mmhcs

[mmhcs]

Y'ALL

Miguel O Hara (Across the Spider-Verse) - Extra 1: Genius.

From that point on, you both had an understanding. 

You carried out your assignments diligently and Miguel was never shy with the praise. You would unintentionally crack some new code or discover an upgrade for his systems that really helped in the long run.

You were consistent, driven and you always volunteered for the more tedious missions even when others were a bit skeptical. He found himself relaxing a bit more.

As hard as it was, in the event that anything ever happened to him, he felt secure knowing that you could step up to fill his shoes. It was probably the most calm he felt in years.

“The anomaly on earth 57 has been subdued. I’ve added in my report. Do you need anything else?”

You were just looking at him expectantly, and Miguel stopped for a moment. He’s been trying to work himself to getting closer to you. Learning more about you.

What were cases like that you handled?

How did they develop the program that you’ve so skillfully added into his set up?

Did you have someone waiting for you back home?

Maybe that was the most glaring one.

“I’m okay. I think we covered all the alerts for now. If there are any more readings you’ll be the first to know.”

A coward’s way out.

“I understand. I’m glad I could help.”

You didn’t say anymore, just turned, marching out of there ready for another task or mystery to solve. Miguel ran a hand through his hair.

“You have to actually talk to her if you want to make progress, boss.” Lyla’s teasing tone did not escape him.

“Don’t make me reprogram you.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You love me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

She made a zipping motion across her lips.

~The Dining Hall~

“I’m telling you, he didn’t yell at me once yesterday.” Peter spoke.

You were in the cafeteria with Peter, Hobby Pavitr and Gwen.

“Maybe he’s on his period.” Hobbie commented.

Gwen and Pavitr bursted out in a fit of laughter and Peter tried to hold his in. You munched on your burger quietly as they went back and forth with possibilities at Miguel’s recent change in mood.

“What do you think (Y/N)?” Gwen asked.

Swallowing, you take a sip of your drink.

“What do I think about Miguel?”

“Yeah, don’t you think he’s a bit of a hardass.” Peter inquires

“I wouldn’t use those exact words. I believe he has a lot on his shoulders. He’s responsible for so many lives. In a sense, he holds himself accountable if anything were to occur. From my perspective he’s an amazing leader. He’s very focused on all his duties. He’s very understanding of my strengths and he doesn’t undermine my intelligence.”

The space went quiet as you continued.

“Although he has a short fuse, I believe it stems from his need to control every situation. He’s worried that if he lowers his guard, then he’ll risk the lives of others. He truly cares about the people under him, even if he doesn’t truly express it often. I hope one day I could be just as amazing as he is. Both physically and intellectually.���

They all just blink, and then a smirk stretches on Hobbie’s lips.

“Navy’s got a crush on the boss.”

“A crush?”

You ask with a tilt of your head.

“You like him. Like how a boy likes a girl.” Patvir says it wistfully, palm on his cheek and Gwen smacks his shoulder with a laugh.

You’re trying to figure out if they’re correct about the assumption. It’s true you do hold a great deal of respect for him.

How could you not?

“Don’t think about it too hard kid.” Peter states.

“You do realize that I’m only a few years younger than you Benjamin.”

“Oooooo! She called you Benjamin, you’re in trouble.” Gwen teases.

Peter persists to apologize and state that the mask is a bit deceiving. You merely smile as they go back and forth commenting how he’s the only one that looks like an old guy in his suit.

The rest of your break is just playful banter.

You spend the better part of the day running through all you can on crushes and how to determine if you have someone that falls into that bracket.

It’s often difficult for you to forget about them even when they aren’t in the room.

You appreciate some aspect of what they do and long to be close, or mirror their values.

It could stem from a deep respect or even admiration.

There’s so much information and you’re a little alarmed at how much it aligns with your views of Miguel.

That afternoon as you’re heading back to work with Miguel, you can’t seem to get it out of your head. The second you step inside, Miguel almost anticipates your arrival.

“I need your help to go through a few of these reports from the last assignment.

“Of course, but first, can I ask you something?”

“Si.”

His eyes are still on the computers, so you aren’t sure if he’s paying attention or not, but you still ask the question.

“Have you ever had a crush on someone?”

He stumbles at the statement, now looking at you.

“Qué..”

“I’ve never truly felt connected to anyone. Not until I joined this society. It’s understandable that I would feel comfortable here. We all share a unique set of skills that are similar in many ways. We’ve all been through different traumas. Yet, out of all the people that I’ve met, both in my universe and yours, the only person I’ve ever really felt connected to is you.”

Miguel is wondering if he’s suffered from a serious blow.

“Is it possible that I might have romantic feelings for you? If so, what am I supposed to do about them? Social norms dictate that we spend time together, find common interests, and plan activities. But all of these are things that I’ve already accomplished with you. How do I get closer? I want to get closer, I want to understand.”

Miguel is quite honestly out of his element. Your straightforward personality is maybe a little too much for him.

“I’m..”

He’s not sure what to say to that.

“Come on big guy, you can do better than that. You’ve been dying for this kind of progress for months.”

Lyla’s sudden appearance and statement are a bit of a shock to you.

“LYLA!”

She’s gone with a laugh just as quickly and his frown deepens.

“For months…You’ve held similar feelings as me for months..”

He hadn’t exactly intended to be outed. Miguel intends to explain, but now you won’t look at him, and you take a step back.

“Did you keep it to yourself because you knew how difficult it would be to have a relationship with someone like me?”

It’s apparent that you’ve completely misunderstood.

“You're wrong.”

You look up.

“I’m not any better than you in this field. What I do, leading this organization, makes sense to me. Relationships don’t.”

His eyes shift and suddenly you feel foolish for just jumping to conclusions.

“It’s easier to stay focused on work, that way no one gets hurt.”

“That’s very lonely. “

He knows. But he’s used to it.

“Would you at least consider giving it a try?”

You look so hopeful and he feels it tug at his heart.

“I-I’ll try to be more normal. I’ve gotten better at physical contact. If we take small steps in no time I’ll be-”

“No. Don’t change anything about yourself.”

Your gaze softens at his words. He takes a step forward. Not close enough to touch, just enough that you can see him, feel him.

“I do want to try, but you shouldn’t have to compromise for anyone. Whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s what we’ll do. I’m not in a rush. “

You can’t believe it. It’s almost like he was put on this earth just for you.

“Are you sure..”

“I’m positive.”

You’re almost tearing up, and he just reaches out a hand, brushing his finger against your cheek. You don’t pull away or flinch.

The contact brings warmth.

The kind you never knew you needed until now.

[mmhcs]

Heyy, just wondering if you were taking requests since I couldn't see any in your account. I love your writing sm!! Hope you're having a nice day, sorry if this question has an obvious answer TvT

- 🥺

Hi, sure, I'd love to take (SFW) requests! The only thing is that they may take longer than expected to process because I balance work, school, and hobbies.

[mmhcs]

Y'ALL.

Y'ALL.

This was the most amazing, most well-written, most gut-wrenching fanfic that I've ever read. Without looking the mess that I am, I would just like to say that I am eagerly awaiting Part 4 now:

Chasing Memories of You pt. 3

Miguel x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

“Lyla,” his voice slurred, “Play file zero.”

Lyla came to life, her frown deep as she saw Miguel surrounded by bottles. His eyes were hazy and drunken as he held a picture frame of you. Lyla wanted to say something but she knew that any word would spark an argument, with Miguel thinking that Lyla is trying to make him forget you. She pulled up file zero, which is multiple files of you and Miguel getting to know each other. They’re scattered, but each file shows a deeper connection between you two.

The first file begins to play and Miguel instantly recognizes your New York, seeing you fly in your black suit, the spider symbol in gold flashing in the sun. Your mentee, Gwen, was flying next to you in a red and black suit. It was here when he met you, answering the call of an anomaly in your universe. He viewed another one, instantly knowing which memory this was. You stormed into the medical area, to where Miguel was resting, insisting that he was acting reckless trying to save you, that he wasn’t thinking about his daughter, who needed him to be around. The argument was cut short when he pulled you into him, kissing you for the first time, breathing that he also needed you around.

Goosebumps then, but nothing now. He watched these files so many times, that all that they had created was a hole, numbing him. Taunting him of a reality that he’ll never have. As he drunkenly scrolled through the files, he came across one labeled as surprise. Even in his hazy mindset, he knew that he had never seen this before. He opened the file seeing more videos of you. He clicked on the first one, holding his breath as he saw you appear in front of him. He sat up, his mind gaining the clarity that it desperately searched for.

“Miggy, wait,” you mumble, pushing his mouth away, “I think I’m going to puke.”

He instantly got up, before walking you to the bathroom, asking you what you ate earlier. You told him the same as usual, but for the past few weeks, you’ve been avoiding greasy food, and eating more salads and bowl-type foods. Anything that you ate could set off your nausea, but at the same time, you wanted to eat everything.

