• H • E • L• L• O

Latina || Scorpio || new writer ✨

[vxxxb]

✩ NAVIGATION

DEPRIVE ME - [Miguel O’Hara]

After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor.

PT 1 PT2 PT3 PT4 PT5

STRINGS UNBOUND - [ Miguel O’Hara] / One-shot

What more can you do but deal with unrequited love?

TIPSY WITH A SPIDER - [Miguel O’Hara] / One-shot

A night out with your boss leads you to drunken behaviors and accidental revelations.

NOT A COOK - [Miguel O'Hara] / One-shot

You can't cook and Miguel decides to help

✩ ADDITIONAL

Looking to write more fandoms. Please feel free to leave suggestions through asks.

OPEN to work on requests

[lacethighs]

infuriatingly infuriating

neteyam sully x metkayina! reader

synopsis the olo’eyktan’s oldest daughter finds herself falling for toruk makto’s infuriatingly charming eldest son.

warnings no use of y/n.

word count 4.4k

it has been a few months since the sully family arrived in awa’atlu, seeking uturu. they learned the ways of your people quickly, perhaps faster than you expected.

when your father tasked you and your siblings with helping them adjust, you knew it would be no small effort.

your younger brother had been less than thrilled at first, grumbling about having to teach the forest people how to survive in the water. but in time, he grew accustomed to it.

tsireya, of course, had no complaints. if anything, she was too eager to help, though it was obvious why. she had taken quite the liking to the younger sully brother.

as for you? you didn’t mind them much. you treated them with respect and did your duty, teaching them as best you could.

but neteyam, the eldest sully, was the biggest pain in your tail.

at first, he had been quiet, reserved. almost too respectful. he treated you as if you were someone of great authority, so much so that you had to remind him once that you were not his superior.

oh, great mother, how you regret that now.

it was as if those words alone had shattered whatever restraint he had. now, neteyam refused to leave you alone. he took every opportunity to tease you, to pester you about anything and everything.

he was worse than your brothers. far worse.

for someone who carried himself as a mighty warrior, he certainly didn’t act like one. if he wasn’t showing off, casually proving that he could master every skill thrown his way. he was using that demon language of his, throwing strange words at you just to see your reaction.

and eywa, did he love your reactions.

those large, crystal-blue eyes of yours would widen in pure, utter confusion every time he spoke in that strange demon language. and that was exactly what he wanted.

he would grin, sharp and full of mischief, watching the way your brows furrowed, the way your lips parted slightly as if trying to make sense of the foreign words. then, just when you thought he might take pity on you and explain himself, he would simply shake his head.

“what?” you’d snap, frustrated beyond belief. “what does that mean?”

but neteyam would only tilt his head, feigning innocence. “nga kea nari si, yawntu?”

your tail flicked sharply behind you. “neteyam.”

nothing. just that insufferable smirk.

you hated it. hated how he refused to explain himself, as if he hadn’t just spoken an entirely different language to you. as if he hadn’t just left you standing there, trying to piece together something you had no hope of understanding.

infuriating.

and yet, every time, you found yourself waiting for the next time he’d do it again.

it was infuriating.

whenever the two of you were together, whether by chance or because your father had paired you up for some task, he would do the work, yes. but not without making your life miserable in the process.

today was no different.

your mother had asked you to fetch more shells for her, a simple enough task. yet, of course, neteyam had seen you leaving and, for reasons only eywa knew, decided to follow.

“you do not need help collecting shells,” he had said, trailing behind you like an overgrown ilu.

“and yet here you are,” you muttered, sifting through the sand near the shore, determined to ignore him.

neteyam crouched beside you, hands resting on his knees as he watched you work. he was silent for a moment—too silent. that was never a good sign.

“you know,” he finally mused, “where i’m from, we don’t waste time collecting pretty things from the sand.”

you exhaled sharply through your nose, refusing to rise to the bait. “we do not waste time,” you corrected. “the shells are used for many things.”

“oh, of course,” he said easily. “necklaces. bracelets. decorations.” your ears flicked in annoyance. “and medicine, neteyam. and tools. and trade.”

he hummed as if considering your words, then leaned forward, plucking a shell from the pile you had already gathered. “this one,” he said, holding it up, “definitely just for decoration.”

you snatched it from his grasp, shooting him a glare. “why are you here?”

he grinned. “what, and miss a chance to spend time with my favorite metkayina?”

you scoffed, turning back to your task. “go bother someone else.”

“i would,” he admitted, stretching out lazily beside you, “but no one else makes such great faces when i talk.”

your hands froze for a moment before tightening into fists. infuriating. absolutely infuriating.

rolling your eyes, you ignored him, focusing instead on plucking shells from the sand. and then he did it again.

that strange, foreign tongue slipping past his lips; smooth, effortless, knowing damn well you wouldn’t understand.

“these shells are just as beautiful as you,” he said, voice teasing yet undeniably soft.

you froze, fingers curling around the shell in your hand as you turned to him, eyes narrowing.

“what did you just say?”

neteyam only smiled. that smug, infuriating smile. “nothing.”

your tail flicked sharply behind you. “no,” you pressed, shifting to face him fully. “you said something. say it again.”

he tilted his head, as if considering it. then, with a maddening slowness, he shrugged. “i don’t think so.”

you hated this game. hated that he knew how much it drove you mad.

still, you tried to piece it together, running the words over in your mind, searching for meaning. but you had no hope of understanding. it was a language that didn’t belong to you; a secret only he held.

your lips pressed into a thin line. “you could be insulting me for all i know.”

neteyam chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his golden eyes warm with amusement. “you think so little of me, sevin?”

you huffed, turning back to your task, determined not to let him win. “one of these days, i will find out what you are saying,” you muttered.

he grinned. “i look forward to it.”

and you were determined.

later, when your mother and father weren’t demanding anything from you, you set out to find the younger sully brother.

lo’ak was more open than neteyam, more willing. he didn’t hold himself with the same strict discipline as his older brother, and you knew he was always eager to prove himself. perfect.

you found him near the village edge, sharpening his knife, tail lazily flicking behind him. he looked up as you approached, ears twitching with curiosity.

“what do you want?” he asked, though there was no real bite to his words.

you crouched beside him, tilting your head. “i want to learn your demon language.”

lo’ak blinked. “you mean english?”

you scowled. “demon language,” you repeated. “the one you and your brother use.”

lo’ak snorted. “right. and why would i teach you?”

you smirked. “because you like my sister.”

lo’ak stiffened. “i—what? no, i—”

you raised a non-existent brow, waiting.

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “that’s so unfair.”

you only shrugged. “i do not make the rules.”

lo’ak huffed but gave in easily enough. “fine,” he muttered. “what do you want to know?”

you leaned forward, eager. “start with this, what does neteyam keep saying to me?”

lo’ak knew exactly what was going on.

he had seen the way neteyam looked at you, watched how his usually disciplined, ever-perfect brother turned into a teasing, insufferable menace whenever you were around. neteyam was completely, hopelessly infatuated with you.

and now, here you were, looking at him for answers.

lo’ak smirked to himself. oh, this is too good.

he had two choices: he could lie, protect his brother’s pride, and let this little game of theirs continue.

or

he could tell you the truth and sit back to watch the chaos unfold.

really, there was only one correct option.

feigning nonchalance, he leaned back on his hands, pretending to think. “well,” he started slowly, drawing it out just to watch you grow impatient. “neteyam’s been saying some… interesting things.”

your eyes narrowed. “like what?”

lo’ak bit back a grin. oh, this was going to be fun. so fun for him.

because as he went on, explaining the things he had heard neteyam say to you in english, you listened intently, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you.

what you didn’t see was neteyam moving through the village, searching for you. he had grown used to your presence, enjoyed bothering you whenever he could, so when he hadn’t seen you for a while, he decided to track you down.

and then he spotted you, with lo’ak.

the way his brother was smirking, looking like a complete menace, was a dead giveaway. neteyam didn’t even need to hear the conversation to know exactly what was happening.

his stomach dropped.

lo’ak was telling you.

his body tensed, tail flicking in irritation. oh, that little skxawng.

you still didn’t notice him. too focused on lo’ak, your arms crossed, head tilting as you listened. and lo’ak? oh, he was relishing this.

neteyam clenched his jaw. he had two options: stop this right now before you learned too much, or let it happen and deal with the consequences.

yeah, like hell he was choosing the second one.

so, before lo’ak could dig his grave any deeper, neteyam stormed over.

by the time neteyam stormed over, the damage had already been done. lo’ak had fully dug his grave, and he was lying in it with a big, shit-eating grin.

you turned at the sound of heavy footsteps, just in time to see neteyam approaching, his expression unreadable. his jaw was tight, ears pinned back, golden eyes locked onto his younger brother with something between fury and panic.

lo’ak just sat there, far too pleased with himself. “oh, hey, brother,” he said, voice dripping with fake innocence. “we were just talking about you.”

your gaze flickered between them, realization dawning. neteyam knew. he knew exactly what had just happened.

and judging by the way his tail lashed behind him, he was not happy about it.

you turned back to lo’ak. “so,” you said, tilting your head, “you’re telling me neteyam has been calling me beautiful this whole time?”

neteyam inhaled sharply. “lo’ak—”

“oh, yeah,” lo’ak cut in, completely ignoring him. “that and, you know, pretty much everything else a man says when he’s in love with someone.”

silence.

your lips parted slightly, but no words came. neteyam looked like he was about to die on the spot.

and lo’ak? well, lo’ak just grinned and clapped a hand on neteyam’s shoulder.

“good luck, bro,” he said before slipping away, leaving you both standing there, one of you in utter shock, the other in complete, soul-crushing regret.

neteyam stared at you, tense, waiting, trying to gauge your reaction.

you didn’t look at him at first, eyes fixed on the sand, lips caught between your fangs as if deep in thought. his heart pounded in his chest, breath held as he braced himself for whatever was coming.

then, slowly, the corners of your lips curled.

the biggest, most teasing smile stretched across your face as you finally lifted your gaze to meet his.

“oh,” you said, drawing the word out, tail flicking behind you. “so that’s what you’ve been saying this whole time?”

neteyam groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “lo’ak is dead.”

you laughed, the sound light and full of way too much enjoyment. “no wonder you never translated. what was it you said earlier?” you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “oh, yes, these shells are just as beautiful as you.’”

his ears flattened. “you don’t have to—”

“but i am beautiful, aren’t i?” you interrupted, tilting your head. “since you’ve been saying it so often.”

neteyam clenched his jaw, exhaling through his nose. he could not believe this was happening.

you leaned in slightly, eyes shining with mischief. “tell me, mighty warrior, what else have you been calling me?”

he groaned again, feeling his entire body heat up. this was not how he wanted you to find out.

but when he looked at you, truly looked at you, all teasing and bright-eyed, wearing that smile that made his stomach flip, he knew, deep down, that lo’ak had only sped up the inevitable.

so, with a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and met your gaze.

“do you really want to know?” he asked, voice lower now, steadier.

your teasing smirk faltered just slightly. “…yes.”

neteyam took a step closer, eyes locked onto yours.

“yawntu,” he murmured, watching as your brows furrowed. “seysonì.”

you blinked, lips parting, the teasing edge in your expression flickering with something softer.

then he leaned in, voice just above a whisper.

“my love.”

your breath hitched.

for the first time since this little game between you had started, you found yourself at a loss for words.

your eyes flickered down to his lips for just a second—quick, barely noticeable, but he noticed. of course he did. neteyam was always watching, always reading you like an open scroll.

his ears twitched, tail giving the smallest flick as he took another step closer. close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that the teasing atmosphere between you had shifted into something else. something heavier.

“you’re quiet,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “that’s new.”

you swallowed, trying to regain some sense of control. “shut up,” you muttered, but the usual bite in your words was missing.

neteyam smirked. he knew he had you now.

slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand, fingers brushing against the shell still clutched in your grasp. his touch was light—barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“you never did tell me,” he mused, golden eyes locked onto yours. “do you think i’m beautiful too?”

your heart pounded against your ribs. that smug skxawng. he was throwing your own words back at you.

but two could play this game.

tilting your chin up, you gave him a slow, knowing smile. “wouldn’t you like to know?”

then, before he could get the last word in, you turned on your heel, leaving him standing there; stunned, frustrated, and entirely hooked.

you left him standing there, smug and victorious, but your heart was still pounding.

by the time you returned home, you needed to find your sister.

because these forsaken sully brothers had somehow woven their way into both of your hearts.

you found tsireya near the woven mats of your family’s marui, carefully threading beads onto a new piece of jewelry. she looked up as you entered, a soft smile on her lips—one that quickly turned into curiosity when she saw the look on your face.

“you look…” she tilted her head, studying you. “different.”

you scoffed, flopping down beside her. “frustrated.”

tsireya’s brows lifted. “ah. neteyam?”

you groaned, rubbing your temples. “always.”

her soft laugh rang through the marui, and for a moment, you let yourself relax. but then you narrowed your eyes, gaze flickering to the necklace she was working on.

“let me guess,” you said, nodding toward it. “for lo’ak?”

tsireya hesitated, just for a moment, before a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

you gaped at her. “oh, eywa.”

“it is not—”

“you’re making him jewelry?”

“he—he appreciates our traditions!” she defended, though the flustered look on her face betrayed her.

you stared at her for a long moment before shaking your head. “we’re doomed,” you muttered, flopping onto your back. “the sully brothers have ruined us.”

tsireya only giggled, threading another bead onto the string. “maybe.” then, she cast you a knowing look. “but you don’t seem to mind.”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. because, deep down, you didn’t. not one bit.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep orange and violet, your village buzzed with excitement. the salty breeze carried the scent of roasting fish and sweet fruits, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of drums echoing across the shoreline.

tonight was a night of festivities; a celebration of unity, of eywa’s blessings, of all that made your people strong. and, as the daughter of the olo’eyktan, it was one of those things you had to attend.

you stood near your family’s marui, adjusting the beaded adornments woven into your hair as your mother fussed over your attire. ronal was ever the perfectionist, making sure you looked every bit the part of a leader’s daughter.

