I Am Perfectly Normal :3

I am perfectly normal :3

Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 7

A/n: Hey y’all! Just a quick apology for such a long update, just came back from a relaxing vacay n as soon as I got off the plane back home, I started writing cuz the creative juices were juicing <3 Anyways, enjoy <333 Hopefully this serves as a good apology ;)

4 exams down, 3 more to go. The finish line of the semester was so close yet so far. Not gonna lie, your sanity was hanging on by a rope, your strongest and only support system being one person. He was the most sweetest, smartest, and respectful person you have ever had the blessing of meeting. It may not have been in the most conventional (or convenient) of ways, but still, it couldn’t have felt more like the storybook that you wanted and dreamed your life would be. Amidst your academic tribulations, he made you feel like royalty.

Even now, as you wait in the library and your phone goes off with a notification from Miguel, whom you had referred to as ‘Professor O’Hara’ only just a few months ago, you are still in dreamland with the fact that you were—

Well, at this point, you two haven’t quite fleshed out the label of y’all’s relationship just yet, but for now, you tell yourself that you two are talking. So yes, even now, you truly can’t believe that you are talking with your adorable professor.

You mentally take note that this will be a conversation that you two will have to have in the near future.

Your attention is now on your phone, reading a message under the contact name ‘Mig 🤓’.

“We ended earlier than planned. Headed over there now❤️”

You smile at the message, already typing a response up.

The night he told you about his late daughter was almost a week ago, and since then, y’all have set aside a day to go to the public library. You both agreed that it was nice, quality time, and wanted to do something like that again; just talking, being with each other, and forget about school for a while. Plus, exams have sort of kept yall apart for the past week, so it was very much needed.

Now you wait at the library where you and Miguel agreed to meet at after he finishes a recitation he had to substitute for.

‘ “Ended earlier than planned” ??? You’re not slick, DID YOU END CLASS EARLIER TO COME HERE???’

‘No, of course not, I would never do that.’

…

‘But maybe.’

‘Uhuh... See you soon <3’

‘See you soon, mamita ❤️😘.’

With a content hum, you put down your phone and turn your face toward the quiet buzz of people reading, chatting over coffee, and studying. Even though it's been months since knowing Miguel, you still feel jitters when about to see him. You can't help it. Everything about him makes you nervous in the best possible way. From how his smile lines crease, how that one little curl falls on his face, how he always speaks to you with a slight pout, the way his sweater vests hug around his full chest and soft tummy, all the way to how he looks at you like you’re his muse. You couldn't stop smiling just thinking about him. And to think, everyone in class just thought he was a total killjoy; backs straighten and all conversations cease when he enters the room. If only they knew the real him, but a part of you is glad you're the only one to see it.

Just a couple of blocks down, Miguel is gathering his things, excited to meet up with you. As he sharply nods to the last few students leaving the room, wishing them a good Summer break and luck on their finals, his expression becomes soft as he thinks of you. Quickly, once he has the room to himself, he takes a minute to put on one or two sprays of his best cologne, fix his hair, and remove his tie. He knew how much you liked it when he wore his button-ups like this; a few left unopened at the top. He felt ridiculous, but you always commented on it, and then it would make Miguel feel good.

That was another thing; since seeing you, Miguel's confidence has so so so improved. He did, however, take a glance over at his cardigan that hung on the back of his swivel chair and contemplated wearing it. It used to be his safety net; an effort to try and hide his soft figure, but that was old Miguel. New Miguel wanted to impress you and, even though he’d never admit it, would try to get the most compliments out of you. Despite feeling like he let himself go, you made him feel like he was a total knock-out, which never failed to make his cheeks grow darker, and he plans to return the favor for however long you’ll have him.

Miguel arrives, scanning the enormous room for you, a bright, colorful speck among the sea of dark-colored apparel. You wore an outfit he had bought you during the semester. He’s indifferent when looking for you, but when he spots you, his lips curled just slightly, the crows feet of his face creasing. He glides across the room, but any faster, he’d be running. He tries to act collected, but you both know he’s ecstatic to see you.

"Hey mama," He stands before you, holding out your hands as if to exhibit an art piece, "You look beautiful today, as always”. His eyes graze over every single inch of you, up and down. There’s something sexy about seeing you in something he bought you, even if it wasn’t all that exposing. You go in for a hug, acting as if you haven’t seen him in weeks (You both see each other in the hallways like every day, y'all just haven't been able to be with each other in a minute).

You smile against his broad chest, "Thanks, cutie, and you look handsome, as per usual.” You give his thick torso a soft run down with your hands. Miguel looks around bashfully, even though no one is paying attention. Physical touch came easy for him when you two were alone, but in public? That’s another story.

You look up to see his wandering eyes fall back on you. “I’ve missed you,” you shift all your weight onto him, holding onto his waist like a koala bear on a tree. You get on your tip toes to reach his cheek, pressing a kiss there, “mwah! so much.” The simple gesture was enough to turn Miguel into a mess. It takes everything in him not to completely smother you out in the open, but would rather save that for when there’s privacy.

Miguel holds you as if you were a porcelain doll. Something rose in his chest, call it pride; Proud to show off the gorgeous woman in his arms. "I missed you more." He says softly.

"So? How was the class?" you hold onto his hand while looking for a place to live in for the afternoon.

Miguel looks as well and spots a vacant, quiet little corner of the library, one that sits almost separate from the rest of the crowd. He gives your hand a small tug, motioning for it. "It was actually quite nice. The students were pretty engaged for it being an 8AM... I dunno, I might pick it up next semester." He sets his bag down before grabbing you a chair for you to sit on, as well as a cushion for you to lay your back on. He grabs a stool for himself once he sees you're comfortable and sat.

You give his forearm a caress, a small act of encouragement, "Well, I think you should. You're so good at what you do. Trust me, I should know." you give him a smirk, making him crack a smile.

"Which reminds me, you feel good for tomorrow? 'cuz if you're needing review for anything, we could go over it right now-" You place a hand on his arm, "Mig! I'm fine! I feel completely fine. Besides, I've tutored over a dozen people, I pretty much know the material like the back of my hand. Please, relax, you need it."

Miguel sits back now, "But if you change your mind, you'll let me know, right?" You nod, and Miguel relaxes at last. He sees the book you pull out and reads the spine of it. Wuthering Heights. It’s one of Miguel’s personal faves. He looks forward to seeing your small reactions once you get toward the end. It was endearing the way you reacted to what you read, let it be a faint widening of your eyes or a small gasp. He also loved watching your concentrated face. He thinks back to all those lectures he spent watching you take your color-coordinated notes in his class, your glossed lips pursed and your eyebrows faintly knitted. It never went unnoticed by him. Adorable.

