as a notification chimed in. You read the text, which was from your parents who were checking in to make sure you were safe and sound and in the park, just as you had told them an hour ago.

A reply was sent, reassuring and promising to return early this time, but as you locked your phone, your eyes caught today's date.

It weighed on you how little time you had left before you had to go back to campus.

4 days to be exact.

You must have turned into a bear with the amount of grumbling you had been doing today.

" Everything okay?"

You felt a presence shuffle to your side and a warm hand on yours.

"Yeah, yeah…" The sigh that left you sounded defeated, which was why Miguel used his other hand to pull your head back to rest on his shoulder. "…classes are about to start again."

Miguel chuckled. "Is it so bad for you to have to go back?"

His carefree attitude made you pout, a little resentful that he didn't feel as down as you were feeling right now.

"Hey, hey…" He said as he placed your head back on his shoulder after you had tried to straighten up. "It's not that bad, we can still hang out."

Your cheeks flushed red, a little embarrassed that he had read you so easily after you tried to disregard the real reason of your fluctuating emotions. What bothered you the most was not the huge amount of academic work that waited for you, but the notion of not being able to spend time with him as often as you did now.

Still, his words comforted you.

"…Promise?"

But his smile stopped, as did the comforting stroke of his hand on your head. You even felt it tremble as he removed it.

Not comforting at all.

"…Wait here," he said before leaving your side to get up.

Once standing, you saw him awkwardly pat his pants pockets, front and back, then pat his chest through the blue sweater he refused to take off even if the sun was blasting down.

"Fuck…" He muttered, his tone growing increasingly desperate.

"Miguel, what…?"

His hands went under the woolen sweater, patting the pockets of his blue and white striped button-down shirt. He seemed to have finally found what he was looking for as he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

You began to worry as the seconds passed and he remained motionless. With your mouth open, you were about to say something. But then he turned abruptly, making you jerk back while still sitting on the grass.

And yet there was another pause.

"Mig-"

"I… have something to tell you." His voice was the one that cut you off this time. But as your head tilted to the side with a puzzled look, all air left your lungs as you saw him drop to one knee.

"W-wha-"

"I… I know I don't have enough money to get you a better one, and, God, rings are so expensive, and this might not be the best time or way to do it, and I might scare you off by asking, so I don't want you to take it too seriously if you don't want to, but-"

He seemed to catch himself rambling on for he stopped. Closing his eyes, a shaky sigh escaped as he tried to compose himself.

You would have said something if not for the small box his hands held out to you, capturing your attention and making every nerve in your body quiver.

It was wooden and shaped like a book, but seemed too rustic to have been made to order.

"We've known each other for so long. And, and…"

It was then when you noticed the bandages covering his fingers, and you remembered that they had been there for days.

Maybe even a weeks.

His sonorous swallow was scarcely enough to jolt you out of your frozen state, but it did the trick as your eyes returned to him.

The blush on his cheeks and the sweat forming under his hairline were enough to convince you that he was just as nervous and probably as close to passing out as you were.

"We… We've been partners- friends since we were kids. I keep going back to the day you threw your pencil at me for snoring too loudly during nap time."

A shaky laugh left you, but the tears didn't let you see straight.

"You… You've been in my head. Not just lately, but for a long time. And this summer has made it clear- that I'm too enchanted by you to let you go. So- so, please…"

The box opened to reveal a pair of modest looking rings with stones so small and bands so thin they looked as if they might bend with the slightest force placed on them.

But it didn't concern you. Not because you were wearing rose-colored glasses that were product of infatuation...

But because the filter had already been ingrained in your brain years ago.

"Yes, yes!" You shouted, ignoring the fact that the volume of your own voice was making your head hurt a little. He didn't need to finish, because you threw yourself at him, making the both of you crash against the green ground.

Your combined laughter surely attracted the attention of many passers by, but the two of you didn't care as you kissed and hugged one another. The PDA had to be cut short or your wandering hands could land you at a police station for public indecency.

So, forced by the fear of having to pay a fine, you both sat up, still laughing while looking silly. The hand he had on the back of your waist went to the box that his other hand was fortunately still holding. With your thighs straddling his, he slid the fragile-looking ring into your finger, then the other one into his own.

"It's a promise ring," he said, wanting to clarify the reason for its cheap appearance. "I'll get you something better soon, I promise."

Another giggle rang through the air, yours.

"Don't worry about it. I'm happy with it, really." Your lips landed on his cheek to reassure him, he seemed a little insecure about the rings while you just wanted to kiss him dumb.

He didn't seem convinced, but dropped the subject when he saw your sincere smile and felt your loving hug.

You were sure now, and as a wise philosopher from your time had said, that sandbox love never died.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara across the spider verse #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #dividers by cafekitsune #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel x reader

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the-bittera-one · 25 days

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me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

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the-bittera-one · 28 days

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The Purple Flower

Whoo, my first fic! Ha-ha...