“you must be present,” she reminded you, hands steady as she adjusted the woven top covering your chest. “engage with the people. show them your strength.”

you held back a sigh. “yes, sa’nok.”

beside you, tsireya giggled under her breath. she, of course, loved these gatherings. but you? you found them tiring, always forced to play the part of the dutiful daughter: composed, graceful, responsible.

still, you knew your role. you straightened your shoulders, casting one last glance at the glowing horizon before following your family toward the center of the village.

the festival was already in full swing when you arrived, torches casting golden light over the gathering crowd. children wove between the adults, laughter ringing through the air as dancers moved to the steady beat of the drums.

your attire was more ethereal than usual; custom-made loincloths adorned with the prettiest shells and beads, catching the firelight with every movement, making you shine. the woven top your mother had chosen was delicate yet intricate, the beading cascading down your torso like water, reflecting the hues of the ocean. you looked every bit the daughter of the olo’eyktan, and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud, the way eyes followed you as you walked made you feel powerful.

you had done your duties; exchanged pleasantries, greeted those who needed to be greeted, smiled when necessary, when you suddenly felt a presence.

a familiar presence.

you didn’t have to look to know who it was. you felt his eyes on you before you even spotted him across the crowd.

neteyam.

he was standing with his family, expression unreadable, but there was something in his gaze, something intentional.

your heart gave an annoyingly noticeable thump.

and you just knew, this night was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

your father had given his speech, his voice commanding as he spoke of unity, of eywa’s blessings, of the strength of the metkayina. you were just settling into your place beside tsireya when you felt it. the people cheered, the drums picked up, and just like that, the festivities truly began.

which meant you were finally free.

you exhaled, the weight of expectation lifting as you slipped through the crowd, seeking a moment to just be. the village was alive with celebration, dancers twirling near the fire, warriors boasting about their latest hunts, children giggling as they weaved through the legs of their elders. it was beautiful, vibrant, home.

you found yourself near the shoreline, where the glow of the lanterns met the shimmering tide, your toes sinking into the cool sand. the festivities carried on behind you, but for a moment, you allowed yourself to take it all in—the crashing of the waves, the salt in the air, the hum of music in the background.

and then, of course, he appeared.

“you clean up nice.”

the deep voice sent a shiver down your spine, one you quickly masked by rolling your eyes before turning to face him.

neteyam stood a few paces away, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. his own attire was different tonight—his usual warrior gear swapped for something more ceremonial, beads woven into his braids, the soft glow of bioluminescent paint marking his skin.

he looked… good.

not that you’d tell him that.

“you again?” you sighed dramatically, placing a hand on your hip. “is there nowhere i can go without you appearing like a shadow?”

neteyam chuckled, stepping closer. “if you wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t have come here.”

you scoffed, though you didn’t move away as he reached your side, standing beside you as the waves lapped at your feet.

a beat of silence passed before he tilted his head slightly, golden eyes scanning your face.

“you really do look beautiful tonight.”

it wasn’t teasing this time. no smug grin, no playful lilt to his voice. just a quiet truth, spoken into the space between you.

and for the first time tonight, you had no clever response.

back at the heart of the festivities, away from the shoreline where you and neteyam stood, two warriors, two leaders, watched.

tonowari and jake stood side by side, their conversation casual, yet their eyes keenly observant. they had been discussing the ongoing training of the young hunters, the state of the tides, and other matters of importance. but, at some point, their attention had drifted.

to you and neteyam.

because, despite whatever you and neteyam thought, you were not subtle.

jake exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he watched his eldest son step closer to you, the way his body naturally leaned toward yours, the way you, despite your best efforts, didn’t pull away.

“they think they’re being discreet,” jake muttered.

tonowari hummed in agreement, arms crossed over his broad chest. “they are not.”

jake sighed. “he’s got it bad.”

tonowari’s lips twitched slightly, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes. “as does she.”

jake glanced at him, smirking. “that a problem?”

tonowari was quiet for a moment, watching as you shoved neteyam’s shoulder, only for the boy to grin and lean right back into your space.

“…no,” the olo’eyktan finally said. “not yet.”

jake chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “good luck with that, brother.”

tonowari just sighed, already bracing himself for the storm that was sure to come.

back with you and neteyam, the air was thick.

the kind of thick that made your skin feel too warm, your chest too tight. the kind of thick that had your heart pounding a little faster than it should, your breath catching at the way his golden eyes burned into yours.

the tension could have been cut with a knife.

but the question was, who was going to make the first move?

neteyam was watching you closely now, that cocky smirk long gone. his lips were slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, though you could tell, that he was feeling it too. that same charged, unspoken pull that neither of you were willing to put words to.

for once, he wasn’t teasing.

for once, you were the one trying to look anywhere but at him.

“you’re quiet again,” he murmured, voice lower now, softer.

your fingers curled into your palms. “you talk enough for both of us.”

neteyam chuckled, but it was breathier than usual, as if even he wasn’t fully present in the words. his gaze flickered down for a split second, to your lips just for a moment, but it was enough.

your stomach flipped.

you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of everything. the way the firelight flickered over his skin. the way his braids shifted as he tilted his head. the way his hands flexed at his sides, like he was debating something.

your tail twitched. was he going to do it? was he going to be the one to break first?

neteyam shifted slightly, leaning in just a fraction—so small, so subtle, but you caught it.

and eywa help you, you didn’t move away.

maybe you should’ve. maybe you should have smirked, teased him, run before he could turn this whole thing into something real.

but you didn’t.

instead, you just stared at him, pulse racing, waiting to see if this would be the moment one of you finally gave in.

just as your lips were about to touch, just as you felt the faintest graze of them, the smallest, feather-light brush—

a loud, booming clearing of a throat shattered the moment.

you jerked away so fast you nearly lost your footing, and neteyam; mighty warrior, future olo’eyktan, practically jumped back as if you had burned him.

that was how deep the two of you had been in your own little world.

heart hammering against your ribs, you turned, already knowing what you’d find. and, sure enough—

there stood tonowari.

and beside him, looking far too amused for his own good, was jake sully.

oh, eywa.

your father’s arms were crossed, expression unreadable, but the sheer weight of his stare was enough to make you wish the ocean would just swallow you whole.

jake, on the other hand, had the audacity to smirk, glancing between you and neteyam like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all night.

neteyam straightened immediately, shoulders squared, but you knew him too well. knew that beneath that carefully composed expression, he was panicking.

“neteyam.” jake’s voice was easygoing, but the warning beneath it was clear.

“sir.” neteyam’s response was stiff, formal, and oh eywa, you had to fight the urge to laugh at how utterly caught he looked.

tonowari said nothing at first, just looked at you, then at neteyam, then back at you. and somehow, somehow, that was worse than if he’d yelled.

“i see you are both enjoying the festivities,” he finally said, voice far too calm.

you swallowed. “yes, sa’nok’itan,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice even, though you swore you saw the corner of jake’s mouth twitch.

neteyam, to his credit, didn’t flinch. but the tips of his ears were burning red. “we were just—”

“i am sure you were,” tonowari cut in smoothly.

and that? that was when you knew you were done for.

you dared a glance at neteyam, but he refused to meet your gaze, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack.

jake clapped a firm hand on his son’s shoulder, barely containing his grin. “why don’t we let them enjoy the rest of the festivities?” he said, clearly enjoying this way too much.

tonowari exhaled through his nose, giving you one last long look before nodding. “come,” he said, turning to leave. “we will speak later.”

you felt your stomach drop.

and then, just like that, they were gone, leaving you and neteyam standing there—mortified, frustrated, and one second away from kissing.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

then…

“…so,” neteyam muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “that was—”

“do not.” you cut him off, voice tight, because if you thought about it for one more second, you were going to combust.

neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand down his face before finally, finally, meeting your gaze.

and despite everything, despite the sheer embarrassment of it all, he smirked.

“next time,” he murmured, stepping just close enough to send a shiver down your spine, “we pick a better spot.”

your jaw dropped. “neteyam!”

but he was already walking away, laughing, leaving you standing there, flustered and fuming, knowing damn well he’d just won.

[vxxxb]

Not A Cook - [Miguel O'Hara]

More fluff! Takes place before he becomes Spider-Man -- You can't cook and Miguel decides to help Tags: Roommates, colleagues, fluff, lighthearted story, implied they work at Alchemax

“You never learned to cook?”

Miguel's judgy tone speaks from behind you as he reaches for his mug.

His condescending tone makes you bristle, your body instinctively moving slightly to the side to not bump into him as you huff quietly.

You keep your grip on the pan's handle as you attempt to flip over the set of empanadas you had made for yourself. It was supposed to be something easy, especially with the long tongs you bought. But as you try to flip them without burning yourself, tiny bits of oil start to splash, causing you to swiftly lower the flame and step back from the stove.

You narrow your eyes at the pan, crossing your arms with tongs still in hand.

Alright, so cooking wasn’t your strong suit, especially when it came to frying. You got stuck on the fear of potentially getting burned, rather than simply focusing on making the damn food.

It was all too frustrating.

Miguel’s comment certainly didn’t help, and his standing by the table counter only a few feet away, casually sipping his coffee with a smug smirk, only irritated you more.

You knew staying with him was a bad idea. But when word got out that you were initially planning to stay over at a 'friend' as your apartment got fixed, he had personally extended an invitation to his living arrangements.

And now, a month and a half has passed, and your apartment is still far from ready. What started as a simple plumbing issue soon turned into an expired gas meter, faulty wiring, and eventually an upright renovation process.

You found the new arising problems for your apartment strange, but you brushed them off. After all, it was Nueva York, and a standard living space was bound to have its fair share of issues.

Swallowing your pride, you glance at Miguel, meeting his amused gaze.

“If you’re not going to help, I don’t want to hear it,” you roll your eyes, frowning as you stare at the empanadas simmering in oil.

You take a deep breath as you approach the stove again, adjusting the flame and carefully sliding the tongs beneath a crispy empanada, successfully flipping it over without oil splattering this time.

You smile proudly, turning up the stove again before yelping once the oil splatters again.

At this, Miguel erupts in laughter, his hand clutching his stomach as he tries to avoid your prominent glare.

You grit your teeth, throwing your hands up in annoyance before sliding the tongs over to him. "I give up, you do it," you grumble, beginning to head out of the kitchen only to be pulled back abruptly.

"Hey-!"

Miguel raises an eyebrow, wearing that same infuriating smirk once more. "Cooking's all about practice," he quips, dragging you back to the stove. "You just need a few pointers."

"What I need is to avoid it all together."

He rolls his eyes, grabbing the tongs from the counter and handing them to you. He then leans against the counter, arms folding across his chest. "First things first, control the heat," he advises, pointing at the stove. "Medium-low is usually a safe bet for frying. And don't overcrowd the pan; you want each empanada to have space."

You huff quietly, shooting him a side look. Miguel only gives you a deadpan stare, directing his gaze to the pan.

"Fine," you concede, rolling your eyes.

Begrudgingly, you follow his advice, adjusting the heat as he suggested and carefully spacing the empanadas in the pan. They start sizzling gently without any oil splatters.

Miguel nods approvingly. "See? Now keep an eye on them, flip them when they're ready, and you'll be fine." He hums, turning to leave.

You glance at him, surprised by how quickly you stop him. "Wait!"

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden change of tone. "Yes?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Would you… care to join me for breakfast?" You gesture to the pan.

Miguel chuckles softly, shoulders shrugging. "Why not," He pulls out another cup and two plates, placing them on the counter for the two of you.

You find yourself smiling, turning the remaining food over before, finally, turning off the stove. Bringing the pan over, you carefully slide three empanadas onto each plate.

You take a seat, taking a sip from your mug and sighing content when you realize it was hot chocolate and not coffee he had served you.

Setting your cup down, you look at him expectantly. "Well?" You nod your head to the empanadas.

He rolls his eyes, picking up one of the empanadas and taking a careful bite. His expression changes from one of amusement to genuine surprise as he chews.

"You didn't manage to burn them or drown them in oil after all," he chuckles as you also try one.

You grin happily once you see he's telling the truth; They do taste good.

"Just so you know, I'm not doing this again," you shake your head as you chew hungrily. "Not unless there's a kitchen appliance."

"I think you'll change your mind once you get the hang of it," Miguel teases, taking another bite. "Cooking can be quite satisfying, you know."

You roll your eyes playfully. "We'll see about that."

You then look at the clock, gasping and rushing to your room. "I'm running late! I'll see you at the lab!"

With you out of sight, Miguel smiles, a warmth in his eyes that he never allowed you to see.

The next morning, when you wake up to prepare yourself something, you see a light blue appliance on the counter with a note on it.

Here's an air fryer. Can't screw this up. -- Miguel.

You can't help the laugh you let out as you read Miguel's note. You can't help but feel that staying at Miguel's place might not have been such a bad idea after all.

[vxxxb]

I have to ask, but has anyone seen the Blue Beetle movie👀

Planning on watching it tm for Xolo✨

[vxxxb]

DEPRIVE ME [5] - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

[Synopsis] - After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor. [Notes] -Slow burn, strained relationship in the beginning, slight angst, eventual fluff. Reader is ethnically Hispanic, with race not specified. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four 3.95K words

“Cut it out,” Jessica whispers under her breath, her gaze fixed ahead.

You glance at her from the corner of your eye, a slight frown forming as you gently remove her hand that had tried to still your bouncing leg. You shoot her a warning look.

Sure, you could admit your nervous tick was annoying and distracting. Admittedly, both of you should be concentrating on Miguel's meeting. But you just couldn’t, and if you don’t fidget, then there’s room for overthinking.

If you stare at him, you know your mind will replay the memory of the last time you were in a room together. 

Alone. 

Just the two of you.

And as his tongue subtly peaks out, just a hint of it running across what you remember as soft supple lips, a flutter of excitement stirs in the pit of your stomach. 

"Care to share what’s caught your interest?" Miguel's composed voice cuts through the room.