You do a double-take at Miguel's choice of book, not believing what you read the first time. "Jane Austen?" "…Yes?" "You like Jane Austen?" "Yes. " Miguel says this so matter-of-factly, it leaves you kind of in shock. It was a cute surprise. Smiling, you let a puff of air out your nose, shaking your head as you open your book. “What’s so funny?” Miguel smiles, wanting know what you’re thinking now.

“Ugh, I-“, You almost let a certain 3-word phrase slip from your lips, but you stop yourself. “ I… just wasn’t expecting that, is all. Have you read ‘pride and prejudice’?”

“Yeah, loved it. It’s why I’m reading this one.” He looks down at the cover, which, in intricate letters, reads sense and sensibility. Your smile is even wider now that you know the man of your dreams is a fellow Jane Austen fan. “Me, too. Let me know what you think, then.” You softly say, starting on your book. “Of course. By the way, anyone ever taught you not to judge a book by its cover?” You roll your eyes and nudge him, making him chuckle in his throat. Although Miguel’s humor wasn’t exactly the most original, his sass takes the cake, and you love it. Feeling romantic, Miguel leans over and kisses your cheek once, twice, then gently brings your lips to his by your chin to plant a third kiss.

After finally quenching his need for your kisses, he settles in his spot and reaches for your hand, which you grab instinctively. Like always, his thumb caresses across your knuckles, and you both fall into a peaceful silence, transporting to your individual worlds within your books.

<3

The time in the library is nothing short of peaceful and fun. The first while of reading, Miguel would get up to use the restroom, but on his way back, he would’ve gotten you a cup of coffee for you and himself. A little later, you’d get up as well, but not for the restroom, but to grab him a treat, as well as for yourself. His eyes widen in pleasant surprise when he sees you walk back with them in your hands. He always did have a sweet tooth.

For the rest of the time, you’ll reach over occasionally to push his glasses back up his nose, or sometimes, without looking up from his book, he’ll simply pull your hand up to his lips, and press a butterfly kiss there, the faint smack of the peck making your heart skip a beat. And he doesn’t just do it once, he has to do this every so often because he just can’t resist; the man needs to feel you like as if you’ll disappear out of nowhere.

And you don’t notice, but every now and then, Miguel looks over at you, just admiring. He watches how your eyes inch deeper into the pages as you soak in the language. He can stay like this forever. Reading books with you while you hold hands. For a second, he feels the bottom of his stomach drop because he knows the day will have to end, and he’ll have to go back to class tomorrow, as do you. Sure, you’ll both be in the classroom, but you’ll have to pretend. Miguel was growing tired of the game. He then thinks about how near Summer is, and if he’ll see you then. Not as your professor, but as someone who deeply cares about you.

He’s already making plans on the possible trips you two could make. Maybe spend two weeks in Italy, or maybe just simple weekend roadtrips to nearby, quaint towns. He’s thinking about taking you to only the nicest, fanciest places in Nueva York.

Guiltily, his mind wanders into trips to the bedroom. How he’d love to take care of you and make sure you felt loved. Above all, your pleasure would be his. Oh, how he’d worship you like the goddess you were because dammit, you are one, and to this day, he’s still unsure how he scored you. How he, the intimidating, quiet giant, won an ethereal princess like you. He sort of smiled to himself as he realized:

Gabriella’s favorite bedtime story was becoming his life right before his eyes.

And like many times before, Miguel’s mind wanders even more. He’s thinking of the wedding, the honeymoon and the endless amount of rounds, the baby shower… having a kid with you. He’s fully aware of how crazy it is to think about so soon, but at the same time, it feels so right. With you, it does.

Your caring, attentive nature, sweetness, cleverness, patience, and drive, they were all qualities of someone he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with. Your desire to better yourself and hunger for knowledge is evident in the fact that you’ve worked toward your masters. Your softness that had so remarkably torn down his walls. And of course, there was your unmistakable beauty, but that’s just a bonus!

As he continues to watch you read, your hand lovingly locked with his, he realizes his feelings are no longer casual, no. Miguel’s breath hitches when a realization dawns on him. Rather than a ton of bricks, it feels like a weight lifted off his stiffened shoulders.

He looks at you, and he feels what could only be described as true, total, and complete love.

“‘Scuse me, sir.” Miguel snaps toward the low voice, “Library’s closing in 10 minutes.”

These hushed words sweep your attention from the book in your hands, your face falling in small dismay. You both look at each other, Miguel giving you a shrug that conveys ‘it is what it is’.

“Aw man, I got so caught up in reading, I feel like we didn’t get to talk as much as I wanted to.” Miguel is gathering both of yalls things, leaving your hand for last. You grab his, and you both begin to head out, the swarm of people that was here before gone. “We can still talk if you’d like. We can go to my office?” You nod gingerly.

“Then c’mon, let’s go.” Without asking, he grabs your bag from you and slings his and yours onto his shoulder, and you both leave hand in hand.

<3

After braving the storm that seemed to come out of nowhere outside, Miguel lets you into his office first, closing the door behind you two. The campus was dimly lit, only housing a few students who were doing some late-night studying. Hopefully, no one saw you two shuffling toward his classroom.

You look around his office, and for the first time, if feels new. It’s somewhat dark, the storm outside supplying the only light in the room. You’ve been in here countless of times, helping Miguel out with class work or tutoring, so it shouldn’t feel any different, yet, it does. Maybe it’s because every time you’re in here, you’ve never got the chance to really look at it. You’re always in and out. And if y’all weren’t in here, you were sitting in the lecture hall just outside the office door. Now that the fluorescent lights are off, you realize just how clinical they made it feel in here.

Miguel observes how you look along his walls where a multitude of diplomas hang. He thinks about saying something, but doesn’t want to interrupt; instead, he allows you to examine his space, finding it charming. It’s like he’s letting you in on his life. He pretends to busy himself with something else, leaving you to explore. Which is fine, really. You two have fallen into many comfortable silences before.

Then you move onto his shelf, filled with nothing but books and maybe one picture frame, but you’re not sure. It’s laid flat on the shelf. You go away from it for a second, going back to the spines, reading them off in your head. Some DNA encyclopedias, anatomy studies, Genetic Theory… ah, here we go. Leroux, Fitzgerald, Verne… is that Shelley? Atwood? Woolf? Plath?! Then, of course, there’s Beauty and The Beast. You pause there for a second, remembering Miguel’s most cherished memories that are tied to this story. Some more Jane Austen… oh, and look, Wuthering Heights!

“You’re more than welcome to take any of those. What’s mine is yours.” He sits on the couch that sits along the wall of his office, laying back with his arm laid across the frame of it. You pull out Wuthering Heights and walk towards him, “What’d you think of this one?” You go to take a seat next to him, nuzzling against his side, your head at its assigned spot on his shoulder. “Nice try, sweetie, but don’t wanna spoil it. Though I will say, it’s really good.” his face brightens along with yours, “I think you’ll like it. Brace yourself for the ending, though.” His arm wraps around you now, his thumb making small circles on your shoulder like he usually does.

