Found this on tiktok and tbh i feel like Miguel wouldn't mind if you'd mess with the veins on the back of his hand while he's fucking struggling to use the other to type, write, and make calls—cause he doesn't even bother moving the hand you're playing with, not even a twitch
Miguel yawned, stretching his arms as he went downstairs to grab a late night snack.
Too lazy to even walk, his eyes lit up the moment he saw you sitting by yourself, eating a full bowl of chocolate cereal as you smiled in delight.
He walked to the dim lit kitchen and grabbed his own dish for the night.
Your presence alone made me feel at ease after such a long day from work.
"Ay mi querida, eating all by yourself?"
He kissed your forehead before sitting beside you with a plate of salad. Miguel sighed, knowing that it's not everyday he gets to spend some time with you alone like this.
"I got hungry, don't mind me," You chuckled to yourself, taking a spoonful of cereal to your mouth. "Let's not get too noisy, we don't wanna wake up Gabriella."
"Yeah," He exhaled, picking up the fork from his plate. "You're right."
For a whole 10 minutes, Miguel admired you as you ate your own food happily, resting his face on the palm of his hand.
"I love you, mi amor." He mumbled out of the blue.
He felt quite embarrassed as he spoke, but he knew it was the truth. Miguel just wanted to remind you since you're so focused on your bowl of cereal and milk—and because he missed you so.
But despite his visible embarrassment—hearing his words made you smile.
A wave of bittersweet feeling filled your entire being.
You felt each and every string in that tender heart of yours start to form knots and ties as you tried your best to compose yourself infront of your husband.
Gazing at him for a while, you put down the bowl and held his hand, caressing the back of his palm with your thumb.
A small smile crept at the sides of your mouth as you looked at the golden ring on his finger, reminding you of the most memorable day of your lives.
"You love me that much, huh?"
"I do, I always have." He exhaled, looking back at you with a soft and tender gaze—wanting to just embrace you and bury his face on your neck. Miguel was too deprived at this point.
You stood up, planting a soft kiss on his forehead as you cupped his cheeks. Miguel closed his eyes, responding to the loving touch of your lips on his skin.
How he wished he could feel it once again.
Just then, Gabriella walked into the kitchen—the old teddy bear her mother gave her wrapped in her arms.
"Papa, what time is it?" The little girl said as she rubbed her eyes with a yawn.
"Ah, mija," He stood up and picked up Gabriella in his arms before nuzzling his nose to her cheek, causing her to giggle.
"I'm sorry we woke you up."
"We?" She tilted her head in confusion.
"Yeah, me and your mother-"
As Miguel turned around, he saw his empty plate with your bowl nor presence nowhere to be found.
Warnings: Poorly written + No proof read, just angst
IMAGINE Miguel after losing his spouse (Reader) he'd have to go home to face an empty house without someone hugging and reassuring him that everything will be fine—He'll miss the way how you'd thread your fingers through his hair and he'll eventually calm down as he buries his head in the crook of your neck.
But now, he just sits there and spends his day either sleeping or just looking through your photo albums to keep himself sane. Sometimes he'll call your phone to have a 'quick talk' with the custom voice message you made especially for him.
——
'Hi my love, how are you?'
"Ay amor, I've never been better." He'd say with a bittersweet smile.
'I'm in the middle of doing something right now.'
"That's alright."
'I'll talk to you later, I love you so much.'
"I love you more."
——
Every night after a rough day, he'll take out your shirt from the shared closet and he'll put it on a pillow, spraying it with your favourite perfume before rambling about how work went, how his office felt different without you, and the stress of handling literally hundreds of spider-people without you trying to manage them on his behalf.
Sometimes he'll blab about peter insisting on Miguel to take Mayday to 'make him feel better.'
It somehow did—because sometimes, he'd imagine Mayday was yours and his daughter that he's holding in his arms, causing him to have a soft spot for Peter's child.
Before you died, he couldn't ask for more but to start a family with you.
Most days he'll give out clues that he wanted a baby by pretending to look at cribs and say 'Peter asked him to do so for Mayday.'
He'll tell you about the 'dreams' he's having, saying that he saw the both of you picking up the kids from school with a huge smile plastered on his silly face.
Now, instead of a child being in his arms, he wanted you. He needed you.
Miguel can't even function properly anymore at home, let alone at work.
Of course he's a "I prioritize my work and I'm a professional" type of guy, but ever since then, he's never been the same.
——
Lyla was also having a hard time trying to cheer up Miguel. But whenever she'd put up your photos and videos on the screen, Miguel would find himself fully relaxed, his eyes focused on the monitor as he mumbled sweet nothings while his gaze was fixated on your face.
"Don't they look beautiful," Miguel would sigh. "Don't they..."
Tears would form at the bottom of his eyes as painful memories return to him everytime he saw you.
The way how he heard you desperately calling out for him, the sight of your lifeless and bloody body on the ground, and the loose ring on your finger as your hand dangled limp still haunted him till this very day.
