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#hurt peter
stilesdemonbaby · 2 months
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Pouring Out by Green
Summary:
Stiles saves Peter's life from a curse.
Tags: Alternate Universe, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Peter Hale, Hurt/Comfort, they've been pining, and they lived happily ever after
Published: 2023-09-14
Words: 1,305
Chapters: 1/1
Rating: T
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marvelous-writer · 1 year
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I promise I’ll be here to keep you safe and sound
Summary: Happy wakes up in the middle of the night to Peter crying out in his sleep due to a bad nightmare and he rushes to his side to comfort him. Whumptober 
Day 6: Screams From Across the Hall
@whumptober @whumptober-archive
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,955
Genre: whump, hurt/comfort, fluff
Link to read on AO3: 
A strangled scream fills the air, casing Happy’s eyes to snap open as he shoots up in bed, his heart hammering away in his chest. He sits there for a moment, unsure if it had been a dream, until he hears it again.
It’s Peter.
Happy wastes no time in getting out of bed, mindful of not waking May up, who is sound asleep beside him. He forgoes his slippers and bathrobe as he rushes out of his and May’s bedroom and down the hallway to Peter’s room as the kid lets out another horrible, strangled scream.
“I’m coming, Peter I’m coming.” He mumbles to himself, his brows pulled together in concern as he swings the bedroom door open.
He squints in the semi-darkness, being partially lit by the moon shining outside, the golden silhouette shining in the room, allowing him to see Peter laying in bed, weakly thrashing his legs around under the tangled covers. Happy walks over cautiously as he debates on what to do. He just can’t reach out to him like he would anyone else. The kid is clearly in a bad dream and he might not be able to fully snap out of it if he woke up and Happy doesn’t want to have any limbs crushed and have that on the kid’s conscience.
“N-No… no…” Peter mumbles in his sleep, his head rolling from side to side.
Happy’s heart clenches at the sight. “Pete,” he calls out. “Peter? You gotta wake up, kid.” He calls out louder.
Peter doesn’t hear him as his brows pull impossibly tighter together, making a distressed sound in his sleep. “No, p-please…” He mumbles, his voice sounding so scared and broken.
Screw it. He doesn’t want Peter to suffer in this nightmare any longer.
Happy reaches out and gently shakes Peter’s shoulder. “Pete, you gotta wake up. It’s just a bad dream. You’re okay.”
At that moment, Peter’s eyes snap open as he gasps. Happy remains where he is, his hand still on Peter’s shoulder.
Peter’s brows are still tightly pulled together as he lays there panting until he sees Happy standing there. He lets out a relieved breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment until he looks back up at him.
“H-Happy?”
“Right here, Pete. You okay? That must have been one hell of a nightmare.” Happy says in a softer tone as he sits on the edge of Peter’s bed.
Peter lets out a shaky, relieved breath as he reaches up and rubs at his face with both hands, clearly shaken up. “Y-Yeah.”
Happy is no stranger to nightmares, especially knowing Tony all these years. He couldn’t count on his hand how many times he’s witnessed his friend in the midst of a horrible nightmare and helping him wake up from it. At first, Tony never opened up about the dreams but after a while, he started to.
It’s unfortunately part of the superhero gig.
“You wanna talk about it?”  He asks as Peter sits up.
An odd, scared look washes over Peter’s face as he silently shakes his head and pulls his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, still clearly shaken up.
“It might help, you know?” Happy lightly offers.
Peter rests his chin on his blanket-covered knees and Happy can see the tears starting to pool in his eyes through the semi-darkness. He shakes his head again as he closes his eyes and buries his head in his arms.
Happy frowns in sympathy as he sits there for a few long moments, unsure of what to do since this is all newish territory for him since marrying May and her and Peter moving in. He’s helped Morgan with her nightmares but that’s different because she’s only five years old and Peter is nineteen.
A muffled sob comes from Peter, who still has his head stuffed in his arms and Happy notices the way he’s shaking and the way his back hitches from crying. Happy reaches out and places a hand on Peter’s back, starting to rub what he hopes to be soothing circles in between his shoulders.
“I-It’s m-my f-fault,” Peter mumbles into his arms.
“What is?”
“E-Everything…” Peter cries, lifting his head up, allowing Happy to see his tear-streaked face in the moonlight. “I-I t-try s-so h-hard b-but a-all I d-do,” a choked sob escapes from his mouth, cutting him off as he shakes his head with his eyes squeezed shut. “A-All I do is s-screw t-things up.”
Happy shakes his head as he continues to rub Peter’s back, hoping it’s helping. “Peter, you don’t screw things up. Things happen in life… and there’s not a thing you can do about it. Being a superhero… it’s a lot. You know I’ve seen it first hand with Tony and now you. This life isn’t an easy one but you do try hard—I see it every single day. You try, Peter. And that’s all you can do. You try to make the world a better place and… I would definitely say that’s what you’re doing—not only as Spider-Man but as Peter Parker too.”
Peter squeezes his eyes shut as he rubs his eyes on his arm, wiping his tears away. He sits there for a few seconds, the room settling in silence.
“But everyone I love always gets hurt because of me…” Peter quietly says, breaking the silence after a few moments.
Happy lets out a small sigh at that. “I wouldnt say it’s because of you, Pete. Sometimes… bad things happen and… as hard as it is… you just can’t do anything about it, superpowers or not,” he says. “Is that what your dream was about?”
Peter wetly sniffs, nodding his head against his arms.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks again, hoping he’ll open up to him with it to get it off his chest.
Peter looks off to the side for a few long seconds, his eyes still moist with unshed tears. He blinks, a few escaping and streaming down his cheeks as he looks at him. “It was about the night the Goblin almost…“ he pauses, closing his eyes. “…almost k-killed, May.” He finishes.
That dream. Happy thinks to himself, remembering Tony mentioning Peter having a terrible nightmare up at the cabin a few weeks ago.
He remains quiet, allowing Peter to continue.
“I-I screwed up and trusted them just like I did with Beck. And it almost got May killed. A-All of you guys could have been, e-especially with my identity being revealed and stuff… it’s all because of me.”