“How about Miss Austen?” You put the book on a small table beside the couch. Miguel thinks about it for a second. “She’s got this sort of sarcastic wit that I can really get behind. But in all seriousness, her social commentary is brilliant. Still applies to this day, in some ways. And her style, wow…” You can see Miguel get lost in his thoughts, his emotions having their rare time in the limelight as he proceeds to list off Jane Austen’s wonderful writing attributes. It felt so good to see him like this. To be able to get him talking like this was a big win in your book.

“…Just overall, I’m a total fan now.” He nods, looking over at your dazzling eyes. “No, no, keep going.” You urge him, overcome with adoration. Miguel smiles at the floor, shaking his head. “I can listen to you talk all day, honestly.” He looks off into the office still smiling bashfully, away from your revering gaze. “D’aw, don’t be so shy, I love listening to your voice. It’s so soothing, Mig.”

“You’re… stealing my lines.” A chuckle rumbles in his chest while you taunt him with a giggle of your own. In an effort to quiet you and from flustering him further, he envelopes you with his arms, you reaching for his neck simultaneously, and you both meet in the middle with a kiss so sweet, it could develop diabetes. With your lips locked, he grabs your thigh and swings it over his hips, his soft stomach taut against yours. You both smile against each other’s lips, soft laughs in tune with the rain the hits the against walls outside.

Little by little, Miguel’s small chuckles turn into soft groans, his breath becoming labored. His hands venture up under your top, fingers ghosting the skin above the waistband of your skirt. You taste of… cherry lip gloss. His favorite taste, and in the past couple of weeks, he’s grown addicted to it. As a matter of fact, he’s become so addicted that he tends to bite and pull at your bottom lip, a gesture that never failed to leave you weak in the knees.

The hungry tug of your lip evoked a small whine from your throat, unleashing something in Miguel. Carefully, he laid you on the couch, your bodies entangling in languid unison with your tongues. The feeling of all of Miguel’s weight on you set a flame off within you, his length pressing along your dampened heat each time he dug his hips. You wanted it, and bad. Needed it like your life depended on it, but your conscious was screaming at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t ignore it.

“M-mig, w-wait.” You manage to breathe out, the heart between your legs unable to agree with the brain in your head. You hated stopping where things were headed, but you had reason.

Miguel’s head shot up from your neck where it was planting hickies on. “Are you okay? You wanna stop?” He’s already sitting up, removing himself from your legs, “Mama, I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked, want me to take you home? If you want to, I can take you-“ Miguel was so worried, he’d rather die than you feel taken advantage of. “Miguel! It’s okay, I’m fine!” You reassure him softly, sitting up as well to keep him seated. “Trust me, I wanted this, too. It’s not you at all. I just…” you grab his hand, thinking of your next words. Your shoulders droop from what you’re about to say. Miguel looks at you with a soft expression, ready to be here for you in any way.

“Look, we both know we shouldn’t even be here, and not just in this office, I mean being together period. And what worries me the most is not even the fact that we could get caught, but the possibility that maybe you’ll…” Miguel motions for eye contact when he sees you retreating to the floor. “Mamita, tell me, please. Dime que quieres. Nothing you say can upset me or change the way I think of you. Nothing.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m only in this for the wrong reasons.” Miguel’s brows furrow in confusion. How could he possibly think you’re using him? “Sweetie, why would I…” And it clicked just as fast as he began speaking. “Oh. Oh.” Miguel seemed to be going deep into thought. You were scared that maybe you had said something wrong.

“Miguel, please understand that I care about you so so so much, and because I do, I don’t want us to be intimate with each other until the school year is completely over.” You’d thought things through since becoming romantic with Miguel, and the thought that If y’all had sex, there would’ve been the risks of people finding out, you losing your eligibility for a degree that you were one exam away from obtaining, or worse, Miguel losing his job as professor and probably being blacklisted for the rest of his life. A very small part of it was also that you didn’t want your score on his exam to be affected in any which way. There was simply too many downsides.

He looks back up at you, not a trace of judgment nor anger on his face. “Mama, you don’t have to explain yourself. The ball is in your field. Whatever you want or need, I’m right there with you. Don’t ever feel bad for what you want, okay?” Your lips curl in relief, and you nod slowly. He brings his hand to your face, allowing you to lean into his touch. “And to be honest, I couldn’t agree more. But even after classes end, even then our speed is still up to you. I’m not ready to take things further until you are.”

How lucky am I to have someone like him? I’m not entirely sure who’s up there or who to thank exactly, but oh my goodness, thank you for giving me this perfect man sitting before me.

“You mean it? I mean, you’re not disappointed or anything?” Miguel shakes his head. “Not even for a second.” Filled with joy, and almost knocking him over, you embrace him.

“We could just stay in here and chat. Would you like that?” He speaks softly against your hair. “I would love that.”

<3

Miguel and you lay on the couch (which fits you just fine, but Miguel’s feet were borderline hanging off the end), Miguel the big spoon, and you the little one. Your head lays against the decorative pillow while he props his on his hand.

“Did you always wanted to be a teacher?” Your gaze falls softly on the wall across from you, your eyes traveling along the diplomas.

“Well, when I was little, I did. I loved science and there was this one teacher I had… she was the best. Wanted to be just like her. But…” Miguel breathes out. You can feel his stomach tense up against your back, prompting you to turn your head towards him. “Y’know… um… I didn’t always teach.”

Miguel would go on to tell you how the past five years has looked for him. He began with a rather heavy start; a freak accident in his work as a geneticist. He’d then recount his days as a hero, proceeding to show you his long-retired claws. You listened intently, with an open mind, following along to his story of how he got involved with the multiverse, and what that term entails. He explained how the world was connected to other worlds; a prodigious tree of universes. It was how he lost his daughter. He revealed the tragic story to you finally, after withholding it that first night he told you about her in the school library. He recollected a few more memories that would eventually lead to his decision to hang up his hat as Spider-Man, finding refuge in becoming a science professor; an old dream he had abandoned so many years ago.

“And since then, I’ve been… okay. Better than before, for sure. I’m satisfied here, truly.” You say there, processing everything he had shared with you. “I know that was a lot, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad that I could share this with you.” You nod, trying to think of what to say because silence just wouldn’t suffice, not for you. “I…” you began, your voice low and soft, “And are you happy?”

Miguel is taken aback by the question. Even after every he’s said…the man just got done telling you he has fangs and red pupils and that he traveled across dimensions for a living, and this is your first question? If he’s happy? He told you a story that could possibly have the fbi sent to his door with just one call, but you’re more interested in his wellbeing? He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you.

