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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 10 months

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We talk about how mischaracterized Hobie is - which he is - but I honestly think someone else is characterized REALLY weirdly by fandom

Miguel O'Hara and Misrepresentation of His Rage: a.k.a Miguel has Ken Energy you fools

[this is a breakdown where I examine Miguel's trauma, his relationship with Miles, his role in The Society, and his personality]

I talk a lot of shit about the Hobie tag, but the over-saturation of smut in the Miguel tag is at critical mass.

And like Latino-fetishization aside, I feel like he's not written as a human.

He's written so flat.

I swear ya'll be writing him as the angriest, coldest, most anti-social man on earth. Ya'll be having him rude and avoidant with no friends whatsoever or a romantic soft latin lover and NO IN BETWEEN

which is so funny cause like... I feel like Miguel is Just A Guy

I know they're easy to overlook but I think about moments like these all the time

But I ALWAYS see him written him as friendless, and cold, or constantly irritated and angry but like - I feel like most of the time Miguel is just some dude. Like in a Good Way.

And he's fine with that.

Miguel runs a Society Full of Spider-people, and they're working for him voluntarily. Peter Parkers wouldn't work for someone they didn't think was genuinely, good-likeable, and level-headed.

He compliments Lego-Spider-Man. When Hobie was there he wasn't pissed he was just like 'not in the mood rn ngl'

and Hobie didn't take the piss outta him - because I feel like him and Hobie have a mutal understanding/relaxed relationship. All throughout the movie Hobie isn't talking bad about Miguel in specific - he never says anything about Miguel being annoying or evil - he's always taking about The Society Miguel has made.

Even Hobie - who will openly talk bad about the PM, doesn't really feel the need to diss Miguel's character in specific. Which I find very interesting.

I think this, along with a couple other things shows that the way we view Miguel in fandom is not really how he is, like..when he's not going buckwild insane.

Miguel and His Role as Canon

I could see Miguel taking his role as boss very seriously - the same way he took being a father.

Miguel has assumed the role of 'leader' over these Spider-people. In his eyes, it's his job to lead these people through their canon events to the other side, for the safety of the universe, and for them to become the people fate says they're supposed to be.

Because he made the mistake of 'going against fate'. A lot of the time we say that Miguel's justification is 'because I suffered, you must too'. But in his eyes, it's more like 'I tried to run from who I was supposed to be and it blew up in my face. Please don't make the same mistake - it's not worth it.'

Quiet literally 'Do what you're supposed to do, and things won't fall apart around you.'

And I think that really says a lot about how he feels about his own choices, and his own daughter.

Miguel broke canon to be with his daughter, and because of that, she - and billions of others, died. And Miguel feels directly responsible for that. In his eyes, he killed his daughter and murdered billions of people.

And although he loves his daughter - he sees it as not worth it. He sees taking her father's place as a mistake.

To Miguel, canon events and the pain they cause are much more 'worth it' and 'tolerable', than the pain and guilt of killing an entire universe.

Because with canon events, there is no fault. It's not your fault you couldn't catch Gwen Stacy. It's not that you're not fast enough, it's that it's suppose to happen. It's not your fault.

But in Miguel's case - it was his fault. It wasn't suppose to happen.

That's why Miles sets him off in a way others don't and can't. Because he wasn't supposed to happen.

When things are under control, Miguel is fine. When things aren't, Miguel isn't.

Miguel needs order. He needs canon. Not because he likes it, but because he feels beaten into submission by it. He feels safe in the idea that canon events happen even if you do everything right, because he still feels the guilt of having done something 'wrong'.

That's why he sees letting people die in canon events as 'the right thing'.

It's the trolley problem.

A trolley is hurtling at someone you love, on the other track there are 5 people. Do you let the one you love die, or do you hit the switch and save them - and take the blame for killing five people?

What's the right thing to do? Save your captain father and letting a universe die? Or letting your father die, but the universe will for sure live.

Miguel has already made his choice, even if he didn't know it at the time. By becoming a father, Miguel hit the switch. And he chose his daughter at the expense of a universe. And he regrets that decision. He feels guilt, like he's to blame.

When canon events happen, there's no one to blame. When anomalies happen, there is.

Miles and Miguel

Miles and Miguel have an interesting and unique dynamic with each other, one that I haven't seen anyone mention yet.

When I look at Miles and Miguel, especially in this scene:

I kinda see Miguel and a past version of himself. Miguel trying to stop what he sees - as someone about to make the same mistake he did.

When Miguel met his daughter, he didn't know about it's threat to the multiverse. And although it might be described as the best time in Miguel's life, he regrets it. If he would go back, he would have rather let his daughter live. Fatherless, but at least she would have lived.

Miguel didn't know. But Miles does. And that's what makes Miguel so furious.

Miles is going to go against canon, be with his dad, and threaten the multiverse. And Miguel believes that if Miles does this, billions of people and beings across a universe will die. 100% totality rate, 100% assured.

Miles is in the same position as Miguel once was. Miles has the same choice. To choose the one he loves over canon.

The only difference is Miles knows. He has a chance.

Miguel believes that Miles can spare himself the pain, and the guilt of murdering billions - if he just listened to him.

Miguel is the only Spider-person who has ever killed a Spider-verse. And he doesn't want that for Miles.

Miles being an anomaly was one thing. He was ready to calmly talk about that. But when Miguel sees him going down the same road as he once did, making the same choice even though Miguel is telling him not to - it makes it snap.

Because if Miguel could go back, knowing what he knows - if Miguel could only be in Miles' place - he wouldn't. Like Rio said - Miguel would kill to be in his place.

He sees Miguel like how Rio describes herself, oddly enough. Rio says she'd kill to be in Miles place, and she doesn't understand his 'irresponsible' behavior. But unbeknownst to her - his 'irresponsible' behavior is more heroic than she can understand.

Miguel is just the same. He sees Miles' choice as irresponsible, that he's making all the wrong choices even though people are throwing opportunity at him.

Miles is the only other Spider-person to risk what Miguel risked. And, genuinely believing everyone will die because of this - he's furious at Miles, the same way he's still furious at himself. He loved his daughter, and he knows Miles loves it dad. But having been on the other side of it all, he sees it as not worth it.

Miguel wants to be the only Spider-man who is the way he is. He doesn't want to Miles to do what he did, become what he is. Because he knows theres no coming back from that.

If Miguel could go back and shake himself and scream in his face to leave Gabriella alone, to just leave her dimension alone, he would. But he can't.

So he does it to Miles.

Miguel as a Boss

I don't think Miguel is an outright mean or abrasive person. I feel like outside of Miles, he's fairly calm, albeit a bit stressed. I could see him being really organized and good at time management -

And I can see Miguel being good with people. I don't think he's the kinda boss that'd be like 'Oh, you had a canon event last night? Your girlfriend fell off a building? Yeah, we get that a lot, get over it.'

And if anything - I think he'd want to help the Spider-people when it comes to processing canon events.

Miguel believes that canon events are necessary, not just to the multiverse, but to the development of who Spider-people are 'supposed' to be. So I think he'd set up support systems around HQ to help them process it, and he'd at least be a bit understanding.

I could absolutely see Miguel as the type to ask a teammate "Are you alright?" after something intense, or telling them to sit out. I could see him giving generous leave for Spiders who are going through stuff.

By Jess's response, it seems as if he leaves most of that to her, but I feel like the fact he stops to tell Gwen "Don't worry, kid." shows that he's use to comforting people, or prioritizes putting people at ease.

I mean, what Spider-man doesn't?

Miguel does seem to get along with people (aside from Miles and Gwen when he's scolding her), and it seems like people do like Miguel.

Miguel's Personality

Tbh - I don't think he's nearly as angry as fandom makes him out to be.

He was raising a child. I imagine that for the most part, he's pretty patient.

Like if you call him a name, he's not gonna get pissed. I feel like he's more likely to be like "Haha. Very funny." Or just pinch his nose bridge and be like "You done?"

I mean I know with all the gnashing and clawing and yelling and going apeshit, it can be easy to imagine Miguel as JUST that.

But I also like to imagine that most of the time, he's just like that normal boss as Target.

And a lot of his day is spent doing boring mundane things.

He's not always standing there brooding over videos of him and his dead daughter. He only does that when he's psyching himself up to yell at Miles.

Outside of that, he probably has a lot more things to do, realistically speaking. Organizing missions, checking status reports, looking over intake forms of anomalies, okaying and vetoing different protocols. Approving new technology, taking complaints from members, dealing with Hobie (an extra job in its own right), fixing things MayDay breaks, etc, etc.

And he's completely fine with that. Maybe he even finds calmness in it. When there's order, and routine, and everyone is working together and there's no kinks in the hose per say, he can operate.

Like yeah he's a little irritated and looks like he only slept 4 hours - but he's here and he's going to work with his team and employees, make sure things run smoothly, and make sure everyone gets home safe.