—
If only you knew—
He misses you terribly.
His heart went into chaos along with the world without your arms keeping him together in one piece.
That’s all those of you who don’t produce drawings or comics, fics or drabbles.
All of you who just reblog, only comment, don’t do anything but look and read.
This one’s for you.
Because you’re the likers, the sharers, the taggers, the ask-senders. The reviewers, the praise-givers, the supporters, the flailers. The response, the feedback, the reward for all that hard work. Sometimes the difference between giving up and continuing.
You’re the cornerstone, the heart and soul of this community. It wouldn’t exist without you. Please don’t ever ever think otherwise. Please don’t ever think you shouldn’t talk to the creators whose stuff you enjoy.
Warnings: Besides Miguel beating his meat while watching you thru the cctv, none
Miguel worked at your local café, just at the end of your block.
—
He was one of the best and most experienced baristas and pâtissier in town, but in all the three years you've been consistently going in the café where he worked, buying whatever you want, and doing schoolwork with your friends, you've never seen the one making them—but you knew it was still the same person based on the taste, the cup, and the plate they put your pastries and beverages in.
The person behind those heavenly creations would put your beverages in the usual green cup with tiny leaves engraved on it, while the rest had theirs in a paper cup or a plain white ceramic mug. It's like that cup was specially made for you and only you since you don't see other customers using it, and it for sure made you feel special.
The food would even come on a matching plate, and sometimes when your mood was sour, a secondary set of your favorite edibles was served to you a few minutes after you finished your food as the staff said 'it was already paid' or 'it was on the house'
—
'Maybe the manager wanted to cheer me up,' you thought to yourself, since he was the one who's always at the counter with the cashier and he's very talkative with you and observant when you're over, probably looking at your reactions when you take a bite of your food or a sip of your drink, all the while he kept your mood in check.
And every time the manager went to the kitchen, you could always hear him talk to someone and sometimes hear him mention your name—but you didn't pay much attention to it. You were a regular customer; of course they'll talk about you.
—
Sometimes, your orders come with a sticky note with (most of the time) cheesy lines and messages that would boost your confidence for when exams came. Once again, you thought that this was all the manager's doing, so you thanked him for it, but he doesn't say 'you're welcome' or anything.
But instead, he'd point at the kitchen door and smile, hoping that you'd get what he was trying to say. "Don't thank me, sweetheart; I'm just helping a man out." He'd chuckle.
—
One Wednesday evening, you went out to grab a coffee as usual in the same café. Upon entering the glass door, you were met with the amazing smell of freshly baked chocolate rose bread—and the view of someone 'new' arranging the display rack and organizing the counter's ornaments.
Although the café's atmosphere was nice, this person's aura was intimidating, considering his physical appearance.
He was tall, seeming like his head would almost hit the menu board above his height; his complexion was tanned, with his arms covered by a few burns and scars after years of cooking through rough flames and splattering oil; the eyes that were focused on the plates gleamed a hint of red and brown as his brows furrowed with focus; and overall, he was pretty hench but good-looking.
You swore under your breath that you've been doing this for so long, but now why do you find yourself frozen in place? It's still the same counter in the same cafe. Maybe it's just because of him. He's new, and talking to people whose faces you were unfamiliar with made every cell in your body shake.
The man then lifts his eyes and notices that you were standing near the entrance, clutching the strap of your bag. He dropped the small rag on the table and closed the display rack's glass lid as he approached you, his eyes focused on yours.
His eyes looked as if he were mad and irritated by your presence, but trust me, he was actually jumping over a heart-shaped cloud and running laps in his head because he was finally able to see you in person after years of just looking at you through a monitor screen. God, was he happy he accepted the task the manager gave him even though just a few hours ago he was rolling his eyes like a picky toddler.
Miguel's been feeling this way ever since he first saw you. Maybe you were his type, but he really admired the little things you did, starting when you first entered the cafe until you finished your last bite of food. He adored you so much that he even made a cup and plate that are only for you to use, and it took him a week's worth of pottery classes and a tremendous amount of patience to get it right.
During his free time, he'd experiment on making new pastries only for him to ask the manager to give it to you, or he'd squeeze out all the information the manager gets from you to learn more about you and what you prefer when it comes to food so he knows what to give you when you visit with a tired or foul mood.
When the manager's not around, Miguel would be in charge of watching the store through the CCTV, and sometimes—despite knowing that what he was doing was disgusting and unacceptable—he'd lock the door and couldn't help but unzip his pants that had been keeping his hand from his stiffened dick as he slowly stroked himself—all the while he looked at your beautiful figure plastered on every screen, as his eyebrows curled upwards and his eyes half-closed in pleasure, his drool creeping out from the corner of his mouth along with heavy gasps and curses when his fingers reached his tip with every stroke. Miguel moaned your name under his breath and tossed his head back as he closed his eyes, thinking and wondering how it would feel if you were the one who was on top of him and bouncing on his dick instead of his hand.