Miguel lets out a sharp breath; a chuckle, as his eyes narrow at you. “You’re unreal, you know that?” Your lips reflect his small smile, “What?! I wanna know, after everything, are you happy in life?” You repeat the question with utmost genuineness in your tone.

With the answer as obvious to him as the formulas he taught in his class, Miguel simply leans in, hand on the back of your head, and kisses you, then pulling back by just an inch, he speaks softly,

“Now that you’re here, I am.”

A/n: I hope y’all enjoyed it <3 Shoutout to @pomakori for sending this photo in, I absolutely loved it and had to include it in this chapter cuz it’s so them coded !!!

(Like ❓❓ this is so them‼️ n u can’t change my mind‼️)

Thank you so much for reading <3 I’m a lil worried about how long it might be, so sorry if I yapped too much on this one 🫶 I just love n care abt him sm, ur honor🥹

Tags<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi i @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @ce3stvu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

Miguel, when I CATCH YOU 😭😭

tengo tu foto

part two

part one here

pairing: photographer! fem reader x miguel o’hara

contents: more angst 💀

synopsis: the wedding day arrives but some new information comes to light

author’s note: included miguel’s pov since i kinda did leave things vague. thank y’all for the sweet comments & reblogs on the first part 🫶🏼

word count: 7.1k (…)

An imposter.

He was reminded of that fact every day, waking up in bed sheets that didn't belong to him next to a woman who he was sure wouldn't stay with him if she knew the truth. He was reminded of the fact when he got up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Past all the similarities, even he could tell that he was a subpar replacement. But he'd be damned if he didn't at least make an attempt to try to perfect this persona.

His very atoms would defy the possibility of being in this room if it weren't for the bracelet that adorned his wrist. Warnings from his assistant echoed throughout his mind, the hologram appearing every day to alert him of the danger that continued with every single millisecond that passed. The instability of the universe and all the other things that he usually tuned out by the third minute before he shooed her away.

How long did he need to fake this for this place to finally start to feel like home?

He was a jagged piece in this puzzle, forcibly trying to push himself in to fit. Forcibly forging his way into this universe as if that would make him be a part of it. Forcing himself into a family that wasn't originally meant for him to enjoy. But he wouldn't stop until his puzzle piece eventually got damaged from how hard he was trying or until the puzzle itself would fall apart at the seams.

Late nights spent reviewing a digital case file, going through every minute detail of this man's life. What time he got up to use the bathroom at work, how many times, what kind of toothpaste he used. Anything and everything that he needed to become the perfect image of this Miguel O'Hara. He'd even spent nights working on his inflection when he spoke, every inch of him molded into the perfect image.

Was this all worth it? Putting this amount of work into the image of having a perfect life while simultaneously having that nagging worry in the back of his mind that it could just crumble into pieces? Doing all this with no regard towards what type of potential consequences this could bring?

The logical part of himself knew the answer clear as day—no. The instability of the universe was carefully woven by a thin line, and even just moving a speck of dust an inch where it didn't belong was enough to destroy the equilibrium. His selfishness could cost this universe grave consequences, consequences that could very well signify the end of this timeline. It was all about probability and educated estimates, though.

Then again, he had to remind himself that if he wasn't meant to do this then the opportunity wouldn't have appeared to him in a silver platter. He was reviewing some old case files at his office in HQ, monitoring a Morbius variant that stumbled into the wrong universe. Typical Friday evening activity. He had to will himself not to fall asleep standing up, gulping half of his body weight in coffee. His attention was pried away from the monitors when he heard an alarm go off.

One of his variants had died.

He itched to check the file, his responsibility to the Society at the backend of his mind in that moment. Just for a couple seconds. Morbius was sleeping, anyways. Not like he'd wake up in the couple seconds that he looked at the file. He opened up the summary of that Miguel's universe, the digitalized video on screen showing his variant getting shot. One of the more avoidable deaths, if he had to offer his opinion on it. Truly. All the gunmen were asking for was his wallet and valuables.

Not that he had any time to linger on the thought. He needed to get back to checking up on Morbius as soon as possible. Clicking on the details from the universe, he went every connection that his variant had. Pretty much the same that he did, a crappy relationship with his mother and an even shittier relationship with his 'father.' The only thing that did differ, was that this Miguel had managed to find some sort of family with his daughter. One of the things he'd found himself longing for, but would never be selfish to go after.

Much like any other personal relationship.

Leave the case alone.

It was a case that altered his judgement. He knew better than anyone to get involved in cases that would prove to be too personal. Technically there was nothing to address, considering that his variant wasn't anything special. It wasn't in his timeline to become a Spider-Man, ever. It was like just another simple civilian had died. He should treat it as such. Remove his personal feelings from this. Not interact. He could do that. He'd given so much for the Society already.

He didn't give himself the chance to think twice before entering the coordinates into his gizmo, tapping the teleportation button quickly before he thought better of it.

It had all been so simple. Almost like this was his calling. He'd managed to get to the crime scene before the authorities showed up, pocketing his variant's personal belongings as if they were his own.  As far as he was concerned, there was no actual proof of this corpse being Miguel O'Hara. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn't. What would he even say to explain himself if the police were to show up? That this was all some sort of twisted fever dream? No. He needed to seize this opportunity.

He snuck around the streets of Nueva York, trying not to get caught carrying a body around. While he knew that the police wasn't exactly the brightest, even they wouldn't be able to look past this suspicious behavior. He needed to dispose the body somewhere it wouldn't be easily found. Last thing he needed was having the police come over to his house and find him standing there. But where? All the options in his brain sounded so cliché when he went over them.

Underground? As dumb as the police dogs were, he knew that even they would be able to identify the smell of rotting flesh.

Frame it as a suicide? No. The idiot had gotten himself shot in the chest trying to be a hero.

The Hudson? As far fetched as the idea seemed to be, it seemed to be the only logical answer. Maybe the fish would eat him alive and he wouldn't have to worry about this resurfacing in the future. Wishful thinking, he knew. But at least he was certain that it would take a couple years for this to get to light.

As comfortable as Miguel was in this universe, he made a point to go back to his universe when Gabriella and Xina weren't around. Just to see how it was doing. A part of him had expected it to fall apart at the seams without having Spider-Man arrived, but it seemed just the same. It was almost like he'd never left. Though, he wasn't sure why he'd thought that. Throughout his time as Spider-Man, he was constantly hearing retorts about how he failed to compare to the original Peter Parker that passed away. That he would never be able to carry the mantle.