He's gonna try and make the society a nice place to be and make sure people on the team (like Lego) feel appreciated and odd-one-outs like Hobie get to hang and do what they want without much kickback.

The other Spider-people - like Pavi - wouldn't have joined otherwise.

If Pavi had showed up and Miguel was all stern and cold and rude, he probably would've been like 'no thanks my friend'

Miguel knew Peter B. before he lost Gabriella. So he had to become friends with Peter some way. He was putting up with Peter and his humor by choice, and in return Peter must have found Miguel cool enough to hang out with.

I think it's because Miguel is good with people, a lot of different types of people.

He's pretty down to earth, even if he is a work-aholic. He can be fun to chill or hang out with, even if he's a bit of a tight-ass.

Sure his humor may be dry, and his personality tame, but he's just him.

But I can see him as being a guy who you see at the gym routinely and never say hi to but you just nod at each other in silent respect while doing your workouts sometime.

Or the dude at your job you only see at the coffee machine - you know he does other stuff, but you never run into him anywhere else.

Or the dude who'll stop on the street when you ask for the time and lift one earphone before telling you it, then walking away without another word.

DO YOU GET WHAT I MEAN DO YOU GET THAT VIBE Like just Dude He's like a dad but not like a 'Dad vibe' with like sneakers or anything but like 'Dad who comes to PTA meeting but doesn't talk to anybody and quietly leaves when it's over'.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU UNDERSTAND THIS VIBE It's giving Ken.

Anyways stop avoiding Miguel's Kenergy.

#He's just Miguel #no proofread lol #Miguel O'hara #Miles Morales #atsv #Across the Spiderverse #across the spider verse #spiderman #spider man #spiderman 2099 #atsv analysis #marvel

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fairlyang · 5 months

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Let you break my heart again II🕷️

will your friendship be strong enough or will it be easy to crack through?

w/c: 2.9K

pairing: miguel o’hara x f!reader

tags: angst, more heartbreak, no more playboy, typical girl best friend problems, crazy gf, cheating allegations, betrayal, heartbreak, the end

notes: I dragged a lil ass I wanted it done the next day but writer brain </3 FINAL PART !!!!! (My original idea was for mig to only admit his feelings to reader after she got gwen stacy’ed)

part one

Months had passed and this girlfriend actually stuck around. He didn’t get rid of her and he somehow didn’t grow bored of her like he had with the others.

The worst part had to be when they made the three month point and he decided it was finally time for her to meet you.

That day your nerves had grown and you weren’t so sure you’d be able to do it. To pull through and not just burst out crying when you watch as he looks at her with pure love in his eyes.

It looked like his playboy days were over and he was finally ready for a solid relationship.

You barely made it through the night and if it weren’t for Peter’s hugs and MJ’s comforting words when Dana went to touch up her makeup and Miguel went to go change clothes, you would’ve been an absolute goner.

It was getting late and Peter offered to take you home to which you immediately accepted. Miguel then offered to take you after dropping Dana off but you politely declined.

Especially after seeing how wide her eyes got and she was (not so) subtly glaring at you.

Usually girlfriends would hate the girl best friend just because they’re a girl, but in this case Dana is a smart girl, and she had an instant inkling of your feelings towards him.

Even though you’ve remained respectful like you always have been when meeting his girlfriends, she didn’t like that Miguel had a girl best friend.

She kept her mouth shut and pretended she was fine but slowly piecing things together in her head.

So after saying your goodbyes and leaving Miguel’s apartment it didn’t take long for you to break down in the backseat of Peter’s car with an empathetic MJ trying to console you.

It only grew more difficult to hide your true feelings. Especially because Miguel would now bring Dana to group hangouts. Which makes some sense, even though Peter and MJ were just friends when you met them, then grew feelings for one another.

Alas you had no choice but to suck it up.

Three more months passed by and your love for him never faded. He didn’t even treat you that differently either which did end up causing some trouble for him from Dana. She apparently didn’t like how close you guys were, even if you did know each other since you were 14.

She claimed she should be his only best friend and what else could he really ask for.

He told her that you’d always be his best friend and he wasn’t going to toss you out just because she wants to be his only best friend. He can have multiple best friends.

How could he throw away an 8 year long friendship?

He then called her crazy for thinking she can control who he’s friends with.

So she recalled his words right back to him when she randomly ended up befriending his younger half-brother, Gabriel, merrily weeks after that argument.

Miguel wouldn’t ever tell you the specifics of the argument, mainly because in a sense he wanted to protect you. He didn’t want you to feel bad that his girlfriend didn’t like you, (as if you didn’t already know) and that she wanted him to drop you.

So when hanging out just as a pair he’d only tell you he was frustrated with her. He told you that she had befriended Gabriel and you only saw red flags but kept quiet.

You tried to remain cautious of what you’d say when he’d come to you about relationship problems. Obviously deep down you want to tell him to break up with her because she’s toxic and controlling but it wasn’t the best idea as the supposed girl best friend that “isn’t” in love with her best friend.

So you told him to maybe spend less time with you, mostly because you genuinely couldn’t think of an actual suitable solution.

But it didn’t matter because ultimately he denied that idea quickly and looked deeply in your eyes promising you, “you’ll always be my best friend. Nothing’s going to change that.”

If only he knew and kept to his promise.

It was now two months after that conversation was had and a whirlwind of actions, words, and lies would turn everything around.

You went to eat some lunch at a cafe outside of campus when your phone died on the way back. You were fine without relying on your phone and just thought you’d charge it during your next lecture on your laptop.

As you finally hit campus and walked past different students sitting around the grass and benches, your eyes focused on a familiar head with its brown bob.

You sigh and felt your heart ache as you walked past Dana eating Miguel’s face out in public like that.

Until you took a double take and dread hit you after realizing it wasn’t Miguel she was making out with. It was fucking Gabriel.

You couldn’t believe she was just openly cheating on Miguel like it was nothing.

You stood a couple feet from them and you couldn’t believe this was real. You blinked, rubbed your eyes, and blinked again but sure enough it was the younger O’Hara brother with a red scarf and those goofy ass (but recognizable) goggles.

You gulped and took your phone out only for the screen to show that it was dead.

You mentally panicked and were afraid they’d catch you so you quickly ran inside and immediately headed straight to your lecture hall.

The klutz in you unfortunately never went away so you nearly fell as soon as you accidentally hit a body after making a turn.

Horror filled your eyes and body as Miguel held onto your shoulders, trying to see what was wrong.

Your eyes were wide and your heart was racing wildly, you couldn’t possibly do this right now.

“I- M-Mig- uh- ‘m l-late for c-chem- sorry!” You stuttered and pushed past him to get to class and manage your thoughts properly.

As soon as you made it and sat at your unassigned assigned seat that happened to be next to MJ, who was worried to see you so stunned, held your hand and tried to get you to be calm because you looked so distressed.

You hadn’t even realized your hands and legs were shaking. How could they not be?

You just witnessed the most brutal betrayal of all time and there was no concrete evidence whatsoever.

Your first instant thought was that Miguel wouldn’t believe you.

He was full on in love with Dana now, in what world would he believe the love of his love would be cheating on him?

Not only cheating on him but cheating on him with his brother?!?

MJ’s mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear a word, you couldn’t even read her lips. All your brain was set on was how of fucking course it had to be you who caught Dana’s ass cheating.

How fast she’d turn it onto you would be so insane. Disgusting even.

What if she exposed your feelings towards him?

What if she could convince him you’re lying?

All you could do is pray he’d believe his ole reliable best friend over a girl he’s been with for 6 months and his brother he never really got along with.

MJ was eventually able to catch your attention but it took the entire lesson for her to get a peep out of you. And that peep only happen to be a sad whisper of Miguel’s name.

As your phone finally charged your first instinct was to text Miguel, quickly typing the words, “need to see you, my place after class?”

He quickly responded with a simple, “sounds good.” Then followed by a, “should I be worried?” Which you had no response to.

You quietly told MJ the unfortunate news to which she nearly gasped out loud. Her eyes were wide and she finally understood why you were so freaked out.

The lecture had finally ended and you collected all your things while MJ was quietly asking you questions to which you quietly answered.

Following your tail as you left the lecture hall and off to find Peter to quickly fill him in, and to help with your nerves because you didn’t even know how to start off that conversation with Miguel.

They were both giving you suggestions on how to break it down gently to him while Peter drove you back to your place.

You could feel the anxiety building in your stomach and it felt so scary not knowing how he’ll react.

And it overall felt even worse that you couldn’t take a video or a picture. This was practically a test to see if he’d trust you enough to tell him the truth or just make up a lie.

You could only pray that he’d believe your words over hers but you couldn’t even begin to prepare yourself in case he didn’t.

How could he not believe you? Even if you’ve been desperately in love with him you’d never do anything to purposely destroy any of his relationships.

You were just too kind-hearted to ever even think about doing that.