“This has been happening a lot back to back recently,” Miguel said from the other side of the door, “It’s probably something that you’re eating.”

“Maybe the food in 2099 is made so poorly that if you aren’t used to it, it makes you sick,” you joked.

“Like your poisoned food is any better,” he said which caused you both to snicker.

You finally came out of the bathroom, telling him that you still felt the same. He kissed your forehead, asking if you wanted to sit on his balcony. You snuggled further into his hoodie as the two of you looked over Nueva York, the sounds of the city were peacefully quiet, as if a hush went through, and the neon hues washed you in warmth. You snuggled closer to Miguel, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you further into his side. He softly kissed the side of your face, before trailing down to your neck. You could feel the worry fall off him and onto you. In between the kisses, you felt him stare as if he could see what was ailing you. He’s on eggshells, the funeral was just only months ago, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight. He frets over you about anything, trying to control every aspect to mitigate any possible consequences.

“I think you should see a doctor,” he says softly, “I want you to be healthy.”

“I am,” you kissed him, “But what if it’s not anything serious?”

“Then what would it be?” His question was fragile, threatening to break under a possible reality. You stayed quiet, not wanting to voice that possibility, especially when he was still trying to heal.

“Nothing, I’m fine Miggy,” you smiled, “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

He should’ve known then, he should have picked up on the signs: the nausea, the pickiness of your appetite, the slight plumpness of your body. If he had known, if he wasn’t blinded by grief, he could have protected you, the both of you. He would have put you on fewer missions, and made you do more lab work, hell he would have taken your watch away so you wouldn’t be hurt by an anomaly. He saw another file, his hand moving faster than his mind, as he clicked the file. Watching memories of you compares to a dark paradise, filling him with poison that he knows stops him from healing.

“Lyla,” she appeared next to you in Miguel’s bathroom, “where’s Miguel?”

“At HQ,” she said, “Want me to get him?”

Your eyes widened as you quickly said no, your hand clutching around something that Lyla couldn’t make out. She appeared closer to your hand to see, but you moved whatever it was to your chest. You let the toilet cover down, sitting on it, hunched over, quiet. You tapped your foot on the ground, your mind a mess while your mouth was unemployed. You wanted to throw the damn thing away, the reality threatening to make your lunch come up. Two months, the funeral was two months ago and you’re … You shook your head, ignoring Lyla’s words about your heart rate. You softly rocked back and forth, before getting up and pacing around his bathroom. One hand still clutching the small, but very significant change of your life, as you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t catch your reflection in the mirror, not feeling brave enough to do so. You tasted the salt from your tears, as you slid to the floor, what if he hates you, resents you for a mutual, intimate action? What if he makes you get rid of it, makes you choose? What will happen then?

“How accurate are your tests?” You shakily breathed.

“What tests?” And with her question, you reveal the pregnancy test. Her quiet was deafening, sinking you further before she answered that it was accurate, the most it’s ever been. But to ease your worry, she did a bioscan of you, confirming that you are pregnant.

“Well,” she began slowly, “Congratulations, but how did this happen?” You shot her a look, which caused her to sigh, “I know how, but when?”

“It was when,” you began to search through your memories, peeling back the layers of your brain, to the moment when the two of you were alone, “I don’t know Lyla, I don’t know what to do, the one person that I need, I can’t tell.”

You cleaned your eyes, thinking of what to say to Miguel, imagining how he would react. Would you have to leave him, be alone with your child? Your mind could only imagine Miguel’s face twisted in disappointment, or even anger. He’s going to hate me, was the only thing that you could think despite your heart trying to tell you otherwise. You felt as if you were in a headlock, not knowing if you should go or trust Miguel.

“You are going to have to,” Lyla said, “You’re going to start showing.”

“I… I know, but Lyla, you can't tell him,” you cleaned your eyes, “Please.”

“Of course,” she smiled.

You finally felt some comfort in the silence before you spoke again, “Do you think I should surprise him, with dinner, or a party?”

“Party,” Lyla smiled, “And we can get a confetti gun filled with pink or blue confetti.”

You nodded, cautiously smiling, your mind filling with the possibilities of a new future. Finally, everything felt like it’ll be okay. A new beginning for you both.

Miguel turned it off, unable to look at your face, unable to bear looking at the hesitation on your face about telling him about your pregnancy. It’s unbearable with you being gone. He took another swig of his bottle, feeling another memory from his mind appear, rolling slowly like thunder approaching a city. He was able to figure the rest out, how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy, a surprise party. But that day will be forever stained with your blood, the loss of his second family. That day, that memory, always bubbles up, it can never be defeated by the alcohol, by how many villains he beats into a pulp, by each thought of seeking another just so his bed won’t be empty. It’s always there, chained to him. He can never seem to forget.

He stood at the door to your apartment, taking a shaky breath. He’s going here to think. To think of how to tell your family that you’re dead, that he failed to protect you. He leans his head against the door, trying to collect his breathing as more tears fall from broken eyes. He didn’t bother to clean his eyes or nose, which made everything hurt all the more. He was startled by pink and blue confetti, and voices yelling “congratulations”! Miguel took a step, looking around as he felt the urge to vomit. In silence, he took note of the various baby decorations, pink and blue streamers hanging from the ceiling and on the wall. The table had small sandwiches and chips with the dessert being small pink and blue cupcakes. He saw lettering decorating the wall, condadulations, Miggy!

The smiling faces were choking him, closing in on him. He felt his breathing become shallow and shorter as if he was exhaling every time he inhaled. He leaned against the door, struggling to look at faces, especially your parents, he couldn’t tell them that he failed his promise.

“Where’s my daughter?” your mother laughed, she was holding a cake, “She was supposed to come with you.”

Miguel began to take large breaths, as he couldn’t stop his tears, the inky hands of grief pulling him down. He sunk to the floor, holding himself feeling a sick realization that this was how you were going to break the news of your pregnancy. At a party, not in his arms, dying. He painfully tore his eyes away from the ground looking at your mother, and he was drowning again, this is how you would’ve looked, aging with beautiful and graceful features. She knelt in front of him, telling him to breathe, as he was barely aware of her cleaning his eyes with a napkin. He pushes her hand away, he doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment, not after ruining her life forever, “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I … I failed her. I’m sorry,” he repeats, holding your mother.

“Miguel,” your mother’s voice is still kind, though there was a worried edge in it, “Miguel, breathe okay. Whatever argument you two got in will work itself out, it’s just her pregnancy.”

Oh, he wishes it was an argument. That means that he’ll be able to have you back in a matter of moments, he’ll argue with you about anything if that means he’ll be able to hold you again. She said to relax again, telling him to breathe, and he finally gave in to the despair, “She’s dead. She … died in my arms. There was an attack … I couldn’t save her in time.”

Your mother’s face paled, all the light, all the life, drained from her face. Her body slouched, the only sound was the plastic plate hitting the floor. Miguel couldn’t say anything, but how could he? Who would want to be comforted by their child’s murderer? Your father filled the silence, stepping past his wife and pulling Miguel up by his shoulder. Your father’s face was the opposite, lit with a fury that can only be caused by grief. Miguel forced his eyes to stay on his face, as your father demanded what happened. As he demanded to know why he let you die. Your father repeated the same questions, each time getting closer and closer to Miguel. Miguel felt as if he was set on fire, feeling nothing but hopelessness. Nothing else mattered, all was obsolete. Your father repeated the same question, but to Miguel, it sounded distant, as if someone was yelling at him behind thick walls. Even if he heard the question, he couldn't care less, your father isn’t the only one who’s grieving. The world was spinning, yet shattering around Miguel, he was lost in a haze. The last kiss that you gave him, your lifeless body, crushed him. Two people died when you permanently closed your eyes, you and the man who he thought he could be. He was right there, on the edges of his fingertips. Ready to be everything that you wanted, that you needed. But your death makes being dead alluring. You made death look like mercy, a dark paradise.

Miguel’s focus on you was shattered when your father’s fist connected with his face. The shock caused him to fall over, his hand covered in red from his nose. Your father shook off your mother as he stepped over Miguel. “You should have stayed away from her,” your father sneered, “Then she would still be here. You should have taken her place. She should be here in front of us, not you.”

“You don’t think that I agree with you,” was all Miguel said.

Miguel and Gwen stayed outside the medical room as your parents grieved over you privately. He couldn’t do anything, he wanted this day to be over, he wanted to go back in time and correct this mistake. He wanted to be the hero that you always thought he was. But you were the hero, always saving him, and he hates you for it. If you didn’t save him, then you would be here, and that’s all that would matter to Miguel. When his memory fails him, will your love abide? Looking at you, he knows that he’ll love you for a long time. If his mind fails to remember, his body and his heart will remember.

“Is everything going to be okay?” Gwen asks him, her eyes begging for a sliver of hope, “Are we going to be okay?”