Only when your lack of response hangs in the air do you finally realize he's addressing you. Suddenly, all eyes are on you. As you struggle to string together a reply beyond mere apologies or stammering, you catch a fleeting smirk from Miguel at your discomposure.

Your words trail off. Of course, he's intentionally baiting you. With narrowed eyes, you rise from your seat. Your position places you directly within his line of sight, even from the far end of the table. "I was thinking this debriefing is redundant, given that Lyla could have easily briefed us."

The shift in Miguel's smug demeanor to something more annoyed brings a subtle grin to your lips. The others seated around the table can't help but tense up, sensing the tension in your exchange with him.

"This meeting wasn’t required. If you didn't intend to listen, you shouldn't have signed up for the mission in the first place," Miguel practically growls. 

"Does 'Report to the conference room tomorrow by 9' sound like a choice?" You reference the message Lyla had assigned to you the previous night.

Right on cue, the A.I. appears, her heart-shaped glasses sliding down her nose as she offers Miguel a cheeky smile. "I'm programmed to prioritize optimal outcomes, and she's valuable to the mission."

“On what grounds?”

“You already know,” Lyla folds her arms, choosing not to elaborate because of the others.

Miguel's glare fixates on the A.I., his claws gradually extending while grazing the table's surface, those around it subtly inching away.

"See?" You point out. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here if it weren't necessary. You’ve made it clear you have no interest in seeing me."

You're indifferent to the fact that there's an audience; Miguel has been avoiding you ever since that damn kiss. Despite what you thought was a shared understanding of the urgency of your circumstances, this man lived on avoiding emotional confrontations.

“No comiénces,” He snaps, index finger pointing in your direction.

“Dice el que complica todo,” You huff, hands slamming onto the table.

“Yo no fui el que comenzó, tu eres-.“

“Típico, siempre soy yo la que tiene la culpa-“

"Should we give you two some privacy?"

Both your heads turn sharply in Ben’s direction, glaring at him in unison.

“Siéntate!”

“Cállate!”

Upon this exchange, Jessica rises from her seat. "Enough! Both of you," Her gaze shifts to Miguel, almost daring him to challenge a pregnant woman.

With a relinquished sigh, Jessica addresses the others. "Meeting's over; The rest of you can leave. We'll reconvene in ten."

As you move to leave, her arm extends across your chest, her other hand signaling for Miguel to join you both. Jessica lets out a deep sigh, gently rubbing her temple before fixing her gaze on both of you.

"Sort out whatever's going on between you two," She remarks firmly. "You're going to be partners for this mission. It seems a reminder is in order—this is an organization, not couples therapy." Her gaze singles you out.

Your eyes roll in response.

"Go get ready," Jessica dismisses you, remaining with Miguel.

As you exit the room, you only manage to catch the end of their conversation.

“I'm beginning to suspect you enjoy the trouble she stirs up for you, don't you?"

- - - - - -

It’s awkward… to put it simply.

Miguel avoids your gaze entirely, making a conscious effort to maintain a respectful distance as he strides ahead.

Both of you navigate through the sewers, the only sounds being the persistent dripping of water and the echo of your footsteps splashing through the murky currents.

You look down at your watch, the blinking red dot indicating that you and Miguel still have a considerable two miles to cover before reaching your position as per the plan; the rest of the team remains above ground, ensuring the anomaly ends where it's intended to go.

This expedition through the tunnels was bound to be challenging if Miguel persisted in his silent treatment. With a sigh, you quicken your pace to catch up with him, though his response is hardly a reluctant acknowledgment.

"You have no idea what to say to me, do you?"

His silence hangs heavy, a palpable tension swirling around him as he struggles to suppress any potentially harsh words.

"Alright, fine," you concede with a shrug, "words were never your strong suit, anyway." A faint frown flickers across your face. "But let's be honest, you might as well listen. You owe me that much."

Miguel’s steps falter briefly, and he finally meets your gaze. His brow furrows, focusing his full attention on you. "Oh, I owe it to you?"

You remove your mask and meet his eyes directly. "Yes, Miguel. You owe me, at the very least, a conversation."

You take a deep breath, walking ahead to help gather your thoughts. "Listen, what I did—it was a mistake, alright?" You focus on your watch, mask still in hand. "That kiss shouldn't have happened; it was inappropriate and impulsive, and I'm sorry." 

His lack of response gnaws at you -- After all, how else should he react? It's not like both of you ever anticipated something like this. Just a couple of months ago, you were practically at each other's throats, him eager to find a reason to have you removed. 

Yet, you still had kissed him.

Realistically, what more could you say? Oops, my desires got the better of me, and I made a reckless move. Yeah, that would surely earn you a swift return to your dimension without another thought.

His silence only makes you ramble. "I get that it was completely out of line," you continue, your voice quieter. "But we can't pretend it didn't happen. I just... I don't want things to be odd between us. Especially, after finding some sort of... rhythm."

You check your watch again; fifteen minutes remain.

Several more steps pass before Miguel's voice breaks the silence. "You're right."

Miguel draws nearer, yet his steps remain measured. "It caught me off guard," he finally admits, his voice a bit softer.

Yeah, me too, you sigh, walking forward. "We're almost there."

"Good, now put your mask back on."

And once again, he ends any further breakthrough.

You both continue walking through the sewers, the atmosphere a little less... tense. It was still better than the cold shoulder he had been greeting you with whenever you were near.

Suddenly, Miguel's wristwatch chimes and Jessica's voice breaks through urgently.

“Evacuate immediately!”

You turn to Miguel.

“They're breaching the water dam; you're about to be flooded!”

Your eyes widen abruptly, dread rippling through your body. “Move, now.” You rush out, jogging back along the path you've traversed, without even waiting for him.

Miguel trails behind you, arching an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation as the both of you pick up the pace.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you steal a glance at your watch, assessing the remaining distance to the entrance you initially used.

"Why the urgency?" 

You brush off his question, alert to any potential drainages or pathways to escape through.

“Hey,” his hand lands on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Your gaze shifts to him, only to tense at the ominous sound of concrete cracking. The walls reverberate, tiny fragments of debris cascading as the relentless pounding resonates through the tunnel.

"I can't swim," the words escape your lips.

You then hear the rush of surging water gushing in your direction; you sprint down the tunnel.

“What do you mean you can’t swim?” Miguel's voice comes out tinged with irritation.

Your heart races as you propel yourself forward, the noise of approaching water growing. Miguel's swift strides echo behind you, rapidly closing the gap.

"I mean I can't swim!" you retort sharply, pushing yourself to run even faster.

“What- and what if someone’s drowning?”

“Either I catch them or find another way,” you huff. “But swimming’s out of the question.”

Miguel casts a swift glance back, seizing your arm in one fluid motion, drawing you against his body. "Not this time." 

Immediately, water envelops you, and you clutch onto Miguel as he holds you close. Your surroundings blur, the sensation of water filling your ears as the two of you are briefly submerged, Miguel guiding you through the strong current.

Time seems to stretch as you're carried along by the relentless force of water. Your lungs begin to ache, and just as you feel light-headed, you're being pushed upward.

Your head breaks through the surface, and you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering as you struggle to breathe. At your side, Miguel's arm remains steadfast around you, treading through the water and helping support both your weights.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Still breathing," you cough out.

Both of you clasp onto the tunnel wall's edge, scanning for any available ledge to pull yourselves out of the water. When you spot one, Miguel hauls you both up. The two of you tumble onto the damp ground, water dripping from your suits, yours more drenched than his.

"Thank you," you eventually breathe out, offering Miguel a grateful look.

You rise to your feet, taking in your surroundings, finding yourselves in a narrow alleyway. It's raining outside, but it's a sight more welcoming than the waterlogged chamber you've just escaped from.

Miguel looks around, speaking into his intercom. "Updates on the anomaly?"

"Electro got away," Peters's voice crackles through. "Ben and I managed to corner him near the water, but he made a break for the sewers, but he's weak Miguel."

"Any fix on his whereabouts?"

"Working on it."

Miguel's hands slide down his face in frustration. "Mierda."

You watch Miguel visibly agitated, and though you're tempted to offer some solace, the situation overrides any sentiments. You look at the sky, taking note of the sun setting down, and check your watch to confirm the time -- 6:45 pm. 

"It's getting late," you point out, the both of you walking down the alley. 

"It's not like they haven't worked overtime before."

"True, but considering the failure of this mission so far, it's best to regroup tomorrow," You reason, a shiver coursing down your spine.

Thunder echoes through the sky, ominous clouds masking the sky as rain downpours. A muttered curse slips from your lips, your body trembling more noticeably. Unlike Miguel's nanotech suit, yours lacks the same resilience to handle unexpected weather.

"Listen, I'll stay here and start searching for Electro early tomorrow," You call out over the rain. "You should head back with the rest and work out another strategy."

Miguel's gaze flickers at you, concern etched in his features as he assesses you. He doesn't answer immediately, grappling with the best course of action. The rain keeps falling, drenching you further, and you feel the cold seep into your bones.

He hesitates briefly before sighing, "No" he says firmly, "I'm staying with you."

His response catches you off guard, especially considering the recent awkwardness and avoidance over the past couple of days.

"Miguel I don't think-"

"Besides," he interjects with a wry smile, "I wouldn't want to give you another chance to accuse me of avoiding you."

You chuckle, smiling at his attempt at humor, arms folding across you. 

"I'll contact Jess and Peter," he says, reaching for his intercom. "Let them know we're safe and staying put for the night."

You watch as he communicates with the others, patiently waiting for him to finish. When he does, he turns to you, gesturing towards the alley's exit.

"We should find a place to stay," he removes his mask while walking ahead. 

You catch up to him, removing your mask as the two of you reach the main street. A glance around reveals the streets are nearly deserted, the rain effectively keeping everyone indoors. You and Miguel walk in silence, looking for a place to sleep.

Soon enough, the neon lights of a nearby motel sign illuminate the street. You and Miguel pick up your pace, eager to escape the relentless downpour and find shelter.

Upon entering the motel's lobby, the bell above the door jingles softly, and a weary-looking receptionist raises an eyebrow at the two of you, dripping wet in your soaked suits. Your spider-suits.

"Comic convention," you offer with a modest smile, attempting to sound convincing.

"Uh-huh," she nods, her tone betraying a hint of boredom. "But we're fully booked for the night," she informs you with detachment.

You and Miguel exchange a fleeting glance, a tacit understanding passing between you both.

Miguel steps forward, leaning slightly on the counter. "Listen, there was a booking mix-up at the place we were initially heading to," he states. "We just need a place to rest for the night. Can you consider making an exception?"

The receptionist eyes him for a moment, seemingly considering his words. "Fine," she concedes after a pause. "I've got one room left. You'll have to share a bed, though."

Another quick exchange of looks transpires between you and Miguel.

"Is there any chance we might-" 

"One bed, take it or leave it, honey," she retorts, reaching for the room keys.

"Sure," you respond, feeling a bit weary. "And if it's possible, could we also get some dry clothes?"

She eyes you disinterestedly. "Anything else?"

"No..."

"Thank you," Miguel interjects before you can continue. He slips his card across the counter, and the receptionist hands you a keycard and two bags of prepackaged sleepwear.

"Room 302, the elevator is down the hall to the right."

You offer a nod, and you both head down the hall in the direction she indicated. The elevator is right where she said it would be, and as you step in, the cold seeping from your wet clothes seems more biting than before. Miguel presses the button for the third floor, and the elevator begins its ascent.

Upon arriving at the third floor, you locate room 302. Miguel swipes the keycard, and the door emits a soft click, unveiling a dimly illuminated interior with a single queen-sized bed.

Both of you step inside, the discomfort from your soaked clothes intensifying with each passing moment.

Miguel hesitates briefly before clearing his throat. "You can go ahead and shower first," he suggests, his tone slightly awkward.

With a nod, you make your way toward the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, a tired sigh escapes your lips. Of all the scenarios that could have unfolded, sharing a room with Miguel was the least expected.

How fortunate, you bite your lip feeling a bit anxious.

Wringing your mask over the sink, you remove your damp suit, the chill from the rain still lingering on your skin. You opt for a warm shower, the sensation of the warm water soothing your muscles and washing away the day's stress. Once done, you towel off and put on the sleepwear provided by the motel. It's a touch loose, but it's a welcome contrast to the clammy sensation of your soaked suit.

Emerging from the bathroom, you find Miguel seated on the edge of the bed, his damp hair tousled as though he attempted to dry it with his hands. His gaze lifts as you enter, a faint softening in his expression.

"You can use the bathroom now," you offer, sensing the lingering tinge of awkwardness between you.

Miguel nods and heads into the bathroom, leaving you alone. You take a moment to survey your surroundings -- worn-out furnishings, and unremarkable decorations on the walls. It's not opulent by any stretch, but it offers rest for the night.

After a short while, Miguel reemerges from the bathroom, similarly wearing the motel's sleepwear. His dark hair remains damp, and his demeanor seems more relaxed. He avoids making direct eye contact as he moves toward the bed.

You purse your lips, considering your next words. "If you'd prefer, I can-"

"Just get in," he states, slipping beneath the covers.

“Well then,” you nod no room for argument.

The room is quiet, and with a subdued sigh, you cautiously join him on the bed. Lying on your side, you face away from Miguel, the rain outside setting the mood as you settle in for the night.

You can feel the weight of the mission and your exhaustion kicking in, and still, the tension between you and Miguel seems more evident than ever.

He’s right there, your boss. The one you so stupidly kissed.

You debate whether to say something but find yourself empty with words. What more could you gain from this situation other than relentless overthinking? A soft "Goodnight," leaves your lips without another thought before you fall asleep.

Miguel, on the other hand, can't sleep. You're right there, mere inches away, resting like nothing. His mind circles back to when he agreed to stay back with you. Why he agreed, well, he was still unsure of it himself. The more he dwells on it, the deeper he contemplates. "She's tackled missions alone before," he mutters, a quiet scoff escaping as he props himself against the bed frame.