Would he really have it in him to not trust your words anymore?

Will he believe her words over yours?

Will this lifelong friendship finally come to its end like Dana has been wanting from the very beginning?

Finally you had arrived at your apartment and you still felt uneasy. Miguel’s car wasn’t in sight until you heard the revving of his car and that’s when things started to get real.

They gave you their final words of encouragement before you got out and climbed up the steps to wait for him.

He parked behind Peter and as he got out you could slightly hear him ask if they were gonna come in to which they obviously said no.

He shrugged and walked over to you as you unlocked the first door before stepping in and walking to the left door that lead up to your apartment.

“Hey are you okay? You seemed shaken up earlier.” He said, walking in and shutting the first door behind him.

You walked in and stepped aside to let him go in then shut the door behind him. The anxiety returned and you weren’t so sure how to start it all off once you turned around to look at him.

Your heart ached and although you might’ve been filled with jealousy for months on end, you would never pray he would get hurt this way.

You always wanted happiness for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

And now that he had it, you had to break his heart.

How could you possibly let him down gently?

You felt your hands beginning to sweat and your legs started shaking again which he instantly noticed and grabbed you, carefully leading you to the couch.

He sat you down and sat right next to you, gently holding your hands, wondering what could possibly have given you such a drastic reaction.

You desperately tried to calm yourself but it was to no use. Your body was panicking inside and out, giving away that this was something serious.

You still didn’t know how to even start.

So you just blurted it out.

“Dana cheated on you.”

Silence filled the room.

You could’ve sworn he could hear your heart pounding out of your chest. He was frozen and immediate tears formed in his eyes.

This was so fucked up.

In all these years of being his shoulder to cry on, you were petrified that it would come to an end. In a way you kind of always relied on him being there no matter what.

This whole situation could make or break that.

“I saw Dana making out with Gabriel on campus…” you whispered before adding, “I’m so sorry.”

You had never felt so nervous in your life. You moved one hand from his and held his while he stared down at the floor.

You were subconsciously tapping your foot on the ground because the anxiety had just taken control and the silence was already killing you.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, he truly has never been so happy, and now it’s just gone.

You looked at his face and as soon as you did, his tears started pouring out. One hot tear fell after another and you grabbed him, him embracing you as he cried into your shoulder.

You felt sick to your stomach, it felt like the most unfortunate thing to ever have happened to you.

Having to tell the love of your life that his girlfriend cheated on him.

Having to see how heartbroken he was.

Nothing would’ve prepared you for his reaction.

The quiet sobs and light shaking.

The way his hands were trembling while holding on to you.

You just hugged him as tightly as you could and gently rubbed his back to try to soothe him. Maybe it was past trauma that suddenly hit him, that he started to sob a little louder.

Your heart was practically breaking right with his. You felt downright horrible and weren’t sure how you could possibly help him. Only thing you could do was be with him, and you’d be with him for as long as he needed.

And you were.

Like the absolute best friend, of course you were.

The day after you explained in full, what you witnessed and he stayed at your place for a solid week before he decided to talk to Dana and listen to what she had to say. You offered to go with him but he said it was best you stayed, though he did really want your support but didn’t think it would be appropriate.

It was midday on a Friday when he had the call and he didn’t come back that night.

Or the next.

Or after that.

You had no fucking clue what was said and neither did Peter nor MJ.

Monday morning your mind kept thinking worst case scenarios which had you feeling uneasy as you were walking on campus to your first lecture.

Suddenly you stopped with Peter and MJ following suit at the sight in front of you. Miguel’s arms wrapped around Dana’s with Gabriel standing in front of them laughing at something.

That was the moment you felt your heart shatter into pieces at the realization of what happened.

Your words weren’t enough.

And in his emotional state and her false sweet voice she definitely used, of course he fell for whatever lying words she told him.

Her manipulative and crazy ass didn’t help from the pain this brought you.

He was your best friend.

Falling hopelessly and desperately in love with someone who was once a shy little nerd that would be there everyday for you, to now a man who doubted his best friend’s word for a girl he knew for less than a year.

8 years.

8 years you had known each other and not once ever lied to one another.

All of a sudden in his mind it makes sure that you lied about something as graphic as this.

All of a sudden he believes her words over your own.

Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared you for the way your heart ached and all you felt was hopelessness.

When Gabriel slightly moved, Miguel was now in clear view of you three, more specifically you.

The most vicious glare was all he was giving you meanwhile Dana only had a mischievous smirk on her face which gave you all the confirmation you needed.

Peter shook his head in disgust while MJ grabbed you, making you walk in the direction of your lecture while Peter walked behind you both before stepping up to him and muttering, “The truth will hit you hard one day.”

And boy did it.

Three months after that Miguel was going back to his place to cook a romantic dinner only to catch Gabriel giving Dana backshots on the kitchen counter.

Immediate regret hit him and he realized you were indeed telling him the truth.

He realized Dana’s bold lie that you were the liar, and made that stuff up about her was because you wanted to steal him from her, was indeed not real. That you weren’t deeply in love with him and needed to fabricate the perfect lie to finally steal him.

But before they both left (half dressed), Dana had to let him know that he was the easiest to manipulate out of all her exes. Then that the reality was that you were in love with him, the only lie being just that you didn’t plan anything.

She just hated girl best friends but also wasn’t in the mood for something so serious. She wanted a cop out. A way out.

So she figured you were the easiest target and making up that his other two friends, who she also didn’t like, were also in on it, was the best way to go about it.

The only reason she came back to Miguel was because she grew bored of Gabriel and wanted him back.

And he fell right into her trap.

And there was no way to fix or mend what he so badly broke.

It was far too late.

But at last, you’d never let him break your heart again.

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara imagine #across the spiderverse #miguel o hara #miguel ohara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara #Miguel ohara angst #spiderman 2099 #Miguel O’Hara angst

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whosmarinette · 5 months

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One of my most precious personal interpretations of Gwen's character in Spiderverse is how she views interpersonal relationships. Specifically how she views friendships - and why she said Miles was the only friend she ever made after Peter died. And even when Miles cheekily asked her about Hobie, she brushed it off as being 'different'.

You see, friendship is a pretty arbitrary concept. One person will call someone they just met a friend if the vibe is right (and that person would be me), while another needs to have an incredibly deep personal connection. And this gets shaped by a lot of different factors.

Gwen did have people who at least wanted to be her friends aside from Peter - her bandmates, for example. But her and Peter shared a connection vowed through pretty much a life together. I mean, there's a whole montage where it shows them sharing meals for what seems like years and what seems like every major event.

At that point, whether Gwen realized it or not, Peter wasn't just a friend. He was family. The closest person in the world to her, someone who understood her because they shared so many formative experiences. He was her soulmate in the sense that their souls got shaped together like how rocks get worn down and shaped together by a current. And, well, also the whole multiverse stuff.

After Peter died, Gwen was convinced she'll never have a connection like that again - and decided to swear off connections as a whole. Which is understandable. The dent this loss made in her life was undeniable, especially considering it also strained her relationship with her father.

And then she met Miles. And the first thing he does when they meet? He makes her laugh. She just can't help it. She also can't help but stare at him in class afterwards, even for a little bit. And mind you, this is pre-spider bite. It wasn't her spider-sense that went off like it does in the presence of another spider-person. She was stranded in an alternate universe, where there's another spider-man, she probably is incredibly confused and uncomfortable, and probably already glitching by that point. And then this guy comes in, makes a stupid joke and she cant. help. but. laugh.

She quickly grows in fondness towards Miles, and after just a day of working together, she knows it's something special. She keeps a picture they took together to look at when she most needs it. She visits him despite Miguel's wishes. She looks him in the eyes, knowing, that 'in every other universe it doesn't end well' and she still leans on his shoulder.

Hobie and Pavitr are her friends. That's undeniable.

But Miles? He is her soulmate.

#into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #itsv #atsv #gwen stacy #miles morales #ghostflower #hobie brown #character analysis

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wandanatskitten · 4 months

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Valentine’s Grinch

I actually don’t care for Valentine’s Day funny enough. But I think I more so don’t like traditional valentines. I don’t like most traditional American things cuz my brain is different idk. Anyway here is my double sided brains opinion on valentines put into a story I guess. Please enjoy and if you like Valentine’s Day then happy 14th to you!!! 💋🫶💋🫶💋🫶💋🫶 Minors DNI 18+

No warnings just more fluff with a sprinkle of spice with gorgeous Wanda Maximoff

2.8k words Enjoy!

February 7th

“What are you watching?”

I plopped down next to my girlfriend on the free spot of the couch. The other seats being taken by Natasha, Yelena, Steve and Peter.

“The Proposal.” Was the answer given causing me to get up and attempt to leave, but being stopped by a hand around my wrist before Wanda’s voice sounded. “Where you going?”

“I don’t know. To watch a different movie.”

“But you love this movie.” She counters.