To be completely honest, the idea of romance wasn't exactly one he was completely interested in when he first arrived. Being Spider-Man back in his universe proved time and time again that love just wasn't something that intertwined nicely with his routine. From the impending danger that they would constantly have to face to the long hours that he would spend on patrol. But there was no role of Spider-Man here for him to fulfill. Peter Parker was still swinging around in the streets, monitoring the streets.

His life was.. unfulfilling when he wasn't with Gabriella. Which happened to be the eight dreadful hours that he was stuck at Alchemax. "Hey, do you want to go on a date?" He'd read enough about Xina in Miguel's file to know that they were close friends, figuring this request wouldn't be too awkward. "What happened to that relationship you were in?" She asked, focusing on screwing in one of the bolts in the machine she was toying with. Relationship?

The only semblance of a relationship that Miguel saw from his variant was that photograph he'd tossed a couple weeks back. Overall, nothing that he seemed too important. While it seemed like a fun fling from the couple scenes he'd seen, it wouldn't go anywhere serious. "We broke up, our relationship became stale," he was surprised by how easy the lie had slipped out. Better than telling her that his variant had left you without a word before he took his place. Xina gave him a warning look, letting out a small sigh.

"Look, Miguel. You're one of the closest friends I have here and I'd rather not jeopardize it over some fleeting thing," Xina told him, setting down the screwdriver she had in hand. "It doesn't have to be a fleeting thing, I swear. Just give me a chance," he told her, handing her the next tool that she needed. He enjoyed spending time with her like this. It was simple. She knew when he needed to be alone and didn't prod for any extra conversation, a sense of silent understanding between the two. "Okay. One date."

"Don't worry, I get it. Just tell me when you plan on staying late at work and we can plan around it," she gave him the patience throughout countless missed date that he'd never received from his previous partners. Not only that, but Xina had managed to fit so perfectly in his little family, He could see the happiness in Gabriella's eyes when the two of them stood at the stands during her soccer matches, cheering louder than the other parents. He could see himself doing this for the long term. That one date led to them getting engaged a couple years later.

The wedding planning had been something he'd left up to Gabriella and Xina. Considering that if it was up to him, he would've preferred to just have an array of grey, black, and white. He accompanied her to a couple of the events, such as getting her dress fitted or picking out the wedding cake and food arrangements. Anything that would make this process less stressful for her. He could've sworn that he saw her falling asleep in the bathroom for five minutes before she went back to searching for flower arrangements.

Miguel knew he should've come up with an excuse when he finally clicked on your LinkedIn profile, recognizing your photo to the one he'd thrown all those years ago. Tell Xina that he didn't think the reviews were that good. That your reputation was complete garbage, even if he couldn't confirm that if she asked for some kind of evidence. But a part of him was curious enough to go through with it. You looked.. very average from your profile. Nothing too interesting on your social media.

Just a couple photos from a couple shoots you'd done and a couple selfies—nothing too captivating. And yet, you had this universe's version of himself wrapped around your finger. Pictures of the two of you took up the majority of the gallery on his old phone, with a picture of Gabriella here and there. He wanted to know why. But after sessions of advanced research, from going through the college you enrolled in to checking the video footage from a couple dates that you'd gone with this Miguel, he couldn't find anything.

He couldn't see himself making the same effort that this Miguel had made. At least not for someone he deemed so plain. Someone who clearly had no concept of time, either. He checked the time on his watch, watching each passing second that you weren't in the room. A full minute had passed until you stepped in the room, seemingly out of breath. If he had to guess by the way that your chest was heaving anyways. He could see that small flicker of recognition in your gaze, not that he could reciprocate it even if he wanted to.

Gross. He could see the bread crumbs you'd hastily tried to wipe off before stepping foot into the room, a couple lingering by the corners of your mouth. Maybe he was looking too hard into this. Xina didn't seem to notice anything and neither did Gabriella. Was he purposely looking for reasons to dislike you? To get some kind of validation that he was right in not even bothering to try to keep the facade going with you? No, that couldn't be the issue. He was treating you the same way that he would treat anyone else. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

You tried to be discreet, he could tell at least that much. But your face completely betrayed the façade that you were trying to paint. The lingering glances combined with the tinge of anger and disbelief were painted across your face every time you looked at him. He could see that you were desperate to get some kind of recognition, that you hadn't just imagined the events prior to the accident. He wouldn't give in to it, though. His duty wasn't to reassure a stranger, it was to keep Gabriella and his fiancée happy.

"You have me confused with someone else." That was not on the list of things he thought you'd say. A part of him had expected you to grovel at his feet, to beg for some kind of explanation. He could see the mask of indifference threatening to slip with every second that he spent in the room, strangely wanting to test out just how long you would keep it up. "I'm sorry, seeing so many faces has made me lose track," he gave you a tight lipped smile, unable to help himself from making a petty remark.

Your lips twitched, almost like that fake smile you'd plastered was seconds away from melting away. You quickly schooled your expression back to normal, though. Impressive. You seemed determined not to let him know that he affected you. He almost had to admire you for that. He left the room without another word, following behind Xina and Gabriella. Surely, she would make the decision to pick out someone else after those weird displays you'd shown throughout the meeting. Or at least, he could only hope so.

"Well, she seemed nice," Xina told him when the three had made their way out of the building, her arm wrapped around his own. He held Gabriella's hand tightly, making sure that she was keeping pace up with them. "You didn't find her weird or anything like that?" Miguel asked her, an accusatory tone to his voice as he spoke. He was ready to explain how he'd come to that conclusion but Xina simply just looked at him, her brows furrowed.

"Do you know her or something? You seem very determined to find a reason to dislike her."

"No, I don't know her. All I'm saying is that she showed up late and when she did show up, she showed up with crumbs all over her shirt. And she made these weird comments," Miguel pointed out every single one of his complaints, opening the door for his two ladies when they arrived at the restaurant.

"Just give her a chance, Miguel. Her portfolio's not all that bad," Xina whispered as a hostess came over to greet them. She sounded exasperated. He couldn't blame her though, not when she'd spent these last few couple weeks going from place to place to sort out the last couple details for the ceremony. He shouldn't have been causing her more stress, he knew that. But yet.. he wanted to reassure her that they didn't have to stick with last resorts.

"You know I'd get another photographer, mamita. The best in the country if that's what you wanted," Miguel pulled her chair back, doing the same for Gabriella before going over to take a seat across from them. He was starting to sound irrational, pulling at any strings he could find. He wanted this less than you did, if that was somehow possible.

The conversation didn't go much further than that considering that Xina had started talking to Gabriella, asking how many of her friends had confirmed to go. Conversation about how the food was. Everything other than the meeting at the photography studio. Miguel didn’t want to risk pissing her off, eating his food and offering his insight on a couple topics that he knew of.