“Strange fixed all of that, remember. No one knows your Spider-Man except for us.” Happy gently says.
“I-I know. B-But it doesn’t erase what h-happened.” Peter says without any heat to it.
Happy nods. “It doesn’t,” He agrees. “But the important thing… is that we’re all okay. May’s okay, just down the hallway, safe and sound. Tony, Pepper and Morgan are up at the cabin, probably sound asleep in bed. Well, I can’t speak for Tony on that part. Knowing him, he’s probably awake right now and down in the lab, sipping at his extra-strength espresso coffee as he works on another big project.” He says with a smile, hoping to cheer Peter up.
Which it does, thankfully as a small laugh escapes from Peter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Probably.” Peter says as he sits up a little more, wetly sniffing again as he wipes his eyes, still looking sad and a tiny bit shaken up.
Happy leans forward slightly so he meet’s Peter’s gaze, giving him a knowing look with a small smile. “Do you want a hug?”
Peter breathes out a wet laugh through his nose. “A hug would be great.” He says but his voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking.
Happy leans forward and wraps his arms around Peter, gently squeezing him as Peter tucks his head into his shoulder, feeling the poor kid shaking in his arms.
“I’ve got you, Pete,�� He soothes as he rubs circles on Peter’s back once again. “I’ve got you.”
After a few minutes, Peter manages to calm down and slowly pulls away from Happy, sniffing.
“Feel better?” Happy asks.
Peter nods. “Y-Yeah, thanks.”
Happy smiles in response as he glances at the clock on the nightstand, reading 3:40 AM.  He looks back at Peter. “I’m going to guess you won’t be able to go back to sleep, so why don’t we go have some hot chocolate and throw a movie on?” He offers.
Peter’s shoulders slump with relief as he nods. “Sure.” He says with a small, grateful smile.
Happy stands up from the edge of the bed and heads towards the bedroom door, followed by Peter and the two of them head down the dark hallway and out into the open space of the apartment.
“Why don’t you put something on while I make the hot chocolate? Whatever you want.” Happy says as he heads towards the kitchen, flipping the center island lights on.
“The Mandalorian?” Peter asks.
Happy chuckles as he smiles with a nod. “Sounds perfect to me.” He says.
One thing he knows very well about Peter, whenever he’s upset or feeling down, the one thing he’ll always be up for is watching anything Star Wars related, especially the Mandalorian. The first thing that he and Peter bonded over was Star Wars, so it makes watching these new Disney+ shows with Peter even more special.
Happy grabs a small pot and starts to warm up the milk on the stove, glancing over his shoulder every couple of minutes to check on Peter as he does. When the milk is all heated up, he adds in the hot chocolate mix and stirs it, dropping in a marshmallow in each before he walks the two steaming mugs over to the living room.
“Extra chocolatey, just the way you like it.” Happy says as he hands Peter his.
Peter smiles as he takes it in his hands. “Thanks.”
“It’s a little chilly in here, do you want a blanket?” Happy offers, knowing how easy Peter gets cold with the more spidery traits he picked up after getting his powers.
“Sure.”
Happy nods as he puts his mug down on the coffee table, on a coaster, might he add, like May always scolds him on not doing, as he grabs the sherpa blanket he keeps on the back of the couch, especially for Peter in these situations, before he drapes it across the kid’s shoulders.
“Thanks.” Peter says with a grateful smile.
When they’re both settled down, hot chocolate in hand, they start the show up at the beginning of season one. A peaceful silence settles between them as they watch the lone Mandalorian on the screen, making his way across the galaxy, searching for his bounty.
“Thank you for this, Happy. I’m sorry I woke you up though.” Peter says, breaking the silence.
Happy looks over at him, smiling. “It’s alright. I know how rough nightmares can be. Just know that you can always come to me and talk about it, doesn’t matter what time it is, day or night. Okay?”
Peter nods, smiling. “Okay.”
They both turn back to the TV at the action unfolding across the screen. It doesn’t take much longer before Peter is finished with his hot chocolate and sound asleep with his head resting against Happy’s shoulder, out like a light. Happy hopes the poor kid will be able to have a peaceful sleep without anymore nightmares. If any do, Happy will be right here to help Peter wake up from it again and help him feel safe and sound.
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kollectorsrus · 11 months
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denimbex1986 · 3 months
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'...“It’s fun playing bad, but actually he’s not,” the actor says, smiling as he reflects on his character, Crowley. “He’s a villain with a heart. The amount of really evil things he does are vanishingly small.”
...As it always has, “Good Omens” dissects the view of good and evil as absolutes, showing viewers that they are not as separate as we were led to believe growing up. Aziraphale and Crowley’s long-standing union is proof of this. The show also urges people to look at what defines our own humanity. For Tennant — who opted to wear a T-shirt emblazoned with the words “Leave trans kids alone you absolute freaks” during a photocall for Season 2 — these themes are more important now than ever before.
“In this society that we’re currently living in, where polarization seems ever more present, fierce and difficult to navigate. Negotiation feels like a dirty word at times,” he says, earnestly. “This is a show about negotiation. Two extremes finding common ground and making their world a better place through it. Making life easier, kinder and better. If that’s the sort of super objective of the show, then I can’t think of anything more timely, relevant or apt for the rather fractious times we’re living in.”
“Good Omens” is back by popular demand for another season. How does it feel?
It’s lovely. Whenever you send something out into the world, you never quite know how it will land. Especially with this, because it was this beloved book that existed, and that creates an extra tension that you might break some dreams. But it really exploded. I guess we were helped by the fact that we had Neil Gaiman with us, so you couldn’t really quibble too much with the decisions that were being made. The reception was, and continues to be, overwhelming.
Now that you’re no longer bound by the original material that people did, perhaps, feel a sense of ownership over, does the new content for Season 2 come with a sense of freedom for you? This is uncharted territory, of sorts.
That’s an interesting point. I didn’t know the book when I got the script. It was only after that I discovered the worlds of passion that this book had incited. Because I came to it that way, perhaps it was easier. I found liberation from that, to an extent. For me, it was always a character that existed in a script. At first, I didn’t have that extra baggage of expectation, but I acquired it in the run-up to Season 1 being released… the sense that suddenly we were carrying a ming vase across a minefield.