I'm so gonna get flamed for this The writing is not too good on this one, have mercy.

Series Keywords [Subjected to updates]: Childhood best friends turned lovers, Nerd! Miguel, Nerd! Reader, Tried my best to do a GN! Reader, 2 nerds k-i-s-s-i-n-g, WAY Out of Character Miguel, like a lot, ANSGT!, betrayal, MATURE themes

Series CWs [Subjected to updates]: Eventual DARK THEMES path, mentions of bodily harm, Reader getting drugged (no roofies), some NSFW

Chapter Keywords: An attempt of fluff was made, childhood friendship recount, college sucks, nepotism is unfortunately a thing, wonky english Chapter CWs: Implied smex, some mention of blood, NO VIOLENCE THO, mid writing

☀︎ (ML) - Next

Two peas in a pod

Nerd! Miguel and Nerd! Reader being best friends since childhood.

You both know each other thanks to living on the same block, going to the same kindergarten, then to the same school and also having pretty much the same age. You grow up being close, really close, who else is going to listen the other's rant about sci-fi/literature? No one, because your hyperfixations are too boring for the other kids, who by then just want to troll each other on social media.

So you both are the school nerds, big deal. Fortunately, you're not the only ones who are labeled as part of the "misfits", but you're of the ones that the teachers say will have a bright future ahead, if your grades keep being the same as the ones they're now, that is.

Puberty hits you first, but you've been so used to covering your body that it's barely noticeable to the eyes of others. Because of this, you never get the attention that you would have received otherwise. It's fine though, it keeps you focused on your grades, extracurriculars, and hanging out with Miguel to bitch about science and video games.

Of course, you have interests of your own that he doesn't share, that's for sure, but as your best friend, he does his best to make you feel heard. Hell, he even bought you a limited edition set of Jane Austen books for your 15th birthday after hearing you swoon over Mr. Darcy for the 154th time that month.

You do the same for him, saving what little money you make from your part-time job to buy him something nice. Even though you both get bullied by those who call themselves "popular" and "relevant," life is good.

Miguel's "glow up" comes only after you both enter college.

Yes, you both made it, and you're both in the same one! It wasn't a surprise to you though, you've been paired by destiny over and over again that having him by your side is the natural thing to happen at this point.

Or it should feel like that, but you've been feeling somewhat giddy and nervous around him, even before his growth spurt made him look like a gigantic hunk.

The start of your college days is well received by both of you at first, that is until you get hit by the harsh reality of how connections and networking are pretty much what will get you a job in the future, not much your grades.

The popular people you disliked so much back in school are smarter and well connected here. An so you suppress the envy that threatens to spill out of your eyes every time you see them live their easy lives, and move on.

But even as your first semester of college kind of sucks, at least you have him. Him with whom you pass your late nights studying, with whom you spend your lunchtime chatting, with whom you even sleep at night when you both, exhausted, go to his room to watch something on his laptop only to end up curled up on his bed.

Your touches have become more intimate over time, going from binging series on his bed, each sitting on their side, to huddling together and even feeding each other microwave popcorn that you both know is not good for your health (but it is what it is).

And in the midst of buttery smells and dim nights, your feelings began to grow.

And you assume that his are as well, when you both walk out of the library, his hand reaching out for yours to clasp as you chat, acting like it is the most normal thing in the world to do.

As said, it all came so naturally to the two of you.

Aside from how much it sucks, your first year does go without a hitch. And after months of struggling, the two of you finally get a break and decide to go back home together.

With your laundry in the trunk and him in the passenger seat, you drive off. And with him by your side, the trip is always enjoyable.

Your reunion with your folks goes well, but you know that Miguel's situation is not the same.

Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara (you know better than to call them by their names) have always had a strained relationship.

And that is why you, as the good friend you are, do your best to get Miguel out of the house as much as possible.

You go on picnics, hikes, to festivals, to the beach, to concerts, but sometimes he just stays with you at your parents' house and idles away the afternoon, doom scrolling as the rays of the sun keep the environment comfortable and warm.

The time you have been spending together reminds you of your childhood, without the phone addiction that is.

Even as nerds, you both spent a lot of forced time outdoors. That's how you broke your wrists falling out of a tree, or how he lost a tooth learning to ride a bike.

Luckily, it was a baby tooth, but it had your kid-self sobbing as you little self dragged an unconscious bleeding smolguel back to your house.

You had been so scared then, believing he was going to die and that it was all your fault.

It seemed so silly now.

The memory made you laugh out loud, which got his attention.

"What is it?" He asked you as he got up from the brown, tattered beanbag.

Your eyes were on him as he lay down next to you, trying to take a peek of your phone, thinking that was what sparked your laughter.