The first thing that you did upon getting back home was finally taking off that necklace, the weight of it suddenly becoming too much to bear. The one thing that differed from your plans was that you hadn't buried in the back of your cabinets, you ended up tossing it in the garbage disposal. The sounds of metal grinding echoed throughout your apartment, a couple pieces falling onto the sink. As if even the necklace was sticking to those last semblances of hope.

You really needed to get over him by now. Finding stupid metaphors in getting rid of a necklace wasn't doing you any favors.

Soon after that came removing the clothes from the back of your closet, throwing them in a box. You didn't spare a second to think about the sentimental value that each of these articles held, because you knew that if you did, you'd end up regretting your decision and you'd just end up hanging them back up again. The clothes themselves only took up about half the box, the other half was full of mementos that he'd gotten for you throughout the relationship. The Polaroid camera that ended up breaking after four uses.

A stuffed shark he'd gotten for you during a trip to the aquarium. Ticket stubs to a movie the two of you spent a majority of making out for. Notes that he'd written to you, describing everything that he couldn't bring himself to say. Anything and everything that served as a bitter reminder of what used to be. They were just material items, you knew that. But as you stood in front of the garbage dumpster, attempting not to gag at the rancid smell, a rush of memories came. You just needed to throw this away. Start getting rid of him from your life bits by bits.

You just had to see him one more time, in a couple months before he left your life once more. You hadn't talked to him since that day, not that he bothered to reach out anyways. You kept your conversations strictly reserved for Xina, going to her for some last minute confirmations and ideas that struck you at the middle of the night. Just one afternoon of having to see him. Not even a full day, just a couple hours. It couldn't be that hard, right?

You'd set up about 15 different alarms for the day of the wedding shoot, having already dozed through the first eight. You really wish you would've told Xina you just couldn't do the shoot, return her deposit. The last thing that you wanted to see was the man you loved getting married to someone else, looking at her the same way that he used to do to you. If not, even more adoringly. With a warmth that he only seemed to reserve for her and her alone. But you figured it wouldn't professional to cancel two hours before you had to show up.

With that thought in mind, you reluctantly got yourself out of bed and into the shower. The cold water offered a nice distraction, your focus on freezing your ass off instead of the ceremony. Why couldn't he have given you the basic decency of some closure? You scrubbed your body wash into your skin, almost hoping that if you scrubbed enough that the memories wouldn't be there anymore. That this would just be a normal wedding you're doing a shoot for. Why did he get to be happy after doing you so wrong?

After condemning you to a lifetime of missing his company. Scrub. For giving you that little slice of domesticity and understanding before ripping it away without giving you a chance to fight for it. Scrub. Scrub. You weren't sure when the warm tears streaking down your face started to mix in with the cold stream of the shower. It hurt. It hurt crying over someone who obviously didn't care. It hurt to still be in love with him. To even think about him. To not be able to hate him no matter how much you wanted to. At least that would be better than this meaningless longing.

You were jogging down the street to catch up to the subway, otherwise you'd have to wait about an hour for the others to come by before you landed on your butt. "What the-" You were cut off, looking over at the tree that mysteriously appeared right in front of you. That wasn't there before, was it? It didn't even look like one of the trees situated in Central Park. You looked around to see if anyone had noticed the sudden abnormality, but you were only met with cold indifference instead.

You were running late. The last thing you needed was for Miguel to think you were unreliable after the first encounter at your office. But.. your curiosity was peaked. You stepped closer to the tree, tentatively reaching out for it. Before your fingertips could even graze the surface of the bark, the tree glitched into a variation of different colors before turning into something else completely. A mailing box. There was no way that no one could've missed that, right?

And yet again, you weren't really sure why you were expecting a different reaction than the one you'd gotten earlier. You resumed jogging down the street, almost tripping over your camera equipment when you made your way down the stairs to the subway. Please. Please. Please. You were silently begging with a train, hoping that it wouldn't leave just yet. Your footsteps pounded against the concrete as you made the final stretch over to the train, a stark comparison to the others leisurely walking while scrolling through their phone.

"Train C is now departing," the automated voice called out, the doors starting to shut. You quickly ran over, knocking on the doors before they had the chance to shut completely. You gave the conductor your best pleading look when they turned to glare at you, seeing their resolve crumble within just a couple seconds. You stepped back, almost expecting for the train to take off but surprisingly, the doors opened. You stepped inside, getting your Metro card out from your pocket.

"Thank you," you whispered over to the conductor, tapping your card against the reader. Well, at least you still had enough money in your card for the ride.  "Don't let it happen again," they bit back, their tone almost guaranteeing that you would indeed try not to let shapeshifting trees distract you next time.

You took a seat at one of the available seats in the near back, taking a couple seconds to catch your breath after nearly running for a block. A couple people came in shortly after you, muttering their own apologies to the driver before sitting down on the remaining seats available. The train pulled out of the station, starting to make its designated route down the train tracks.

You tried not to think about one of the conversations you'd had with Miguel—a talk about what a wedding would look like between the two of you.

"You see yourself getting married with me?" You asked him, your fingers gently running through his hair. Piojitos, as he'd called them. Miguel closed his eyes, completely in a state of bliss as he leaned against your stomach. "Well, yeah. I thought it was pretty obvious by now," he told you, his fingers making small circles on your thigh. You felt a small shiver crawl up your spine at the sensation of his nails.

"It's not obvious until I see the ring."

"Touché. But yes, I do see myself getting married with you. Coming home to you, spending my afternoons with you and Gabriella."

"What would be your ideal wedding?"

He let out a small hum, considering the question as his movements on your thigh halted for a moment. "Well, I've already had my version of what I thought was my ideal wedding with Dana. We had this grand venue with a majority of her friends and a couple of my co-workers. And I still wasn't happy by the end of it. I loved her, obviously, but it still felt like a mistake."

"Anyways, this is all just a long way to say that I don't really care about the venue or what type of wedding it is, as long as it's with you," he finished up, his fingers resuming their movements on your bare thigh. "For the record, I also think that my ideal wedding would just to have you involved in it."

You scrolled through your phone as the train started to move, your camera equipment tucked away under your seat. The news from the day popped up on your screen and you weren't sure if it was the boredom that inclined you to click on it or if it was just a gut feeling telling you to do so. Either way, you did. You were met with the reports of the stock market, a couple robberies and kidnappings. The usual stuff. You got to the bottom of the news article, certain that your eyes were deceiving you.

Dead man found in the Hudson River—more on page 3.

The image shown underneath showed a corpse of a rotting man, flies sticking to the holes on his skin. It couldn't be him. But even so, you recognized that grey sweater that he'd worn more often than not during your dates. The grey sweater he lent you when you were cold coming back home from the park. It didn't make sense. Then again, nothing made sense. Trees were starting to appear places that they shouldn't be. Articles about your ex boyfriend being dead were being published. You pinched your arm in an attempt to wake up from this cruel dream.