He glances down to his left, tuned into your soft breathing, looking at how you wrapped yourself tightly with the motel bedsheets as if to build a barrier. Your open hand lies there, fingers extended as though waiting for someone's grasp. Yet, what captures his attention is your shivering form, which, despite the high temperature in the room, still appeared cold. 

"That's not normal..." he murmurs, eyes narrowing in concern. By now, your body should have naturally regulated itself, your immune system preventing any potential sickness. A common cold due to the rain should be a minor inconvenience for someone like you. Then again, your condition has been less than optimal lately.

Extending his arm, Miguel gingerly presses his palm to your forehead. Your skin felt ice cold against his touch, prompting a slight part of your lips at the feeling of something warm. 

Something wasn't right, and Miguel had a good idea as to the root cause. Inhaling through his nose, he deliberated his next course of action. Carefully, he shifts your body closer to his own, watching as you bristle in discomfort.

"Lyla, state her condition," he mumbles, his watch initiating a scan on you.

Lyla's holographic interface materialized above Miguel's wrist, her calm voice breaking the silence. "Analyzing... Body temperature is abnormally low, and there are signs of a suppressed immune response. External factors appear to be impacting her body's resistance against infections."

Miguel frowns, absorbing the information.

"How far along has her system deteriorated?"

"Her genetic strands seem to have undergone further merging with the dimensional atoms' components from our last scan."

"To what degree?"

"The dispersion has reached approximately thirty-eight percent."

Miguel exhales heavily. He understood the pressing need to find a solution. Despite his inclination to steer clear of any personal involvement with you, he couldn't ignore the gravity of your situation. 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even realize when you had woken up.

"Maybe I should make a habit of sleeping more often if it results in you coming close," you say, eyes studying how he cradled you. 

Miguel's head snaps up upon hearing your voice, his hands instinctively releasing you. "I didn't mean to wake you."

You shift slightly. "What were you doing?" you ask curious.

"I was just... checking on you."

"Right... and that requires me on your lap because....?" 

"Because you're not well," his hands grab you by your face, the abruptness of it causing you to falter, further losing your balance against him.

You freeze, your heart racing rapidly as your body sprawls over his. Miguel's hands lingered against your face -- Why was he still touching you?

"You know," you breathe out, "This kind of closeness is what led to that kiss in the first place," you finish quietly, words trembling slightly.

He swallows audibly, his expression something you can't quite decipher, or more like believe. His thumb grazes your cheek, your breath hitching at his touch. The warmth exchanged between you is palpable, and instinctively, you lean into his touch for a fleeting moment. But it remains just that — a moment. 

You clear your throat, trying to regain your composure, though it's difficult when his gaze is unwavering.

"Your condition is deteriorating," he murmurs.

You blink, still not putting any distance between the two. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," he asserts, subtly drawing your entire body closer to his.

A gasp escapes you as your legs instinctively straddle him, your hands settling onto his shoulders as he finds their place on your hips. Your narrowed eyes lock onto his, a deep exhale reflecting the confusion within you.

"You can't just pull something like this and expect me not to react," you accuse him.

Everything about this got under your skin. Logically, you should be pushing Miguel away right now. But you weren't thinking, your thoughts were anything but logical at the moment. Was Miguel toying with you? You didn't know. And although you did attempt to pull yourself from his grasp, his hands trailed up your waist, their firm hold anchoring you in place.

“What do you want from me?”

Miguel parts his lips, eyes drifting downward.

“Miguel if you can’t-“

“I want to hate you,” his fingers flex around you. “I want to hate you for making me question my decisions, for getting under my skin even though you shouldn’t, for insisting on working with me.”

He lifts your chin gently. “Ever since the last time, every time I'm near you, I- you tempt me to repeat the very thing you initiated.”

You blink.

Somehow you didn’t expect him to be even remotely honest right now.

So why? 

You rest your forehead against his, hands clenching before finally withdrawing.

“I need to think,” You distance yourself from him, catching Miguel off guard by your response.

You grab your suit from the chair near the heater where it was left to dry, proceeding to the bathroom to change. As you come out your demeanor is composed, your mask concealing your gaze to avoid any direct eye contact with him.

“Hobie will arrive tomorrow to assist with the mission,” you inform him while opening up a portal. Your back is turned to him, your posture subtly tense. “I’m going to spend some time in my dimension. I — both of us should take some time.” 

Miguel watches you silently, somewhat disoriented by your reaction. He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off sensing his intention.

“Don’t worry about my problem,” you clear your throat. “I’ll take care of it,” You nod subtly.

“Y/N-“

“Bye Miguel,” you murmur, finally stepping through the portal and leaving him alone.

[vxxxb]

Tipsy With A Spider - [Miguel O'Hara]

Another one-shot! Much happier this time -- A night out with your boss leads to drunken behaviors and accidental revelations Tags: Slight Fluff, drunken indirect confession, lighthearted story, human reader 1. 456k words

“Am I heavy? Just let me know if I am.” 

You squirm within Miguel's grasp, your lips forming a slight pout as his exasperated sigh reaches your ears. “Well, am I? Otherwise, I can walk.” 

Immediately, you start to pry his hands off from around you, your legs swaying as they make contact with the ground. Your surroundings tilt, gaze dropping, and eyelids shutting instinctively as you clutch onto Miguel's shoulders. A frustrated groan escapes your lips.

“I feel nauseous,” You scrunch up your face.

Miguel rolls his eyes, arms swiftly carrying you back up bridal style. “Could you just remain still?” His patience wears thin as he scolds you, his forehead creasing in response to your drunk antics. “Dios, eres relajosa.”

Over the past fifteen minutes, you've persistently offered to "help" guide both of you back to headquarters. Initially, once you had left the bar, Miguel attempted to swing you both safely to the building; This proved to be more challenging than he had anticipated, seeing as you had risked both your lives twice by tearing the web on your way.

"It's like a rollercoaster," You had slurred, Miguel deftly breaking the fall on both occasions.

To say his back was sore was an understatement.

With a resigned sigh, Miguel readjusts his grip on you as you sway precariously.

"Alright, alright," you giggle, arms wrapping around his neck for support. "I promise I'll stay still."

Miguel shoots you a skeptical look but continues to carry you. "You better," he mutters under his breath.

As you make your way down the dimly lit street, you glance up at him, a slight pout forming on your lips.

“Miguel.”

No response.

“Miguel~”

Silence. 

“Migy~” you try again.

“Migs!~” You whine, this time finally getting a reaction out of him. You giggle at your antics.

"You know," you sigh, "you're quite handsome for someone who loves to brood,” you bop him on the nose, “and I hate how others also find you attractive too," you frown, fingers now idly playing with his hair.

At this Miguel tenses slightly, merely clearing his throat. "Is that so?"

You scoff, your hands cupping his face to direct his gaze toward you. "Do you know how many times people have asked me to set them up on a date with you just because I'm your assistant?"

You throw yourself back dramatically, Miguel's reflexes preventing you from falling. "I'll be dammed if any of them get a date with you before I do," you huff.

Miguel halts. "What?" He blinks in surprise, his hold on you tightening slightly as he processes your words. 

"Exactly! Who do they think they are making such requests?"

"No, not that," he shakes his head. 

You pause, your foggy mind struggling to recall what he was referring to. You shake your head, opting to lean against his chest. "What were we talking about?"

Miguel's lips curve into a soft smirk as he watches you, his fingers idly playing with a strand of your hair. "You were telling me how jealous you are of all those people who want to go on a date with me."

You pull back a bit, eyes furrowing. "I said that?" 

"More or less," He shrugs.

You hum, fingers drumming rhythmically against his chest. It does sound like something you'd say, even if you can't quite remember. One of the downfalls of being intoxicated.

As the two of you continue walking, a comfortable silence settles between you. The rhythmic sound of his footsteps and the occasional warm glow of a streetlight create a soothing backdrop to your thoughts.

"I should probably thank you," you murmur after a while, voice softer now.

Miguel raises an eyebrow. "For?"

"For allowing me to be part of something greater," your fingers trace absent patterns on his shoulder. "For having my back during human moments like this."

He tightens his hold on you. "Just doing my job as your boss."

Boss, the word brings a faint frown to your face. You look up at him, your eyes locking with his. "You're more than just a boss to me, Miguel. You know that right?"

He swallows, his expression unreadable for a moment. "Do you even fully comprehend what you're saying?" 

You remain silent, a brisk breeze causing you to shiver and nuzzle closer to him. "Are we almost there?" Your voice sounds half asleep.

Miguel takes note of your lingering disoriented state, a resigned chuckle leaving his mouth. "You won't remember any of this in the morning, will you?"

"Hmm?"

As headquarters comes into view, Miguel releases a small sigh of relief. "Finally," He mumbles, carefully navigating through the maze of steps of the building he created. 

Walking down the halls of various rooms, you eventually realize he's approaching yours. You shake your head, a hand idly thumping against his chest. And if that wasn't enough to catch his attention, the unnecessary tugging at the collar of his snug shirt surely prompts him to look down at you.

"Now what?" He asks, one of his fangs slightly peaking.

You blink at him, eyes lingering on the one fang slightly protruding. You’re almost tempted to poke your finger with it, but as he stares at you expectantly with raised eyebrows, you choose not to. 

"I don't want to sleep there," You pout.

With a deep breath, he slightly rolls his eyes. "You don't want to sleep in your room?"

You shake your head, the motion making you a bit dizzy. "It's lonely."

He gazes at you for a bit, a hint of hesitation in his expression. "Alright then, where would you like to sleep?"

You smile wide.

"With you. It'll be much warmer."

He closes his eyes, exhaling another conflicted sigh. He knew that asking you that question carried its risks. "Are you sure about that?"

You nod with a sleepy grin, your agreement coming out as a mumble.

Miguel eventually nods as well, changing course to lead you to his room. It takes a while, given that his room is situated in an isolated area away from the rest of the living quarters. By the time he arrives, you're already softly snoring. 

Carefully, he opens the door, stepping into the dimly lit space. For a while, he stands there, grappling with whether or not this was the best idea. If anyone had spotted him carrying you to his room, well, even spiders like to gossip.

At the lack of him moving, you pry an eye open, slowly taking in your surroundings. You were in his room; Miguel's room is a reflection of his personality — organized chaos mixed with cutting-edge technology. 

Tenderly cradling you in his arms, Miguel approaches his bed, gently lowering you onto the soft mattress, ensuring your comfort.

"Thanks, Miguel," you murmur, your words slightly slurred but sincere.

He emits a soft chuckle, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I don't believe I had much of a choice here."

You roll your eyes playfully, briefly closing them as you try to summon a witty response — Sadly, you can’t.

As you lay there, his gaze lingers on you; Part of him can't deny the warmth he feels from having you in his bed. The way you confided in him tonight, along with your playful and tipsy behavior.

"I can sense you staring," you remark, reopening your eyes. You lift the covers, a nonchalant invitation apparent in your gesture. "Join me?"

It's intended as a statement, but even you can't be that direct with someone like Miguel O’Hara.

"I don't think that's a wise idea," he says, crossing his arms before quietly relocating a sofa chair near the bed. He readjusts the covers over you, a subtle smile on his face. "Get some rest, preciosa."

You softly chuckle at his response, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding. "Don't want to keep me warm?" you tease gently.

"Not particularly, no." Not in this state, he concludes silently.

You pout, only to then yawn. Miguel's watchful eyes never leave you as you settle into sleep. The rhythmic sound of your breathing and the occasional creaking of his chair are the only noises that fill the room.

"You are truly something else," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

As you stir, he leans forward, his fingers tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from your face, the touch gentle and almost reverential. He grants himself a moment to simply revel in the present, aware that come morning, you might not recall tonight's events. 

With a final lingering gaze, Miguel turns away, leaving the room in silent strides. He casts one last glance over his shoulder, sighing as he acknowledges the undeniable truth —  He was caving, and fast.

[vxxxb]

When I keep writing Miguel one-shots instead of finishing my next chapter ☺︎

[vxxxb]

Strings Unbound - [Miguel O'Hara]

Just felt like writing; Small one-shot -- What more can you do but deal with unrequited love? Tags: Unrequited love, angst, no comfort, readers perspective, implied sexual content 1.263k words

“No strings attached.”

That’s what you both said.

Your agreement was straightforward; Whoever sought release, the other would be there — Plain and simple. Whether it was boredom, stress, or anger, things were purely physical. Explanations weren’t needed for a momentary fuck.

A mutual understanding.

So why, despite knowing all of that, did you manage to foolishly blur the lines in a dynamic solely for sex?

Somewhere along the way, you lost hold of what you were feeling, the very aspect of it frustrating you. One moment everything was fine, and the next you were hoping for something more with your boss.

For someone whose behavior consistently involved brooding and mild bitterness, Miguel’s mannerisms behind closed doors were different. You still recalled the first time you had done anything with him. Though his presence remained domineering and demanding, every move he made held such attentiveness and care that even you couldn’t help the sparks that charged through your heart. 

Everything Miguel did brought on a new desire for him; His touch against your skin was addictive, his fingers intricately exploring every inch of you, always satisfying the pleasure you were craving. And with every action he made, his hold on you was desperate and primal, like he wanted to ensure every part of him was engraved onto you.

Who wouldn’t eventually fall victim to the delusions of requited love?

But reality was cruel, and no matter how you looked at it, you knew you had inevitably doomed yourself to this one-sided longing.

The pang of heartache that unfurled within your chest as you took sight of him next to her only served as an additional reminder of where you stood with him.

You took note of the genuine smile that settled on his face as he spoke with her. How his hand tenderly lingered on the delicate frame of her shoulder while she gazed at him with caring eyes — A motion that seemed to ease him further in her company.

As you hesitated at the entrance, heart pounding and fingers clutching your report, Peter's inquisitive gaze nudged you out of your trance. 

Deliberately you cleared your throat, summoning a strained smile as you approached Miguel, eyes trying yet failing to avoid meeting hers. "Apologies for the interruption just came to deliver this."

The faint waver in your voice only made you cringe.