It was something he did whenever he caught you reacting to something, always wanting to see what had caused it. Like he didn't want to be left out of things that involved you, and you found that adorable for the most part.

"I just remembered something." You said as he took the phone from your hands. His interest in it soon fading after listening to your words, so he placed it on your bedside table and curled up next to you instead.

Platonic and not. Such a contradiction was typical of childhood friends who were still physically close to each other as children were, even though they were adults by now.

"Yes? What?" He asked, resting his head on your shoulder and looking up at you with those puppy eyes that came so naturally to him.

You chuckled and flicked his forehead, drawing a grunt from his lips.

"About the time your dumb ass crashed into Mr. Torres' fence while learning to ride a bike."

He seemed to take particular offense to your words (and forehead flick) as his response turned candid.

"Hey, my ass ain't dumb. Do I need to remind you who of us was class valedictorian? And you were the one who pushed me to do it, even after I said the puddle would make the tires lose traction!" He protested as he poked one of your sides, knowing how ticklish you were and using it to his advantage. His retaliation had yo cackling in laughter, and your palm was soon all over his face (and glasses) when trying to push him away as he kept trying to attack your waist.

"Man, you're such a nerd. Do you even listen to yourself? 'The water would make the tires lose traction,'" you imitated in a mocking tone, twisting your body to avoid his vengeful fingers.

So he scoffed and grabbed both your wrists with one of his giant hands, pinning them on the top of your head to pin them against the Axolotl Squishmallow you'd decided not to take to college before the first semester had yet to start.

"Sí serás…" The words were barely out of his mouth before he resumed his attack, but this time his fingers had more of your body to nip at.

You squirmed and wriggled, laughing and bending your knees to try to kick him away.

But he was already familiar with your move, and before you could even start, he was straddling you, trapping your thighs between his knees.

You could barely focus on him as you squirmed, laughter filling your childhood room as he continued his tickle attack. He had gotten stronger, you noticed, because before he couldn't hold you for long until you somehow managed to break free of his grip and pushed him away.

So, acknowledging your own weakness, you squealed a plea,

"T-Truce, truce!

But he seemed to have no intention of stopping, determined to finally give you a taste of your medicine after so many years of not being able to.

His glasses were loop-sided and had your palm print on the crystals. His pearly white, straight teeth, product of years of orthodontic work, shone as he grinned and looked down at you with not well hidden glee.

While you were usually meek and soft-spoken, you had a habit of being more vocal and teasing around him. It was as if your confidence grew a hundredfold around him. And with the way he usually praised your personality and intelligence, it was hard not to.

Having you there, finally weak in front of him, was something new for Miguel.

But as you "wrestled" and laughed on the cushioned surface of your bed, his glasses slipped and fell, hitting your nose and causing you to yelp in pain.

That made him stop immediately, releasing your wrists and leaning into your face to assess the damage.

"Oh shit, are you okay?" He asked, his eyes and attention too focused on the red mark that was beginning to appear on the bridge of your nose to notice how close your faces suddenly came.

His glasses were heavy, the thick frame doing most of the damage and leaving a bruise visible to the naked eye.

And yet, he kept leaning forward, as if he couldn't quite see you from where he'd been looking at you before.

His thighs were still straddling yours, but his palms were now cupping your face, holding you still to get a better look.

"Y-yeah, it' will probably just leave's just a small bruise…" You replied as you opened your eyes, but your words died as you took in the sight before you.

Had his canines always been so sharp? Were his eyes always so penetrating? Were his lips always this full?

The small mole at the corner of his mouth was new, or perhaps it had always been there, blending into his tanned skin to the point of being barely noticeable.

But just as you laid stunned by the way your perception of your childhood friend began to drastically change, something similar was happening to him.

Your eyes sparkled as the golden rays of the afternoon light struck your irises. Your breathing seemed calm, chest rising and falling in a soothing pace that made him feel as if the world itself had stopped.

Were your eyelashes always like this? Seeing them up close gave him a tickling sensation, as if they were brushing directly against his skin. And that same recognizable little scar on your right cheekbone was still there, a result of being hit by a bully after defending him in elementary school.

Goose bumps appeared on your flesh as the butterflies inside your stomach began to go wild.

But as terrified as you were, your rising temperature and confused mind made it difficult to focus on anything but that damn mole of his.

And God, the way his frame towered over yours...

"…Miguel?" a choked whisper escaped your lips, slightly distorted thanks to the way the pad of his right thumb tugged at your lower lip.

His attention moved then to your eyes, which held both hesitation and unrest.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, softly enough that his breath, scented with the strawberry popsicle he had eaten earlier, hit your nose.

It took you a heartbeat to answer, too short of a time to dictate what would come next.

Too little deliberation on something that would change your relationship forever.

And too much hope and trust placed in someone you thought you knew well.

"No."

And so began your downfall.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #divider by cafekitsune

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