“Not around Valentine’s Day.” I hear a voice ring out. Precisely the one of my best friend. I quickly give Yelena a cold glance that tells her to shut up.

“What does she mean? What do you mean?” She directs toward me then Yelena and me again. “You don’t like Valentine’s Day?”

“I mean it’s alright.” I shrug trying to avoid the topic.

If there’s one thing about Wanda, it’s her love for almost all holidays. Even the past few years since she’s been recruited she’d make cards and specialized goodie bags for the whole tower. She didn’t have a specific valentine so she gave the title to every Avenger. Her love for love is one of the reasons I fell for her.

And now Yelena is spoiling it by telling my girlfriend - who loves February 14th - that I despise the day.

“How do you not like Valentine’s Day?” She wonders.

“I don’t NOT like it, it’s just not my favorite.” I shrug.

“Oh please. You’re basically the Grinch of Valentine.”

“Yelena.” I grit out.

She puts her hands up in surrender but continues to push the subject. “What, I’m just saying how do you hate the day when you have a reason to celebrate.”

“Because I don’t think couples should need a reason to celebrate. If you love someone, show it, love them everyday. Valentine’s Day feels materialistic and is an excuse for high schoolers to practice their prom-posals” I explain myself.

“Hey!” Peter shouts offended.

“How did I not know this about you?” Wanda cuts in. And just as Yelena felt the need to before, she answers for me again. “Because she knows you love romantic stuff so she was hiding the part of her heart that’s three sizes too small.”

“Are you going to keep making Grinch jokes?” I rolled my eyes annoyed with her antics.

“Do you prefer Cupid ones?”

“You know what-“

“Ok! Calm down.” I’m sat in Wanda’s lap with her arms around me. Stopping me from jumping on my best friend. The laughter that sounds out was mocking enough as my glare burned with a playful hatred while I settled into the warm embrace of my girlfriend.

“Am I the only one who didn’t know you didn’t like Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah.” Everyone else who was watching between the conversation and movie sounded in at the same time. Answering Wanda’s question in a heartbeat.

I felt her arms tighten around me, but I didn’t know what was going through her head at this news.

February 10th

“I figured it out!”

Wanda came running into our room, startling me in the process. Her shouting followed by a jump onto the bed before she climbed on top of me, straddling my thighs.

“I figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Why you don’t like Valentine’s Day.” She said as if it was obvious.

“I already told you why I don’t like it.”

She shakes her head. “No no, that was the surface reason. I know the real reason.”

“Please enlighten me.” I gave my full attention and put my hands on her thighs, desiring to hear what she had to say.

“You haven’t had me as your Valentine.”

I stayed silent with a raised brow urging her to continue.

“I talked to Yelena-“

“Oh god.”

“Hear me out. I talked to Yelena and she told me about your past relationships. The bears, the chocolate, the balloons. They had no thought behind them. No love. So I’ve come to the conclusion that you haven’t been loved right.” She brings her cool hands to my face and holds me gently in her palms. Leaning forward and whispering to effortlessly create a more intimate atmosphere. “But not to worry, now you have me. I’m going to show you how Valentine’s Day is suppose to be. I’m going to show you how you’re supposed to be loved.”

It was the softness of her voice that carried its way to my ears. Or the way her thumbs rubbed a sense of comfort into my cheeks. Maybe, just maybe it was the firmness of her kiss that solidified my belief in the witch herself. But if I had to choose one thing it was the sureness in her eyes before she leaned in. It wasn’t just a look of love and determination to prove me wrong. It was a slight smirk that was barely noticeable that said she knew she had me even if I tried to resist.

And she wasn’t wrong. I didn’t know it yet as I kissed her with a desperate need to feel her closer. Pulling her from my thighs to my hips, hugging her small frame with the same intensity she held me around my neck.

It didn’t matter how long I could go without oxygen because once her lips meld with mine it was clear the only thing that was even keeping me breathing before this point was Wanda’s desire to want me how I wanted her.

February 14th

9:30am

An alarm sounded in the room causing me to stir. I wasn’t prepared to get up so I had no clue why a brutal sound would break my prefect sleep. The sheets moved to let in a cold draft which caused me to cuddle into myself more, knowing Wanda got out of bed.

I checked the time to see that it’s later than we usually get out of bed but still choosing to stay. Before closing my eyes, I heard the shower turn on. Soon followed by the feel of the bed dipping as a warm body leans over and cuddles further into me from behind. The calming presence of my girlfriend sure to lull me back to sleep.

That is, till I feel her lips press to my shoulder. Then another and another and another. She moves from behind me and pushes me to shift onto my back. Continuing whatever desire she has to kiss anywhere from my neck to my chest. Her finger drawing slow mindless shapes along my sides. The sensation waking me up enough to lazily wrap my arms around her shoulders.

“Are you going to open those pretty eyes for me?” Her soft voice and the warmth of her breath against my neck slowly bringing my senses alive.

Feeling her remove herself from the crook of my neck I do as she requests and meet the tenderness of her emeralds glowing in the bit of light that peeks through the curtains. A smile immediately finds its way to my face at the look of her messy locks. Somehow they compliment her features as the brunette hair falls to one side of her shoulders. The more of her morning features I notice the more I feel the need to tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her closer for a loving kiss.

9:57am

The air was thick, perhaps from the steam of the shower. The heat of the water coating the glass into a translucent state.

From the outside the pattering of the water is sounded through the room hitting two bodies. The sight of condensation falling down the glass at the bottom of a fading hand print. The feeling of humidity, threatening the summer heat itself.

But just beyond the veil of a this morning shower was yours and Wanda’s form of innocence. The sounds of soft shuttering breaths and whispered I love you’s. The sight of lips painting a memory, telling foreign bodies that yours belongs to someone. The feeling of hands committing to hold each other close. Remembering every inch of skin.

Fingers never dipped lower than they needed to but it didn’t feel teasing. There was no rush for more, no rush to move on, no rush to leave each other’s embrace. It built a tension of wanting more but it was innocenct, it was loving, it was sensual, and that’s all you two wanted it to be right now.

11:17am

The music blast through the kitchen tower as you and Wanda obnoxiously sang the lyrics to your favorite song.

The sight of her hips swaying while she scrambled eggs on the stove catching your eye. A smirk played on your lips when you go to hold her so you can sway together. Her body leaning into you as she cut off the fire and plated the last of the food you made together.

Eating in silence with the only sounds coming from the lowered music, and silverware clanking against plates. Although no words were spoken constant glances were shared and even the cliché of feeding the other. Your smile impossible to hide while Wanda watches your lips gracefully take a bite of her food.

6:35pm

The day consisted of laughter from constant jokes and nostalgic memories of years gone by with the team.

We dressed in “disguise” as we walked around the park hand and hand. Sometimes taking moments on a bench or under a tree to people watch and dream about our future together. It was peaceful as the sun shied away from the day.

“Cmon.” Wanda pulls me up to my feet, pulling me along through the day once again. Guiding me to the truck we’ve been using for the day.

“Where to this time my love.” I opened the driver door for her.

“Get in and find out.” She quickly gave me a kiss before opening the passenger door from the inside.

Dates like these weren’t rare. I was proud to sport a healthy relationship with Wanda. Over the course of 8 months I’ve learned a lot about her love language.

Acts of service. Quality time. Words of affirmation. She didn’t shy from any of them really.

But of course physical touch was never one to fade. I couldn’t help my mind wandering as her hand rests itself upon my thigh taking a comforting yet strong hold on the muscle as she drove up a hill.

After parking she got out and opened the door for me, her hand never leaving mine. When walking to the back I see a quick flash of red causing the cover on the bed of the truck to disappear. There hidden all day were too many blankets to count and pillows to support the feel of a bed.

“Wanda.” The only thing I could say after being speechless.

“Wait this isn’t the whole surprise.”

She lifts me onto the back and floats in next to me. We get comfortable in each others embrace. Her arms wrapped around me while I lay on her chest looking at the darkening sky. Her magic flashes again and covers the entire truck in a dome-like structure.

A soundtrack began to play till I heard my own voice before seeing a video of me projected above us. Soon Wanda appeared.

“Is this…the first time we met?” I asked stunned.

“It is.”

As the video continued more and more memories projected in the sky. From the times we’d stay up and talk till the sun rose. To her teaching me how to cook. To the times where her tears soaked my shirt while my arms held her closer than I’ve held anyone before. To our first kiss. And ending on our first argument which happened to also be the first time we confessed our feelings.

“What are you so afraid of Y/n!” Wanda’s voice strained as you threatened to leave the room.

“Time!” You rushed back in front of her. “I’m afraid there isn’t enough time to love you the way you deserve. I’m afraid there’s not enough time to learn your heart, your mind, your body, your soul. Everything that makes me fall in love with you more and more by the second.” The words were heavy in the air.

After trying to distance yourself from Wanda for weeks. Scared to lose more people you loved. That certain time as an Avenger was hard for you. Dealing with the blame of innocents dying and shaming yourself for not being able to save names you hold close to heart.