You try your best not to acknowledge her, hoping to leave before ever speaking with her, but lately, nothing seemed to go your way. 

Miguel brings her forward. "Allow me to introduce our new interdimensional liaison. She's finally agreed to operate from headquarters."

The innocent woman extends her hand, a warm smile lighting up her face as she greets you. You feel tense, and although the last thing you want is to be near her, you reciprocate the greeting with a gentle welcome. 

Throughout it all, you could feel Miguel’s gaze on you. You choose to ignore it.

You study her a moment longer, a realization dawning on you. "You're not-"

"Just an ordinary human," She interjects, a soft chuckle already forming.

Peter couldn't suppress his surprised reaction. He was well aware, just as you were, that Miguel had never before permitted individuals, especially ones without spider-like abilities, to enter headquarters. Nor had he ever shown such persistent interest in involving a human within its operations.

So why her? 

As Peter absentmindedly took hold of the recruit, you remained beside Miguel, your expectant gaze meeting his weary eyes. You weren't entirely sure what you were hoping for, but as you stood there, the instinctive urge to connect with him was clear.

Your hand barely grazed his.

And his response was a deliberate flinch. He recoiled at your touch.

Your heart tightened.

"Don’t do that," He murmured, eyes briefly meeting yours before drifting off to her again. 

Your eyes never left his form as you watched him approach her. Every move he made was meticulous while interacting with her. Simply seeing how careful he was around her hurt. 

You couldn’t help the bittersweet smile that graced your lips. It was almost ironic -- Miguel seemed to connect more readily with a regular, vulnerable human than he ever would with you. 

Then again, why would he? 

She wasn't like the rest of you. She wasn't fated to endure the repercussions of canons or the anguish of losing loved ones. She simply exuded hope and radiance, qualities that Miguel so desperately yearned for. Qualities that you and he had gradually relinquished over time. Qualities you two couldn't offer each other.

In other words, you weren’t enough.

Without uttering another word, you leave, purposefully avoiding the urge to glance back even as Peter called after you, all the while missing the look of uncertainty and hesitation Miguel gave you as you left.

The tears in your eyes stung as you walked through the lobby. Deep down, you knew you had to move on, to somehow quell those feelings that had led you down a path of unrequited love.

After all, why would Miguel O'Hara ever invest the time to come to love you in the same measure?

Given the choice, why would he choose you and not her?

In your daze, you collided with someone, a pair of hands instinctively grabbing your shoulders.

You recognized them — An alternate spider variant that had previously shown romantic interest in you. They liked you, genuinely liked you, and their fondness for you was evident in the concerned look they wore.

Looking up at them, you unconsciously grip their arms, face burying against their chest as a silent plea between you. You needed a distraction, a way to redirect your thoughts, and you knew they'd willingly provide it.

It didn’t take long before you were swept up and taken to their quarters. And while your conscience pushed for rationality, your heart yielded to your impulsive desires, lips immediately latching onto theirs with a yearning to be held.

All because you needed him out of your mind. 

All because you didn’t know how to stay away.

Even now, it was Miguel you pictured holding your waist. It was his hands you were pushing yourself into, his body you were pressing against as you whined at the welcoming warmth. It was Miguel you were pushing onto the bed as you desperately climbed onto his lap, hips instinctively grinding and rubbing with fervorous motion.

In your mind, it was Miguel tenderly kissing down your neck. It was his lips urgently claiming you and nipping bruises down your skin. It was him laying you gently on the bed, him murmuring those sweet words into your ear as both your moans echoed throughout the room from the adrenaline of pleasure. 

It was Miguel.

Miguel.

Miguel. 

“Stay with me…” You whimpered in a soft moan.

You clenched your eyes shut, desperately holding on to your fantasy — It’s all you would ever have of him. 

A single tear fell from your eye, the remaining heartache coming to a cold numbing reluctance to something pitiful as rejection.

You wanted him. 

You needed him.

With every thrust, your head would spin, all because of him. No amount of pleasure was going to overpower that. 

You loved him.

Reaching your climax, the ripple of mixed gasps of heartache and pleasure that escaped you allowed you to breathe.

You knew this changed nothing. You knew you’d still have to face Miguel the next day.

But what more could you do than delude yourself into thinking this was the solution?

In the end, all you had was regret.

[stitchedspider]

spider crew

[vxxxb]

I want their jackets…

[vxxxb]

DEPRIVE ME [4] - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

[Synopsis] - After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor. [Notes] -Slow burn, strained relationship in the beginning, slight angst, eventual fluff. Reader is ethnically Hispanic, with race not specified. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 3.49K words

The cafeteria was lively as you sat across from Peter, every other Spider-variant within the premises also aiming to appease their hunger. Eagerly, you bite into your empanada, relishing the combination of its crispy crust and velvety melted cheese.

Peter chuckled, nudging you from underneath. "Easy there, kid." 

You playfully roll your eyes. "As if you didn't devour your burger just moments ago. Isn't that right, Mayday?" Your voice turns affectionate as you address the adorable little redhead crawling behind you.

Mayday giggles, the feeling of her tiny hands and feet creating small ticklish sensations around your neck. You can't help the snort that escapes you, hand scooping her up from behind and bringing her to the front with a mock stern expression. "Alright, that's enough crawling for today." You let out a chuckle. 

"Like that will stop her," Peter snickers as he places her in the carrier, fully aware that it won't contain her adventurous self. Which becomes true, as she manages to climb over him instead. 

Peter remains unfazed by her antics, shifting the conversation to a different subject. "So..." He begins.

"So?" You raise an eyebrow curiously, prompting him to continue.

"Alright, there's no easier way to say this," He says between bites of his fries, "but it's weird."

"What is?"

"You and Miguel."

"Me and Miguel?" You repeat slowly, trying to grasp his point.

"Yeah, you and Miguel," He confirms, fully devouring his fries. 

You rest your weight against the table, your hand propping up your face. Peter's remark about you and Miguel piques your interest, and the look you give him leaves no room for ambiguity; it's clear that you want an explanation.

Peter clears his throat, his hand rubbing nervously at his neck as he searches for the right words. "Listen, it’s just…you don’t have to force yourself to work with him, kid." 

His concern catches you off guard. Peter had always looked out for you; He was a great mentor despite his occasional childishness, but this was the first time he explicitly expressed worry about Miguel. Normally, he'd dismiss Miguel's personality as mere brooding, choosing not to dwell on it.

Your eyes soften. "I'm fine, Peter," You reassure him. "Trust me."

"It's not you I don't trust," He points out. "Look, I like Miguel, he's my friend-"

You choke on a laugh, finding amusement in his assertion.

"He's my friend," Peter emphasizes, teasingly raising an eyebrow. "And I know he hasn't done anything personal to me," He shrugs. "But when it comes to you… there's too much risk."

You contemplate his words, responding with a soft hum. You can't deny that there's truth in what he says. Miguel’s temper was unpredictable, and his actions were often headstrong. But things had taken a different turn in the past three weeks.

For one, you now reported directly to him. No more relying on Jess, Peter, or even resorting to bribing Hobie - That fucker - into delivering your reports. The excessive missions, which left you sleep-deprived and struggling to balance your academics and hero responsibilities, were no more. Even the constant paranoia about your time at HQ vanished, along with the fights and threats that used to overshadow your days. It was simply... No. More.

And yet, you couldn't shake off this persistent feeling whenever you were around Miguel; This feeling was different. It was a mixture of curiosity and unsettled nerves. Finally, you were getting to know Miguel beyond the role of your antagonizing leader -- Not that his personality was any better.

During the short time you worked together, you came to observe his behavior closely. Miguel became easily irritable, seemingly insistent on having everything run smoothly; Promptness and discipline were non-negotiable. He sought competent recruits and had little tolerance for the younger Spider variants, particularly Hobie and occasionally Gwen. Pavitr seemed to be the most favored among the three.

As a leader, he exuded authority and demanded respect from those under his command. However, it was hard to ignore that he could be overbearingly uptight in his approach — a characteristic that was hardly surprising to anyone familiar with his leadership style.

Yet, he also displayed moments of serenity — a side that still felt foreign to you. These glimpses intrigued you, especially since they seemed to occur more frequently due to your arrangement. But you knew better than to let your guard down. After all, Miguel was a paradox that you were still trying to understand.

Mayday's gurgling brought you back to focus, you taking notice of the look Peter was giving you. You sigh as you sit up, "I'm fine, Peter." Seeking to steer the conversation elsewhere, you inquire, "Anyways, where's Gwen?"

Peter relents at your response, though you sense he wants to say more on the matter. "She's back in her universe, doing her usual patrolling," He answers. "You know, typical friendly neighborhood Spiderman duties."

"Right," You nod, feeling a pang of realization that it's been a while since you patrolled your New York. "Gotta work on that," You mutter, pursing your lips.

Your dimensional watch then lights up. With a brief groan, you throw away any remaining food, quickly ruffling Mayday's curls and flashing Peter a sheepish smile. "Duty calls," You roll your eyes. 

"Take care, kid."

"Not a kid!" You call out as you web away. 

------

You grumble as you glance at the clock on the wall for the third time. "Where is he?"

You have been waiting for the past fifteen minutes, and Miguel was still nowhere to be found. Bouncing your leg impatiently, you call out to the only thing that keeps track of him. "Lyla!" You shout. "Where is he?" You narrow your eyes as the AI pop.

"He should be here soon." 

"You said that last time."

"Okay, okay." Lyla concedes, summoning a small hologram screen. "He should be here in... three, two, one."

On cue, a portal opens up, your eyes following the tall figure that propels himself forward, his formidable claws acting as both anchor and propulsion against the resistance of the floor. You wince as the grating sound of his claws scrapes against the surface that echoes through the room. 

You raise an eyebrow, hip jutting to the side by his lack of acknowledgment. "Someone certainly enjoys making an entrance," You murmur under your breath.

"What was that?" He snaps. 

"I said how great of you to be here," You respond, forcing a smile.

"I'd lose that tone if I were you."

"Or what?" You taunt, sauntering over. "You'll kick me out again?" You suggest with a small smug smile on your face. "I thought we were past that, boss."

"Miguel," He corrects you with a firm tone.

"Right, of course," You reply, feigning an apologetic tone.

You catch him out of the corner of your eye, taking a deep breath as he tilts his head to the side, seemingly attempting to regain his patience; you snicker. Testing Miguel's patience has somehow become a source of amusement for you. Part of you knew it was a bit of retribution for the problematic months he caused you in the past -- Small payback for the frustrations endured. On the other hand, doubt also played a role; You couldn't help but wonder when or what would disrupt this unusual balance between the two.

"Do you understand?" His voice prompts your attention back to the present.

"Hm?" You look at him confused, inwardly cringing as you realize you've zoned out once again.

Miguel sighs, running a hand down his face while murmuring a mantra under his breath, "Paciencia, paciencia..."

With a swift motion, he opens a portal, indicating for you to follow. "Just follow my lead," he instructs.

You follow Miguel through the portal and find yourself in a bustling cityscape. It's a different version of New York, one unfamiliar to you. The building you stand on is sleek and futuristic, with holographic advertisements flickering around every corner. The coloring in this universe is oversaturated with warm yellow undertones, reflecting a tropical and dry climate that matches the city's appearance. As you take in the sights, you can't help but fan yourself to combat the heat.

"So, what's the plan?" You ask, attempting to focus on the mission. "And why are we here?"

Miguel glances at you, noticing your efforts to cope with the weather. "We're here to meet a friend of mine," he explains, brows furrowing at the word 'friend'. "They've gathered some intel for something I need."

"Which is?"

"Not worth mentioning," He replies curtly.

"So what? You brought me along to keep an eye on me?" You retort, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

"Would you have preferred working on catching the Lizard with Jess?" Miguel counters a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"Shutting up now." You mutter, not willing to argue any further.

"Glad to agree on something." He remarks with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, the two of you diving off the building and swinging through the city. Several blocks away, you finally land in an alleyway, your eyes scanning the surroundings before fixing on a figure leaning against the wall. It doesn't take long for you to recognize that distinctive black ensemble. You purse your lips, casting a sidelong glance at Miguel.

"Seriously?" You remark. "You consider her a friend and not Peter."

Miguel lets out an exasperated sigh, removing his mask as he strides toward her, with you following closely behind.

"Felicia." He addresses with a nod.

The woman smirks, her fingers playfully curling around her hair as she chuckles. "Que paso mi rey? No kiss this time?"

At her remark, you raise your eyebrows in surprise, realizing she speaks Spanish -- Of course, she does -- but the mention of a kiss catches you off guard. Once again, you cast a sidelong glance at Miguel.

"Felicia," He warns, brushing off your inquisitive stare. "Did you bring the drive or not?"

Felicia nonchalantly pushes herself off the wall, her hips swaying as she walks over to you, seemingly disregarding Miguel's presence. "And which variant are you?" She asks, her finger tracing down the exposed area beneath your mask, an alluring glint in her eyes.

A wry smile plays on your lips. "The one with boundary issues," You quip, hands firmly grabbing hers by the wrist to snatch away from your face. Irritation surges within you, already vowing to give Miguel a piece of your mind after this.

Felicia hums, her demeanor exuding confidence. "Feisty," She purrs, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I can see the appeal." She gives you one final glance before shifting her attention back to Miguel. "And I did," she says, holding up a silver drive between her fingers, her other hand resting on her hip as she grins.

"Now for your end of the bargain," She adds, her movements fluid and seductive as she approaches Miguel, lingering hands pulling him closer by the neck before abruptly kissing him.

"I'm gonna be sick," You groan, unable to bear the display before you. You turn away, shielding yourself from the awkwardness unfolding. Despite your best efforts, a small gag escapes you as you hear Felicia moan during the kiss. The whole situation leaves you feeling thoroughly impatient to get this ordeal over with.

The distinct sound of Miguel clearing his throat snaps your attention toward them. Every aspect of this situation bugs you; Nothing was more disturbing than witnessing your boss engage in flirtatious banter with a notorious burglar. 

"Was that necessary?" You click your tongue.