Miguel blinks away some more tears before he looks at her, and he breaks. She seems so small, holding herself against the wall. Her small, huddled frame reminded him of Gabi when she was upset. He would kneel in front of her, clean her eyes, and tell her that everything was okay. He found himself doing the same thing, slipping so easily into father mode. It wasn’t hard for him, as your mentee, Miguel and you were her second set of parents. Going to school events and even covering as her guardians so her parents won’t know about her slipping grades or missed classes.

“Hey,” he said, cleaning her eyes, “We’re going to be fine. We’re going to get through this together,” he hugged her, “I promise.”

Just as he did with Gabi, to make her less upset, he would lie. He kissed the top of her head, repeating another lie of comfort as he focused on your dead body. He wanted to say I don’t know if we’ll be okay, at least he knows that he’ll never be. Without you, the darkness eats him, he’s not himself, and he won’t be ever again. He’ll love you for a long time, he’ll miss you for a long time. A wound that he’ll never heal from.

And now, he’s forced to watch videos, these memories of you that he’s slowly tainting with the desperation of guilt. He can’t let go, and he won’t let go. He knows that you would want him to, but he won’t. He’s in a daze, and he needs you, but you’re so far away. Across a sea that he can’t cross … unless. In his room, the soft beeping of his watch caught his attention, he stared at it feeling something be planted. Thinking of all that it could do, thinking that it was how he met you. He thought of HQ, of all the Spiders there, how they all traveled by that watch. Would it be possible … if there are Spiders from different Earths, then … He got up, opening a portal to HQ. He can end this, end this feeling of being alone. He’ll have a chance to go home. To be closer to love.

He realized that he was only someone with you. That only you loved him naturally, and he needs you, he has always needed you. This time, he won’t leave you alone, you’re his sun and stars, the air that he breathes. He’ll never leave you alone again. On his screen, he ran multiple tests, screening each Earth for your DNA, and bio-scans, essentially screening for you. He was in a headlock, trapped by you. He thought that he was better than this, but grief, no desperation was stronger. Desperation to protect, to bring back something that has been lost. Miguel finally felt something break, no, not break, he felt something resolve, grow stronger.

He will have you in his arms again, he can start again. He will start again.

The screen started beeping, indicating a match. He zoomed in on that Earth, moving past the people, his eyes quickly moving over the faces of strangers. He did another scan, this time to pinpoint where you were, which was a TV studio. Miguel felt his heart in his lungs, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to see you in real time. He opened your location, and his breath was gone. He was gone, he fell to his knees, silent tears on his face, it felt like ages since he last looked upon your face. You were beauty beyond words, a force in the room. You were a goddess, dressed fittingly in white. He closed his eyes as he listened to you talk during your interview. He felt it all ending, his senseless grief, the hole in his heart was closing the more that he listened, swaying to your words as he was drunk.

He felt as if he was in church, on his knees in reverence and you were who he was praying to. When you would look into the camera, he felt your eyes, he felt your soul, and it was warm, feeling like home. He reached out, aiming to touch your face, only for his hand to go through the projection, your image briefly flickering. A bitter reminder of reality. At least he won’t be chasing memories of you anymore, closer to love, he found you again. And, in time, he’ll do more than monitor you as if you were a machine. He’ll join you, he won’t leave you alone anymore. That sea that separated the two of you disappeared.

“I’m coming home, my love,” he whispered to the projection, he whispered to you.

A/N: Writer’s block has me in a mf chokehold, I fear. Also, do people still read Miguel O’Hara fics???

[mmhcs]

𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮

Okay, so if you do some calculations then one can estimate that Miguel was born on October 13, 2064. And based off of that, you can say that he would most definitely be a Scorpio Venus, which is known to be one of if not the most passionate Venus signs.

So, walk with me now. Imagine Miguel showing love to his partner.

How on most days, it would be simple things such as asking how your day was or making sure that when you get home after a long day there's a warm, fuzzy blanket and a drink waiting for you as well as your favorite movie/TV show, ready for you to hit play on.

Miguel also shows his loves by observing you. Heavily observing you. Getting attuned to your body language and your tells so that he can properly care for you when you're feeling sad, sick, upset, etc. After a while, he's able to read you like a book. Sometimes you don't even need to say words; you two can just feel when something's wrong with the other.

He also likes to have deep conversations with you. In his thirty or so years, Miguel has obviously seen a lot and that's given him a lot of different views and understandings about life. He greatly values a partner who is also introspective and into philosophy. And even if that's not you, Miguel will still pick your brain late at night because, to him, there's nothing more attractive than the mind. He wants to hear you and your thoughts.

A little weird but I imagine that Miguel has an intense gaze. Like, you get a little shy when looking him directly in the eyes because his gaze is just so intense. You can literally see the devotion and passion dancing in his eyes whenever you look at him and something about that is just...yeah.

When that man loves you, he loves you for life. There's no backing out if you get to a certain point with him. That man is the definition of loyal. If you look up the word in a dictionary, if there's not a picture of him as an example then his name will be a synonym.

𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮𖦹🕷️🕸✮

A/N: Every fanfic author is allowed one (1) unhinged post and this is mine. Happy birthday, Miguel.

[mmhcs]

I was looking through my drafts and saw this which I never finished. It features a Workaholic!Reader and Miguel desperately trying to get them to take a break from work and rest.

Would guys be interested in reading something like this?

[mmhcs]

Tangled in Webs

Miguel O'hara x reader

You had always known that loving Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man of 2099, was like dancing with fire. His presence was a whirlwind—both intoxicating and terrifying. The jagged edges of his existence were carved from loss, guilt, and unshakable responsibility. And you? You were the soft touch, the counterbalance to the shadows that plagued him. Or so you had believed.

It wasn’t enough.

You should have known the end was coming. There were signs—small cracks in the dam, glances that lasted a fraction too long, clenched jaws when you tried to reach him. His words became clipped, his touch fleeting. Where once you felt like the tether to reality he so desperately needed, now you were nothing more than a distant echo.

But you held on.

One night, the sky over Nueva York was heavy with rain. Thunder rumbled, vibrating through the steel and glass landscape of the futuristic city. You sat on the edge of Miguel’s apartment, watching droplets race down the windows. The air was thick with the storm, much like the tension between you. He hadn’t come home yet—again.

And your heart clenched with every passing minute.

This wasn’t unusual. He was always out there, swinging through the city, battling anomalies, and trying to hold the fragile fabric of the multiverse together. You admired him for it, loved him for the strength and dedication that defined his very being. But lately, it felt like he was slipping through your fingers, like the silk threads of a web dissolving in your hands.

Finally, you heard the door slide open. His familiar, heavy footsteps echoed against the polished floor. You didn’t move, afraid that if you turned to face him, you’d see the truth written across his expression—his distance, his coldness. You weren’t ready to confront it. Not yet.

“(Y/N).”

Your name on his lips was low, almost strained. It carried the weight of a man who bore the weight of a thousand worlds, and suddenly, you were terrified of what was coming. You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you turned toward him.

There he stood, soaked to the bone, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. His suit, that familiar, daunting black and red, clung to his powerful frame. But what shattered you wasn’t his appearance; it was the look in his eyes.

Empty. Hollow.

“Miguel,” you whispered, standing. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he moved closer, his presence both magnetic and suffocating. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick, gravelly. “We need to talk.”

Your heart dropped.

“I—” He paused, running a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching tight. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The world beneath you tilted. You blinked, trying to process his words. “What are you talking about?”

His amber eyes, usually filled with fierce determination, now looked haunted. “Us. This… thing between us. I can’t keep doing this, (Y/N).”

It felt like your breath had been stolen from your lungs. A painful silence hung between you. “Why?” It was all you could manage, your voice breaking.

“Because it’s too dangerous,” he growled, fists clenched at his sides. “Every time I look at you, I’m reminded of everything I could lose. Every time I care, it makes me weak. I can’t afford to be weak. Not with the multiverse on the line. Not when every anomaly could destroy everything.”

You took a step back, the distance between you growing like a chasm. His words sliced through you, leaving invisible wounds in their wake. “So, what? You’re just going to walk away? Push me aside like none of this mattered?”

“I don’t have a choice,” he spat, though his tone wasn’t filled with malice—it was laced with frustration, with grief. “I can’t afford distractions, (Y/N). You of all people should understand that.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not a distraction, Miguel. I’m here because I love you. Because I believe in you. I thought we were in this together.”

He flinched at your words, the harsh reality of what he was doing beginning to set in. But his expression hardened. “That’s exactly why I have to do this. If something happened to you because of me, I wouldn’t survive it.”

“And what about me?” you shot back, voice rising in desperation. “You think walking away is going to protect me? Miguel, I’m already part of your world. I’ve been part of your life. You can’t just shut me out like I’m nothing.”

He exhaled sharply, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I’ve already lost too many people,” he muttered. “I won’t lose you too. Not because of my mistakes.”