In Season 2, we still have Neil and we also have some of the ideas that he and Terry had discussed. During the filming of the first one, Neil would drop little hints about the notions they had for a prospective sequel, the title of which would have been “668: The Neighbour of the Beast,” which is a pretty solid gag to base a book around. Indeed there were elements like Gabriel and the Angels, who don’t feature in the book, that were going to feature in a sequel. They were brought forward into Season 1. So, even in the new episodes, we’re not entirely leaving behind the Terry Pratchett-ness of it all.
It’s great to see yourself and Michael Sheen reunited on screen as these characters. Fans will have also watched you pair up for Season 3 of “Staged.” You’re quite the dynamic duo. What do you think is the magic ingredient that makes the two of you such a good match?
It’s a slightly alchemical thing. We knew each other in passing before, but not well. We were in a film together [“Bright Young Things,” 1993] but we’d never shared a scene. It was a bit of a roll of the dice when we turned up at the read-through for “Good Omens.” I think a lot comes from the writing, as we were both given some pretty juicy material to work with. Those characters are beloved for a reason because there’s something magical about them and the way they complete each other. Also, I think we’re quite similar actors in the way we like to work and how we bounce off each other.
Does the shorthand and trust the two of you have built up now enable you to take more risks on-screen?
Yes, probably. I suppose the more you know someone, the more you trust someone. You don’t have to worry about how an idea might be received and you can help each other out with a more honest opinion than might be the case if you were, you know, dancing around each other’s nervous egos. Enjoying being in someone’s orbit and company is a positive experience. It makes going to work feel pleasant, productive, and creative. The more creative you can be, the better the work is. I don’t think it’s necessarily a given that an off-screen relationship will feed into an on-screen one in a positive or negative way. You can play some very intimate moments with someone you barely know. Acting is a peculiar little contract, in that respect. But it’s disproportionately pleasurable going to work when it’s with a mate.
Fans have long discussed the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship. In Season 2, we see several of the characters debate whether the two are an item, prompting them to look at their union and decipher what it is. How would you describe their relationship?
They are utterly co-dependent. There’s no one else having the experience that they are having and they’ve only got each other to empathize with. It’s a very specific set of circumstances they’ve been dealt. In this season, we see them way back at the creation of everything. They’ve known each other a long time and they’ve had to rely on each other more and more. They can’t really exist one without the other and are bound together through eternity. Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms, I think that’s fair to say.
Yet fans are trying to do just that. Do you view it as beyond romantic or any other labels, in the sense that it’s an eternal force?
It’s lovely [that fans discuss it] but you think, be careful what you wish for. If you’re willing for a relationship to go in a certain way or for characters to end up in some sort of utopian future, then the story is over. Remember what happened to “Moonlighting,” that’s all I’m saying! [Laughs]
Your father-in-law, Peter Davison, and your son, Ty Tennant, play biblical father-and-son duo Job and Ennon in Episode 2. In a Tumblr Q&A, Neil Gaiman said that he didn’t know who Ty’s family was when he cast him. When did you become aware that Ty had auditioned?
I don’t know how that happened. I do a bunch of self-tapes with Ty, but I don’t think I did this one with him because I was out of town filming “Good Omens.” He certainly wasn’t cast before we started shooting. There were two moments during filming where Neil bowled up to me and said, “Guess, who we’ve cast?” Ty definitely auditioned and, as I understand it, they would tell me, he was the best. I certainly imagine he could only possibly have been the best person for the job. He is really good in it, so I don’t doubt that’s true. And then my father-in-law showed up, as well, which was another delicious treat. In the same episode and the same family! It was pretty weird. I have worked with both of them on other projects, but never altogether.
There’s a “Doctor Who” cameo, of sorts, in Episode 5, when Aziraphale uses a rare annual about the series as a bartering tool. In reality, you’ll be reprising your Time Lord role on screen later this year in three special episodes to mark the 60th anniversary. Did you always feel you’d return to “Doctor Who” at some point?
There’s a precedent for people who have been in the series to return for a multi-doctor show, which is lovely. I did it myself for the 50th anniversary in 2013, and I had a wonderful time with Matt [Smith]. Then, to have John Hurt with us, as well, was a little treat. But I certainly would never have imagined that I’d be back in “Doctor Who” full-time, as it were, and sort of back doing the same job I did all those years ago. It was like being given this delightful, surprise present. Russell T Davies was back as showrunner, Catherine Tate [former on-screen companion] was back, and it was sort of like the last decade and a half hadn’t happened.
Going forward, Ncuti Gatwa will be taking over as the new Doctor. Have you given him any advice while passing the baton?
Oh God, what a force of nature. I’ve caught a little bit of him at work and it’s pretty exciting. I mean, what advice would you give someone? You can see Ncuti has so much talent and energy. He’s so inspired and charismatic. The thing about something like this is: it’s the peripherals, it’s not the job. It’s the other stuff that comes with it, that I didn’t see coming. It’s a show that has so much focus and enthusiasm on it. It’s not like Ncuti hasn’t been in a massive Netflix series [“Sex Education,”] but “Doctor Who” is on a slightly different level. It’s cross-generational, international, and has so much history, that it feels like it belongs to everyone.
To be at the center of the show is wonderful and humbling, but also a bit overwhelming and terrifying. It doesn’t come without some difficulties, such as the immediate loss of anonymity. It takes a bit of getting used to if that’s not been your life up to that point. I was very lucky that when I joined, Billie Piper [who portrayed on-screen companion, Rose] was still there. She’d lived in a glare of publicity since she was 14, so she was a great guide for how to live life under that kind of scrutiny. I owe a degree of sanity to Billie.
Your characters are revered by a few different fandoms. Sci-fi fandoms are especially passionate and loyal. What is it like being on the end of that? I imagine it’s a lot to hold.