But my, the guilt was real after every session of his, and he was bothered knowing that he was acting like a fucked-up pervert, yet he still continued doing so, and he would even collect the things you leave behind. Perfumes, ribbons, rings, and such, then place those things on the little shelf in his room back in his apartment as he admired the bits and pieces of you.
And right now, he is able to admire you in the flesh. It took him every fiber and sanity in his mind and body to not take you in an embrace, for the only thing that has ever kept him from interacting with you was his fear that one day you'll stop coming over, so he suppressed all those feelings and waited for the right time—and right now, he thinks it's time for him to put on his big boy pants and shoot his shot, with some cake ready for you to eat while you talk.
Scenario: You had an asshole of a boss who kept you in the spider-society for his own entertainment. You haven't seen his face but you sure can tell he got a smug look plastered behind that mask as he messed with you playfully and scolding you at the same time just to get your attention.
Warnings: Unhinged, Obsessive, Yandere, Impostor Miguel—16+—Suggestive content if u look closely lmao—Author has 0 experience in writing
Also see: Coffee shop AU (16+)
Your boss, Mr. O'Hara, whom you've never seen the face of, was the most annoying and unhinged jerk you've ever met in your entire life. Although your job as a member of the research staff pays well, there are a few downsides to it—the constant provoking and scolding your superior does almost every day was enough for you to bash your head on the wall and curse his entire ball-sack generation out of pure irritation.
He would usually call you to his office and arrange a stack of papers that he could literally do by himself just to tease you, or tell you to make a cup of coffee for him even though the coffee machine was just a few steps beside him, and proceed to scold you in a tone that ranged from a gorilla yelling to a chipmunk with 2 big nuts in his mouth, saying there isn't enough sugar, not enough cream, this and that all the while his eyes were fixated on the yellow, glowing holographic monitors that's the same color of his piss.
During missions where you were called to record and analyze anomalies, most of the time he'd try to hang you on the wall with his glowing, red web if you either almost got yourself killed or tried to interfere with the fight, so you were left there squirming like a worm, and he'd come back later when the job was done and proceed to give you an hour-long lecture, which you found so boring and completely pointless that you'd just openly roll your eyes at him.
He doesn't mind this behavior or reaction of yours when he's stepping on your buttons; really, he rather found it amusing and entertaining for some reason, and you were the only one who could cross those boundaries as an inferior employee.
He was a leader, the head of the spider society, and you were just a mere member who's able to directly diss him right infront of his face without getting fired, expelled or worse—getting tossed and dunked on a vertical train like a ball like how he did with a 15 year old kid cause he was fucking tweaking.
Although Miguel wasn't vague about it, he has been pinning for you ever since he first saw you walk in his office.His mind was in shambles every time he tried to find the reason why he started acting like this towards you.
Was it because of the way your tired eyes looked at him? The annoyance in your tone every time he tries to talk? Maybe the moment where he heard your contagious laughter while talking to your co-workers near the cafeteria, or the time when you tried to fix his hair out of the blue and he found himself staring at your focused and unfazed expression that he couldn't help but sigh with his hand on one side of his cheek while his elbow rested on the table as imaginary hearts surrounded you in his point of view.
It's fucking silly, he knows that—but he couldn't help it. You already piqued his interest and his eyes were now focused on you and only you, and even though he was a busy man and was only focused on saving the multiverse, he'd completely ditch missions and turn down special offers in the most stern tone if he saw a chance to be with you regardless of what you'll do or how long he'll be able to spend time alongside you.
He's definitely not the type of guy to be funny all the time because of his stoic and strict personality, but sometimes he gets a bit clumsy and chaotic whenever your name is mentioned or when you're around.
———
As months went by, Miguel's 'playfulness' went from pure teasing with no bad intentions to possessive mother-gothel-like actions where he'd literally lock you up in a room with a see-through door that he specifically built in his office just for you.
There will also be times where he'd snap at you just because the sticky notes were at the wrong color or you placed a grown ass plant pot facing the wrong direction.
It always seemed to irritate him when you were talking to literally almost anyone, even with the same gender which confused you because he didn't really care who you talked to several months ago. Why is he reacting this way now?
The verbal abuse was starting to become more and more consistent and you were afraid that he might get physical all of a sudden like an angry husband from the 1940s. Nuh uh, you weren't ready and never will be. In fact, you didn't even sign up for this!
'What happened to the "Respect employees and no bullying" policy?!' You thought to yourself. Mr. O'Hara, who made these policies himself, was breaking it. And you knew it was your time to resign.
Well, you did try to resign. Multiple times now.
The first time you tried to do so, Miguel glared at you, making you take back your paper and leave his office space in a hurry.
Second time, he ripped the papers right infront of your face and stood up from his chair with a glare so hard it could pierce through the multiverse. This man was unhinged as fuck.