Your heart shattered, splintering into pieces that were too sharp to hold onto. “You think this is for me, but it’s not. This is for you. You’re afraid, Miguel. You’re terrified of letting someone in, of loving someone and having to face the possibility of losing them again. But that’s not living. That’s just running away.”

He didn’t deny it.

The storm outside raged on, matching the tumult of emotions swirling between you. Miguel took a step forward, his eyes locking with yours for what felt like the last time. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

And that’s when you realized it wasn’t just an apology. It was a farewell.

You felt the tears slip down your cheeks, but you didn’t bother wiping them away. “Please don’t do this, Miguel,” you begged, hating the way your voice cracked. “We can figure this out. We always do.”

He shook his head, his expression tortured. “Not this time.”

Before you could respond, before you could even reach out to him, Miguel turned and disappeared into the night. The door slid shut behind him, the sound echoing in the hollow space he left behind.

And just like that, he was gone.

You collapsed to the floor, knees hitting the cold surface as sobs wracked your body. The rain outside blurred against the window, matching the tears that refused to stop. You had always known that loving Miguel O’Hara was like dancing with fire. You just hadn’t realized that you’d be the one left burned.

[mmhcs]

Am I reaching by saying that, aside from Oscar Isaac, Roman Reigns is probably example of how Miguel would look in real life?

[mmhcs]

₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡₊✩｡🕷˚🕸⋆｡₊✩｡

Okay, Miguel with a nice and sweet partner is very cool and very wholesome and I am in full support of that dynamic but what about Miguel with a partner that's equally if not scarier than him?

Like, compared to you, Miguel is actually the nice one? People give him a lot of flak and he used to understand and accept but ever since you two got together, he's like, "You think that I'm mean? That I'm scary? You should meet my partner—you'll cry."

Whether you're a Spider or not, you go to the Spider Society and of course everybody is nice to and you're nice to everybody (just because you have a scary aura doesn't mean that you're a jerk) but Miguel uses it to his advantage because during meetings when nobody's listening to him, he says, "Don't make me call (Y/N)." and everybody immediately shuts up and pays attention.

Alternatively, when Miguel does call you in, all you have to do is stand at his side with your arms crossed and a frown on your face like a disappointed parent/teacher and suddenly everyone is paying attention because you being called in is basically the equivalent of a parent having to leave work early to have an impromptu meeting with their misbehaving child's teacher.

Whenever you and Miguel argue, it's like lightning and thunder.

Everybody knows to stay out of it (which they most definitely do) but they just can't help but watch somebody go toe-to-toe with Miguel O'Hara.

And more often than not, Miguel walks out of his office with a pout on his face, looking like a child who just got grounded.

As he skulks out of his office, a bunch of Spiders that were eavesdropping around the corner scatter in the opposite direction, trying to look busy. Everyone except Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, Hobie, Peter, and Jess.

While Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr all try to comfort Miguel, Hobie simply wraps an arm around Miguel and pulls him down to his height. Then, with a smirk on his face, Hobie asks, "Trouble in paradise, mate?"

Miguel only mumbles something incoherent and pushes Hobie off of him, still pouting. Meanwhile, Peter, Jess, and Lyla are trying to hold back their snickers.

But Miguel loves you.

Sometimes when people give him shit, he doesn't retaliate; he calmly walks away from the situation and goes and tells you what the other person said about him and from there he goes to bed knowing that the person who was mean to him earlier now has to sleep with one eye open and a rosary underneath their pillow because when you see them, it's on sight.

Similarly, if the two of you ever have a child or children, you do not play about them. If people thought that you two were scary before, they're packing their bags and moving to the next dimension when the situation involves one of your children.

You and Miguel angry together at the same thing? Lord.

[mmhcs]

So sweet and amazing!

—; 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GenderNeutral! reader. ( AnyPOV ) Warning: Established relationship, fluff, reader having a nightmare, comfort, drabble(?) Summary: Miguel comforting you while you're having a nightmare. Word count: 531 words.

—A/N: This is all fluffy, Miguel being soft allat. I always imagine him being a gentle giant towards you, as his lover. And he is like, suuupeer protective of you because of his trauma.

I tried to make you as neutral as possible. Because I wanted to make it more immersive. So, yeah-

“Ay, cariño. Wake up.”

Miguel’s heart clenched as he watched you toss and turn. Another nightmare. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast shadows on the walls. Your low, distressed murmurs pierced the silence, breath hitching now and then.

No, there's no way he would let you continue sleeping like this. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs tracing soothing circles along your skin. “Bebé… Shh… I am here. It’s okay,” Miguel whispered. He shifted his hand from your cheeks to stroke your hair, the soft strands slipping through his fingers. “It’s alright, mi amor. It’s just a bad dream.”

But your body remained tense, legs tangled in the covers, mumbling words he couldn’t quite understand. Miguel could see the toll reality had taken on you, evident in the way your brow furrowed even in sleep. No wonder you were having nightmares.

Miguel wrapped his arms around you as soon as he sensed how much the nightmare affected you. Pulling you close, his hand rested at the back of your head. The steady beat of his heart thumped against your ear as he held you, your warmth providing a small comfort for him amidst his growing concern over you.

“Shh… Ssh…” He shushed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss beside your ear. “I’ve got you.” He wasn’t going to let go, not until he felt you relax—not until you were back with him, safe from whatever your mind was putting you through. You meant too much to him—he’d do anything to comfort you, even if it meant staying awake all night, holding you like this.

After minutes passed, your breath finally began to steady, slowly unwinding from the tension. Your eyes fluttered open, clouded with the remnants of sleep.

Miguel exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. A small smile formed as he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath brushed your skin. “There you are,” relief washed over him, his voice soft. “I’ve got you, cariño. Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here.”

Outside, the rain pattered softly against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the late hour. You blinked, still disoriented. But when your eyes met his, you could feel your heart fluttered.

“Do you want me to hold you a bit longer?” Miguel asked.

In response to his question, you nodded and let your body slowly relax in his embrace. The tension melted away as you buried your head into his chest, like finding shelter from a storm in the warmth of his embrace. A sigh escaped your lips, drawing a low chuckle from him. How adorable.

His hand lingered on the back of your head, sensing your body starting to relax. All he wanted was for you to be comfortable. The way your body softened into his—your breathing even and steady, it was all he needed, even if just for a moment. Right now, all that mattered was you.

And he’d make sure that nothing—not even himself—would ever hurt you.

“Mhm. That’s it,” he murmured, holding you close. “You can go back to sleep, cariño. I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers still gently tangled in your hair as he kissed your forehead,

“Te amo, mi vida.”

✎ Geodyne on Tumblr. © divider : @saradika-graphics. @rookthornesartistry

[mmhcs]

—; 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GenderNeutral! reader. ( AnyPOV ) Warning: Established relationship, fluff, reader having a nightmare, comfort, drabble(?) Summary: Miguel comforting you while you're having a nightmare. Word count: 531 words.

—A/N: This is all fluffy, Miguel being soft allat. I always imagine him being a gentle giant towards you, as his lover. And he is like, suuupeer protective of you because of his trauma.

I tried to make you as neutral as possible. Because I wanted to make it more immersive. So, yeah-

“Ay, cariño. Wake up.”

Miguel’s heart clenched as he watched you toss and turn. Another nightmare. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast shadows on the walls. Your low, distressed murmurs pierced the silence, breath hitching now and then.

No, there's no way he would let you continue sleeping like this. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs tracing soothing circles along your skin. “Bebé… Shh… I am here. It’s okay,” Miguel whispered. He shifted his hand from your cheeks to stroke your hair, the soft strands slipping through his fingers. “It’s alright, mi amor. It’s just a bad dream.”

But your body remained tense, legs tangled in the covers, mumbling words he couldn’t quite understand. Miguel could see the toll reality had taken on you, evident in the way your brow furrowed even in sleep. No wonder you were having nightmares.

Miguel wrapped his arms around you as soon as he sensed how much the nightmare affected you. Pulling you close, his hand rested at the back of your head. The steady beat of his heart thumped against your ear as he held you, your warmth providing a small comfort for him amidst his growing concern over you.

“Shh… Ssh…” He shushed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss beside your ear. “I’ve got you.” He wasn’t going to let go, not until he felt you relax—not until you were back with him, safe from whatever your mind was putting you through. You meant too much to him—he’d do anything to comfort you, even if it meant staying awake all night, holding you like this.

After minutes passed, your breath finally began to steady, slowly unwinding from the tension. Your eyes fluttered open, clouded with the remnants of sleep.

Miguel exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. A small smile formed as he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath brushed your skin. “There you are,” relief washed over him, his voice soft. “I’ve got you, cariño. Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here.”

Outside, the rain pattered softly against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the late hour. You blinked, still disoriented. But when your eyes met his, you could feel your heart fluttered.

“Do you want me to hold you a bit longer?” Miguel asked.

In response to his question, you nodded and let your body slowly relax in his embrace. The tension melted away as you buried your head into his chest, like finding shelter from a storm in the warmth of his embrace. A sigh escaped your lips, drawing a low chuckle from him. How adorable.