"Of course, mi reina," Felicia smirks, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her other hand raises a small transparent vial for you to see. 

You study the object in her hands, realizing the implication of what she did. "You extracted his venom?" You look back at Miguel. "And you let it happen?" 

Miguel doesn't offer a direct answer; instead, he's already in motion, utilizing his web shooters to swing back to the initial building you both had arrived at. You're left alone with Felicia, her curious eyes trying to decipher your thoughts.  

She folds her arms across her chest, her confident stride carrying her as she circles you. "You don't even realize, do you?"

"Realize what?"

She chuckles, her head tilting back in what is both alluring and unsettling. "Please, if I can smell it, you don't think he has?" Her question is sharp and perceptive.

You feel your muscles tense, your mouth opening to say something but unable to form the words. Instead, your hands clench at your sides, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Ay reina," She mocks. "It never occurred to you that the only other spider variant with a keen sense of smell would eventually pick up on your condition?"

She leans closer, her lips near your ear. "Friendly advice," She chuckles, "at the rate you're going, don't fight it."

With a final, knowing wink, Felicia turns on her heel, leaving you to process everything until now. Her words linger in the air, and you're left to grapple with the implications of her revelations.

------

Back at HQ, you find Miguel in the control room, fully engrossed in his work. Upon hearing your entry, he swiftly glances back, his expression unreadable, making it difficult to decipher what's on his mind.

"What?" You ask, genuinely curious about his thoughts.

"I was wondering when you'd arrive," He admits, though his face remains composed, revealing little.

You can't resist the chance to tease him, a small smirk forming on your lips. "I'm growing on you, aren't I?" You quip, propping yourself casually on an empty panel beside him. "Glad you finally caught on."

Miguel scoffs, but you catch a hint of a smile trying to break through his composure. "Let's not get carried away," he says, though there's subtle amusement in his voice.

A beat passes, then two, and an awkward silence ensues, leaving you both contemplating the unspoken words that linger. 

You sigh, mostly frustrated with yourself — Why was this hard? — Why was it that anytime there was some evident shift within your dynamic, everything shut down?

There’s some hesitation on his end as he turns to face you. "I was skeptical," he admits. "About this partnership."

You hum.

"I get it," You reply, attempting to maintain the conversation. "I kind of branded myself with that mission."

Determined to steer away from any trip down the lane of guilt or regret, you quickly perk up, summoning a sudden burst of energy that takes Miguel by surprise.

"I have to ask," You begin, your curiosity getting the best of you. "But Felicia?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the connection between the two.

At this, he breaks into a full-on chuckle, his deep and resonant laugh filling the room. His infectious laughter catches you off guard, and you can't help but join in, the tension between you momentarily dissolving in the shared moment of amusement.

"Felicia, she’s…" He trails offs, unsure of how to respond. 

"Tempting? Charming? A mutual you can fu-" You start to say, but his hand quickly covers your mouth, silencing you with a warning glare. You roll your eyes, partly amused by his reaction.

"Are you done now?" He asks, tone a bit bored.

You give a single nod, your eyes locking with his. He removes his hand from your mouth, adjusting his body slightly as you're still perched on the panel. Despite the casualness of the situation, you can't help but notice the newfound proximity between the two of you. You study his expression, finding it far more relaxed than before.

"She told me you knew," You say, gaze never wavering.

Don’t do that, you think as you watch his forehead crease with evident concern. Your thoughts race as he tilts your face in his direction, a gesture that feels uncomfortably intimate — Don’t do that either — silently admonishing yourself for noticing it.

His eyes narrow, softly inhaling as he scans your face before ultimately pulling back. 

"Lyla, scan her," he commands, and you instinctively object. "What? Lyla, don't—"

"Scan complete," Lyla chimes in, casting you an apologetic virtual glance.

Miguel crosses his arms, and you feel a mix of indignation and frustration at the abrupt intrusion. "Diagnostic report," he demands, and you can't help but furrow your brows in irritation.

"And directly asking me wouldn't have sufficed?"

"You'd lie," He replies bluntly, reviewing Lyla's assessment. With a swift gesture, he amplifies the screen, sliding it over for you to see.

You don't bother looking at the report, already well aware of the issues plaguing you; The migraines, the weakening of your physical state, the occasional nose bleeds. Nothing about you was right after the glitch with the dimensional watch, and your condition only worsened with your increased use of abilities -- For him. 

"It stops now," He declares firmly. "I don't need your help."

You jump off the panel. "Now look who's lying," you accuse. "Please tell me you don't simply believe that I'm under the impression of just helping ease your grief," You look expectantly.

But he remains silent, and the lack of response only fuels your frustration, pushing you to let out a chortle of sarcastic laughter.

This time, it's you who catches him off guard. Without a second thought, you stride purposefully toward his computer panels, pulling back a drawer and forcefully slamming the object in your hand against his chest.

"This is why I'm here," Your gaze is stern. "To help deprive you of this addiction you have with this thing," You withdraw yourself from him, leaving the Rapture device in his hands.

You let out a deep exhale, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. "I'm just trying to help."

"We can't help anyone," He snaps. "You're at the brink of death, and I'm on the verge of losing any semblance of humanity within me."

"But we can try! We can always try," You reason with a sense of exasperation. "Isn't that purpose of this whole thing?" You assert, referencing the society he created.

Miguel's calculating gaze remains fixed on you, his chest heaving slightly as if he's internally struggling to contain his anger. He lifts his finger as if to say something but abruptly closes his eyes and turns away.

"Dejame."

His dismal aggravates you, making you refuse to let the conversation end. "No, you don't just get to stand there and tell me to leave when we're both at fault here."

He continues to walk past you, his shoulder bumping against yours as he approaches the exit, seemingly intent on walking away from the confrontation.

"Miguel!" You follow him. "I'm talking to you," You persist, undeterred in your pursuit. "Dammit, listen to me-"

Before you can fully grasp what's happening, you feel his firm grip on your shoulders, back forcefully slamming against the entrance frame. He effectively traps you in, and you find yourselves glaring at each other with such intensity. The moment hangs heavily between you, and it's clear that neither of you is willing to back down.

"Tu..." He growls out. "Tu me matas de rabia."

"Feelings mutual," You grit, eyes unyielding. 

"Fine." 

You expect him to pull away, to break the tension between you, but he doesn't. You both remain locked, neither willing to back down from your controlled fits of anger. And as you feel the air around you crackle with unresolved emotions, the silence between you grows heavy with anticipation.

But you're the one who leans forward, closing the distance between your lips and his. And before long, you feel his hands moving to grab you by your hips, the hunger in the kiss evident, with the sound of his soft growls escaping him as you nip at his lips for entrance.

It was all so contradicting, the way you both clung to each other, with a mixture of lingering animosity and newfound desire fueling the moment. Miguel couldn't comprehend why he reciprocated, why he hadn't let you go. But he couldn't deny the pleasure he felt from listening to your soft gasps.

But the sudden interruption of Lyla's voice breaks the spell, jolting you both back to reality. Instinctively, you push Miguel away, your mind racing to process what just happened as you catch your breath. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, his mouth closing in a resigned expression.

You want to explain, to find the right words to address what had impulsively occurred between the two, but Lyla interrupts again, drawing Miguel's attention. 

"Miguel," She calls out urgently, "requesting backup now."

Miguel acknowledges his AI, sending her away with a nod before looking at you. With a heavy sigh, he retreats, putting a silent end to whatever had transpired between you both.

The words Felicia had spoken earlier now echo in your mind. She had been right about one thing — you didn't fight it, and now you were screwed.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

[Translations]

Patience, patience

What's the matter love (Literal translation is king, but its a form of saying, love)

Leave

You fill me with rage

Tag list:

@digipaw2-0 @alexisabirdie @keenzinemugstudent @dirtydiavolo @saturnknows @judeslostfinger @joyhdh @myconglomerateromance @lady-necromancer @envyjmoney

[ramendoodlesart]

Studying Miguel👀👀👀

[vxxxb]

Gosh 😮‍💨

[miggyyyyohara]

Let me sit on his lap, please PLEASE please please-

[vxxxb]

DEPRIVE ME [3] - Miguel O'Hara x Reader

[Synopsis] - After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor. [Notes] - Slow burn, strained relationship in the beginning, slight angst, eventual fluff. Reader is ethnically Hispanic, with race not specified. Part One | Part Two | 2.25k words

Fear.

It was one emotion Miguel believed he had long buried. So how had you managed to awaken it? So easily did you shatter the facade of control he had carefully maintained, unleashing the torrent of anger he so willfully suppressed. Miguel had smashed everything within his reach after you had left, rage utterly consuming him. Lyla was currently left to repair the damage. 

And now, as he saw you enter the training area, he couldn't help the flicker of annoyance surging through him; How could someone young and new to the responsibilities of being Spider-Man stir up such turmoil in his mind? 

"You're late." Miguel's voice was curt, filled with impatience.

You narrow your eyes, holding back a retort as you bit your tongue. "Hello to you too, O'Hara," You reply, tone laced with restrained irritation.

You maintain your composure, setting aside your belongings; You can't help the look you give him as you make your way over with crossed arms. You doubted this was what he meant by working together. "You do realize I have missions waiting for me," You tilt your head, "Missions you so pointedly assigned to me." You finish with a touch of sarcasm.

Of course, you had something to say; somehow, that irritated Miguel more. 

"Lyla took care of that," He manages to respond, making his way to the mat. "Now, come here."

Pursing your lips, you meet him in the middle; Your gaze swept across the empty room, a shudder running down your spine. There was an unsettling feeling that lingered in the air. As your eyes lock with his, you couldn't help but wonder what he was up to -- Just what game are you playing?

Miguel, on the other hand, found amusement in the situation. He carefully observed the way your eyes scanned the room, noting the involuntary tension that gripped your body as you approached him. The temptation to toy with your paranoia gnawed at him, but he didn't need fear from you. He needed your trust for what he wanted.

Without warning, his leg swiftly swept beneath you, knocking you off balance and sending you to the ground. "You're lacking focus." 

With a resounding thud against the mat, an involuntary groan escaped your lips. You remained sprawled for a moment, eyes fixed in a slight glare. There was no denying it; he was right. Your focus had been lacking. Glancing at his outstretched hand, you firmly grasp it, immediately pulling him forward. You take this opportunity to adjust your stance prepared to spar.

Raising an eyebrow, you raise your fists. “What? You suddenly want to train me?” You throw the first punch.

His eyes narrow with focus. “Not train, but hone,” He corrects, arm making contact with your stomach.

Son of a- 

You aim another strike at him, causing him to stumble momentarily. Of course, it paled in comparison to the forceful blows you received. Despite your agility to block, Miguel's punches carried undeniable force;  God forbid he take it easy on the first session, you roll your eyes. His movements exuded a mix of skill and controlled aggression. Each blow he unleashed carried the weight of his frustration, relentlessly pushing you to your limits. Yet, you met them head-on, refusing to back down. Your senses heightened, allowing you to anticipate his every move. Your body remained poised, ready to defend and counter, instinctively adapting your strategy to exploit any opening. 

Slamming him to the ground a grin spread across your face. You couldn’t help but feel a bit smug as you note the look of surprise on his. Truthfully, you hadn't anticipated that feat either. Still, your victory proved fleeting as he swiftly struck your legs from the side, causing you to fall forward. Miguel wasted no time recovering, rolling both of you over, hands pinning yours to the mat.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, your breaths coming in heavy gasps as sweat trickled down your neck. Your senses remained severely amplified, the sound of your heartbeats amplifying sporadically into your ears. Your eyes lock with his, gaze never wavering -- What was he thinking?

Miguel's eyes bore intensely into yours, his ears attuned to the same sporadic beats you were hearing. His eyes traveled down your face, capturing the soft sheen of sweat that coated your skin, the subtle flush of red tinting your cheeks. He observed how your chest rose and fell with each breath, following its rhythm. Still, what truly captivated him was the gleam of anticipation in your eyes, the lazy grin playing on your lips as you curiously studied him. Your reactions intrigued him; Were you genuinely enjoying yourself?

"All good, boss?" You quip, voice snapping him out of his thoughts, inquisitiveness getting the best of you.

Clearing his throat, Miguel nods, his grip on you slightly loosening but not entirely letting go. "You're not going to throw me off?" 

"In a minute."

"Right," He tsks, acknowledging your playful response.

Then it's silent again, the two of you waiting to see who makes the next move. Your gaze remained fixed on him as he closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his breath. It was the first time you truly allowed yourself to look at him. Fatigue was etched on his face, and it went beyond the exertion of the sparring. Everyone in headquarters knew of Miguel's story -- the loss of his family, the decimated universe, and his unwavering dedication to his cause. Few dared to approach him; He was their boss, and that was that. So now, as you looked at him, really looked at him, there was a desire to understand him -- Just how much burden could one man carry?

"Why did you change your mind?" You finally ask, voice laden with curiosity.

Miguel's eyes snapped open, his mouth tightening into a thin line. His fingers subtly tightened around your wrists as he struggled to find the right words. You look at him expectantly, awaiting any explanation as to why you were allowed to stay —Nothing was making sense. A hint of disappointment creeps in as you realize his hesitation. Seizing the moment, you swiftly latch your legs onto his, flipping him over. Your eyes briefly scan his face before you rise to your feet, silently contemplating the enigma that was Miguel O'Hara.

"This can't be all you had in mind when you said I'd be working with you," You fold your arms across your chest, demeanor now serious.

Miguel's brows furrow, his jaw tensing at the shift in atmosphere. He stands, intending to speak but pausing at the sound of chatter filling the training area. You glance toward the entrance, nodding your head in acknowledgment as different spider people take place around the room. You look back to Miguel, patiently waiting for a response. 

"You know you've got some serious communication issues to work on," You remark sarcastically, highlighting the underlying tension between you two.