“You love me?”

“I’m afraid I can’t stop loving you, Wanda.” I cup her face in my hands gently.

“Then don’t.” A single tear falls down her face. “I love you too.” It was an intimate whisper but the sound shattered my heart and rebuilt it in her image.

The knot in my throat tightened as tears fell to the side. I propped myself up on my elbow to look down at her, seeing she was already admiring me.

“How did you did that?” My voice cracked with the question.

“Not how detka, why?” Before I could ask she answered, paired with the swipe of her thumb to clear my tears. “Because I wanted to show you how easy it is for me to love you. How you’re my strength and my weakness. And having you reciprocate the love I feel is the best gift and every reason to celebrate being with you.”

I could try to express how I feel in words but it wouldn’t be enough. So I stay quiet and kiss her with all the passion I have. I kiss her with all the love I hold. I kiss her with all the fear that has faded since then, with all the hopelessness of opening my eyes and reality being anything other than experiencing Wanda.

11:52pm

Her lips never left mine and when I couldn’t kiss her back she’d immediately whisper sweet nothings into my ear.

“I love you.”

“You were made for me.”

“I’m right here, detka, I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re so perfect.”

Her words only increased my need for her. Her be surrounded by everything that was Wanda. Her scent, her feel, just her. And she provided that with slow strokes of the length between her legs. My own legs wrapping around her hips holding her close. Her rhythm never faulted. Just like our shower there was no rush. Feeling every inch of her that sunk me further into divinity.

My hands clawing her back. Shuttering moans that paired with quick gasps. My hips meeting hers in the deep and slow grind she set herself in. Our heads pressed together while our breaths mixed. One hand holding mine and the other caressing me causing a mixture of fire and ice to cleanse my skin. Not knowing if it’s too much or not enough.

But it becomes clear that what she gives me is everything I need. In this moment and all the ones before. She’s everything I need and she knows that. Every time her hips meet mine an uncontrollable shake quakes its way from my spine to my legs. Her silky rasp guiding me to the edge.

“Right there, baby? Yeah?”

“Don’t force it, cum when you’re ready.”

“Look at me. Stay with me.”

“Just like that, breathe for me.”

“You’re doing so good for me.”

Safely. In her arms the top of the cliff leaves from under me. I couldn’t tell if I was falling or flying. I only knew I didn’t want to let go of her. The suddenness having my breath caught in my lungs and my body to stiffen. The divinity I was feeling before now a bubble of bliss and perfection.

Somewhere in the high I finally came down. Feeling a protective hold with my eyes closed. And when she brought me back to Earth I was able to open them only to drown in a love as deep as hers.

It took a moment to regain any thought but when I did I understood one thing.

She didn’t ask. She didn’t ask for me to be her valentine. Because it made sense she didn’t have to. I’m already hers.

She didn’t buy me anything. Because that wasn’t what would prove her love. It was in the way she held me at the end of the night.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t about having an excuse to show someone you care. It was about seizing the opportunity to remind that special someone you love them. To not only love them in the way you know how but to show that you know how to love them in the way that they need.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.”

#wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #valentines day

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the-egg · 11 months

Text

So This is Love

Song Fic: So this is love - Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas

Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Summary: "you can fix him" except he fixes you too.

Tags: Mild cursing, trauma bonding, strangers to lovers, fluff

Words: 9.8k

Loving Miguel was the greatest choice your heart had ever made, and you swore your life on it. Normalcy was a temporary feeling for masked heroes, but, together with him, it bloomed to be everlasting. The sun to your moon. Together, you would learn to find peace.

Before being a part of the exhilarating world of Spider Society, you lived two lives. Two exhausting lives. During the day, you worked for the government as a public defense attorney. Long hours and a terrible work-life balance were your normal lifestyle. Then, two years ago, you were bitten by a radioactive spider that belonged to the same government you worked for. Since then, you’ve been the world’s one and only spider. The Spider, to be specific. You didn’t choose the name, much like how you didn’t choose to get bit, but at least you got to choose the suit! A shining white with silver webbed streaks across your chest. You preferred Spider-Moon or Moon-Spider as your name, but The Spider had already stuck. Much like how you were stuck patrolling the city at night, every night.

On this night in particular, nothing was out of the ordinary. You leaped from rooftop to rooftop, keeping a watchful eye on all the people you'd sworn to protect.

So, wouldn’t you believe your luck?

One day you were out patrolling in the late hours of the night when the full moon shined brighter than the street lights. While criminal activity was surprisingly low tonight, your senses kept you on guard. Scaling to the top of a building, you stood on the edge as you looked down below. Everyone was now just tiny ants. Tiny ants that were under your protection. There was one ant, though, that caught your eye—someone you couldn’t quite grasp whether you were supposed to protect or attack.

You peered down below, focusing on a dark alleyway that had begun to glow into a rather large hexagonal shape, a tall silhouette making its way through the light.

"Probably not a good guy," you said quietly to yourself, both hands on your hips, waiting ever so impatiently for this mystery to make an appearance.

===

"Hey, Miguel, check this out," Lyla called out from across the platform. "I found another good one for ya!"

The man in question sighed, not removing his eyes from a video of his latest anomaly capture. Despite his team's success, they still lacked in numbers. After discovering the vast concept of the multiverse, and learning from his catastrophic mistake, he needed to expand his team of spiders to keep the multiverse safe and in balance. Naturally, he couldn’t accept just anyone; he needed people he could trust not to abuse their power. People who could make the quick decision to save the lives of 100 people over the lives of one important person.

"If ‘good’ means recruiting another Spider-Plush, then I’m not interested," he replied, his tone flat. Lyla popped up next to Miguel with a smirk on her pixelated face.

"Aww, come on! Just take a peek!"

"No."

"This relationship isn’t gonna work if you’re not willing to compromise." Lyla crossed her arms to solidify her point, yet the smirk still remained.

Miguel’s eye twitched as he ran a hand over his mouth. When he said he wanted an AI with a smart mouth, he didn’t mean this. Nevertheless, it’s what he’s got, and she’s too important for Miguel to boss her around. He finally averted his eyes and looked at Lyla’s screen.

It wasn’t a Spider-Plush, which was a plus, but it wasn’t Peter Parker from the LEGO dimension, which was a minus.

The Spider

Earth 5863

"’The Spider’? That’s a stupid name," Miguel commented, crossing his arms.

"You know what I think is stupid?" Lyla said as she narrowed her eyes at the tall brood. The brood in question made a noise of disapproval. "The name ‘arachno-humanoid polymultiverse,’ but yeah, you know exactly what things sound stupid."

He turned his head to stare at Lyla, unsmiling and unblinking. The AI responded with a Cheshire smile. Taking a breath, Miguel turned his head to the screen.

All Canon Events Completed

Special Abilities…

The list droned on about the usual abilities that came with the title: enhanced speed, strength, hearing, agility, etc. Until the list came to one ability that wasn’t as common: shadow manipulation. No one else in the spider society had such an ability. This person could actually be useful.

"Lyla," Miguel commanded, "I need you to expand on this one. What can they do with this?" He pointed out the unusual ability on the list.

"Oh, so now you’re interested in who I have picked out? They can do, like, shadowy things." Lyla motioned with her hands as if imitating what a shadow was capable of. "Ya know, be one with the shadow? Kinda freaky how the atoms in their body can just go—poof! They can change their shape if they try really, really hard, though, but I wouldn’t rely on it."

Miguel had to hold back an eye roll at her unprofessionalism, but the information she provided always hit the mark.

Having The Spider on the team could be incredibly beneficial on stealth missions, especially since no one would expect them to be hiding in plain sight. Mission casualties could drop, and anomalies could be captured faster. For once in the ever-growing stress of Miguel’s life, he could feel the burden of maintaining the multiverse lighten on his shoulders. He just needed to recruit them and hope that you wouldn’t give him a hard time.

===

So this is love?

When you saw the 6’9”, absolutely stunning figure of someone walking through what you assumed to be a portal, you were wishing they weren’t a bad guy. The suit was mostly blue, save for the red lines outlining certain features of his body. Standing on the ledge, you observed as he looked at his surroundings, seemingly looking for something or someone.

Without even having to determine on your own whether they were a friend or foe (which, in your universe, anyone who had powers tended to be a foe), it hit you. The spider-sense. Connecting and flowing with a stranger you would come to realize wouldn’t be much of a stranger to you anymore.

They were like you. You weren’t alone anymore.

Feeling the same sensation, the stranger's head snapped up to see you.

===

When Miguel felt your presence, your connection, he quickly looked up to meet your gaze. As soon as his eyes saw you, his breath hitched. He felt his heart pound for a quick second before calming back down. Being taken aback by a new spider was never something that he did. Sure, the disappointment he felt when meeting Peter B. Parker was a notable first impression he had, but this wasn’t like that.