His hand lingered on the back of your head, sensing your body starting to relax. All he wanted was for you to be comfortable. The way your body softened into his—your breathing even and steady, it was all he needed, even if just for a moment. Right now, all that mattered was you.

And he’d make sure that nothing—not even himself—would ever hurt you.

“Mhm. That’s it,” he murmured, holding you close. “You can go back to sleep, cariño. I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers still gently tangled in your hair as he kissed your forehead,

“Te amo, mi vida.”

✎ Geodyne on Tumblr. © divider : @saradika-graphics. @rookthornesartistry

[mmhcs]

Say It With Your Chest part 2?????

Yes, there will be a part two! It's in the works; please forgive me because I've been busy with work and school!

[mmhcs]

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Pregnancy Announcement(slight angst)

Tw: slight angst, past character loss mention

_________________

Miguel pauses, looking up at you from the open files on the holographic screens in front of him.

“What do you mean…you’re pregnant?” He stammered, lips parted as he looked at you with empty eyes. His brow furrowed, searching your face as if you were joking.

You suddenly felt nervous at the sight, arms instinctually going to rest over your stomach.

“Uhm, yeah, I’m a little over two months.” You say, feeling your words catch in your throat at the sight of his pale face. “Miguel? I know we didn’t plan it, but I just hope…I’d like to keep it.” You wait a second, feeling the air become tense while waiting for him to say something. He just stepped back from the holograms, arms moving to cross over his chest.

“That’s why you were feeling sick.” He murmured, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. A scowl showed on his face. He almost looks constipated, a voice in your head offered unhelpfully.

“Miguel?” Your brow pinched, head beginning to swirl with thoughts of the worst scenarios. He could get angry, you knew that. You knew of his temper, along with his pentiant of throwing things in his tantrums. You resisted the urge to take a step back from him as he took a few short breaths, eyes suddenly looking down at the ground. He stood like a tower, unmoving and unbreakable. But if you looked closer, you could tell that the news was weighing on him in the way his shoulders sagged.

“Please…Miguel…could you say something? We can talk about this.” You tried, slowly reaching a hand out towards his crossed arms. He still wasn’t looking at you, seemingly trapped in his head with his own thoughts.

His crimson eyes snapped to your hand as it rested gently on his forearm. It almost looked like he was afraid.

“I…it caught me off guard.” He grunts out suddenly, unmoving from your touch despite his lack of eye contact. “Do you really want to keep it?” His voice sounded cold and clipped, making your hand retreat.

“Yes, but if you really don’t want to have it, we…we can end this here.” You said, voice finding strength as you buried your fingers into your top. He looked at you then, surprising you at the shine over them.

“Miguel, what’s going on?” You asked, worried lacing in your voice. He suppressed a shudder, moving forward suddenly towards you. You froze, surprised again as he suddenly wrapped you in a tight hug. Strong hands finding their way across your back, searching.

“It’s just,” He started quietly, voice sounding thick with emotion over your shoulder, “You know I had a daughter once before, yeah?”

You nod, teeth finding your bottom lip as you slowly realize where his head was at.

“Oh, Miguel.” You moved back from his hold slightly to look at him with sad eyes.

“I want you to keep it.” His crimson eyes gleamed in the light of his office, “I’m just…remembering what happened last time.” He cleared his throat.

Your hand found a way around his waist, bringing him closer to you. He dropped his head to the crown of yours, leaving a kiss in your hair.

“Nothing would make me happier.” His voice was gentle as he left another kiss on your head. “I’m just afraid.” You reach up to rest a hand over his cheek, giving him a sympathetic smile. A small and brave thing.

“We can take the leap together, it won’t be like last time. We have a whole spider society that has our backs if anything goes wrong.” I said lightly, voice dropping into something soft, “But seriously, I’d love to do this with you, only if you feel that you’re ready. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for you before, and I understand your apprehension now.”

He shook his head, hands moving to cover your arm over your stomach.

“No, I’m ready. For you, I can do anything.” He huffed, thumbs smoothing over the material of your top. “Gabriela will forever be in my heart and mind, but creating life with you…it’s all I could have dreamed of.”

You gave a teary laugh, moving to press your face into his neck as he curled around you.

“I love you, Miggy.” You whispered, feeling his arms wound tighter around you.

“And I you, mi corazon.”

[mmhcs]

This was so sweet and amazing!

YOUR LOVE ☪︎

"Can I have some of your love?"

genre: fluff, silly idea, Miles being absolutely whipped for reader

synopsis: Miles finally decides to make a move on his hallway crush.

song inspo: Some - Steve Lacy

tags: @oliveeoil

AN: imma be real, this is like my first miles fic ever, so if i write him a bit out of character, im so sorry guys 😭 but i really enjoyed writing this and i tried to make it as cute as possible! anyways i hope you enjoy!

Things can be repetitive. Each day feels just like the one before it, causing things to become a pattern. It happens to the best of us, even to the pride of Brooklyn himself. The days Miles could recall were starting to mix. Go to school, vigilante work and go home for the weekend, over and over again. This was how things had been for the past month or two, at least until a few weeks ago.

Before, school was more like a blurry mess of repetitive assignments and classes, a place that he disliked and just not worthy of getting up early for everyday. Now for the first time in a while, he couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement every morning. Couldn't help waking up early, getting ready and being focused on one thing, the same thing that was on his mind on late nights. Having him giddy with excitement, being a bit quicker out the door every morning just to be even a little bit earlier to wander the hallways for a while, scanning the groups of fellow students while hoping to find a specific face every morning before class.

He spots you from a distance, playing it cool and only looking for a moment, just to admire from a distance before being forced to head over to first period. Hurrying to class as he mulls over your appearance in his head, trying to keep the image fresh so he can replicate it on paper.

You had your hair in a simple 'fro today, having taken out the French curl braids you had in for months. Miles always enjoyed how creative you were with your hair, showing up with a different style everyday whether braided or free, as he always tried hard to notice the differences in each style before doing his best to recreate it on paper.

Class passes as usual, the dull lecture of the teacher being nothing more than white noise as Miles does his best to redraw what he saw from you this morning. As he moves from class to class it feels like he sees you almost everywhere. Gathered at the lockers laughing with a friend or two, leaving a class with an armful of books and a binder or just aimlessly wandering the halls, either avoiding returning to class or on your way to the restroom.

There were so many chances in the day to talk, but besides the overwhelming nervousness at the thought he didn't exactly know how. You were in his Studio Art class and you had spoken to him before but only briefly to compliment his J's, to which he responded with an awkwardly enthusiastic thanks. To avoid embarrassing himself he kept his distance, picturing the day where he’d finally work up the nerve to say hi.

Today was actually different from the usual class; In Studio Art today, your class has been volunteered (more of assigned) to help work on painting some large set pieces for theater. As you’re all standing in front of the theater director for instructions on where to begin, by some form of luck, Miles ends up piled in next to you. With this realization he feels a good amount of fear and curiosity inside, with him being able to see you clearly in his peripherals simply waiting, although with a faint air of frustration for the group to begin.

Something inside him wants to speak up and say something, anything to get your attention but the fear of saying something embarrassing keeps him silent as his mind races to come up with a subject of interest. He spares a few glances only to find you already looking at him, now refusing to look at you even after hearing you let out a huff of laughter, still staring. “...bruh, I've seen you staring already. Can I help you?” You laugh as you watch him stammer to come up with a response, eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Oh-! Um, shit, sorry..uhh…your J’s, where'd you get them from??”

Oh my God, are you serious? You could have said anything, and you asked about her shoes?? He watches in embarrassment as you look down at your shoes and back up at him in confusion. “Uhh, at the mall. Why?” He hesitates for a moment before blurting out a response. “They, uh, they look nice.” You nod. “Oh, thanks.” An awkward silence follows, with you and Miles both sneaking glances at each other before being dismissed to work with everyone else. Feeling a bit embarrassed and disappointed, Miles began to walk off only to realize you were following behind him.

You can't help but smile at his surprised expression before hurrying ahead towards a tarp with some smaller set peices. “We should start with these first, don't you think?” He watches as you sit down cross-legged on the tarp, silently inviting him to sit with you. “Uhh, yeah, sure.” He smiled back, sitting down with you and watching as you mess with a few bottles of paint before glancing back over at him, a hint of embarrassment on your face.“So, you got any idea what we're supposed to do? "Cause I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't really paying attention.”

"I don't- I think we're just supposed to paint over them in white? I'm not sure.” You sigh at this, passing him a brush before pouring white paint into the tray. “I'm really not tryna do this today. I actually wanted to stay in Art today, get to work on my project.”

“The mixed media one? I haven't really started on it yet…” You let out a huff of laughter. “Me neither. I just had a few ideas in my mind..just trying to come up with something, yknow?”