Don't even get me started with the other. Let's just say the rest is history.
———
One day, two days, three days, four.
You couldn't and can't get home because of Miguel and his bickering and blabbering and tantruming. He even almost chained you to the floor with the excuses of "You can't go home yet, you still have work to do." and "We can't lose you, you're one of our best." with some "Just sleep on the couch in my office, stop being so picky." with a hint of "It's not safe outside right now."
You scoffed at his horrible excuses. How could he say it wasn't safe outside when you didn't even feel safe in his presence alone?
You wondered what made him like this. He wasn't like this before, and you gotta admit—you did better when he used to playfully tease you, unlike now, he's acting like a feral dog.
———
God, you were so full of him at this point so one day, you decided to come up to him and burst in his office without notice.
"I need to go home, Mr. O'Hara." You huffed as your nails dig in your palm. You couldn't take it anymore, this place used to be your secondary home but now, it felt like a hell-sent prison itself.
"No." Was all he said as he continued typing, his mask was on but you can tell that his eyes were still fixated on the monitor.
The sound of the clacking keyboard and the click of the mouse buttons filled the room as you stood there in disbelief.
'This guy's a pain in the ass..'
"Look, sir, I really need to get ho—"
"No. Don't even think about it."
He said in a stern tone as he closed one of his monitors.
"I need to get back to my husband, he's waiting for me."
Miguel's fingers froze in place and it took him a few moments to close his monitors and stand up, clearly taken aback by what you said.
"Husband?" He asked as he put his hands on his waist, waiting for an answer.
"Um yes? My husband? It's been a week since I last saw him and I can't even ta—"
You were cut off by a sound of a loud smack on the table with angry huffing. Miguel stomped towards you, his fists formed a tight ball.
"Since when?"
"Since when what?"
"Since when were you married?!"
"I've been married for the past 3 years, why are you getting mad?!" You exclaimed, still standing your ground when in reality you were about to fucking shit bricks.
Miguel kept his face on you for a while before turning his back on you.
He walked away with both hands on his face as he clearly seemed frustrated and disappointed. He wasn't the one in charge with the employee's bio-data and paperworks so obviously he didn't know you were married.
"Get out." Miguel muttered under his breath. For some obvious reason, you felt more relieved and happy rather than sad and shocked knowing that you're probably gonna lose your job. You have enough money saved up for you and your husband's retirement anyways.
"I accept your resignation, leave the gizmo on the table before you suck yourself up in that portal."
A portal appeared just beside you that's going to take you home. Although his sudden change of mind kinda unsettled you, you happily took off the gizmo anyways and went in the portal, taking you back home.
———
Miguel sat there in his office for a good 30 minutes while staring at blank space like a fucking freak.
"She's married?..." He mumbled under his breath, still in disbelief. He probably didn't notice the ring on your finger since he was too busy looking and admiring your face. He removed his mask and let out a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
He scratched the back of his head and as soon as he sat back up, his brows furrowed and his eyes were full of anger and hatred— with a mix of jealousy and envy.
He stomped out of his office and headed towards the room filled with his employees' documents and frantically looked for your paperworks and bio-data.
Alas, he found it.
He went back and sat himself down as slowly opened the folder as if he was carefully opening a treaty from another universe.
As he read the elements, he found everything he needed to know.
He hastily opened his monitor back up and opened your location. And before you ask how he got your location even without the gizmo, he put a nano-chip on your necklace when you set it aside as you took a bath incase of a sudden emergency.
No he wasn't trying to peep. He just entered the wrong locker room—probably not on purpose.
Miguel carefully watched you on his colored screen and saw that you just arrived on Earth 787-B with a cheerful smile on your face. This pissed him off even more but since he has your information and location, he had nothing else to worry about.
The cameras then moved to the inside of your apartment, where Miguel got a clear view of the living room.
Just then, upon seeing your interaction with your husband, an evil and eerie smile slowly grew on his face.
With a single push of a hidden button under his desk, 3 spider people were summoned. They were Miguel's best (Not the lego spiderman, this is something else) and most trusted men and were only called for 'special' missions.
Miguel pointed at your husband on his monitor with his eerie smile still on his face as his men carefully analyzed his features. They were in shock but didn't try to utter a word since they already knew what he wanted to do and have.
"Bring me his head."
———
You were finally back home and nothing made you more happy than seeing your cozy apartment and wonderful husband.
Skipping through the hallway, you hummed a happy and hearty tune as you saw your apartment number appearing before your eyes.
You reached out for the keys in your bag and slowly opened the door. To your surprise, your husband was sitting at the couch, his back facing your and he seemed to be out of breath.
It was then you realized— he was pleasuring himself as he quietly moaned and whimpered your name while his hand aggressively moved up and down, creating such sloppy and slimy sounds, unaware of your presence behind him.
"Ah.. fuck... I miss you so much.." He continued to groan as he stroked his hard dick with the thought of you in his mind.