Instead of getting awakened into some sort of fantasy land of your current reality, you were only left to stare at the nail indents on your arm. You saw him, you know you did. Miguel had the same name and everything. The same appearance, with a couple minor changes. But you couldn't deny who it was in that photograph. You were starting to drive yourself mad with every thought that ran in your head, almost missing the stop you had to get off on. How would you be able to face this Miguel after that article?

Well, it’s not like you had another option now.

Half of your interns had shown up by the time you got there, most of them busy at work with setting up the photo booth. Well, finishing with setting it up. You wouldn't be surprised if they showed up just an hour ahead of time just to maximize the time they had to impress you. You set down the coffees you'd gotten for them on one of the tables, watching as they all scrambled to get a cup. You couldn't exactly judge them if their pay was anything of what you had to endure. They took sips from their cups, all while simultaneously trying to arrange a low-lighting environment per Miguel's request.

You looked from a distance as a white limousine pulled up to the park, Xina's white dress trailing behind her as she walked. A man that you only recognized by pictures, Gabriel, stepped out of the car and walked over to help her with the train. Miguel walked next to Xina, their hands intertwined as they made their way into the venue. Gabriella walked over to you, taking a seat on one of the available chairs with her father's phone in her hand.

"I thought you might've stopped the wedding. Went up there like in the novelas and announced your true love for him," she noted, not even bothering to greet you first. Direct, just like her father. You took a seat next to her, letting out a small chuckle.

"Should you be watching novelas at this age?"

"They're very educational. Though I don't get how why the women get done so dirty and then continue to go back," one of the common issues you'd noted as well. There was one of a woman getting her dog ran over and she still married the bastard.

"Foolish notions of love. And it makes for good television," you gave a small shrug, looking over at the parking lot as more cars started to pull up. "But no, I wasn't planning on stopping your father's wedding. He deserves the chance to be happy."

Even if you were unsure that it was him. You couldn't back up any of the theories you had in mind, only being able to rationalize them with your gut instinct. And though you weren't a researcher like Miguel was, even you knew that wasn't enough to substantiate your claims. "Even if you're not happy?" Gabriella spoke up after a while, her brown eyes boring into your own. You hesitated on answering, your voice wavering as you spoke, "Yeah, even if I'm not happy. He deserves that much."

The image was still burned into the back of your mind, the striking similarity between the man that was just found and the one standing in front of you with a look of impatience. "What seems to the problem? Just take the picture, please," he grunted out after a couple more seconds, your finger hovering above the button. The flash of the camera followed after, a smile taking over the original look of irritation. It wasn't him, it couldn't be. It couldn't be that man from the article. Though the more that you thought about it, the more that the details lined up.

You'd tried to convince yourself that it was the years that had changed his demeanor, his mannerisms—along with everything that had originally attracted you to him. This version seemed to attempt to try to be like him, and while he succeeded for the most part, it just wasn't the same. You were certain Gabriella felt the same way. What other reason would there have been for her coming to you? She was seeking the same kind of reassurance that you were that this wasn't all just a fever dream.

But even so, what exactly could you do in this situation? Confronting him about it would do no good. He'd probably end up denying it and twisting a story to make you sound deranged—which wouldn't be that hard to do, admittedly. You couldn't go to the police either. They'd disregarded your concerns completely when you went through the whole ordeal of trying to file a missing persons report a couple years back and they'd probably end up doing it again.

You clicked on the button, working almost robotically. You'd already garnered enough attention earlier, not only from Miguel but from the interns that you'd brought to help you with managing the photo booth. Just click the button and get out of here. Just get through the rest of this afternoon without making a scene. You needed any good reviews you could get, given that less and less people actually required the need for a photographer. "Alright, all done," you announced after clicking the button for what seemed to be fifty times, getting almost angle known to you.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second," Miguel's voice took you out of your current task, looking up to see him practically looming over you. You looked around to see if this was a conversation that involved Xina. Which it wasn't. "Sure, give me a few just to finish with this," you found yourself purposely taking longer to finish adjusting the settings of the camera before walking over to the secluded spot he'd been standing in.

The tension in the air felt palpable, your mind running at a thousand miles per minute. He couldn't tell what you'd been thinking. You were basically hiding your face behind that camera. And it's not like he knew you well enough to know your mannerisms. You tried to assure yourself of these facts as you followed him to a secluded area in the back of the venue. The two of you stood in silence until he cleared his throat.

"You know," It wasn't an accusation, but rather a statement. The way he'd said it made it sound like he was telling you that the sky was blue. A simple fact, a universally accepted truth. "Your poker face isn't as good as you think it is. Even I could tell that."

He was eerily calm, his arms folded across his chest before he gestured you to speak. Giving you the opportunity to ask any questions that you had in mind. It wasn't that you didn't have any. Thousands of them were currently running through your mind. But you were too overwhelmed by the situation to be able to actually format them into something. The one that you managed to get out was a simple, "Why?"

"Why?" he drawled out, his pointer finger tapping at his chin in thought. His tone wasn't mocking but rather.. like he was contemplating this answer as well.

The truth was, he could get into the whole spiel about how his childhood was just one disaster after the next, from growing up with a mother that turned a blind eye to the way that his father acted to getting his face slammed in a locker for attempting to correct one of his upperclassmen's work. "Because I'm selfish, nothing more to it."

But how could he not be?

He couldn't recall a time where he hadn't been living with a void inside of him, without feeling like he was missing something. He started off young, molding himself into the perfect child to get a semblance of his mother's approval. It was stupid, being jealous of other students in his class. Hearing their parents tell them how proud they were over some mediocre award that he easily got a couple years prior. But even so, the jealousy within him burned deep in his veins. He did everything right, didn't he?

He'd given up every aspect of being a child, spending his time reading through high school calculus books in the third grade instead of going out to ride on his bike the same way that others his age did. But that still wasn't enough to please. He wasn't enough to please his mother. Much less his father. Then came saving the city of New York under a mantle that he hadn't asked for. He couldn't please them either. A majority of the articles that came out focused on the negative aspects of his fights, how Peter Parker wouldn't have made that mistake. As if he didn't know that already.

And then Gabriella just had to look at him like was capable of holding the earth up with his pointer finger, look at him with such admiration. It was a look he'd grown used to seeing from people over the years—from those in panic in the streets of Nueva York and the colleagues that he'd once tried to fit in with. But this, it just felt completely different. He didn't even need to try to impress Gabriella. Just being her father and being there was enough to please her.

It was the one time where he wasn't seeking out for some kind of self fulfillment. It was the one time he felt fulfilled with just being himself. Of knowing that it was enough. Of knowing that he was able to be loved. Even if his brain had imprinted the fact he couldn't be after hearing it from people he looked up to. People he desperately sought acceptance from.