Rolling his eyes, Miguel walks toward the exit, motioning for you to follow. Stepping outside, the brightness of your surroundings and lively atmosphere contrast with the earlier morning stillness. You walk behind Miguel, taking note of his seemingly relaxed behavior despite the obvious avoidance in his responses. Now, you didn’t necessarily consider yourself impatient, just prone to anxious overthinking. And seeing Miguel walk so leisurely, especially in your company, made you question if he had ulterior motives for his behavior -- Motives that you remained unaware of.

In a moment of impulsivity, you shoot a web at the back of his waist and yank him to face you. As his body collides against yours, an instant wave of regret washes over you. The sudden attention drawn to the two of you triggers a round of whispers from those around you. You realize this was a mistake -- A bad idea.  Bracing yourself for a harsh reaction, you look up.

Miguel’s expression was controlled, consciously aware of all the gazes fixed upon the two of you. Retracting the web that bound him, he extends his claw, its sharp edge slicing through the sticky strand. Taking a deep breath, he takes a deliberate step back.

"Let's talk," he begins, his eyes signaling to the onlookers who had gathered. "In private."

You nod in understanding, following him into the control room. You watch as he pulls up two chairs for the both of you, taking note of the gravity of the situation.

"Well," you take a seat. 

Miguel let out a contemplative hum, legs spreading as he leaned forward. He watches you closely, searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. "Yesterday," He clears his throat, "Was that intentional?" 

You feel yourself tense, back straightening in response. Your leg starts to bounce, a nervous habit, and you find yourself cracking your knuckles to alleviate some of the stress. Frowning, you wait for Miguel to clarify.

"Was it on command?" He finalizes, seeking confirmation.

You nod slowly. "I mean- yeah, you were..." Your words trail off, not knowing how to finish. 

"Trying to hurt you."

"To put it lightly." 

Miguel huffs out a dry chuckle, attempting to ease any tension. You urge him to continue, eager to know where this was heading. 

"I want you to do it again," He says calmly. 

You blink once, mouth opening as if to speak before promptly closing it again. Was he genuinely expecting you to manipulate his senses? -- This has to be some sort of test. It's the most logical explanation you offer yourself as you give Miguel an incredulous look. Every fiber within you wanted to reject this seemingly absurd idea, but you found yourself unable to voice that; your hesitation doesn't go unnoticed by him. He frowns, swiftly closing any distance, body enveloping yours with his.

"Why?" You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you're the only one who can," He responds, voice equally low.

"Gonna need something better than that, O'Hara."

His eyes narrow, his body leaning more forward. "Miguel," He states, "De ahora en adelante es Miguel."

"Bueno, Miguel," You raise your head. "What are you truly after?" 

"I want to see her," He says, eyes raking down your face before taking hold of your hand. "Please, let me see her." He guides your fingers to rest over his eyes. "Please."

You can't help the way your eyes soften, feeling sympathy for someone who continuously caused problems for you. Somehow everything with this man was a constant whiplash. He had willingly allowed you to touch him, he who constantly made it a point to push anyone away. At this moment, he wasn't Miguel O'Hara, leader of the Spider-Verse. He was Miguel O'Hara, a grieving father baring himself like an open wound. Your fingers still tentatively hover above his eyes, your eyes closing as you lament the words that follow.

"I can't do it."

You feel his eyes clench.

"But," you continue, gently pushing him to sit, "I can help ease your pain."

Ever so smoothly, you place your hands on his shoulders. A glance up allows you to see his focused gaze on you. You let out a nervous chuckle, placing one hand on his temple; Effectively, you take away his sight. His body tenses, one of his hands tightly clasping onto yours, claws grazing you ever so slightly. Inhaling, you steady your free hand on his shoulder. "Relax..."

Gradually, a gentle warmth emanates from your touch, a soft and comforting embrace surging through him. You notice how Miguel's body relaxes into your touch, almost as if finding solace in the respite you offer.

"You need to let go, Miguel."

"I can't," He growls low, his voice filled with frustration as he attempts to resist the trance you cast over him.

You hold your ground, palms steadying. "You kept me for a reason," You emphasize. "And despite our complicated past," You huff out a small laugh. "I'm not going to willingly be the source of your torment."

Releasing your hold on him, you wince as you rub at your temple -- Probably should start using that ability more. From the corner of your eye, you notice Miguel standing, a hand running through his hair. You wait, expecting him to break the silence, and you rise to your feet as well.

"Don't mention this to anyone," He instructs.

"Wasn't going to," You cross your arms. "But in all seriousness, if you need my help, I'm up for it."

"And why would you?"

"Because," You drawl out, voice filled with gentle teasing. "You're still my boss, and the leader of this esteemed society," You near him. "And currently, you're a leader with performance issues." Your brows furrow, managing to stifle a laugh at the subtle innuendo. 

Miguel gives you a deadpan stare, not buying your whole compliance. 

"Oh come on," You roll your eyes. "At the end of the day, we're still Spiderman -- Spiderwoman in my case. We'll inevitably work together on official missions at some point." You turn to face him directly. "Besides, what better way to get on your good side than by helping you with this?"

You flash him a grin, extending your hand as a gesture of understanding. He glances down, a sour expression taking place.

"God, you're stubborn," You mutter, forcefully shaking his hand. "Anything else that needs to be discussed?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Alright then, if that's all," You pat his shoulder, making your way out. "I got some work to catch up on."

Part One | Part Two |

[A/N] - Pushed through and finished the chapter! Finally happy I will be able to write more flirty scenes after this lol. Feedback is appreciated! (Respectfully ofc)

Feel free to comment what you think, like, and repost <3

[Translations]

From now on its, Miguel

Fine, Miguel

Tag list:

@digipaw2-0 @alexisabirdie @keenzinemugstudent @dirtydiavolo @saturnknows @judeslostfinger @joyhdh @myconglomerateromance @lady-necromancer

[vxxxb]

DEPRIVE ME [2] - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

[Synopsis] - After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor. [Notes] - Slow burn, strained relationship in the beginning, slight angst, eventual fluff. Reader is ethnically Hispanic, with race not specified. Part One | Part Three | 2.8k words

Wrong. 

You were incredibly wrong. 

Leaping off the platform, you swiftly evade the heavy metal desk Miguel throws at you, instinctively shooting a web to use the object as a makeshift barrier while catching your breath.

"Lyla!" You call out, your spider senses on high alert. "This is not what was mentioned last night!"

Immediately the bubbly AI appears by your side, a sheepish smile on her face. "I was instructed not to reveal too much," she offers, somewhat apologetic -- Not.

Frustration surges through you as you struggle to comprehend the situation -- Why must everything be difficult with him? 

Without warning, you feel yourself lifted from the ground. No hesitation, you kick Miguel in the stomach, sending the desk crashing into him.

"Can't we just talk?" You urge, hands on your hips. "The way I was led to believe," you add, bitterness seeping into your voice.

A dry laugh escapes Miguel's lips, body preparing for his next attack. "Oh, yeah, sure, let's talk," he mocks, lunging at you, claws aiming at your upper body. 

With an apathetic gaze, he surveys your trapped form, chest rising and falling from the altercation. In an instant, he ensnares you within a forcefield, the very ones used to sustain anomalies.

"You must be joking," You shake your head in disbelief, agitation causing you to pace back and forth. "Can you ever approach things rationally without letting your anger consume you?" You glare, frustration evident.

Miguel's gaze sharpens as he locks eyes with you. He strides over to retrieve the cuffs he had initially asked you to wear -- the very ones you had profoundly refused and had tossed aside without thinking; Not the best decision you could have made, obviously.

"If you wanted me rational, you shouldn’t have thrown that little tantrum you did," He turns to you, arms crossed.

You narrow your brows; Tantrum? Tantrum. Not wanting to be treated like a criminal was now considered a tantrum?

"If you had you just listened-"

You scoff, turning your back to him and lowering yourself to the ground; You were done listening. 

With a mere concentration, you form a barrier, gradually filtering Miguel's voice from reaching you; External sounds soon become muffled, only a faint ringing penetrating your ears. Turning your attention inward, you firmly plant your palms on the ground, focusing on the subtle vibrations that Miguel's voice carries.

As the vibrations intensify, you brace yourself for what comes next. Before you know it, Miguel lifts you off the ground, fangs bared inches from your face. You maintain a neutral expression despite the harsh grip on your forearm.

Miguel studies your reaction, searching for any sign of submission. Frustrated, he releases his grip and steps back, pinching his nose as if trying to calm himself. Muttering something under his breath, he looks at you with outstretched hands -- ‘Let’s talk’.

Though reluctant, you nod, allowing sound to seep in again. "I'm listening," you respond, your tone grim.

Exasperated, Miguel moves to the computer system, multiple images displaying on the holographic screen. You instantly recognize the people -- all fifteen of them -- and a sense of defeat washes over you.

"I thought we had moved past this," You whisper, realizing the gravity of what he was showing you.

Miguel's gaze remains fixed on the screen as he responds, "We were never past this. This is why you're here." He points to an additional image, "Two weeks ago, unusual glitching was detected in Earth-12131."

You shake your head. "That's not possible. You said nothing was disrupted."

"Nothing was disrupted, and now nothing is. I had Peter B take care of it," He mutters, pushing the screens aside.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because your mistake," Miguel's voice raises, "could have led to the destruction of an entire universe. And your recent errors are not making it any better." He approaches you, hands extending expectantly. "I want your watch," he demands.

What.

Your body freezes. "What? No," you protest, taking a step back.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be. After today, your services are no longer needed here." 

Suffocated. You feel suffocated as Miguel draws near you, his eyes narrowed with a single objective. Your hands twitch, the rhythmic pounding of your heart echoing loudly in your ears -- Why? Just why? You were beginning to feel disoriented, your very name reduced to mere echoes. Swiftly, you sidestep, concealing your right hand behind your back.

"That's not fair," You reason. "You know what happened. Hell, you saw what happened!" You manage to evade his grasp once again. "And as for my recent errors, we both know who's causing them," You huff out. 

Miguel sighs, hands clenching at his sides, attempting to repress any rising irritation. "Could you please just stay still?" He warns.

"Por dios, O'Hara!" You evade him once more. "How can you possibly be such a hypocrite when you're the one who actually caused the annihilation of an entire universe?"

Silence.

Profound silence falls between the two of you, you just registering the weight of the words that had left you. You glance up to meet Miguel's intense stare, red eyes piercing into you. 

"Verga," You rush out before being knocked to the ground. You choke out a gasp, breath increasingly strained as Miguel's grip tightens around your throat. What was wrong with you? Did you seriously want to die? 

"Try to calm down," You struggle to word out, desperately attempting to free yourself.

"Don't tell me what I have to do," He snarls beside your ear, hands squeezing tighter.

Clawing at his hands, you take notice of the black spots that cloud your vision; Just what were you doing? You could easily overthrow Miguel and give yourself a chance to escape, yet you were surrendering instead. Succumbing to a guilt you knew you had no control over. God, this was all tiring. Like a revelation, you allow your body to relax, eyes gaining a clear focus on your next move. 

"Enough." Your hand swiftly reaches behind Miguel's neck, fingers grasping firmly. "If you're going to insist on burdening me with guilt for the rest of my time here, then maybe you should experience the guilt I've been carrying."

Soon, Miguel's hold on you weakens, his body staggering and collapsing to the ground. A ripple of emotions engulfs him -- Fear, pain, and confusion -- They all flood his mind, mirroring the overwhelming tragedies felt by those who had died. The same emotions you had experienced when you regretfully took their lives. The same emotions you can never forget. But you don't stop there; you make him see. You make him see all the nightmares and illusions that plagued their minds, exposing him to the relentless darkness that claimed them. 

You stagger forward, blood trickling from your nose as the pressure of your abilities takes a toll on your body. "Believe me when I say I don't need you reminding me of what I did," You take a deep breath, voice filled with resignation. "Just as you don't need people reminding you of what you did."

With a hint of remorse, you make him see her. Make him hear her. Feel her. 

"Papá?" Gabriela's small voice echoes in his head.

Mind unable to process what was happening, Miguel stills. His previously crouched body now cradling his daughter's non-existent one, hand caressing her cheek as if she were truly there.

"Papá, I'm scared," His little girl whimpers, her non-existing hand clutching onto his. 

Miguel gazes downward, eyes fixated on his daughter's empty embrace. The weight of her presence so tangible to him but invisible to everyone else. It all becomes unbearable. The sound of your labored breaths is what jolts him back to reality. His body slumps with heavy sorrow, face contorting with anguish and grief.

"Just... stop," He whispers, voice vulnerable, on the verge of breaking.

Overwhelmed, you collapse to the ground. Your vision blurs and your senses distort while becoming hazy. It's difficult for you to regain control, especially as you struggle to restore balance to your overtaxed senses.

"I never wanted to do that," You mutter, head remaining low. "But I'm done. If you want me gone, I'll leave by tomorrow." With unsteady steps, you stand up. 

Quietly, you turn to leave, casting one final glance at headquarters' formidable leader. 

Miguel remains on his knees, gaze lost in contemplation. Just utterly broken. 

Without another word, you're gone.

------

"So... are you planning to remain silent?"

Gwen hangs upside down, a single brow raised inquisitively.

"Not entirely," You reply as you walk around her. "And could you please get down from there? It’s making me dizzy," You groan, rubbing your forehead.

Your mind was still reeling from the day's earlier events, the pressure of it all causing a soft, persistent ache in your head; You felt like utter trash. Just like that, your life had managed to be disrupted. As you glanced around, you couldn’t help the small smile that formed -- This was home, your home -- and now it was slipping away from you; A dry laugh escaped your lips.

"Your neck’s bruising." 

"Huh?"

Gwen lands beside you, her fingers lightly brushing over your injuries. Despite your best efforts, you can't help but flinch at her touch, your face contorting with discomfort as she examines the wounds. You shoot the teenager a slightly irritated glance, hands pushing hers away and adjusting your suit to conceal any visible bruises. Well, at least the ones on your body; the state of your face was still up for debate.

"And what villain of the week did those?" She asks, now signaling at your dry bloodstained nose.