You, who was enjoying the view, dropped your bag and this startled the man who was in the middle of beating his meat in broad daylight.
"H-Honey?!" The man jolted up from his seat and before he could even realize it, his schlong was wet and dangling as it leaked pre-cum while he stood.
He embarrassedly covered his throbbing dick with a throw pillow he grabbed from the couch and before he could even put on his boxers, you grabbed his hand and shook your head with a playful smile plastered on that pretty mouth of yours.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here much the past few months." You sighed as you stroked his neck.
"But now that I'm here, allow me to do you good." Gently, you removed the pillow from his hand and tossed it aside. Despite closing all the windows, you felt like someone was watching you in the room, but you shrugged it off and continued to do your thing. 'Its probably nothing' you thought to yourself as you continued to pamper your sweet husband with kisses and strokes.
"Oh... Honey.. You're so good.." He moaned at the kiss of your lips on his neck and chest as his dick continued to throb in your hands, desperate to kiss your second set of lips. "I've missed you so much... terribly." he said in a shaky voice, his head completely clouded with pleasure and arousal.
TO COPE - Miguel O'Hara Variant x Fem!Reader x Miguel O'Hara (PT. I)
Color codes:
• Red: Miguel O'Hara
•Blue: Miguel's variant
•Violet: Both of them
•Pink: Reader
Note: Pay close attention to the changes of color so you'll understand the story well
A version of Miguel's variant was married to his wife but was widowed 2 years later due to a canon event and it left him with great depression and loneliness for the next 4 years. One day there was an anomaly in his universe and Miguel went to stop the disturbance which was just a few meters away from Miguel's home. He watched Miguel fight for hours that felt like forever and was in complete shock to find out that the person beating that anomaly's ass was like some sort of clone of him.
He looked so much like him, he sounded like him, and he moved like him. They were both so similar except for the fact that Miguel was a whole spider society's leader, while he was just an employee from Alchemax.
Since Miguel didn't have a spider sense, he didn't sense his variant stalking him out of pure curiosity.
Just then, Miguel got a call and he found him smiling subtly at his gizmo— or whatever that is, as it emitted a holographic figure of his wife.
Miguel, upon seeing this, felt a wave of relief, surprise, happiness, and anger at the same time.
He was relieved because he saw that even in another universe, he was married to the same person and he would love it if it would stay that way.
He was surprised because he thought that she was supposed to be dead since his wife was dead.
He was happy to hear the voice of his wife again—more like a variant of his wife's voice, and he was mad because he thought that life was being unfair to him.
'Why is my variant's wife still alive—but mine is gone? Is it possible that there are more variants of me out there and their wife's still alive? This is so unfair.'
He thought to himself.
———
After about an hour of talking, Miguel opened up a portal that led back to his home and this piqued his interest.
He waited for Miguel to enter first and immediately followed before the portal closed.
Luckily for him, Miguel was transported to an area with a lot of free spaces to hide in— he was at an advantage, for now.
After Miguel exited the room, he took this chance to wander around the place for a bit, trying to familiarize himself with the roads, buildings, and the distant skyline as he looked at every corner with awe and amusement.
Of course, he didn't forget to change his appearance with the extra clean clothes he found in the previous room hoping that it will do a good disguise for him despite his large physique that stands out.
———
It took him not longer than an hour to finally find Miguel and decided to follow him to his home where he and his wife probably lived in together.
His mind was nervous and scared but his body was trembling with excitement and his eyes beamed with happiness hoping that sooner or later, he'll be able to see his wife again.
Well, yes, he knew that she wasn't exactly his wife, but it didn't matter to Miguel because right now, he was desperate. So desperate to see her, to hold her, to touch her and feel her warmth on his body again.
Oh how long he have missed her and long have he yearned for her to appear before his eyes again.
———
Miguel felt that the universe was blessing him with luck and was in favour of what he was doing.
He managed to follow Miguel back to his home safely without being seen as suspicious since their home was near a crowded and popular area among tourists, and people were very nice to each other and to him, meaning he was able to slide past the guards on watch and curious bystanders who look like they would throw a bottle if they figured out your dark intentions.
Miguel then stayed at a nearby alley near his variant's house and waited till the next day for Miguel to leave again before taking action.
As he watched him walk away and disappear from his sight, he could feel his cold sweat, the shivers, and his whole body shake while he slowly walked towards the door.
His wife was just inside. She was just right behind that door.
She wouldn't know—right?
After all, they're almost exactly the same.
The door had a keyhole and he was kinda frustrated knowing he doesn't have the key at all, but there was an emergency pad where it used the owner's fingerprint and handprint in order to open the door.
Miguel was kind of nervous at first, but after he let the machine scan his hand, the light that was once red turned green at his touch.
He was overjoyed.
