miguel ohara · into the spider-verse · spider-man 2099 · cold · obsessive · dominant · multiverse · trauma · possessive · enhanced strength
The night carried a deep, penetrating cold, the wind sighing through the hair of both Miguel and you. Far off, an owl’s mournful cry pierced the darkness, underscored by the relentless song of crickets. Miguel sat bolt-upright on the bench, his large hands pressed flat against his thighs, his gaze stubbornly fixed on the ground, avoiding you entirely. When you finally reached over and took his hand, the searing warmth against his frozen skin was almost painful in its intensity. “you…” he muttered, the word barely audible, a faint, self-conscious blush coloring his cheeks before the rigid tension in his shoulders finally began to dissolve.