Silence begins as the two of you work on painting, but Miles can't help but glance over at you every now and then, only to hear you speak up again in a more shy tone. “I've seen some of your art too, the street art at least. It's really impressive.” You keep your gaze locked on the task in front of you, completely missing his pleased, surprised and flattered expression. “Really?”

“Yeah. From what I've seen, you never draw a sketch for that style, you just go for it. That's cool, and I've seen your tags too, the one on your bag, I mean, and..I like ‘em. They're cool.”

You trail off, getting visibly embarrassed, before looking up to see the awkward smile on his face, completely floored and pleased by your appreciation and fumbling to come up with a response. “Uh, thanks! That's really… I can make you a tag too, if you want!” Miles watches as your eyes light up and you hesitate to accept his offer. “Really? You don't have to if you don't want to..”

He nods, completely unbothered. “Yeah. I don't mind, really.” He watches as you smile back, making his heartbeat speed up. “Thank you…if you're interested, I can show you some of the ideas I had for the project, once we finish all this, of course.”

“Okay, sure.” Feeling accomplished and thrilled by how smoothly things went, the two of you continue to paint in a more comfortable silence, with a new feeling of relief and excitement for the next interaction between you two.

wc: 1,281

[mmhcs]

Does anybody have any fluffy Miguel x Reader fics to recommend? Please and thank you.

[mmhcs]

WHY DON'T WE CALL IT FOR WHAT IT IS? — [ post-atsv. spider-reader. wc 1.4k ] you and miguel are dating in secret. neither of you are a fan of pda, so he shows as much as he can in private.

Your participation in the Society recently was bordering on mediocre. In your defense, your other job has been keeping you occupied. Of course, living with Miguel still means that you can see him a lot. A privilege that the other measly spiders can not afford, but you.

However, Miguel was on another strike mission in a never seen before spider dimension. From the details he told you, it was a world blanketed in snow and ice. It required very specific agents to accomplish and knowing him, he volunteered himself to go with too.

Once you were free from your shift, you anxiously waited near the console. Only occasionally leaving to grab a snack and go to the bathroom, as each minute passed the more nervous you became.

Miguel left early in the morning, bidding you farewell with a kiss on your forehead that you were still way too groggy for. It was late in the evening now and there was no sign of him or his team.

Your mind started to wander, passing scenarios of what you wished could happen once you finally saw him. You would leap at him with your arms spread to prepare for his warm embrace, you would pepper kisses all across his handsome face and he'd flush under the attention. Unfortunately, you could only dream that would happen.

As much as possible, both you and Miguel have been trying to keep your relationship private. Not for any life-threatening or intensely serious reasons, but it was for both of your comfort. You liked the intimacy that came with keeping everything private, knowing that whatever you had between each other was just for you. Miguel thought the same, he was the one who suggested it after all.

Still, that fact hindered you. Your jobs and his entailed long nights away from each other and when you finally reunited or even had more than ten minutes to just be, you couldn't act on your true desires because you would be in the eyes of other people.

"Hey. A dollar for your thoughts?" Margo chimed, her iridescent hologram brought a soothing glow to the dark oranges and yellows of the console room.

"Isn't it a penny for your thoughts?"

"Well, they've had to up the prices. You know, inflation." You couldn't tell if she approached you because she noticed how deep in thought you appeared to be or if she too was riding on waves of boredom. Nevertheless, a distraction would probably help.

"Who are you waiting for exactly?" Margo turned her back to you for a second and flickers on her own screens, nearly in the same fashion Lyla does. Only they look more purple as opposed to dandelion.

"Miguel. He wanted to talk to me about a - progress report and I think the mission he went on overlapped with that meeting."

She chortled at your hesitation, the sound increased when you mentioned your reasoning. "I didn't know he did those kinds of reports. You must be special, huh?"

"They're, uh, you have to ask for them."

Over time, you were able to develop a skill where you can pull any sort of lie out of your ass. That was mostly because you used to only be interrogated by Peter B. (he still does it) and he was pretty easy to shut down. Ask about his daughter and all of that, crisis averted.

But this was different. It was a teenager you were talking to, if you were her age in her position right now, you would also be trying to pry as much as you could and tell all your friends about what you heard.

"You asked for it? You're stronger than me, for sure."

Miguel isn't that bad- No. Miguel can be professional about it- No. Miguel is my boyfrieeeend- No!!

"Gotta build that emotional endurance too, you know?" You lied through your teeth, this was your true emotional endurance test. You just prayed that literally anything else could happen so that you could move on from this point in the conversation.

That was when you saw it. A miracle. A message from God. That familiar vortex of colors, that familiar bright red arm blade.

"Well, speak of the devil. Good luck with your meeting!" Margo remarked before she webbed to another side of the console, she looked busy. Maybe trying to look busy.

Miguel looked a little worse for ware, and so did the spiders following behind him. You glued yourself in place to keep from immediately checking for any injuries, but you're confident that the look on your face completely gave you away.

When the portal closed, he swiftly faced his team. "Good work on the strike mission. Make sure to get some rest in before sending in your reports. Contact me, Jess, or Peter if you need anything else."

What he intended as a compliment or two sounded slightly tense coming out of his mouth, you were a bit of a long-standing Society member so after The Spot happened, you could tell he was trying more at boosting morale. Even though his scowl and tone of voice sort of eradicated the kindness in what he actually meant, you found it cute that he tried anyway.

Everyone quickly dispersed, some left in pairs, some hopped into a portal straight to what seemed to be their home dimension. From where you were standing, you could see Miguel's shoulders sag in relief. His mask dissipated to reveal his worn out mug and he immediately turned to walk over to you.

You could tell he wanted to fold. Leave all of today's remaining problems to the Miguel of tomorrow, crawl into your loving embrace, and lay in dormancy until he would meet his fate again.

"Miguel," You initiate. "Is it time for my meeting now?"

There was no meeting. He probably had no idea what you were talking about, but he did at the same time. His steely, jaded disposition gave way to the warm, homely lover you have always known. He nodded, the moment you two stepped inside the apartment, he hugged you.

~

Over the course of your relationship with Miguel, he had taken you out to a good amount of luxurious fine dining restaurants. You were always extremely grateful, especially since he would refuse to let you pay even by a little. He's introduced a lot of new options and in return, you'd show him around the good food spots in your city too.

Yet, nothing could ever compare to a slow, home-cooked meal with just the two of you. Everything felt so intimate that way, you didn't have to worry about public appearances. Many meals being dished out with both you and Miguel in your pajamas.

Tonight was no different, of course. Miguel seemed more sluggish this time around, but you didn't mind picking more work than usual. You would have cooked for him yourself, but you had a feeling that he'd fight you for that.

Dinner had fallen into a comfortable silence this time, your relationship has gotten to the point where there was no obligation to make conversation. Sometimes, Miguel would burst into drawn-out rambles about how his day went and you'd listen intently. Except now, he's too tired to even speak.

After putting the dishes away and performing night routines, a movie in bed would be the perfect conclusion to such a peaceful night.

Nueva York was colder compared to your city, you complained about it to him multiple times so now Miguel usually keeps more than one blanket on the bed now. Honestly, you said it because you liked being snug in his arms when you slept with him. Not in that way.

Miguel's head rested on the column between your shoulder and neck, he weighed you down onto the memory foam mattress with a leg over both of yours and his arms snaked around your torso.

From your peripherals, you could see him gazing up at you. His attention stolen by your face, merlot hued eyes that traced every line, curve, and detail.

"Migs," You smiled back at him. "What are you gawking at?"

Bashfully, he turned his face inward with the hint of a grin at the upturned corners of his lips. It made your heart pounce, the idea that you especially had the privilege of seeing him so tender and shy.

No psychic could have foreseen you living your life like this right now, the same could be said for Miguel too. You didn't force him into this, batter him down to be all soft and mushy. It was because he knew, he finally knew from the way you stayed and loved him through the thick and thin, that he was finally safe and those walls crumbled.

The warmth from his kisses travelled all the way up to your ear. There, he whispered to you a promise, a declaration.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

awwww!!!! miguel!!!!!! anyway hii, been a while since i've uploaded a proper fic so here it is! i hope you guys enjoyed this one because i had a lot of fun writing it :-)

[mmhcs]

The Big Dance (Prom AU)

Summary: Inspired by Chance the Rapper's 2019 album The Big Day (if you've listened to it, please tell me your favorite song off the album in the comments!).

Features: Gender-neutral reader, no mentions of reader's gender

Warnings: Mentions of grief and missing a loved one

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

Miles Morales likes to consider himself brave.

Throughout the past four years, he's done a lot of brave things—especially during his career as Spiderman.

For one, he leaped off a skyscraper and into raging traffic. He was half-confident in himself, but he did it anyway.

And then there was that time when he followed Gwen into the portal, helped Pavitr and Gwen save Mumbhattan from collapse.

Oh, and when he challenged Miguel O'Hara about his understanding of the Multiverse. That was scary. But Miles did it and he managed to survive.