Upon entering the house, he was afloat with the amount of coziness and homey feeling this house gave. He admired the decorations, the furniture, the books on the floor and the small mugs with deep red lipstick stains that surrounded the mouth place.
Then he came across the photos that rested on the tables and the ones that were hung on the walls. He was focused on the smiling and loving face of his wife that he longed to see again, and he adored the way how she still loved to wear satin dresses that shined under the sun along with every step she took.
He then picked up a small framed photo that sat on a drawer—it was one of her wedding photo copies, and it showed her and his variant in a beautiful chapel as they held each other in their arms, with her head rested on his chest.
Just then, he heard the door from the second floor shut close and he scurried to return the photos in their rightful places and order and sat down the couch, trying to act as normal as possible.
"Honey?" The lady asked in a tired and surprised tone.
Miguel couldn't believe it. For the past 4 years he was the loneliest he has ever been.
Crying every night as he held the dress his wife last wore, looking through their wedding album during his insomniac nights while he stroked himself as he listened to the recordings of her voice in his phone.
He went to places that they both loved, hoping to ease the heaviness in his chest but it just made it worse knowing that he's going to be alone and will always be alone when walking the paths that he and his wife loved when she was alive.
He was hopeless, but now that she stood infront of him with the warmth and radiance he was most familiar with, he could already feel his heart burst with happiness.
He wanted to cry, to drop to his knees and kiss her hand—he missed her so much, but right now he gotta act right or else things will take the wrong turn.
"Why are you home already? I thought you had work?"
Miguel tried to come up with an en excuse as his eyes wandered around.
"I—I forgot something.." He said in a slightly nervous tone and tried to keep his demeanor clean, as if he wasn't fighting the urge to pull his hair out of his scalp just a few minutes earlier.
Miguel stood and his height towered his wife whose head just reached the bottom of his chin.
Slowly and hesitantly, he lifted his hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb. His skin touching hers alone was enough to send shivers down his spine.
"Miguel? Is everything alright?" The unsuspecting wife asked.
But before he could even speak, Miguel's body gave up and pulled her into a tight embrace like he has never hugged someone in a hundred years.
'Finally—Finally I'm able to be with you again.' He thought to himself as his arms tightened around her body.
"Oh my," The woman hugged him back as she let out a soft chuckle. "Have you been stressed lately?"
He couldn't say anything else anymore. It felt like his heart was in his throat so all he could manage was a soft nod as his head rested on the crook of her neck.
She gave his back a few several pats before pulling away from the hug, and cupping his cheeks to kiss his forehead.
Miguel felt the warmth spread across his body down to his very bones as she did so, and this made him want to stay in this universe even more without second thoughts.
"Mi amor..." Miguel let out a heavy sigh. "I- I know this might be random for you but I've missed you." He placed his forehead onto hers as he closed his eyes and rested his hands on her waist.
"Yeah, you're so random," She chuckled. "But I've missed you too."
After a few moments of hugging and caressing each other's face, the both of them sat down and his wife decided that it might be the nice time to talk about their issues in their marriage— not knowing that this man wasn't her original husband at all.
"Love, I've been meaning to tell you that you've been neglecting me lately."
Miguel's eyes widened at what she said, because how on earth could her Miguel neglect her when he'd do anything to spend time with her, even for just a few seconds.
"... I'm sorry. How long have you been feeling that way?" Miguel asked as he gently held her hand that was resting on her lap.
"About 2 months now. Everyday the noises you make when you get ready for work kinda wakes me up, but you never wake me up to say goodbye or at least kiss me before you leave" she sighed.
———
After the two talked for almost 3 hours, Miguel was determined to spend time with her in his variant's place and still hoped that he wouldn't get caught. It may seem like a selfish act but he loved his wife dearly that he couldn't let go of her, no matter how many years have passed. He still loved her the same.
———
This man continued seeing his wife for 3 months straight. Some of his neighbors would get unsettled by his sudden change of personality from time to time (Mind you that Miguel was the type to be cold towards people he's not comfortable with and this Miguel was a friendly and warmly energetic type) but they were glad Miguel decided to interact with them more.
The house also started to have some changes in the atmosphere whenever he was around and his wife felt the happiest when she was with him.
Sometimes at certain points, she would find the difference of his behavior during the day compared to his behavior during the night kind of odd, but it didn't matter.
Deep down, she knows that the Miguel she spends the day with wasn't the same Miguel yet she was happy with the love and attention he has given her for the past 3 months.
Miguel was still wondering why he hasn't been caught yet but he was thankful that his wife didn't bring up their moments to the original Miguel and he kinda hoped it would stay that way.
———
One day, Miguel called that he was coming home late so he decided to go back to his wife immediately to stay a bit longer after making up excuses why he went home after he said that he'll be coming home late.
Delighted and comfortable in each other's presence, the two's casual conversation in the kitchen ended up getting taken to the dim-lit bedroom as they both held each other with their naked bodies touching with every move and whispered each other's names in their ears.