In the nearly pitch-black sky above him, you were glowing. The moon behind you gave you a soft white hue as the stars glimmered at your side. You controlled the night. Your confidence. Your power. You were in your element.

And he was about to pull you out of it.

"Moon-Spider would have been a better name," he thought to himself, quickly blinking so he could get back into his no-nonsense, super-serious mindset that everyone just loved so much. As quickly as he refocused, you had left your position at the top of the building, confusing Miguel only for a moment as you appeared in front of him. His eyes followed you as you materialized into the light of the streetlamp, holding his gaze.

"You’re like me!" you lilted, taking confident yet careful steps toward him. "Are you… from here?" You peered at him through your mask, taking careful note of his hands and feet in case he was ready to strike.

"I’m not,” the stranger replied, his voice sending a warm chill down your spine.

“I figured. Well, I’m The Spider. You might have heard of me before, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you…” you trailed your words, hoping that this stranger would fill in and introduce himself.

“I’m Spiderman, and I’m from a different dimension.”

Your posture went slack as you cocked a brow at this wannabe Spider. He couldn’t see your expression, but it was the thought that counted.

“If I wasn’t so tired right now, I would humor you, but last I checked, multiple dimensions haven’t been discovered. Besides, I haven’t heard of anyone talking about a Spiderman roaming the streets.”

The stranger sighed and pinched his brow before holding up his arm.

“You see this?” the man pointed at the watch on his wrist. “This device helps me travel throughout different dimensions. I’m from Earth 928, and this place is Earth 5863.”

“So that goober is supposedly transporting people into other dimensions?”

“Gizmo,” he corrected, “and it’s not just any people, it's Spider-people. People like us.”

Despite being skeptical about his story, you couldn’t deny that you felt the spider connection toward him. He couldn’t have been lying about that.

“So, there’s more of you out there? More people like us?”

“Yes, I’m only one Spiderman out of the many we have back at headquarters.”

You have to admit that it was shocking to know that multidimensional travel was possible, but to know that there were other spider people out there made your heart fill with glee. Being The Spider had taken a lot of sacrifices. Shoes that were only your size to fill. Having a friend in this could make those unbearable days bearable.

"Spiderman sounds better than The Spider. I’m jealous."

"That’s not the part you should be focusing on…"

"What? Is this whole visit to my dimension just business?"

Before he could finally get into his speech and proposition, an explosion was heard a few blocks over, followed by the sounds of several car alarms going off and the on-cue cat howling. Both heads snapped in the direction of the commotion before turning back toward one another. "Okay, now I have to go deal with my business." You pointed a thumb behind you as you started walking backward, away from him. "But I’ll be back in probably 5 to 10 minutes tops, so I’d love to hear all about this multiverse stuff when I come back!"

You didn’t wait for him to respond as you shot your webs out and swung away, leaving Miguel alone and a tad frustrated until-

"Hey," Lyla greeted as she popped up out of the fancy little gizmo, "You will never believe your timing! An anomaly has been reported here, and you’re already on the scene. Lucky you!" The sarcastic tone did nothing to bring Miguel joy, but he had a job to do nonetheless. He closed his watch and swung in your direction.

===

So this is what makes life divine?

Over a month had passed since your first interaction with Miguel and the rest of the spider society. To say you were overjoyed was an understatement. To say you were a bit overwhelmed was on point. Having this watch meant that you could finally form connections with people who understood you. They knew what it was like to live a double life. To feel like you couldn’t be friends with people knowing they only knew half of who you were.

They also knew what it was like to lose an uncle, but hey, who hadn’t here?

Despite this feeling of belonging, you felt uneven, unbalanced; it was like you were juggling three worlds. Your first life as a civilian involved dealing with caseloads on a day-to-day basis. Then, you go home in the evening to your second life: The Spider. Now, you’ve been convinced to take on a third: a member of the multidimensional spider society and one of Miguel’s best friends assets.

You were hesitant at first; your mind was muddled as he brought up this proposition while fighting your first anomaly in your dimension. Originally, you were against joining. Why would you spend your time fighting villains in other dimensions when you can already do that at home? That’s when he showed you his headquarters. Let’s just say you were more in it for the spider-people than you were for the crime-fighting, multiverse saving, and all that good heroic nobility.

This job came with a lot of sacrifice and your sleep schedule was gone to the wind, but at least you’re having fun!

Multiple times a week, Miguel would send you off to fight anomalies, assist fellow spiders, and help him track and record dimensional disturbances. Solo missions became a rarity for you, something you only did back on Earth 5863. Now, you and Miguel would fight side by side with the occasional Jessica or Scarlet Spider.

Miguel was a bit of a brood; there was no doubt about it, but there were days when his face would drop and the hard lines around his face would soften. He was just like you—exhausted.

He’d make the perfect friend, and you were determined to make it happen!

Currently, you and Miguel are in another dimension. Another anomaly report. You’ve done this song and dance before.

Miguel would always go in head first. Let the anomaly think that there was only one spider there to stop them. You would blend in as best as you could, crawling from shadow to shadow and shooting out webs in the darkness to yank the anomaly in the direction of Miguel’s attack. As the song would come to an end, you’d make your appearance known when the villain of the week was a bit disoriented and weakened, and swiftly make a joint attack to knock them cold. The song was over. The two partners would bow and make their way to their next dance.

Today, though, you didn’t bow out.

"Hey," you called out as Miguel was about to make a portal, "let’s take a breather. It’s the last anomaly of the night, right?"

"I don’t have time for a breather," he denied, not even looking at you as he summoned a portal. "You did good today. Keep it up."

You frowned before quickly walking in front of him and placing your hand over his watch.

"You act like there are not around 100 people back at HQ who could easily take over for 5 minutes." You motioned over to the anomaly trapped and unconscious in the force field. "Besides, they’re not going anywhere anytime soon."

He didn’t say anything as he stared at you. Maybe he was death-glaring, but he was wearing a mask, so what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Plus, you didn’t break eye contact. It was a battle of wits, and you weren’t one to back down.

"The answer is still no."

"I’ll quit the team right now."

"No, you won’t."

You gave him a pointed glare, your hand slowly tightening around his wrist. Let him call your bluff; see what happens. While you wouldn’t actually do it, you could tell he had a little quirk about letting Lyla boss him around.

He stayed silent as he gently took his wrist away from you and set a five-minute timer on his gizmo.

"5 minutes only," he agreed in defeat. You smiled at him. He couldn’t see the smile through the mask, but it was the effort that counted.

"Perfect! We’ll be back at HQ before you start to get homesick. Come on." You motioned with one hand as you shot a web onto the rooftop of a building with the other. He muttered something in Spanish that you couldn’t catch but reluctantly followed you onto the roof. Watching you as you sat on the edge with your legs dangling, he wondered why the hell he decided to listen to you. To let you drag him around as if you knew him like you were friends.

You knew nothing about him.

As the silence filled the air around you, he sat down next to you, giving himself a considerable amount of space. He heard you sigh as you took off your mask, allowing yourself to truly breathe after the day you'd had. He followed your motions. Despite his annoyance with your request, he wasn’t fully opposed to it. Throughout your short interactions together since you started working with him, he could tell that you shared more in common with him than he would have liked. You were constantly busy. If you weren’t patrolling the night or stopping an anomaly, you were contacting clients and reviewing dockets. Your brain was a lightbulb that was never shut off until it was so hot it could burst, so when you insisted that you both take a break, he knew you meant it. He knew you were asking if he could switch off your light and you to his.

Two heroes, unmasked, sat side by side, quietly watching the sun slowly rise in the cool air.

To him, it felt nice not having a marathon of thoughts in his head, and he was glad he wasn’t alone. At the thought of your presence next to his, he turned his head and—

His thoughts came to a halt.

Even with the sun slowly making its presence known above the horizon, he could have sworn the moon was still shining right next to him. As much as he hated to admit it, he thought you were absolutely stunning.

He cleared his throat, catching your attention as you averted your gaze from the sun.

"Did you pick the name The Spider?" he asked, his voice quiet as if any louder would break the peace. You hummed as a smile grew on your lips.

"Nope," you denied, shaking your head slowly as the exhaustion crept up on you. "I would never pick a name that had the word ‘the’ in it, but it’s not like I could get a say in it."

"We don’t get a choice in any of it. The title and the powers."

"Yup." Your eyes went downcast, unfortunately being reminded of what awaited you back in your dimension. The unbearable responsibility. The sleepless nights. Now wasn’t the time to think about stress and work, though. You looked back up at Miguel. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, silently shutting off the timer before it reached its end.

"I always thought Moon-Spider suited you better."

===

I’m all aglow.

It was Saturday on Earth 5863, or midday to be more specific. Despite the rest of the world already up and tackling the day, your life as the masked hero didn’t end until 4 A.M. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how tired you were because your body refused to be dormant past 11 in the morning. You groaned, burying your head in your hands, trying to comprehend why your body wouldn’t just rest. As much as you’d like to sink in and become one with your bed all day, your social battery was empty, and so was your stomach. Your sleep was going to have to wait.