Yes, certainly. Having been a fan of “Doctor Who” since I was a tiny kid, you’re aware of how much it means because you’re aware of how much it meant to you. My now father-in-law [who portrayed Doctor Who in the 80s] is someone I used to draw in comic strips when I was a kid. That’s quite peculiar! It’s a difficult balance because on one end, you have to protect your own space, and there aren’t really any lessons in that. That does take a bit of trial and error, to an extent, and it’s something that you’re sometimes having to do quite publicly. But, it is an honor and a privilege, without a doubt. As you’ve said, it means so much to people and you want to be worthy of that. You have to acknowledge that and be careful with it. Some days that’s tough, if you’re not in the mood.
I know you’re returning to the stage later this year to portray Macbeth. You’ve previously voiced the role for BBC Sounds, but how are you feeling about taking on the character in the theater?
I’m really excited about it. It’s been a while since I’ve done Shakespeare. It’s very thrilling but equally — and this analogy probably doesn’t stretch — it’s like when someone prepares for an Olympic event. It does feel like a bit of a mountain and, yeah, you’re daring to set yourself up against some fairly worthy competition from down the years. That’s both the challenge and the horror of doing these types of things. We’ve got a great director, Max Webster, who recently did “Life of Pi.” He’s full of big ideas. It’s going to be exciting, thrilling, and a little bit scary. I’m just going to take a deep breath.
Before we part ways, let’s discuss the future of “Good Omens.” Gaiman has said that he already has ideas for Season 3, should it happen. If you were to do another season, is there anyone in particular you’d love to work with next time around or anything specific you’d like to see happen for Crowley?
Oh, Neil Gaiman knows exactly where he wants to take it. If you’re working with people like Gaiman, I wouldn’t try to tamper with that creative void. Were he to ask my opinion, that would be a different thing, but I can’t imagine he would. He’s known these characters longer than me and what’s interesting is what he does with them. That’s the bit that I’m desperate to know. I do know where Crowley might end up next, but it would be very wrong if I told you.
[At this point, Tennant picks up a pencil and starts writing on a hotel pad of paper.]
I thought you were going to write it down for me then. Perhaps like a clandestine meeting on a bench in St James’ Park, but instead you’d write the information down and slide it across the table…
I should have done! I was drawing a line, which obviously, psychologically, I was thinking, “Say no more. You’re too tempted to reveal a secret!” It was my subconscious going “Shut the fuck up!”
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expelliarmus · 3 months
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ravenlostsnippets · 2 years
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“Where…where are we?” Steve squinted.
Tony’s brow furrowed. “I haven’t got a clue -”
“HELLO!”
Everyone startled, turning around. 
And there - in the middle of this bleak dark openness with nothing but grainy floating up sand - was Peter.
A different Peter - not the one huddled next to Tony - stumbling around and falling. He looked panicked and afraid, face twisted in a sickening look. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks streaked.
“HELP ME!” He screamed, falling to his knees and crying out. His voice was hoarse as if he had been crying for hours. “Mr - Mr Stark?”
Tony choked, stepping back as their Peter stood stock still.
“Hello? Where - where is -” Peter choked, hacking suddenly - coughing over himself and falling into a fit. “I can’t…I can’t -” he started to cry, choking and holding his chest. “I - HELP ME PLEASE!”
Steve flinched, hating to hear a child - because that’s what Peter was - cry. He noticed the other Avengers wincing and stumbling.
“What is this?” Bucky sounded hoarse himself. “What is this?”
Strange was shaking. “It…It looks like…when Peter was snapped, he…he didn’t just go away like the rest of us -”
“Please help me,” the other Peter was shaking like a leaf. “Please help me. I - I can’t - Mr. Stark? Hello?”
Steve glanced at Tony who looked close to breaking down.
“I remember,” their Peter gasped out suddenly. “I - I was by myself I was - oh god -” he whimpered and crumpled, kneeling just this his other self - hunched over and starting to shake, sobs ripping out of his throat like icicles. Tony was there almost instantly, walking over and pulling the kid into a hug
(thingy where when peter got snapped he was transported to this endless landscape where he couldn’t breathe and is on his own for five years unlike everyone else)
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writtenbymoonflower · 3 months
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Unpretty
You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader
cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.
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The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm. 
Emotionally, however, you felt confused. 
You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth. 
He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged. 
Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position. 
“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.
“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.
“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry. 
“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare. 
“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest. 
“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once. 
“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder. 
“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside. 
“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule. 
“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately. 
“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation. 
“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows. 
“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him. 
“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it. 
“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose. 
“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head. 
“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth. 
“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat. 
“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her. 
“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion. 
“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.
“But-” You started, but cut yourself off. 
“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”
“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting. 
“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?” 
You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion. 
“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes. 
“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart. 
“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?” 
“Mhm?” You muffled.
“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 
“Okay. I will.” 
“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.” 
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Pleading Through The Bathroom Door
--genre + trope: hurt/comfort, college!au, angst, slight fluff.
--pairing: college!tasm!peter parker x college!f!reader
--word count: 1.9k
--summary: after ignoring Peter's suggestion not to go out tonight, you run into a situation that makes you wish you heard him out.
--warnings: alcohol, language, throwing up, violence, creepy drunk guy, descriptions of a minor injury, reader wears makeup, angst, a little bit of fluff at the end, peter just wants to help:((.
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--gif credits: @marlosrph
As you make your way back home through the brisk air of New York City in the fall, you pray to whoever was up there that Peter won’t be home when you get there. You loved him so much, but the thought of him seeing you in this ruffled state made you want to turn around and head back to the dinghy club you came from. Even though that was the last place you wanted to be, coming face-to-face with your boyfriend seemed worse. 
He begged you not to go out tonight, and you ignored him. One of your friends, Mariah, was having a hard time with her now ex-boyfriend, and what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t help her take her mind off of things? 
The night started well, after a few tears shed by your friend, she was ready to party. It was her night to call the shots, you were just the moral support in the background. Because it was just the two of you, she never left your sight, especially in the state she was in. Her body was moving so carelessly. With her messy dancing and a drink in her hand, the last thing on her mind was the shitty breakup she endured. You were happy for her, for letting go and enjoying herself. 