You ignore her, opting to wave at the spider people who greet you, your smile faltering as you enter your room. Crashing onto the sofa, you shield your face with your arm -- Finally, some quiet. 

"Well?"

You groan, arm lifting to glance at the smirking teenager. "Five seconds, Gwen. That's all I ask," You state tiredly, closing your eyes once more.

Never did you expect your time in the Spiderverse-Society to end so abruptly; It's been what, about six months, and now everything is-

"Times up!" Gwen calls out, taking a seat across from you.

This time, you can't help but glare at her, forcing yourself to sit up. "You know Gwendolyn, you can be quite the little pest sometimes." You mutter, words lacking any malice.

"I've been told worse," She shrugs off before looking at you expectantly. 

You grumble softly, rolling your eyes as you indulge her. "If you must know, nosy," You side-eye her, "Our beloved boss is the culprit for all this."

Gwen studies your face. "Miguel did that?" She questions, astonished. 

"Yep," You confirm with a nod. "O'Hara did that and more."

"What do you mean?

"I mean," You shrug, attempting to appear unfazed, "Guess who's been kicked out of the spider society," You sing-song, trying to lighten the mood. 

Gwen's frown deepens, her once content attitude now simmering. Startled, you watch as she stands up, eyes following her as she heads toward the door. Reacting quickly, you shoot out a web, giving her a stern warning look. With a subtle tug on her hand, you silently urge her to sit.

"And what do you think you're about to do?" You ask with a bored expression.

She scoffs. "Miguel can't just kick you out-".

"Yes, he can."

"But not without a proper-"

"Reason? Yeah, I agree with you on that."

"Would you stop-"

"Interrupting you?" 

"Y/N!" 

You sigh, leaning your head back before addressing her seriously. "Just let it go, Gwen."

Observing the torn look on her face and the hesitant movement of her feet, a soft laugh escapes you -- She reminded you so much of her. The same persistence and equally annoying smartness that you once bonded over. Had things turned out differently, she would have turned seventeen this year -- your Gwen, that is. It never ceased to amaze you how every Spider's canon intertwined in one way or another. Pushing aside the waves of nostalgia, you refocus your thoughts. 

"I'm slowly coming to terms with it," You try to reassure her, "I just want to be alone."

Gwen hesitates, mouth opening as if to say something, before nodding. You watch her leave, exhaling a breath as the door closes behind her. Like fragile glass, the facade you had been putting up shatters, and the tears that stung your eyes finally fall.

To feel or not to feel; that was the ultimate question.

You lay back once more on the comfort of your sofa -- Pain somehow soothed you better. 

------

Body jolting, an involuntary gasp escapes you. You wince as the abrupt noise from your mouth sends a sharp ache down your throat. Shaking your head to clear the drowsiness, you sit up, feeling your bones crack as you carefully stretch your stiff muscles.

What time was it?

It was dark, and as you glance outside your window, the sight of an empty headquarters suggested that most of the spider people had returned to their respective universe. The stillness of the place contrasts with the earlier bustling morning, and you can't help but feel a sense of solitude in the quiet atmosphere. 

"You overslept!" A chirpy voice pops up in front of you.

You cross your arms, eyeing the flashy AI. "Not in the mood, Lyla."  

Making your way toward the bedroom, you retrieve a duffle bag, somberly packing all your items away. Clothing, gadgets, even the occasional assignments, you ensure nothing is left behind. While doing so, you can't help but notice the glitching A.I. take seat mid-air.

"You can't stay mad at me," She states. 

Exhaling with frustration, you release the clothing you had been clutching in your hand "Sure, I can," You retort sharply. "I can choose to stay mad at you, just like you chose to keep me in the dark about the purpose of the meeting."

Her head tilted. "I was simply following orders."

"And when have you ever refrained from defying those orders?" You counter, irritation seeping through. 

"Look,” Lyla persisted. "I just came to give you a heads up that Miguel is on his way to see you."

"He's what?" You see her disappear. "Lyla!" You shout in frustration -- Must she always do that?

Hastily you shove whatever else you can into your bag before rushing to the door. As the automatic doors open, you come to an abrupt halt.

"Leaving already?" 

Instinctively, you step back, Miguel practically barging into your room. It seemed nothing was going your way today, not even your promised departure. 

"Just as you requested," You react, a forced smile on your face. 

His gaze subtly fixates on the duffle bag clutched in your hands. "I thought you said tomorrow," He remarks, sauntering further in as the doors behind him close.

You click your tongue, annoyance brimming within by his probing and sudden intrusion. "You seriously have some nerve coming here and-"

"You're reinstated." He interjects.

"Come again?"

Grumbling under his breath, he places his hands on his hips and clarifies, "I said, you're reinstated."

You stand there, mind processing his words before directing a glare toward him. "Is this some kind of joke to you?" You drop your bag in disbelief. "You practically threaten my life in the morning, and now you barge in here without even offering an apology and expect everything to be resolved with a simple phrase."

Not giving him a chance to respond, you swiftly snatch your bag and move to leave, or at least attempt to. To your surprise, and his own, Miguel latches onto your wrist. With a wary gaze, you pull your hand free from his grip. As he remains silent, you scoff, unsure what to make of the situation.

"No lo puedo creer, a pesar de joder mi paciencia tu-"

"Dios, cállate,” He snaps. “This is what started things in the morning-"

"Right, so it’s my fault now."

"Y/N."

"O’Hara," You defy, refusing to call him by his first name.

In the dimly lit room, the both of you huff in exasperation, the tense atmosphere enveloping you. A weariness settles within, and the decision to abandon the situation seems ever more tempting. Gosh, he was frustrating.

Unexpectedly, he positions himself in front of you, his imposing height putting you at a disadvantage. Intense gaze fixed upon you, he lowers his voice, his words resolute and unmistakable. "As I was saying," he begins, tone unwavering. "You're reinstated." 

With a dismissive gesture, he brushes his shoulder against yours as he exits. "Tomorrow you work with me." 

In a moment of disbelief, you find yourself pinching your arm. The sharp pain that shoots up serves as a stark reminder that you were not imagining things. Muttering a curse under your breath, you drop your bag to the side. 

Fuck him, you thought. Whatever he had planned for tomorrow, you would make sure not to break this time. 

Part One | Part Three |

[A/N] - It's done! I hope this doesn't disappoint and I'm sooo sorry for the delay. Also, I want to say thx for the support in the first part! It's been a while since I've focused on something other than STEM (engineering student here lol), so it really meant a lot. Excuse any typos, I'm sure I'll catch them later.

Anyways, feel free to comment, like, and repost <3

[Translations]

For the love of god

Fuck

I can't believe it, despite testing my patience you

God, shut up

And as some of you requested:

@digipaw2-0 @alexisabirdie @keenzinemugstudent @dirtydiavolo @saturnknows

[vxxxb]

That awkward moment when I realize that I am now a writer, and now it’s me who’s on the clock😭🥲

Anyways, thought I should mention that the second chapter is halfway there!

Truly aiming for 3k words this time, overall just excited to post✨

[vxxxb]

DEPRIVE ME [1] - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

[Synopsis] - After an incident that jeopardizes your position at HQ, Miguel O'Hara becomes a constant reminder of the high expectations and zero tolerance for mistakes within his ranks. Everything takes an unexpected turn when Miguel sees the potential in your abilities and decides to enlist your help for a more personal endeavor. [Notes] - Slow burn, strained relationship in the beginning, slight angst, eventual fluff. Reader is ethnically Hispanic, with race not specified. Part Two | Part Three |

Wake up. Do the mission. Go to school. Sleep. Repeat. 

Wake up. Do the mission. Go to school. Sleep. Repeat.

Wake up.

Do the mis-

Your heart drops as the grip on your web slips, any remaining strength in your body dispersing despite your instinct to shoot another.

"Someone catch me," You breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you brace yourself for impact. Just my luck, you think before passing out.

------

Murmurs. It's the first thing you pick on as you regain consciousness. Your eyelids feel heavy, and even the slightest movement sends a sharp pain throughout your spine. Ultimately, it is useless trying to move. The urge to groan is strong yet unattainable. You can't help but think of the long and agonizing recovery waiting for you.

"She's been punished enough," A harsh whisper echoes from a distance, "Just look at her."

Your brows twitch as you strain yourself to focus. Just where were you? And why did your body feel...? A jolt of panic forces your eyes to open, bright lights swarming your vision and making them squint. You take deep breaths as you assess your surroundings - The infirmary.

A scoff catches your attention from outside the door. Two shadows, Jessica and Miguel, were in a heated argument. Their words reach your ears, albeit in fragments.

"You should be glad I didn't kick her out altogether," Miguel argues quietly from the other end. "She knew what she signed up for the moment she joined." 

"You and I both know this isn't what she signed up for," Jessica bristled.

There's a brief pause, and then Jessica enters the room with a small smile. Your eyes briefly meet Miguel's. The man stood there with an unsympathetic gaze, eyes slightly narrowing as they scanned you. Without so much acknowledgment, he leaves.

"Ignore him," Jessica hums. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I became one with the ground," You croak with a small laugh. "I guess no one caught me," You pout, more so grimace.

"Sorry about that, hun. By the time we noticed, you were already out of reach. Hobie somehow managed to brace your impact with his webs."

You nod. "Any serious damage?"

"None, other than a minor concussion and a sore body," Jessica replies, looking over your chart. "You need to rest." She eyes you sternly.

"Kind of hard when your boss has a vendetta against you," You grimace, sitting up. 

"I'm aware he's out of line-"

"Is he?" You close your eyes, pushing yourself off the bed. "Somehow, the more I end up here, the less sympathy I have for myself," You remove the IV attached to your hand. "A couple of concussions doesn't even begin to make up for my mistake. If we can even call it that."

You change into your suit and begin to head out. 

"Where are you going?" Jessica questions behind you. 

You pull on your mask while opening a portal. "Part-time, remember. The last thing I need is someone else nagging me."

Arriving at your job, the lab director nods in your direction as you take place behind your station. With one headphone on, you immerse yourself in work. Somehow you manage to find solace and relaxation in the tasks at hand.

Your soft hums resonate throughout the room, time progressively passing, and your mind drifting. You reflect on the repetitive nature of your life — wake up, mission, school, sleep, repeat. How many more times were you going to push yourself to exhaustion? The last time your body gave out in a mission, you had risked endangering Gwen. Working for the team was becoming increasingly difficult. More so working for him. 

Lately, it was like clockwork. Mission after mission, no matter how many you completed or how many reports you submitted, there would always be another. And another. And another. And well, you know how routines work. 

You joined the organization being made fully aware of how things ran around HQ. And who ran things around HQ. Miguel hadn't been the one to recruit you; Hobie did. The anarchic spider had taken quite a liking toward you -- your abilities in particular. With one mischievous grin, Hobie brought you to Earth-928, handing you over to Jessica Drew like some new toy before leaving to do his 'own thing'.

Things were honestly going fine for you at HQ. More and more Spider-people continued to join, and you couldn't have asked for better mentors (and friends) while becoming part of this society. Everything had been so exciting, so liberating.  

And then... and then your eighth mission happened. Earth-12131. Scorpion from Earth-1610 had appeared in that universe. Though difficult, the mission had been going according to plan; you and Gwen were in charge of capturing the anomaly while Pavitr aided and rescued endangered citizens. Between the three, you had webbed Scorpion against a wall, minimizing any attack they had planned. 

What wasn't anticipated was the multiple shards of glass coming down from the roof to cut through the webbing. Scorpion's tail had quickly knocked you off your feet, its stinger immediately targeting your watch. Things progressively got worse after that.

A broken watch meant unstable atoms, unstable atoms meant unavoidable glitching, which you did -- badly. As Gwen and Pavitr handled the anomaly, you attempted to regain yourself, fingers working rapidly to repair the watch. That is until you glitched again, your very being reacting with the electromagnetism of the device. Any control you held over your abilities at that moment vanished, twisted hallucinations and sensory delusions falling prey to those unfortunate within proximity.

You had sensed everything, from the nightmarish visions that developed from people's fears to the suffocating darkness that overwhelmed them due to the oppressive void that robbed them of sight, sound, and touch.

Fifteen people died that day.

Gwen and Pavitr had barely managed to fight off the disorienting effect before coming to your rescue after capturing the anomaly. This mission marked you for the rest of your stay at HQ. 

"Y/N?"

You physically jerk at the sound of your name, your body reacting to the sudden interruption. Upon realization, you address your boss, hands instinctively setting down the tools you'd been holding.

"You can leave now," They tilt their head toward the clock. "It's already past nine." 

Your eyes slightly widen, "Right! Yeah - sorry, I'll be going now." You rush to say, hurriedly packing your belongings.  

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Professor!"

Exiting the building, you can't help but rub your tired eyes. You contemplate the choice of whether to head back to your shared dorm or your very own personal quarters at HQ.

You snort. "HQ for sure," You mutter, preparing to open a portal. 

Just as you're about to, an incoming call from Lyla interrupts you. You answer with a tired smile. "Please don't tell me I have another mission waiting for me," You groan, energy already draining. 

She laughs, pink shades sliding down to throw you a wink. "Nope!" She envelops you with a portal of her own. "Miguel wants to see you."

What? "What?" You voice out loud, already regretting your choices. "Lyla I don't think-"

"Be there tomorrow early morning!" She salutes you before disappearing. 

You stand there, mouth slightly agape. Nothing about what Lyla said left you feeling at ease. If anything, you were positive another fainting episode was about to happen. Deep breaths, you remind yourself. 

With a mixture of uncertainty and exhaustion, you head to your room for a few hours of sleep, hoping to be prepared for whatever awaits you when you meet Miguel in the morning. If Miguel wanted to see you, he would see you. Just not defenseless. 

At least he won't kill you, right?... Right?

Part Two | Part Three |

[A/N] - Well... I hope that was alright. Please feel free to message me what you think so far, or comment!

I know it's kind of short but I want to gauge people's reactions first to see whether it's worth continuing. Anyways thx!

[vxxxb]

The urge to post a fanfic is strong, but the dedication to do it is another thing🥲