During the week, you didn’t have much time to get yourself a proper lunch, mainly just a quickly made sandwich or salad that you’d have to chow down on during a quick lunch break. This made it a struggle to really treat yourself, but you knew just the treat you’d like today.

After stretching your aching muscles, you slid out of bed and got ready for a trip through the multiverse.

===

You walked through the doors of HQ, adorning your suit without the mask and greeting every Spider as you briskly made your way to the cafeteria.

"Hey, Jess," you greeted, catching her eye as she walked in the opposite direction. "Is Miguel in his office?"

"Yup, he’s been there all night. Are you gonna go and bother him?"

"Not today, I might feed him, though. Maybe water him and give him some sunshine while I’m at it."

Jess giggled, committing to the bit, "Well, the kitchen just made a fresh batch of empanadas if you wanna give him some fertilizer."

You hummed happily with her as you carried on down the hall, desperately rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Aside from getting a small box of empanadas, you learned that their hamburgers were now made with buns that looked like Miguel’s mask.

"It’s probably a courtesy to that nice ass," you thought to yourself. Although you would never voice that thought out loud, Miguel was handsome; he was most definitely your type, and you knew that from the moment you met him. The way he acted, though, seemed so defensive, like he couldn’t trust anyone. While you enjoyed your regular rooftop breaks with him, you couldn’t help but want more.

On the other hand, Miguel didn’t know what he needed from you; he just liked it when you were near him. Whether you guys were fighting or sitting in silence. When he was with you, he felt like he had permission to loosen up a bit. Although he would never voice that thought out loud, the last thing he needed was to feel an attachment to someone who wasn’t his…

Nevertheless, one box of empanadas and two Miguel burgers later, you were off to his office.

When you arrived, Miguel was staring off into the multitude of screens around him on his platform. You knocked on the frame of the threshold before webbing yourself up onto the platform. He turned his head in your presence.

"Morning," he greeted, his tired eyes shifting back to the screens.

"Afternoon," you corrected, emphasizing the time difference. "Long night?"

This time, Miguel turned his whole body toward you, leaning back against the desk to give you his full attention. At this angle, you could see the eyebags forming on his face.

"You have no idea."

You shrugged, your own eyes just as exhausted as his.

"Try me," you encouraged as you tossed him an empanada. "Was it Hobie again?"

"It’s always Hobie!" he exclaimed as he threw his hands up in frustration, catching the empanada in the process. "Two weeks into this, and he’s managed to get sidetracked from his missions 10 times! Instead of going after the anomaly, he went after the corporate head of some phone company. Can you believe him?"

You nodded as he continued his rant but looked around the platform for a good place to set your lunch. Eyeing a small swivel chair near Miguel, you put the food there before leaning back against the desk. The ranting man continued his complaint, but you could practically see the stress rolling off his shoulders as his posture relaxed. You never really minded being a listening ear for him, especially when he let you both have a moment to relax after the pressure of it all. It was a silent, yet mutual, agreement between you and him. To rest together. To be just a bit normal together. Even if it’s the small things like having a quick lunch or taking a somewhat silent break that always lasted more than five minutes.

"I swear if he blows a hole into the multiverse next week... I don’t even know what I’m going to do," Miguel concluded, absolutely exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath before looking up at you, wanting to shine the spotlight on you. "That’s my life, I guess. What’s been going on with you? You look tired."

You took a bite of your burger before responding, "More or less than usual?"

"More."

"Damn. Well, before I start, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"Are there any universes where Doc Ock is MD rather than Ph.D.?"

"There might be a few, why?" Miguel cocked his brow at you.

"Because now I have to find a new physician." Hearing your news, Miguel’s eyes went wide as he leaned in a bit closer.

"Your physician was Doc Ock?" Miguel asked as his voice raised an octave.

"Doc fucking Ock," you confirmed, putting emphasis on the added middle name. "I had a fight with her the night before my appointment and finally caught her the next day." You finished off your burger and tossed your trash dramatically into the bin next to you. Miguel had a small smile on his face, finding your suffering just as amusing as you found his.

"How did you not catch on that your doctor was Dr. Octavius? It’s in the name!"

"She went by her married name!" you defended yourself with a smile on your face before sighing. "We’re too tired for this shit."

"Now, that I can agree with." On cue, Miguel yawned.

"At least I’m not as tired as you."

"Doubt it. Have you seen yourself?"

"Have you?" You leaned forward. "It’s like you’re moving in slow motion over there."

Miguel just scoffed, not believing your accusation.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, with sarcasm dripping from his tone.

"It doesn’t matter anyway. Just eat your burger already; it’s probably cold now."

You motioned to the food still sitting on the chair next to him. Without turning to look, he reached a hand over to grab his lunch, confident in his aim. You watched, without a single bit of energy left to move, as he missed and hit the chair. Miguel turned to look, just as unmoving as you, and watched as the chair rolled off the high platform.

Both of you peeked your heads over to watch its descent. You turned to look at Miguel.

“So are you going to catch it or…?” you trailed as you looked back down to the swiftly descending meal. Miguel blinked once, then twice.

“Oh shit–”

It was too late. The chair and delicious food landed with a loud clatter on the ground far below.

The two of you look at the wreckage. Neither of you said anything. Neither of you even thought to web the chair as it made its descent; you were too tired to realize that you guys had the ability to stop it and simply accepted fate.

Slowly, you both turned to each other. You had to put a fist to your mouth, trying to stop the rolling laughter bubbling inside of you.

"Don’t laugh," Miguel threatened, pointing a finger at you, but seeing you try and hold it in caused a smile to bloom on his face. "It’s not funny."

"But you—" You quickly put a hand back over your mouth to stop a laugh— "I'm sorry." You laughed again before shaking your head. "You’re right, that’s not funny. It’s actually very… sad." Your lip quivered as you tried your hardest not to upset him by laughing again despite seeing the smile on his face.

Miguel turned to look back at his lunch. The top bun with his mask was resting on an exploded empanada. The urge to laugh began bubbling inside of him, but he refused to give in. He wasn’t the kind of guy to laugh at silly little things.

You followed his gaze and pointed at the bun.

"Imagine being that guy," you said, your voice breaking. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, and neither could you. Both of you started giggling quietly, gradually growing into full laughter. Miguel couldn’t tell if it was because you both were so utterly exhausted, but to him, this was the hardest he had ever laughed since he lost his daughter, and you didn’t have a clue. Neither of you could stop gasping for air, and you had to place a hand on his arm to stabilize yourself. He placed a hand on your shoulder so you two wouldn’t topple over, leaning close to you as the laughter kept rolling out.

As the humor died down and your eyes met his, the smiles on your faces continued to bloom. No matter how extraordinary the circumstances of this situation, for a moment, you two felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: normal.

===

And now I know.

Something wasn’t right today. For once, your workload was light, and your patrol was more of a peaceful midnight walk. When it came to your third, most preferable life, you knew there had been a shift. You were sent on a mission with a different group of spiders, Miguel not being one of them. Then, when you went back to HQ, no one had seen Miguel. Some spiders had joked that he had finally taken a day off, but you knew better than that. The only time he seemed to ever take a break was when he was forced to, and not even Peter B. knew where he was!

The only information you could get out of Peter was,

"Today is not a good day for him," Peter grimaced. "It’s probably best to let him be."

"Why? What happened?" you questioned as your brows furrowed.

"It’s not my place to say, bud. Sorry!"

You weren’t going to press Peter further, already gathering that whatever had happened was a sensitive topic to discuss, but there was one thing you knew for sure. Miguel was alone. More importantly, Miguel struggled to take care of himself mentally and socially, and he struggled even more to admit that to anyone.

Despite worrying that you may be overstepping your boundaries with him, you went into his empty office and asked Lyla to track him down for you. Again, you were met with resistance.

"I dunno if I should tell you," Lyla cautioned, shrugging her shoulders at you. "He told me not to tell anyone where he was going."

"And how often do you actually listen to his requests?" you argued, noting a serious change in Lyla’s tone. "I’d like to make sure Miguel is okay. He’s my friend."

Lyla cocked a brow at you, knowing full well how "friendly" you and Miguel seem to act around one another. Taking breaks to watch the sunrise and sunset while sitting less than a foot apart. Joking around with one another whenever the moment aroused. Grabbing a meal when you stopped by his office. Yeah, these were totally activities that Miguel does when he’s "just friends" with someone. She’s seen the looks you two give each other. Whether you realized it or not, you guys didn’t like each other just as friends. Not only that, but in the six months you had been here, there had been a change in the atmosphere around HQ. Miguel was smiling more, you were happier, and missions ran more smoothly with you two as a team.

So, fuck it. Miguel can yell at Lyla later if this all goes wrong.