As the night progressed, her body language was clearly betraying her words. She told you over and over again that she was fine, and that she swore she was okay. Just a few moments after those slurring sentences, she was pushing her way through the crowd to hunch over and empty her stomach into the nearest trash can. Making your way next to her, you bunch her hair into a ponytail and rub her back as she continues to hurl. She turns her face to look at you, tears spilling out of her eyes, “I’m so sor-sorry, (Y/N).”
“Hey babe,” slowly lifting her back up, “It’s okay, it happens to the best of us. C’mon, let’s go home.” 
Her apartment was not even three blocks away, so you decided to walk there. She seemed to have sobered up quite a bit after she threw up, and the water from the corner market you stopped by helped as well. The walk home was uneventful, you two were mostly silent but picked up conversation when you were getting closer to her apartment. As you make it to the front steps, you watch her walk in and close the door behind her. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth, knowing that she made it home safe was enough to lift a slight weight off your shoulders.
That moment of peace is quickly stolen from you when you realize you have to get yourself home safe too. It’s only a few blocks away, so it should be fine. Moving your feet towards the direction of your apartment, you suddenly feel a presence behind you. Picking up the pace and turning a corner, you realize that there is someone behind you. A taller man, definitely bigger than you, makes direct eye contact with you as you look over your shoulder, an ugly grin rising to his face. Your entire body went rigid as you picked up the pace. Reaching a hand towards your purse, you pull out your phone, hoping to call Peter. What you’re met with is a black screen, it’s completely dead. Placing your phone back into your purse, you start to make unnecessary turns, hoping that the man tailing behind you was just some sick coincidence, you hoped that he was just headed home as well. 
The footsteps behind you become louder, and before you can comprehend the distance between you and him, a calloused hand grabs your arm and pulls you to the ground. Stalking his way towards you, you quickly get back on your feet and walk backward as quickly as you can. “C’mon sugar,” his words slurring, “come with me back to my place…you’ll have a good time, I promise.” He’s evidently wasted, so wasted to the point where he’s swaying where he stands. He reaches out to you again, trying to grab you by the arm again to drag you to God knows where. This was all you needed for you to reach for the pepper spray Peter got you a few months ago. At the moment, it seemed silly. Your boyfriend, Spider-Man, was giving you an obnoxious-colored can of pepper spray to defend yourself. Now standing in front of a drunken idiot about to lunge at you, it didn’t seem silly anymore. 
He was more than close enough for you to spray the liquid at him, and as soon as you did, he hunched over, doubling in pain as he shouted profanities towards you. You took this as your opportunity to run as fast as you could, and you did. The overwhelming fear of being handled again coursing through your veins remained as a motivation to keep moving.
 You’re still a little drunk as the feeling of paranoia heightens every time you look back behind you. One more glance over your shoulder was all it took when a piece of uneven pavement caught your toe, and you came face to face with the concrete once again. There’s a burning pain on the palms of your hands, along with a pulsing feeling spreading its way from the open wound on your knee. 
Trying to recollect how you got into this situation in the first place plagues your mind and keeps you occupied until you’re met with the front door of your apartment. As you make your way up the stairs, the possibility of Peter being home ignites a wave of anxiety through your bones. There’s a slight hesitation when you come face to face with your front door, you take a deep breath in before you grab your keys and unlock the door. 
Peering in, there are no signs of Peter, a breath of relief and a wave of sadness overcome you. A part of you wishes he was here to help you, his mere presence was always enough to make the worries of the day leave your system. 
Turning on the harsh light of the bathroom, your eyes strain at the sudden burst of cool light. You try not to make eye contact with yourself in the mirror as you reach down for the medical supplies box under the sink. After you have placed everything on the small bathroom counter, you set yourself down on the lid of the toilet. With shaky hands, you open the container and pick out some things you need to fix yourself. As you reach for the box, you notice a discoloration on your arm, roughly the same size as the man’s hand. 
As if right on cue, you hear the god-awful sound of the creaky window open, followed by a soft thud of Peter hopping down to the floor. “Fuck,” you curse to yourself as you run to the door and lock it quickly. 
Walking towards the kitchen, Peter can see the light in the bathroom is on, signifying that you made it home before him. “Hey baby, you’re back early,” he reaches for the handle to find that it’s locked. His brows furrowed in confusion.
You clear your throat, “Ye-yeah, Mariah wasn’t feeling too good, so we left early.” You shake your head in defeat, even after clearing your throat, your voice still shaking. 
Peter’s senses picked up on your unease and he reached for the handle for the second time, twisting it this time, “You alright, (Y/N)?”
A spark of panic, he knows something’s up. You ditch patching yourself up, messily putting the supplies back into the box. There’s no grace while you put everything away, you just need to clean up as fast as possible. While reaching for the gauze, you knock over the bottle of rubbing alcohol, “Shit, no I-I’m good. I’ll be out in a second!”
After hearing more clatter, Peter starts to worry, “Bug? Open the door.”
You’re overwhelmed, understandably, after everything that happened tonight along with the pressure to come outside, you break down in tears. “Peter, I swear I’m fine,” a broken sob escaping your shaking form, “I got it.”
“Please open the door, baby,” he pleads, in the softest voice imaginable. 
Finally giving in, you unlock the door and pull it open. The first thing Peter sees is the state you’re in. You’re hunched over on the floor on all fours, trying to clean up the mess you made. The makeup he watched you apply, is now smeared across your face as fat tears run down your cheeks. The second thing he notices is the bruise forming on your arm, a silent worry lost in his throat. He very slowly makes his way to you, not wanting to panic you any further, and gently lifts you from the floor, grabbing the supplies as well. Guiding you to sit on the bed, he places himself crouched in front of you, still in his suit. Not saying a word. 
Your breath is labored, and your shoulders are slumped. Not daring to make eye contact with him. Taking a look at your knees first, he grabs a cloth to start cleaning the angry raw skin. What scares you the most is that Peter is not speaking. Breaking the silence, you mumble, “I’m sorry.” 
Peter’s head snaps up to look at your face, still looking down at your hands, “Hey…What are you apologizing for?”