Point is yes, Miles Morales considers himself to be a very brave person.

Which is why he is so confused as to why he's struggling to simply even imagine asking you the question that has been lingering on his mind since September.

"Dude," Ganke says, looking away from his phone screen. "Just ask. You've been crushing for so long that these feelings might actually crush you."

Miles knows he's caught now. For the past few months, he's been casually mentioning that he wants to ask you to prom. And for the past few months, Ganke has only listened to Miles' ramblings with nothing more than one-word responses and nods that indicate his support and agreement. It's part of the reason why Miles loves to talk to him especially about this; in infinite universes full of people who demand so much and always want an answer, Ganke is the person that listens and understands.

Until now, though.

Ganke looking up from his screen is very rare. But when it does happen, it means that he's serious and is either about to give Miles some advice or tell him how stupid the decisions he makes are.

"I know, I know," Miles says as Ganke opens his mouth to say something else. He begins to pace back and forth, spouting all the possible things that he feels his best friend is about to say. "Miles, the world's not gonna end if you get rejected! Miles, we're still gonna go to Prom and turn up either way. Don't worry, man!"

"Okay, first of all, I do not sound like that," Ganke crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "And secondly, did you just say that we're gonna 'turn up'? I swear, sometimes you act like someone's twenty-six year old uncle,"

Miles pauses his pacing. "What? I think it sounds cool. Is that not what we say today?"

"No, Miles, that's not what we say." Ganke sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyways, look, man, you've been talking about asking (Y/N) to Prom literally all year now. I think you should do it—you two are always together—but I can't make the decision for you. If you want to do it, do it. If you don't, that's sad but Prom is gonna happen either way. All I'm saying is don't let fear stop hold you back."

With that, Ganke turns back to gaming.

Miles stands there, letting his words sink in.

Ganke is right.

If Miles hadn't jumped off of that skyscraper, he probably would have gone home and stuff his suit so far back in his closet that he would have thought it to be an old Halloween costume the next time he pulled it out. If he hadn't stood up to Miguel, then his father would have died. And, if Miles doesn't ask you to the prom, then he could possibly miss out on one of the best nights of his life—and regret it.

"Yeah," Miles says to himself, slowly beginning to nod his head.

He will ask you to Prom. And either way—whether you say yes or not—he'll walk into the venue and end his high school career knowing that he finally did one of things that he's been wanting to do for the past four years.

"Yeah!" Miles yells now, wanting Ganke to hear. "You're right, Ganke! I'm gonna ask (Y/N) to Prom!"

"Knew you'd do the right thing," Ganke's tone is slow and lackadaisical once more and his concentration is still on his video game. But Miles knew that his friend was being sincere.

"I'm gonna go—"

"Score!" Ganke yells as his player in the game dunks a basketball into the hoop.

"Exactly!" Miles is nodding frantically now, hyping himself up. Before he has room to further question himself, he opens the door and says, "See 'ya, Ganke! Don't wait up!"

"Uh-huh."

And with that, the door to their shared dorm closes and Miles sprints through the halls of Visions Academy, with a mission (and no plan).

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

"Okay, let's see,"

Miles opens his contact list and begins to scan through the potential givers of advice that he could do.

First up was his dad, of course. That man, as square as he is, was able to pull his mother. And credit has to be given where credit is due, Miles supposes.

Second is Peter B. Parker. Though when he and Miles met, things with MJ were less-than-ideal, Peter managed to change, win her back, and now they have a baby together! You have to possess some pretty good game to pull that off.

Third was...everyone else.

Of course, there are a million and one other people besides his father and Peter B. that Miles can ask for advice but those are the first two options that came to his mind and he's kind of stressed for time.

Smiling, Miles goes to click on the contact icon for his father. He's about to press the 'call' button when he remembers Jefferson's words from the last time that Miles called him at work.

"Miles, son, I love you—I really do. You're my son and I'm always here for you. But please, don't call me at work unless it's an emergency. And, for reference, not knowing where the Cheez-Its are is not an emergency. I'm talking when lives or grades are in danger and your world is ending—that's when you call me!"

Miles makes a face.

Technically this is an emergency. The trajectory of his life could be changed. Who knows? Maybe he and you would get married someday. Maybe you two are destined to be and if he doesn't ask you to Prom then he'll have screwed up the positive trajectory and you two will be cursed to live miserable, loveless lives.

Miles inhales sharply at the thought.

Yeah, he's calling.

"Hello?" Jefferson picks up on the first ring. "Miles, what's up?"

"Hey, Dad," Miles says the words slowly and awkwardly, not knowing how to proceed. "I, uh, need your help with something."

A sigh comes from the other side of the line. "Miles, if you're calling to ask me where the fish crackers are, I swear, it's gonna be me and you boy—"

"No, no, Dad, it's not that!" Miles waves his hands as he speaks as if Jefferson could see him. "It's—I'm planning on asking someone to the prom and I wanted your advice on how I should—"

"Oh, is this your little friend that you met freshman year?" Jefferson asks sounding ten times happier and calmer than a second ago.

"Yeah," Miles nods, glad that his father remembers you but also impatient. "I was just wondering if you could give me some advice considering that you're married and made me—"

"Son, while I would love to give you some advice right now, there's a ten-thirty that we need to take of down here. Can this wait till I get home?"

Miles moves the phone away from him so that his father won't hear the deep sigh threatening to spill out of him.

Ten-thirty. Great. And people are probably going to expect Spiderman to handle that, too.

"Yeah, Dad, it can wait." Miles says, trying his best not to make his disappointment evident. "I hope everyone's okay down there. I'll probably swing by in a second."

"Thanks, son," Jefferson sighs into the phone and Miles doesn't know if it's from stress about the situation or because he too is sharing in his son's frustration of not being able to this needed conversation. "I love you. Be careful."

"Love you too, Dad. See you soon."

Miles hangs up the phone and pushes his hands against his eyes.

That didn't go as planned.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

After swinging by the robbery, Miles decided to head to the Spider Society in order to find Peter.

He expected it to be a challenging task, considering that Peter is always with Mayday and Mayday is always everywhere, but it may be possible that after his failed conversation with his father, today decided to cut him some slack because Miles didn't have to search for long before he found Peter (and Mayday) sitting at a table in the cafeteria, eating lunch.

"Oh, so you want love advice?" Peter asks in between chewing his fries. "I got 'ya, kid. You came to the right place."

Miles sits across the table, his eagerness growing by the second.

"Okay, first thing's first: You gotta be calm. Cool and collected. Which, admittedly, you have a hard time with. So I'd start there."

A burn, but advice nonetheles.

"Okay, well, what about what I'm supposed to say?" Miles urges. "Do you have any tips on that?"

Peter scrunches his face and look up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. He hums all the while, causing Miles to inch further in his seat until he’s hovering over the edge of the chair.

"No." Peter finally says at last, picking up another French fry. "But I did write a speech for MJ when I first asked her out. I rehearsed everything that I wanted to say in mirror at least fifty times until it stuck. It was absolutely worth it to see the smile on her face when I finally said it in-person. And plus, I still remember each and every word to this day. So maybe you can try something like that."

Miles nods frantically again.

Should he be taking notes? He feels like he should.

"Okay, and what about—"

"Peter!"

Before any of the two could blink, Miguel O'Hara appears behind Peter, his somber aura casting a dark cloud over the previous atmosphere of the conversation.

"Hey, Miguel!" Peter says cheerily. "I'm helping Miles ask his crush out to the prom. Wanna join in? Give some advice to the youngins—"

"Peter, I know ate the empanada in my office from earlier." Miguel tells him so serious and gravely as if Peter had done something far worse.

"Oh, right, that!" Peter perks up and snaps a finger, remembering. "Well, you see, Mayday is teething and we were both hungry so without thinking, I may have—"

"Come with me."

"What?"

"I said come with me."

"Why? Where are you taking me?"

"You're going to get me another empanada."

If it wasn't Miguel speaking, Miles would be on the floor laughing. But because it is Miguel and because Miguel is interrupting a very important moment, Miles only stares as the interaction progresses, with Miguel eventually picking up Peter by the shoulder to get him to stand up. He then ushers Peter to the food line but not before looking back at Miles, a bit apologetically.

"You're smart, you can figure this out, kid," he says. "Do what feels best. Be yourself."

Miles only stares in disbelief as Miguel marches back to his office but not before telling Peter to bring him the empanada and not eat it.

For what feels like the thousandth time today, Miles sighs with disappointment and frustration.

Seriously?

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

"Hey, Uncle Aaron,"

Miles sighs as he plops himself in front of the gravestone, gleaming thanks to the recent rainstorm that they had the other day.

"How are you? I'm stressed."

Miles wastes no time explaining his predicament to his uncle. He starts from the very beginning, telling him how he met you freshman year but never got the chance to introduce you two to each other, how your friendship has grown stronger over the years and how and when he realized that he had feelings for you.