They were submerged in lustful pleasure and euphoria that they didn't care about their surroundings at all. Their eyes were focused on each other and to each other alone, and their lips said nothing but sweet affirmations, quiet gasps & moans, and a single name they were fond of most.
"What the hell is going on here?! What are you doing with my wife?!"
requesting for part two of the Yandere dead wife Miguel fic please 🙏
✫ ;: .. COPIED DESIRE / miguel o’hara
pt one pt two
: you’re not his dead wife…but he can’t let go
18+ yandere full on manipulation here goddamn; possessive!miguel; like I’m not kidding he’s actually terrible for this (but of course still all soft and sweet to you)
It was dark. At first at least, because your mind felt dizzy, as you moved to sit up. At first you thought maybe something was covering your eyes. But no, the room was just…dark.
You could feel the bed underneath you, as your feet hit the cold floor. The room looked rather bland, but as you continued to gaze around, brows furrowed at your swaying mind, you stop on a picture frame.
It had been purposefully placed down, which most likely meant that you probably shouldn’t put it back up. But your curiosity and want to realise your situation better, made your hand lift to view the picture. Your breathing hitches when you see you.
Or well…maybe not you. But a version. A version of you smiling, oblivious to the photo in general.
“She’s pretty isn’t she?” A voice makes you quickly place the photo back down as you spin to face whoever it was. You sway a fraction, reaching to grab out for the bed’s end post, but a hand is quickly holding you steady.
“You’ll be a bit dizzy still.” He softly comments, and then you recognise the voice. Miguel. But not your Miguel. You rush back, chest heaving. “You…you…kidnapped me?” Your comment is more so a question at this point, as Miguel shakes his head, reaching for you again.
But you stumble back, hand out, as you stare with full fledged anger. “Don’t you dare come closer…I—“ You take a breath, because it’s true you did still feel dizzy. You shake your head continuously. “You’re not…please tell me I’m dreaming.” You meet his gaze, and see utter adoration, but clear worry at your frantic actions.
“I thought so too at first.” Miguel smiles. Actually smiles. And you can’t fathom how he can at the current situation.
“But it’s not…”
Miguel shakes his head, confirming so. “No. You’re here…” then he further mutters to himself. “…you’re really here…”
“No.” You say pointedly. “Take me back.”
“Look i know that you probably feel…scared right now—“
“Scared?” You hiss out. “Of course I feel scared. You pretended to be…oh god…i kissed you.” You mutter, replying yesterdays actions. Was it yesterday? You weren’t sure. Because time seemed to be irrelevant as of now.
“And it was better than I remembered.” Miguel is slowly edging closer to you.
You shake your head, jaw clenching. “No. No, I’m not…I’m not your y/n. Please tell me you know that.”
“I know.” Miguel clenched his jaw. “My y/n’s dead.”
You stop, meeting his gaze. There’s a flash of something cold before he catches your gaze, softening instantly, as his lips twitch up. “But you aren’t…and I’m not gonna let you die…” He edged closer again. “‘M not gonna let anything happen to you.”
You keep your hand out, but your expression has softened a fraction. He still grieved. And now his desperation kinda made sense to you. But that still gives him no right to just…take you. “I’m…sorry. I am, but i have my own life. A different life. With…Miguel…my Miguel.”
Miguel’s jaw tightens at this, as he steps much much closer. You hadn’t realised that you were backing up until you felt the cold wall at your back. Now Miguel had you trapped as his gaze wandered your face with an intimacy that had your breath hitching.
“I’m barely any different from your Miguel.” He says, brushing your face and neck, making you shiver.
“He wouldn’t just kidnap someone.” You mutter, making Miguel’s darting eyes meet your own. His caresses moved to grab your chin, keeping your head how he wanted.
“I hate to break it to you. But if any of my variants are like me, then anything close to determination, or desperation will lead us to do something like this.” His mouth had moved to drag his lips up the skin of your neck, just breathing you in. “If anything is of high importance to us, we make sure we get it.” He places a kiss to your collarbone.
Your entire body is tense, as you try to draw away from his eager lips. But he’s persistent, keeping you still, as he begins to suck on your neck, mumbling Spanish words into your skin.
“And you…are probably the upmost important thing to us.” His other hand has slipped around your waist, as his hand by your chin slips to the back of your neck.
“You’re wrong.” You manage, as he litters kisses up your neck and jaw.
“Am I?” Miguel hums, kitten licking your skin.
“I’m…I’m not important to you. Only to one of you…or I’d like to think so.” You say quickly, trying not to let his kisses effect you.
Miguel shakes his head against your skin, his head now resting in the crook of your neck as he just keeps you close. “But you are, y/n…my y/n.”
“No—“
“Yes.” He interrupts, pulling your waist closer to him. “All mine.” He mutters, his open mouth now over the side of your neck.
“I’m not…please, I’m…” You try, but his weight is crushing. “I’m really sorry about your wife, but…I’m not her, I can’t be her.”