“You told me not to go out,” you take a wavering inhale, “and then I ignored you. Then this happened!” Your voice raises, and you’re getting upset with yourself. 
“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me right now, but whatever happened tonight was not your fault. I only told you not to go because it’s way too cold outside to go out, bug. And never ever am I going to play the ‘I told you so game’ with you.”
You didn’t know what else to say, or even if you were able to say anything. What you knew was that you needed to be around Peter. Before another second passes, you lunge into Peter’s arms, wrapping your own around his neck. The sheer force of your hug would have sent both of you to the ground, but Peter balanced himself before you ever touched the ground. 
You both stay there for a while, eventually, Peter’s hand reaches up to rub up and down on your back, calming you into a relaxed state. “Can we go shower,” you ask, “I have that gross club smell on me.”
A relieved laugh leaves Peter, “Of course we can, smelly.”
You playfully hit his shoulder, as he lifts the both of you off the ground. As you make your way to the same bathroom you were crying in just a few minutes prior, you know that everything’s going to be alright, as long as Peter is by your side.  
You fell asleep that night to the warm comforter surrounding your figure, along with Peter’s heartbeat fluttering in your ears. The thoughts surrounding tonight could wait, at least until morning. 
--author's note: hi guys!! needed a little hurt/comfort because the weather is getting chilly, and it's getting darker outside:I...im currently working on the asks you guys have been sending me, and they're smutty as hell. you guys are horny asf, DAMN. don't forget to support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!! my asks/inobx is open, so send me anything!!! ok, bye ily<33.
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iwasbored777 · 4 months
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The fact that all Gwen knows about her variants in other universes is that they're dead is so sad. Like imagine you want to know what happens to you in other dimensions and it turns out that wherever you look you mean nothing, you're so unimportant that there's no bigger role for you other than dying.
And I've seen you guys pointing this out, where she's looking at what looks like her own death and even if it's not this is not just a "love interest" Gwen, this is a superhero who is supposed to mean something, but she doesn't. She's only here to die. And so far this (our) Gwen doesn't have any reason to believe that she won't die very soon just like other Gwens.
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I think that one of the main reasons why she's rejecting Miles is not just her trauma and all shit she's been through and the fear of dying like other Gwens when they're involved with Spider-Man, but also because if they start something and she dies this will hurt him too.
It's easy to say "canon events aren't true she shouldn't believe in that" but this isn't just a regular risk, this is her life we're talking about.
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deadliestgalaxy · 11 months
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SPOILERS FOR GOTG VOL. 3 - DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET!
I have a feeling that everyone (who calls themselves fans) that didn't get the meaning of the ending in GOTG Vol. 3 has never read a single comic of them or is only a fan of some characters/relationships. Many complaints I've seen are about the end and Gamora and Peter’s romance, which sounds kind of childish. You don't need to agree with me, but I’d like to elaborate on that.
James Gunn's writing is always about the detail of things and he is not afraid to do something “bad” if it is the best for the STORYTELLING. This is what most of these people don't get: the most important part of these movies is the story they are telling. The characters help the movie tell the story, it's their story after all — but there's no protagonist or greater good that puts them above the narrative.
(This is different from Gamora’s death in IW btw. It was not the only way they had to make the story flow; they just wanted to “humanize” Thanos and by that, they chose to kill her character. It was an action ADDED not CRUCIAL to the story.)
Vol. 3 is about found-family and growing up; finishing cycles. They will always be family, as we will always be part of their story (that’s why we understand Groot now). However, life chapters end just like in real books, and these Guardians as a TEAM “chapter” has ended for them and for us.
This is very common in the comics. Most times they are all separated, doing solo missions, until something goes wrong and they reunite again. They never stop being friends, why would it be different in the movie universe?
But the end suggests they are not family anymore.
Did we see the same film? No, it doesn't. We can see that in James’ subtle writing: the way they all still respect each other, their understanding of one another, and how they all would die for themselves if needed. That won't change just because they are not physically together — just like when you finish school you won't ignore your best friends, even if you create new relationships (which you will).
But Gamora is not part of the family anymore.
Well, if you see it this way, I can't change your mind. What I can say is that the story IMPLIES that she still is, in fact. And the number one clue is that she (in 2 days) understands Groot. Remember, we also understand him because the fans are now part of the Guardians family — so understanding him and being family are correlated.
Anyhow, I know this is not enough for most people, so hear me out: Gamora’s arc is about respect and healing. She starts the movie skeptical about working with the guardians — she just wants the money— when in reality, she acts like this because she is AFRAID and feels PRESSURED to be around her “old” family.
Imagine: you died but then another version of you comes back without knowing anything of your present life. People will expect you to act in a certain way that maybe you started to act after you met them; they will expect you to like certain things you don't know of; people will EXPECT you to attend to their needs. It is a lot to swallow at once. You are afraid because you don't know them, you don't think you deserve all this love and commitment out of nowhere. So you run away. You run away to find things on your own, to grow out of this pressure you feel and discover the whole universe of possibilities you have ahead.
That's what Gamora did. But then, the mission went south and now she is stuck with her “old” team. The film shows us her character exploring the ship, listening to music... trying to understand them. At one point she even says to Rocket “You must be a very loyal pet for them to do all this for you” (or something similar). This is her way of putting into words how she visualizes the current scenario she was put in. Slowly she recognizes that they are a family, and by the way they act she finally gets how and why she also must have loved them in the past.
She goes from “I don't give a fuck”, not open to them, afraid and pressured to “I bet we were fun”, understanding and respecting them, even fighting for their family to survive.
(If she still didn't give a fuck she wouldn't have fought for them and with them when she could have just run away again.)
But she has already created new relations, so she goes back to those for now. It is what she is familiar with in this timeline. Does that mean she will never contact the guardians ever again? NO. Remember: James’s writing is about DETAILS, nuance. She is open to them again, and the final part of the movie shows this to us, especially her last interaction with Groot, Peter, and Nebula being friendly.
Oh, but Peter and Gamora will never be a couple again, their romance ended when she went back to the Ravengers.