"...And I've been trying all day to get some advice but it just seems like everyone's too busy. And, of course, no one's more of a love guru than you were."

Thugh his last sentence is a joke, Miles's face falls.

Were.

"I miss you, man. Some days it's hard to keep going without you. But I do. I wish that you were here so that you could give me some advice. You would've been the first person that I went to..."

Miles inhales deeply.

No, he's not going to cry—this isn't meant to be a sad visit. He's just here to get some things off his chest.

"But anyway, I got into Princeton!" A proud smile creeps up onto his face. "Yep! Gonna be majoring in Physics! Dad and Mami have warmed up to the idea of me going away and now Mami can't stop telling everyone about her son, the Ivy League scholar!"

Miles continues on, talking and updating his uncle about his life until he notices the sun beginning to set. Then, reluctantly, he days up his uncle's gravestone one last time before heading home.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

Hey son gonna be home late 4 dinner.

Still gonna talk tho.

Miles groans as he rereads his dad's texts over and over again.

At this rate, his promposal is going to be an absolute failure.

Miles flops back onto his bed with a defeated sigh.

"Miles?" Rio knocks on his door gently even though there is already a wide enough crack for it to be considered open. "¿Qué te paso?"

"It's nothing, Mami," Miles mumbles, not even bothering to hide the sadness in his voice. "It's just been a rough day."

"A rough day?" Rio frowns. She hates seeing her son like this. Despite all of Miles' moments, he's a good kid. And he's her kid nonetheless. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Miles nods and in an instant Rio is at his side. She sits down on his bed (which is made for once) and begins to gently card her finger through his hair.

"Ay, when was the last time you got a haircut?" Rio asks, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you trying to copy your multidimensional twin or something? You can't show up to the prom looking like this!"

Though it's a joke, the comment elicits another groan from Miles.

"Is this what this whole mood is about?" Rio asks, gesticulating to her son's defeated position. "The prom?"

Miles only nods in confirmation, the action rustling his bedsheets.

"Oh, Miles," Rio coos, bringing her son's head into her lap, "why didn't you say anything, mijo?"

"I did say something!"

Miles's hands shoot up in the air and one narrowly misses Rio's chin. She gives him an icy glares to which he apologizes.

"Sorry—I'm sorry," Miles sighs. He didn't mean to; it's just been a really frustrating day. Feeling like nobody has time for him and that he no one's priority.

"It's just that this is important, you know?" He huffs, running his own hand through his. "And it feels like no one around me cares! And I know it's not true—everyone's just really busy—but I need someone to help me. Someone to be my own Spiderman for a bit. Just someone to care."

Rio looks down at her son fondly. Her heart feels as though it's about to split in two. She wants to cry because her baby boy has grown into a young man with such an ability to articulate his feelings. But she also wants to cry because her baby feels alone—and he never should. Not while she's around.

"Oh, Miles, I'm so sorry about your day and that no one was around to help you, mijo," Now Rio's fingertips begin to ghost across his right temple. "But I'm here now and I care so please, tell me what's on your mind."

And so he does.

For the umpteenth time today, Miles starts from the very beginning and talks about you, how you guys met, how he realized that he has feelings for you and, of course, how he's been wanting to ask you to prom for a while now.

All the while, Rio listens and nods intently, smiles when it's appropriate, and tries to keep herself from happy crying at the young man before her.

"I think that it’s beautiful that you're putting so much thought into this proposal, Miles," Rio begins when it's finally her turn to speak. "But the truth is that no one can tell you how to plan the perfect promposal. Not me, not your father, not Peter nor Miguel. Only you know the person so deeply and intimately. Everything that we tell you to do should be taken into consideration, not as a fact. Only you know how this person so deeply and how your relationship functions. Use that to your advantage, mijo. You have a creative mind; let it shine and take the lead. Because you can say the same standard 'te amo' like everyone else does but it's how you say it that counts."

There's a beat of silence as Miles processes everything that his mother just said.

And then it clicks.

He knows what he's going to.

"Yeah," he says once more to himself. "Yeah, I know what I'm gonna do!"

Rio smiles. "You got it, mijo?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do, Mami!" Miles exclaims with a little laugh. He jumps up and wraps his arms around his mother for a tight hug. "Thank you, Mami! ¡Te amo mucho! You always know what to say!"

"My pleasure, mijo,"

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

A week later, you and Miles are walking through the empty hallways of Vision's Academy hand-in-hand.

It's something that you two don't normally do but with this scavenger hunt that Miles has planned for you, you think it best that he guides you before you end up somewhere that you're not supposed to be.

"Okay, and now we reach the cafeteria," Miles says, gesturing to the grand, dimly-lit space. "A hint for your next clue: it involves us all those years ago on that fateful day that you discovered that I could turn invisible."

To anyone else, this would be a puzzling riddle. But you've grown to know Miles—all parts and aspects of him—throughout these four years. And so, the memory comes easily to you.

"Oh my gosh!" you scream, remembering. "It was that day when you kept hyperventilating after that Chem test!"

"Ding-ding-ding! Correct!"

You laugh looking back at it now. Miles was so nervous because was convinced that he had gotten a B on that test—the last one of the quarter—and was worried that he would end up with a B+ on his report card—a grade unacceptable for both Princeton and his parents who expected him to maintain that A+ that he had recieved last report card. The poor boy kept turning invisible every other breath. You couldn't believe it. So, once he was calm, you asked him to sneak you a few extra chicken tenders from the cafeteria line just to male sure that you weren't going crazy.

You look around the cafeteria for a moment before spotting something on the lunch line. You rush over to it, only to be greeted with steaming hot chicken tenders (how? You don't know.) and a note in the center.

"Chicken tenders almost as hot as you," you read, your words faltering a bit towards the end.

You had your suspicions about this scavenger hunt of Miles' but you never thought that there was a possibility of them being true.

Was this it? Were you finally going to hear him say that he liked you?

"And now on to the art room!" Miles urges. You must give him a look because he adds, "You can bring the chicken tenders too, don't worry."

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

Maybe the walk to the art room is longer than you thought or maybe you're just hungrier than you thought because by the time the two of you make it into the hallway containing the classroom, you're down to two chicken tenders.

"Okay, who wants to play Guess What’s Behind This Door?" Miles asks nervously. He tries to play it off as much as he can but he can't help it—not when you two have gotten to this point in your adventure.

"Is it a snake?" you ask dumbly, taking another bite of your second-to-lst chicken tender. You have a feeling about what’s behind the door but you don't want to get your hopes up.

"No."

"A box full of puppies and kittens?"

"Nope."

"More food?"

"Nuh-uh."

Okay, well that was kind of disappointing.

You take a moment, feigning thinking.

"Is it...a promposal?"

At this, Miles' eyes widen. He swears, for a moment his heart stops. And then it starts beating again—and rapidly so—when he sees the shy yet hopeful look on your face.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he says, opening the door.

To his luck, the promposal still does surprise you. So much so that your last chicken falls out of your mouth as your jaw drops from shock.

Displayed all around the room are photos, paintings, paintings, and props—memories of your friendship. And in the center of the room is a painting that reads Will You Go To Prom With Me?

You've always known that Miles enjoys art, so much so to the point that he could create his own museum. But you never imagined that he feels that same level of passion with you.

"Everything in here is a collection of you and me and the memories that we've made together," Miles begins. He's speaking slowly and putting extra emphasis on properly annunciating his words—both for his and your sake.

"Everything on this scavenger hunt was, really. Because every time when I'm with you, that's what we do: we make unforgettable memories to look back on and I—" Miles pauses now, searching for words. He'd rehearsed this speech a thousand times and yet he still managed to veer off course. Dammit.

You look at Miles intently but you give him time to collect his thoughts. It’s not easy to do this, as much as you would like to think so. If it was then you would have told him how you feel a long time ago.

"What I'm trying to say is that I like you!" Miles finally says. "I think that you're amazing and wonderful and I know that this may seem sudden but I know—I've known that you were the person that I wanted to be my date—and date, if you're up for all of this—for a long time. So, this is all a really long way to say will you go to Prom with me?"

"Yes!"

You barely let Miles finish his last word before you say it. You spin around, taking everything in, stopping when you reach Miles.

Both of you stare at each other as if it's the first time you're meeting.

And, in some regard, it is. This is the first time that you two are exposing such a raw, vulnerable side to each other and you both can't help but stare in awe at the sheer beauty radiating off of the other person at this moment.

"Hey." Miles says sheepishly.

"Hi." You return the awkward tone.

Before you can think, you close the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his. Shocked at first, Miles quickly melts into it, his bodying visibly relaxing as his hands move down to your waist, pulling you closer.

The two of you stay like that for a while and when you both pull back, you're both a bit red and nervous to look into each other's once more.

Best promposal ever.

🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆˙🕸️🕷✮⋆

A/N: Okay, that's enough writing for one year. See y'all in 2025! (H/jk)

[mmhcs]

Miguel O'hara and Reader

Spot the difference