You'd expected something more to it, your brows furrowing in confusion. "You impersonated a version of yourself just because you're selfish?" You asked incredulously, disbelief evident in your voice. While he'd acted nothing like your Miguel, if the one thing that they had in common was that they wouldn't do something this reckless without having some other reason for it.

"I saw an opportunity and I took it. I'm not going to apologize for that," his voice came out cold, detached. Almost like a practiced response. You looked at him in disbelief, any argument dying in your throat. Not that it mattered. You'd doubt he care.

"If it counts for anything-"

"It doesn't," you cut him off before he could finish, his gaze narrowing as he looked over at you. Now he looked at you like you were the one in the wrong. The sheer audacity this man had was enough to make you debate on doing a wedding shoot ever again.

Regardless, he decided to continue anyways, "He loved you. Though I can't really understand why, he did. I'm sorry that you didn't get the closure that you needed so long ago."

"I thought you had nothing to apologize for. With your selfishness and all."

"I'm not apologizing for what I did. I'm apologizing for the fact that you just happened to get caught in the crossfire."

The ground shook with an overwhelming intensity, a loud buzzing noise reverberating throughout the venue. "The sky's falling!" Almost like it was a stolen segment from Chicken Little, many of the guests start to scream that out as they started to run away. Sure enough, the sky itself to be defying every rule of gravity as it started to collapse. Was there any merit to running away? Just for that bit of reassurance of knowing that some kind of last attempt was made before an inevitable end?

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Miguel taking Gabriella in her arms as he ran away with her. Xina almost looked.. disappointed that he hadn't bothered to include her before she fell into step with him, or tried to. She was practically sprinting down the grass to try to catch up with his long strides, her chest heaving from the exhilaration. You figured you might as well run too, if only to fall into sync with what the others were doing. What did running do when the world was essentially falling apart though.

"No, no!" Miguel's voice boomed through the field, making you turn around to face him. He looked helpless as Gabriella faded into dust, his hands reaching out for something that he couldn't just quite grasp. Her wails for help echoed through the air, begging for salvation. "Dad!"

It was the only emotion you'd seen from this Miguel, the agony in his features a sharp contrast to the usual look of indifference. He looked like his body was suddenly too heavy, his legs collapsing underneath him as he fell to his knees. He buried his head in his hands, his body shaking from the silent tears he was trying to desperately hide away from the rest of the guests. His selfishness had gotten him up to this point, you realized. You wondered if he would do it all over again or if he regretted the decision.

Portals opened out of thin area, multiple masked people appearing from them with a Spider-Man costume on. Well, if you had to guess. While some were the Spider-Man costumes that you'd grown up reading about in comics and seeing in memoriam documentaries about, a lot of them just seemed to be a variation of the original. They all talked amongst themselves, analyzing the environment before eventually deciding that it would be a failed attempt to try to save it. At least, that's what you managed to get from their hushed whispers.

The one who had a bathrobe lazily wrapped around his suit walked over to Miguel, placing his hand on his shoulder. Miguel tensed underneath the touch, looking up at the man with an expression that could only be described as pure agony. "I ruined it all, it's all my fault," you heard Miguel cry out, holding onto the other man like a lifeline. He couldn't get himself to stand up, no matter how much the other man attempted to do so. "Come on, Miguel, we need to go. We can't do anything else for this universe," the other man told him, rubbing his shoulder.

Was the cost of his happiness really worth all this? The time that he'd spent pretending just for it to end up shriveling away like a rotten fruit? As much as he wanted to feel guilty for essentially being the end of this universe, he couldn't. The time that he spent with Gabriella were some of the best moments that he'd ever had. Maybe he could try again. Find another variant of her and take her to his universe instead. To avoid these situations. If he pretended once, he could do it again. The thought didn't settle right with him, though.

She wasn't something to be easily replaced, much like he'd done with her father. The child had grown accustomed to having him around but she didn't love him with the same intensity that she'd loved her father. Almost like she subconsciously knew. He got up to his feet, wiping the tears streaming down his face with the back of his hand. Miguel looked over from his peripheral, your expression completely calm. Like you'd accepted the situation rather than fearing it. Maybe putting the effort into pretending to be with you wouldn't have been as bad as he thought. Maybe.

Alongside the bitter feeling of acceptance came the feelings of regret. You didn't regret loving Miguel with the intensity that you'd had. You didn't regret anything that had occurred throughout the relationship. What you did regret, however, was holding on to the foolish hope that he'd come back after these years. That the two of you could live a simple life together. You'd ended up with nothing, disappearing into dust like you were nothing but just another meaningless speck to count off.

With the amount of yelling you'd heard from those affected, you would've imagined that the process would be much more painful than it actually was. It was if one second you could feel your legs and the next, you suddenly lost sensation of the limbs. Before you were suddenly enveloped by darkness, the last thing that you saw was Miguel entering a portal to escape this crumbling universe without so much as a glance back. Leaving the same way he'd done all those years ago.

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THE BREAKING POINT

🔞 Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: strangers to close friends to lovers, college au, slow burn, fluff, angst, and older brother's academic rival. (more content warnings will be put up for every chapter released.)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when rivalries go too far, Miguel takes it to another level of extreme. he goes after you, his academic rival’s little sister, not knowing the mess and (beautiful) chaos he's getting into.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 (𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 🧪⚠️)

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | my love mine all mine

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | coming soon

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 | coming soon

Comment if you want to be tagged in this series! (it'll make things easier for me 😭)

PLEASE

Intertwining Souls with Miguel O'Hara

Miguel O'Hara x gn!Reader

A/N: I saw this DELICIOUS ASS GIF AND GOT INSPIRED (thanks @mrsoharaa for putting it on my dash HEHE🥰) VERY IMPORTANT VISUAL for the following thot. 😏

CW: SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI

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Imagine lying in bed naked with Miguel. No expectations. No hidden intentions for it to lead to anything stronger than simply laying on top of him, completely bare against his chest as you exchange loving, lingering, lazy kisses. Soft groans breathing into a passionate exhale he captures against your mouth as his tongue addictively weaves with yours. Nothing but cozy thick blankets and this plush bed and this tender man you're melting against.

Enjoying the way his muscles wrap around you. Relishing the fact you're safe in the strength of this giant of a man. The outline of his body and every ridge, scar, dip, and callous of his skin imprinting onto yours as if it's the first, despite countless meetings before.

Letting the heat from each other's bodies consume each other as you create a cozy, sensual, intimate space from the affectionate act that's taking place.

The world quiet and desolate outside completely separate from the one you're currently lost in. Morning still hours away as your souls tangle with one another in the deep nighttime.

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🖤

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

It's early to think about this, but should I participate in kinktober? I've been thinking about it…

If yes, then I should start planning it asap