… Again, if you see it this way I can’t change your mind. What I can confirm is that she doesn’t close herself to the team — especially to Peter — in the end.
When she says “I bet we were fun” it's the first time she acknowledges their former relationship without distancing herself from it. She could've said “I bet you were fun” or “I bet she was fun”, but instead she prefers to include herself with “we”. She pauses before letting go of Nowhere, stopping before entering her ship — what moves her forward is Nebula, who can see her sister’s changed attitude but still encourages her to take a step forward and go explore the galaxy, because she knows Gamora is not mature and ready yet for those feelings; just like she wasn't ready to be openly sentimental when Gamora joined the Guardians back in 2014.
And Peter is also not ready. Just like Gamora needs to find herself again and discover who she is, Peter needs too. He is lost without her after IW, we can see it during Holiday Special and in the beginning of Vol. 3 when he passes out because of alcohol abuse. Both don't know who they are in this new reality — and they will only find out with time. Time heals and reveals.
In the end, Peter doesn't have the same thought as in the begging: he doesn't want her to be who he once knew, he wants her as she is, this new version whom he still loves so much and wants to know more of. Although he wishes she could stay, he knows that she has her own time and while she learns about herself he will go do the same.
So yes, they’re not explicitly together as a couple in the final scene — neither they kiss nor make out, whatever you believe a relationship is made of — but they’ve changed and are open to one another. The last scene does not appear to me as an “I’ll never see you again”, but as a “Goodbye, see you soon”.
(Aside from all the small bits we had through the movie of a developing relationship between them; my favorite one being when Peter activates the auto-destruction code and Gamora smiles at him.)
Besides, you can't force anyone to fall in love in 48 hours!!
Yes, I also have some minor complaints about the story, but I can recognize that — with all the turbulence the characters and the production faced in the last few years — it was a satisfying end with a limited amount of time to a badass trilogy. The end is definitive but also open to future possibilities for all our favorite characters in their universe — some we might never see and it will only be to our imagination.
Again, you don't need to agree with me, but I had to do this, or else I would implode with thoughts. Thank you if read up here! My ask box is open if you want to talk more <3
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tardxsblues · 11 months
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One question, and you will answer. How long was the Doctor trapped inside the confession dial? We think four and a half billion years. He could have left anytime he wanted, he just had to say what he knew. The dial would have released him.
Before the Flood || Face the Raven || Hell Bent
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stilesdemonbaby · 2 months
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Dead to rights by apathyinreverie
Summary:
Finally, the door in front of him opens, and Stiles doesn’t even give the man who appears the time to say anything, before he is already blurting out a demand of, "I'm looking for Magnus Bane. Does he live here?" The guy in the doorway - tall, stupidly pretty, tattooed from head to toe with black runey-looking shapes - just raises an eyebrow at him, quite likely less than impressed at Stiles deciding to just forgo any sort of social convention that says he should at least introduce himself when showing up at a stranger’s door. “Hm,” the guy finally hums, lips tilting into something of a smirk. "Magnus Lightwood-Bane does."
Tags: Peter knows Magnus, Pre-Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Peter Hale, BAMF Stiles, BAMF Peter Hale, Power Couple Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2021-03-16
Words: 13,188
Chapters: 3/4
Rating: T
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marvelous-writer · 2 years
Link
 
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tmblrfuckingsucksass · 4 months
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Doctor Who - 60 Years All Of Time & Space
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theflowerrooms · 8 months
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To Request • Miguel’s Masterlist • Main Masterlist
Running Red
Miguel O’Hara x spider-person!reader (gender neutral)
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Summary; Miguel was a fair leader and a fair lover, never did he blend the two titles, never had he taken his anger from work on you, until now.
wordcount: 1.8k
Warnings: angst, arguing, Miguel is a bit aggressive, insults, hurt/comfort, very slight ATSV spoilers
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Miguel had three different modes. The silent, brooding kind, seemingly displeased at all moments. That was his default mode, the one most everyone saw, the one most often associated with his name. And then there was his stressed mode, where he would rant, and rant. A loud string of blurred Spanglish that was intelligible to anyone but himself as he paced back and forth anxiously. That wasn’t seen by too many, mostly yourself, Jess and sometimes Peter. Finally, there was the gentle touches that would lead to more, soft smiles and sweet words. Intimate kisses, goosebumps, and whispered ‘I love you’s’. That was reserved for you
This was new, whatever this was. Silent for a while, and then loud venting, eyes glowing scarlet, slight lisping because he was so angry he couldn’t retract his fangs. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand, he was carrying the entire world on his shoulders. But then again, that wasn’t something you could ever fully understand. You’d been by Miguel’s side for nearly all of it, but you’d never been in his place.
“Miguel, baby, please try to calm down-” “No!” He snapped loudly, cutting you off faster than you could process it. That only made it worse. Miguel was a pessimist, and you were a mediator. You’d defended Gwen- and Miles, every chance you could. You didn’t think they were entirely in the wrong.
You reached a hand out to him and he only jerked away from it, that felt like a blow to the chest. He was acting like you were against him, like you were the opposing force and you weren’t, it was stressing you out.
You sighed and chewed your lip. “None of this is Gwen’s fault, you know this.” You pulled your arms closer to body, making yourself seem smaller, but still not backing down from the conversation-turned-argument.
He dragged a palm down his face and turned slightly to look away from you. “I was an idiot. I took a chance on her. I was an idiot for taking a chance on her.” He growled, fingers twitching at his sides.
“You took a chance on all of us- You took a chance on me-” your voice shook slightly and he cut you off quickly. “I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.” He spat, voice laced with venom and resentment.
Your arms dropped to your sides and your lip wobbled. You wanted to yell and fight, you wanted to be angry. But you were only sad, hurt, more insecure than you’d ever been in front of Miguel.
The features of his face, aged with stress, softened just slightly, his tense shoulders sloped as he realized what he’d said, how it affected you.
The image of your partner in front of you blurred as your eyes welled with tears. He had yet to say anything else and you weren’t going to stand there and wait, so you turned on your heel. You wouldn’t let him see you cry.