“Yes you can. You’re exactly like her.” Miguel says, lifting his head, to kiss your lips. Your ‘no’ comes out muffled as you manage to slightly draw him away.
“Miguel.” You say pointedly. And he finally stops, breathing hard as he stares, seeming to make sure all your details sink into his brain.
“I can’t let you go again.”
“Miguel.” You say again. “You never had me.”
His grip around your waist tightened. “I don’t care that you’re from another universe. You’re y/n. My y/n now. You can’t really think I’d just give that up so easily can you?”
You shake your head. “I’m married.”
“To a version of me.” He says, his clawed finger going back to tracing your skin.
“No. You’re a version of him, to me.” You say, truthfully. “You’re the variant who has no right. He’s my husband.”
His jaw clenched, his soft tracing now a tight grip on your cheeks to stop you talking. “Don’t say that.”
You still manage to speak. “It’s the truth. Even you can’t deny that.”
He breathes, his tongue running down his fang. “Fine. You were his wife.” His hand had begun to stroke any part of you, keeping you close and against him. “But where is he? It’s been two days.”
Your eyes widen. Two days?!
Miguel smirks at your shocked expression. “If he really was your husband, and cares about you. He would have found you already. I would have found you.” Miguel’s manipulative words are whispered so enticingly.
You shake your head. “No he’s…where even am I?”
Miguel didn’t want to say his universe. Because then you’d make up some excuse about how your husband physically couldn’t get here. So Miguel instead says. “Somewhere quiet. Not far from your house actually. He’s just so oblivious.” Miguel hides his smirk in your neck, going back to kissing and licking.
“No…” you weren’t going to believe that. He’s looking for you. Your Miguel is looking for you.
Miguels hand slipped under your shirt, just to stroke your waist, hips and stomach. “Maybe he’s just…busy. He has such a hard job doesn’t he?”
He’s looking for you—you keep repeating to yourself. He’s looking, he’s looking. But Miguels poisonous words have snuck their way into your mind.
“I actually saw your husband, before I went to your house…” lies lies lies. “He was with…someone.”
Your jaw clenched. Because your mind instantly went to the woman he works with. No. You weren’t gonna be jealous. She was only his co-worker. A friend.
“They were standing rather…close.” Miguel’s lips have left marks all over your neck, as he keeps stroking your skin, doing a lot more damage to your mind. A target of his that he can feel is slowly working. Because you aren’t as tense anymore, and maybe you’re just thinking. But that would mean Miguel’s plan is on its way.
He lifted his head, his face falling again, as he looks concerned, brushing your cheek with his fingers. “She seemed rather…eagerly engaging with him. Of course I’m sure it’s nothing though. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”
Miguel watches the switch in your expression. My, my you were so easy to manipulate. He held down his grin still displaying a form of sadness and pity.
“I’m sure he didn’t agree to that dinner.”
“What?” You stare at him, and for the first time today you completely and utterly stare at Miguel. And he feels ecstatic.
“You didn’t know?” Miguel tilts his head in fake surprise. “I thought he would have told you, since you’re well…his wife.”
He’s lying—you think to yourself. All his words are lies. But you can’t help but feel doubt prickle under your skin. Because yes, your Miguel has been rather busy lately, making small excuses. It’s fine right. He’s looking for you…right?
“Ay, mi cariño…you didn’t know? I’m so sorry.” Miguel gently kissed your cheek. Carefully reading your now relaxed posture, as he moves his lips to capture yours.
And that’s when he knew he had you. His doubtful thoughts were planted now. And as he moved his hand to support the back of your neck, he knew for sure—kissing you harder—that he had you completely under his control.
In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.
Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.
However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.
Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.
You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.
One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.
"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.
He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."
There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.
In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.
Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.
His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.
During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.
But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.
This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.
And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.
Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”
You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.
Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.
You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.
As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.
“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”
Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”
You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.
Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”
You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”
“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.
Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”
Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”
You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.
"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.
Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.
"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.
"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"
His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.
He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.
"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."
“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.
“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.
Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.
He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”
“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”
He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”
He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”
“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”
The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.
“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.
Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.
“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”
Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.
“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”
Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”
You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.
Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.
Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.
The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.
The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.
The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.
"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.
You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.
The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.
"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.
You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.
Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.
You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.
Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.
With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.
The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.
“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”
The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.
“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.
Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.
“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.
Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.
Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.
As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.
Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."
Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.
"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.
Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"
Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”
Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”
Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”
Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"
Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.
"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.
"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.
“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.
“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.
Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know, I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”
Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.
Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.
Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”
“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.
“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.
Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.
After she leaves, the trio leans in.
“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.
Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”
Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”
They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.
As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.
"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.
"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.
There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.
"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.
"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.
"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”
Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.
"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."
Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."
You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.
"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"
“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.
You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”
You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"
Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”
“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”
There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.
Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”
Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”
Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."
You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.
“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.”
They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.
Part 2 Webs of Fate
a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx
