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dollsburner · 11 months

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Abience - prologue

Miguel O’Hara x Venom!Reader

Words: 1.4 words

Content warning: mild violence.

After taking on the venom symbiote, you decided to leave your home city so make sure your family doesn’t yet hurt. You were intent of living your life alone until you met Miguel and his adorable daughter.

— you’re here :)

Chapter one

Chapter two

—

The air was cold on top of the building, you were standing on the edge feeling the wind brushing past your body. You stared down at the lights of the city. They almost looked like stars across the sky but you could hear the city so busy below you. Cars. People. Sirens. What a shithole.

“Your heart is beating fast.”

Venom said, their voice rich in your skull like it was your thoughts. You sigh at the creature's words, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of the cold night air. “Obviously.”

You’ve only been living in New York for a few months, you moved after Venom started using your body as their own. It was easier this way, they weren’t a risk to your friends and family anymore. Safer for you too and this city was a good playground. For Venom anyway even with Spider-Man crawling around. Maybe that’s a plus for Venom.

You sighed, taking a step forward, your foot dangling in the air free for a second before you shifted your weight to the heel of your other foot. You spent a few seconds in that state, almost floating before your weight finally dropped.

There were a few seconds where you just free-fell, feeling that cold air rushing past you in those quick seconds. You could feel your heart pounding as adrenaline was rich in your blood and muscles until it all stopped as Venom consumed you. Wrapping themselves around you, the symbiote crashed into the concrete under you.

You drove through the city streets like a creature on a hunt. Venom carrying you along the streets. It was a pattern for you two, a routine that kept you and the alien hiding under your skin happy- no that's not the right word. Content. Yeah, that’s the right word.

You try not to be seen much. You aren’t trying to be known, you don’t want that presence. You don’t care for it, it just keeps Venom in line and happy. God, they’re like a toddler or a pet bird…

And you weren’t trying to catch the attention of Spider-Man. You won’t be the villain of the week.

Of course, you don’t let Venom have the whole night running around, and it’s easier to find trouble when you look human. You were walking down the street, face hidden in whatever hoodie you were wearing that night.

The convenience store was deathly bright when you walked in, wincing at the painfully bright lights. You kept your eyes on the floor as you walked through the store, looking at the chocolates and sweets.

**Tater tots** Venom demanded in your head, you scowled at its voice. Demanding little pest. You pick up a bag of candy when suddenly hearing the little tune that plays when walking into the store. You looked up watching the man, similar to yourself, he had a hood up hiding his face but he was fidgeting and looked nervous.

“Heads up.” You whispered to yourself, “Bet you he’s going to rob the place.” You started creeping closer to the counter, watching the man shift and inch towards the counter. As you got closer you could see his hand holding something in his pocket. Gun or knife?

He walked to the counter, and the older woman working looked up at him, smiling sweetly at him. Completely unaware of the danger which you understand painfully in your gut.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket, his hands were shaking as he pointed the knife at the older woman. Rambling in disjointed words. “Give it- hand it over money. Now. Now.”

The woman’s hands shook as she opened the register, and you stepped closer. Moving closer with silent steps, you could sense Venom under your skin grinning in anticipation.

He slammed the hilt of the blade against the counter, making the woman jolt and whimper. He went to yell again, spit flying from his lips when you made your move.

You didn’t think that this small crook needed Venom to go all out, Women's flesh crept across your lower face to sure hide your face. You stepped up behind him, Venom’s hand took over your hand, forming a large clawed hand.

“Hey.” You spoke, your venom's voices mixe. The robber turned around, expressing a mix of confusion and fear before he could even speak you lunged forward. Her clawed hand grabbed him by his face, claws wrapping around his skull as you casually tossed him away. His body slammed into the wall, cracking the wall.

You hear the older woman squeak with fear as she backed away, you watch the men fall to the floor. The knife flew out of his hand and across the floor.

There's a part of you who wants him to try a fight back, but he doesn’t. Naturally; he makes some frightened whimpers before he stands up and runs away. You can’t help the feeling of disappointment. “Get up! Fight us!”

You glance over to the old woman, she’s staring at you with fear which you can’t blame her for. You look down at the candy on display just in front of the counter, you grab some candies and toss some money onto the counter.

You walk out of the store without a second word, Venom's mask not falling until you were a block away from the store. Sighing as you opened the candy bar and take a bite.

You eventually found yourself home, it was sunrise when you eventually returned to the apartment building. You had taken off your hoodie a while ago, draping it over your arm as you walked.

Walking down the hallway to your apartment when you spotted him, he was standing in the hallway by the door across of your own. He was a bigger man, with tanned skin and brown slick back hair which was ever so slightly messy. You stared for a moment before turning your eyes away ignoring Venom's words. “Oh, who’s he? He’s new!”

The apartment was empty until now but you pull your eyes away. It wasn’t any of your business. He glances at you for a second before going back to- he looked like he was struggling to unlock the door. The key seemingly jammed. It was common with the doors in the building.

You intended on walking away, walking to the door of your apartment, sliding the key into the lock, and going to turn it when you heard a little girl's voice speaking, you didn't hear exactly what she said but her sleepy tone caused your heart to ache.

“It’s ok, princesa.” You heard the man say. Jesus that voice was rich and smooth. It almost caused a shiver to run up your spine, “I’ll- get this door open soon.”

You could hear the irritation in his voice, you turned around to glance over at him. In one arm, there’s a sleepy little girl and his other hand trying to unlock the jammed door. He was struggling to get the door open, it’s a god awful early hour so the girl must be really tired.

You sigh, turning around fully to walk over to the man, “The doors jam pretty often.” You start, catching his attention. You gesture to the door, “There’s a little trick with the door, May I?”

He looks between you and the door, before stepping back from the doors. “Well, I was half tempted just to break the door down, but I’d appreciate it if you could save me the trouble.” He let out an exhausted weak laugh.

You nod in acknowledgement, grabbing the door handle. You press your shoulder into the door, pressing the door in as you unlock the door. The heavy metal lock clinking as you open it, swinging the door open with a proud little smile. “Ta da.”

The strange looked at you for a second, before letting out a little smile. The little girl in his arms looked over to you with a little smile. “Huh, how long did it take for you to learn that?” He asked and you chuckled tiredly. “Longer than I’ll admit.

“Thank you anyways.” He said, and you waved off his gratitude but looked up to the little girl when she waved at you, “Thank you.” She said sleepily and you couldn’t help but smile wide at the adorable girl.

“It’s no problem, have a good night you two.” You wave as you walk back to your own apartment. Sighing when finally in the comfort of your own home, you walked across the living room and to the couch, letting yourself just fall on to the cushions.

“Not even going to go to your bed?” Venom laughed at your act of laziness, you mumbled something into the pillow under your face before giving into the exhaustion your felt so deep and fell asleep right there.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x peter b parker #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x venom!reader

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alchemax-genetics-division · 10 months

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The Sleeping Habits of one Miguel O’hara

One-Shot || Peter B Parker x Miguel O’hara || Gen

This is unbeta’d, written in tumblr, and unedited, so any mistakes are mine alone! If there are any egregious errors, please feel free to (respectfully) reach out and I’ll fix them asap! I hope you enjoy!

———

No one had ever seen Miguel sleep. Doze, sure, but that was only late at night, and only if you were unlucky enough to wander into Miguel’s darkened lab when he hadn’t yet dragged himself back to wherever it was that he found even the scantest scrap of comfort. On nights like those, Miguel could be found slumped over the nearest lab table, forehead braced against his forearm on the tabletop. And then, mere moments later, his red eyes would blink open, as silent as a predator’s, glowing in the pitch-dark room, and the room’s occupancy would very quickly return to one.

But no one had ever seen Miguel sleep. The rumor mill abounded with speculation, each more ridiculous than the last, but only barely; he sleeps upside down like a bat, he sleeps stark naked, he sleeps in vats of fresh blood. Peter B had never paid such whisperings any mind, far more focused on his own sleep schedule and the toddler that wreaked havoc on it.

And then Peter B had confessed his feelings for his boss and, surprise of all surprises, hadn’t immediately gotten fired (or killed, he supposed, because he had seen Miguel’s talons in action and while their metal- and flesh-rending ability was agonizingly attractive in the field, he didn’t think Miguel would hesitate to use his natural weapons in any situation where he was uncomfortable, even emotionally.) Even more mind-bogglingly, Miguel had… reciprocated. Slowly, hesitantly, with all of the trepidation of someone who had been burned before, and then burned twice more for good measure.

It didn’t change much, if Peter were being honest with himself. He still co-parented with MJ. He still brought Mayday into Headquarters and, when the anomaly didn’t appear to be too dangerous, into the field. He still pestered Miguel within an inch of his life whenever he got the chance. He still wrangled spider-kids like he was paid to do it. He still did his job, when it was absolutely required of him to do so.

The only difference was that, now, he got to hold Miguel’s hand while he did it. Now, he got to throw a casual arm around Miguel’s shoulder while he made his characteristic dad jokes, giving Miguel a one-armed squeeze that conveyed more between them than words ever could. Now, he got to kiss Miguel for luck before every mission and he got to kiss Miguel in victory when they got back.

Their relationship didn’t change the fact, however, that Miguel was an incurable workaholic. Even with Peter pestering him to eat, leaving water bottles at his elbow during the day, and reminding him to sleep at some point during the night before leaving the lab to return to his shared apartment with MJ or (on nights where he hadn’t had Mayday at work that day) to the small living quarters in HQ that had been assigned to him, he knew that Miguel didn’t rest nearly enough. Something about vulnerability, Peter reasoned, and tried not to take it personally. Miguel didn’t rest around anyone; he hadn’t had the luxury of trusting the people around him and two months of love, no matter how all-encompassing or overwhelming, would change that.

So when Peter opened his HQ apartment door one night, more than ready to collapse against the nearest semi-horizontal surface and remain dead to the world for the next twelve hours straight, the last thing he expected to find was Miguel O’hara in his bed.

His first thought, irrationally, was that every single spider-person who had ever speculated about Miguel’s sleeping habits was dead wrong, because Miguel slept exactly like a normal person. Well, almost. He was on his back, which would’ve looked as stiff as a board (and therefore, not much of a difference from how he normally looked) if not for the almost delicate crossing of his bare ankles, the sleep-gentle curve of his fingers where they rested on his stomach, tilt of his head towards the window. The only light in the apartment came from the glow of the city through the window, casting a neon outline over the ridges of Miguel’s face, illuminating the long lines of his neck. Peter couldn’t help but to trace the length of the contorted muscles, twisted below Miguel’s skin; his gaze came to a rest in the tiny divot behind Miguel’s ear, a minuscule detail, so agonizingly human, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to press his lips to the fine bone of his boyfriend’s skull. He had the wherewithal to close the door, engaging the latch as quietly as possible so as not to wake the man in his bed and swearing softly when red eyes blinked open under a furrowed brow.

“Sorry love,” he whispered, toeing off his shoes and shucking his jacket to the floor. He could deal with then tomorrow. Right now, he needed to be in Miguel’s arms, preferably five minutes ago. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The city glow silhouette shifted, warping in the near-darkness, and Peter’s heart rate kicked up in his chest at the half-concealed movement, every instinct, carefully honed from decades of constant danger, screaming at him to defend himself from the shadow that slithered across the floor. But his spider-sense wasn’t activated; the skin-deep vibration that accompanied every impending blow like lightening to thunder was comfortingly absent. And then the shadow took shape, forming thick-knuckled fingers and a scarred forearm, extending towards him like an invitation, like a demand, like a plea.

Miguel’s half-lidded eyes were still locked on him, sleepily glazed, his face still slack with residual relaxation that hadn’t yet sloughed off from the force of full wakefulness, and Peter’s entire chest clenched. He didn’t try to resist the pull, drawn to Miguel’s side like a magnet. As he took the few steps to the bed, he shed his clothes and by the time he reached the edge of the mattress, little more than a hospital mat with ill-fitting sheets, he was down to his boxers and socks and even in the inky black room, he knew Miguel could see the red and blue webbed pattern that criss-crossed the fabric. Sure enough, when he stepped into Miguel’s line of sight, he heard a familiar huff of exasperation. Only two months of experience enabled him to detect the fondness that laced the sound like veined marble. Peter smiled to himself, smiled down at his sleep-softened boyfriend, smiled in gratitude to the universe.

If he had expected to be allowed to arrange himself in his own bed, he was sorely mistaken. As soon as his hands and knees indented the mattress, prepared to crawl into as comfortable a position as the thin mat could provide, Miguel had his arms around him, tugging him sharply across the remaining space between them. Before he could register the movement, Peter found himself crushed between the mattress and Miguel’s broad bulk, and he suddenly had a much better idea of how pancakes felt when he pressed them down into the pan with his spatula on mornings when he cooked breakfast for Mayday.

He and Miguel were of a height, a fact that was so well hidden by Miguel’s love of raised platforms and dramatic entrances that it shocked nearly everyone who saw them standing together, but his considerable shoulder breadth made Peter feel like an ant underneath Miguel’s body. Only his spider strength lent his lungs the force required to expand. It wasn’t uncomfortable by any stretch; it reminded Peter of the time he had nearly been crushed by a flying slab of concrete and emerged five minutes later with every joint in his body cracked, every vertebrae in his spine popped, and more limber than he had been before being slammed into the ground by two tons of rock and rebar. It was grounding, more grounding than Peter had realized he had needed.

The expansion of his chest must’ve given Miguel concern, however, because he made a noise, something like a grunt but far more sympathetic, and made to move. The second his weight lifted, Peter snaked his arms around his boyfriend’s torso, locking him in place, and Miguel collapsed back down with a huff of amusement.

“Feels good,” Peter mumbled into the side of Miguel’s head. Hair tickled at his cheek and lips but he didn’t dare pull away. Miguel hummed and shifted slightly, settling into a more comfortable but no less compressing position and within seconds, was fast asleep again. His breath ghosted over Peter’s neck where his face was tucked, pebbling the sensitive skin, and Peter’s thoughts raced.

The first position he had found Miguel in had made sense. Most spider-people slept on their backs, ready to protect themselves at a moment’s notice, all of their enhanced senses well within reach and easy use at the first sign of danger. But this, the baring of Miguel’s back to the room, the vulnerability in Miguel’s hidden face, especially for someone without spider senses, was shocking. It didn’t make sense.

Peter pondered it for a while, his mind circling itself like an endless game of chase, every go around converging on one central, illusive conclusion that stubbornly remained concealed.

And then Peter shifted. Nothing major, a mere twitch of his arm, an itch that needed to be scratched, a mindless movement. Immediately, he froze as Miguel’s entire body vibrated above him, a deep rumble emanating from the depths of his chest, his grip tightening around Peter’s torso to the point of creaking ribs and stuttered breath, and it clicked.

Oh.

Miguel had had an entire dimension stolen from him. A home, a family, a wife and daughter, all stolen unceremoniously right from under his nose. In the dead of night, with no warning or preamble, his entire world had collapsed into ruin and desolation and then nothing.

Suddenly his grip felt less crushing. The pressure hadn’t eased, and Peter knew that he’d have bruises in the morning, a ring of black and blue circling his chest, but he didn’t mind. Suddenly, he could feel the protectiveness that coursed through the muscles in Miguel’s arms. He could feel the challenge in his hold, as if daring the universe to try to steal Peter away from him. As if he’d fight God and man alike to keep Peter in his arms, and Peter knew he would.

Peter raised one arm, gently, softly, and placed it, gently, softly, in the thick mane of hair, curling it between his fingers, scratching at Miguel’s scalp with blunt fingernails.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he whispered, trusting enhanced senses to catch the barely-audible words. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Miguel’s arms relaxed once more, returning from their current level of suffocating back to their previous level of merely constricting. His growling quieted to even purr, deepened further by the hand tangled in his hair.

Within minutes, the vibration rumbling through the entire bed, the scent of his own shampoo wafting from Miguel’s hair, and the weight of his boyfriend above him had lulled Peter into the deepest sleep he had ever gotten, and for once, he was blissfully untouched by nightmares.

———

Peter should’ve been prepared for the barrage of questions. Miguel had slipped from his room early the next morning, but not early enough to be undetected, and while the devil worked hard, but the rumor mill of the Spider Complex worked harder. So he should’ve braced himself for the onslaught of questions that the spider kids aimed at him as soon as he stepped foot into the dining hall for breakfast.

“Did Miguel sleep in your room last night?”

“Are the rumors true?”

“How much sleeping did you actually do?”

“Does he sleep at all or did he perch in the corner all night like a psychotic cat?”

That last one was the helpful input of Hobie and Peter rolled his eyes. It was far too early in the morning to deal with such pointed questions about his sex life and thinly veiled accusations about his boyfriend.

Across the room, he could feel the weight of Miguel’s gaze on him and a flick of Peter’s eyes revealed a subtle and convoluted maelstrom of emotions behind Miguel’s carefully schooled expression. Cautious hope warred with a silent plea and Peter could tell he was waiting for his response, waiting to see if Peter would reveal the depth of his vulnerability, the most sacred and coveted piece of him he had ever entrusted to Peter’s care.

With a half smile and a wink, Peter turned back to the gaggle of teenagers staring hopefully up at him, eyes wide and eager, fully expecting Peter to fuel the gossip circle and ready to take every word that dropped from his lips as gospel.

“Have you ever seen Interview with the Vampire?” Peter asked, grinning at the small chuckle he could hear floating from across the room, even over the sound of exaggerated gagging and riotous laughter that erupted around him. When he looked up, he met Miguel’s amused gaze, his eyes softened with gratitude and mirth, and they didn’t have to say anything. Even across the crowded room, their eyes said everything for them.

———

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!

Edit: If you’d like to leave some support in the form of kudos/comments, you can read this fic on AO3 here!

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #non canon compliant #spiderdads #soft #so soft #fluff #mentions of angst #but only to highlight the fluff #probably out of character but I don’t care #I’m so soft for them so I’m making them soft for each other #miguel o’hara x peter b parker #peter b parker x miguel o'hara #migeul o'hara #peter b parker

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