He watched you walk away and you could feel his eyes on your back. Part of you was grateful he didn’t put up a fight against you walking away but a bigger part of you wished he’d apologized immediately, or begged you to stay there with him and explain that he didn’t really think you’re stupid. He watched you walk away instead. Did he really think you were stupid?
✽-
You had no interest in staying in his universe, and your own universe wasn’t quite an option. That’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor of Mayday’s nursery in Peter’s world. She squished her little head against yours, wild hair tickling your cheeks which were soft from crying. ‘Baby-love. Cures all types of sad.’ Peter had said. You had to admit he wasn’t all that wrong.
“Do you feel like talkin’ yet? Or…” Peter offered, leaning against the doorframe with two cups of coffee in his hands.
You smiled weakly. “Thank you for letting me borrow your baby.” You squeezed Mayday in a gentle hug. He took it as permission to hand you a coffee and sit on the floor with you, which you were entirely fine with.
It was quiet for a bit. You sipped your coffee and pulled your knees to your chest as Peter’s baby clumsily made her way over to him. He stared at you, his eyes kind and inviting. “Peter we’ve known each other for a good while, worked together a ton. Have you ever thought of me as stupid?” Your voice wavered toward the end of the question.
Peter tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that? It’s been an honour to fight alongside you. You’re so intelligent, you’re a wonderful teammate and a wonderful person. You’re far from stupid. I mean- Obviously. Miguel wouldn’t give you that much responsibility if he thought you were stupid.” He laughed softly, but the mood shifted and his demanour had entirely changed. He must've sense of change in your expression when he said Miguel's name. "Did Miguel say something to make you think that? Did he call you stupid?" He looked mad, and although it rose your anxiety, you knew none of it was directed at you.
“He said he wouldn’t have taken a chance on me if he’d known I turned out this way. ‘So stupid’ he said. I’m not sure if he meant taking a chance on me was stupid or I’m stupid but-”
“Either way.” Peter cut you off, finishing your sentence. He shook his head. “He shouldn’t have said that, Miguel doesn’t think you’re stupid.” He scoffed and you only shrugged. “Don’t let what he said make you think that. He doesn’t think you’re stupid- and even if he does, you aren’t. Understand?” He rose his eyebrows and you nodded with a sympathetic smile. While you loved Peter, and valued his opinion, you weren’t worried about what he thought right now. Miguel’s words were replaying in your head.
‘I wouldn’t have if I’d known you would turn out like this, so stupid.’
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
✽-
You’d spend the night at Peter and MJ’s that night, in their world. Alone in their guest bed rather than wrapped safely in Miguel’s arms like you were used to.
You were mostly over it now, having gone over everything in your head again and again, with each word Miguel said repeating in your mind. You’d mentally given him a million excuses, just desperate to be over it so you could forgive him and then everything would be fine.
Of course you had yet to forgive him, and nothing was fine. You weren’t sure if you could sleep in a bed so cold and lonely.
“Amor?” Miguel’s voice startled you and you scrambled, sitting up in the bed. You hadn’t heard or sensed him anywhere nearby. Did Peter let him in? “Can we talk? Please?” He spoke monotone, straight faced. This was the cold, emotionless Miguel that others were used to seeing. For a moment you worried he was still angry with you, that this front was to hide emotions he was feeling because he was about to break up with you- for being so stupid. Though, would he have addressed you that way if that was the case?
You nodded and chewed your lip. “We can talk.” You wanted to return the straight, monotone voice he'd given you, but you stumbled over your words. You wondered if your eyes were still puffy from crying- and that's when you noticed his were too. He’d clearly been crying. You’d never seen Miguel cry before, you were witnessing entirely new parts of him today.
He sat on the side of the bed and rested a large palm on your shin through the blanket. “I am so- I shouldn’t have- I’m so sorry. I do not think you’re stupid.” He kept eye contact with you. It was important to him that you understood how serious this was to him. “I didn’t mean to say it like that. I’m so grateful to have you by my side- and I- you’re not stupid-”
“Miguel- I’m not mad at you, you have so much on your plate, it’s okay-”
“It is not. I should not have said that to you- I didn’t mean to say it like that. I don’t think you’re stupid, I think I have been stupid, I could have prevented all this and I didn’t.” His voice shook. He was showing you insecurity and vulnerability; two things he’d made you feel already. You appreciated what he was doing for you right now and you understood how hard it was for Miguel to give himself to you like this.
You moved to your knees and took his face in your hands, smoothing your thumb over the worry lines between his eyebrows. “It’s not your job to save the world Miguel. I think it’s incredible that you’ve made it your job, but still it doesn’t have to be. You haven’t done anything wrong, and you haven’t been stupid.” You pouted slightly and let him kiss the pout off of you. One kiss releasing all the tension and stress from you both.
You rested your forehead against his and then two of you stayed like that for a while; breathing each other in, basking in the closeness. “You really don’t think I’m stupid?” You asked, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a smirk.
“No, no, lo siento carino, lo siento- te amo, mucho mucho mucho-” He rambled in a tone similar to baby-talk, peppering kisses all over your face until you were giggling and pushing his big head away.
“Te amo! I love you too!” You laughed, leaning against him. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again.” You still had a soft smile on your face, but you were being serious and he knew.
A kiss to the top of your head “Never.” He replied. You hummed, head against his chest and palm against his lean torso.
“Good. Because if you do, I’ll turn evil and start causing problems by tearing holes in all kinds of universes. And Jess and Peter won’t help you stop me because they think I’m cooler than you.” You joked and he fake laughed.
Gently, with faux annoyance, he pushed you away from him. “Is there anything I can do now to persuade you not to do that in the future?” He inquired, leaning toward you.
“Hold me?”
You weren’t doomed to sleep in the cold, desolate bed all on your own anymore. Gifted with Miguel’s arm thrown over your body and holding you tightly, he pressed his nose lightly into your hair and his heart beating against your back. You hoped Peter wouldn’t mind Miguel having a surprise sleepover.
He didn’t mind at all.
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dcartcorner · 6 days
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My only friend was the man in the Moon And even, sometimes, he would go away, too (lost boy, ruth b)
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