"Fine," Lyla groaned, despite believing that sending you to Miguel was a good move. "Good luck."

===

Miguel sat on the rooftop of an Earth that wasn’t his own. The sun was on the cusp of setting as warm orange and pink colors slowly made an appearance in the darkening sky. He refused to meddle in this world, not even going down onto the streets to interact with anyone. Instead, he sat on the rooftop alone in his thoughts as he watched the people live their normal lives down below. Doing this made him feel alone, like an outcast undeserving of the simple pleasures life had to offer. In his mind, this feeling was what he deserved; the joy of simplicity wasn’t a concept he could keep in his life. For him, he needed this reminder of how he should feel after what he had done.

The sound of a portal opening could be heard behind him. Miguel immediately tensed; no one should be here. He turned his head, already glaring at the person who dared to track him down today. Unfortunately, it was you. His glare softened. No. No. NO. You could not be here. You can’t be here. Especially today…

You stood there silently, your mask off and your hands fidgeting, as you looked at him with your kind eyes. Even without words, you could practically feel the tension radiating off of him, but you could also see the look in his eyes. He was scared. Nervous even. You had to tread carefully. He was your friend, but there was still so much you didn’t know about him.

"I don’t know what you’re going through, Miguel," you started, your voice a touch quieter, "but I’m here for you."

He turned his head away from you, unable to tell you to go away. He wanted you here with him, but—

"I don’t deserve it," Miguel finally said, his voice level matching your own. You took his voice as a reason to move closer, sitting next to him on the rooftop.

"What don’t you deserve?"

"This." He motioned between the two of you. "I don’t deserve to have this kind of peace."

"Why?" Your eyes pleaded for an answer, knowing that he had the right to not tell you anything yet silently begging for him to open up to you. He didn’t answer as he continued to look down upon the crowds of people walking on the street, a hard expression glazing over his face. He was too nervous to admit to you what he had done in fear that you would leave after knowing how selfish he once was. You reached out one more time, placing a hand on his shoulder. At the warm contact, Miguel turned to look at you again. "Please," you begged. "You can be vulnerable with me, I promise."

He searched your eyes for a sliver of regret, an instance of a fruitless promise, but he found nothing. Sighing, he placed a hand over your own, his eyes finding security in yours.

"Understand that I regret what I’ve done, and the actions I took are inexcusable."

You nodded.

"I’m here for you," you reassured, trying to quell the tension choking the air around you two. Miguel squeezed your hand before you pulled away.

He told you everything.

What he did. When he did. Why he did it.

Your heart cracked inside your chest. It yearned to reach out and hold him. To tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That he couldn’t have known the consequences of breaking canon. This tragedy had become the driving force behind all that he did within the Spider Society. He’s exhausted because he felt he didn’t deserve to rest knowing he put the lives of an entire reality six feet under, including his daughter. The daughter that wasn’t really his. The daughter, the family, that he so desperately craved but felt he could never achieve in his own time.

Instead of an embrace, you told him everything that was running through your mind. You knew that his self-deprecating mindset was not something you could fix in this conversation, but you could push him in the right direction. Encourage him to go to one of the many therapists back at HQ, help take some of the blame off his shoulders, and remind him that he deserves and will find his own happiness and normalcy in his own life. In his own reality.

Miguel listened to every word you had to say, taking it more into consideration than he would have if it were someone else. As he continued to sit close to you, listening to your sweet voice, he felt his heart swell before realizing he was in deep trouble.

He was in love with you.

===

The key to all heaven is mine.

This mission was a shitshow.

Three Green Goblins, all from different dimensions, combined forces to try and carry out their mission here in your dimension. Even with Miguel’s help, you struggled to do your song and dance, and once your position was revealed way too early, you had to call for backup.

It was barely enough.

Jess and Peter B. were an enormous help, but the anomalies were too erratic with their movements; their lack of coordination, unfortunately, proved to be a solid strategy against the spiders. Miguel told everyone to split up and try to drag the Green Goblins away from one another, so you quickly got the attention of one and tried to maneuver them away. With your abilities, you normally relied on stealth to carry you through a mission; unfortunately, you were forced to face this villain head-on. Jessica was handling the one on the left, while Miguel and Peter were farther down the street.

It hurt like hell. You had been knocked into a building one too many times for your liking, but honestly, your pride was more bruised than your body. Thankfully, your little shadow disappearing act came in handy, allowing you to web your green fucker up nicely between two tall buildings. Admiring your handiwork for a mere second, you had to act fast and trap him before assisting the others.

"Watch out!" Miguel screamed from down the block, his voice practically vibrating the space around you. Quickly, you turned around as you saw a large shadow loom over your head, far too close for your liking. It was a semi.

Son of a—

===

Miguel watched from afar as the semi-truck crashed directly where you stood with a chilling crunch. His heart dropped to the bottom of his chest, and his eyes were fixed on the crash site.

He didn’t see you leave on time.

At that moment, something crushed inside of him; the adrenaline in his body pumped faster, and the ringing in his ears grew louder. His mind had forgotten about the mission. He couldn’t, not when you were...

He needed to get to you now. His senses slowly came back to him, but the weight in his chest still hung heavy.

"Fuck!" he cried, swinging to your location as fast as he could, not hesitating to start dragging the semi with all of his strength. Jessica and Peter came to assist as soon as they captured their anomalies; they couldn’t waste a second knowing that their teammate had been hurt, or worse.

Together, they pulled the semi away to reveal nothing.

You weren’t there.

Miguel was frantic. His eyes scanned the surrounding area, looking for a trace of your white suit. Still nothing. He called your name. His vision was blurred. He couldn’t find you anywhere. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even think. He called your name again.

Jess placed a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. He tensed at the contact.

"You keep searching for them. Peter and I will take care of the anomalies. Breathe, Miguel," she urged, trying to soothe the man who was losing himself in the depths of his mind. Her words meant nothing to him, not when he couldn’t even think straight. Despite his scattered mind, his eyes caught something—the white that had brought him so much comfort these past several months.

There, under the shadow of the semi, you emerged, a little roughed up but otherwise fine. You were alive.

"I’m sorry," you panted as you took off your mask. "Even in the shadows, I couldn’t find a way out from under the—"

He didn’t let you finish.

Moving quickly toward you, he took off his mask and pulled you tight against him. Arms wound around you in a tender, shaking embrace. He pressed his chest up against yours, desperate to feel your heartbeat and to give him more assurance that you were alive.

"Miguel?" you spoke, your voice soft as you were unable to do anything but hold him. "I’m sorry, did I scare you? I didn’t have time to swing out, so I had to go under." You pulled back slightly, feeling resistance from Miguel’s hold on you. Noticing the tears building up in his eyes that were looking through you, you placed a hand on his cheek. "Hey," you consoled, bringing him back to the present. "I’m okay."

Finally, he met your eyes fully, taking a couple controlled deep breaths like he had been practicing in the therapy sessions you urged him to go to. His hand came up to grasp the one on his cheek. He never wanted to go through this feeling again. He never wanted to let you go.

"Yeah…" he trailed, "I’m sorry I—" he sighed—"I didn’t mean to overreact like this. It’s just—"

"No," you asserted, not allowing him to downplay his emotions. "You didn’t overreact. I would have done the same thing if this had happened to you. Please don’t apologize." He hummed at your words, a small smile growing on his face. Turning his head, he kissed the inside of your palm; your heart fluttered at the contact.

"Cariño, you’re too good for me."

You smiled, your face heating up at his sudden affection. This man made your heart swoon over the simplest of things, and you made his heart go crazy. You both wanted more from each other, but you knew it was going to take time. It was going to take healing. As long as he continued to hold you with such tenderness and love that you could not compare, you knew you wouldn’t mind the wait. For now, though, you two would go back to HQ, side by side, and continue to save the multiverse.

You’ve waited this long to find someone you can be at peace with; a little more time wouldn’t hurt anybody.

===

My heart has wings.

And I can fly.

Exhausted couldn’t even begin to describe the state that you were in. The juggling act you had been doing for about a year now had started toppling over. Your work had gotten sloppy; you were constantly missing your targets on missions and somehow portaling to the wrong dimensions. The worst was when you nearly showed up late to a trial at work. Despite teetering on the edge of insanity, you still willed yourself to go to HQ, as you craved the comfort your friends could provide simply by talking to you. Even if it was during a mission.

This mission in particular was your breaking point.

It was just you and Miguel. The two of you were in a dimension you couldn’t remember the name of while fighting the next villain of the week. The sun was still shining brightly out on a Sunday afternoon, and it seemed like this earth was having a peaceful day until a comic book Prowler came crashing in.

The usual song and dance were done, and the Prowler was contained and ready for the Go-Home-Machine. There were a few minor flukes along the way, like missing a couple of webs and not having enough energy to stay inside a shadow for very long. All of which Miguel lightly scolded you for, but you found it to be more out of concern for your well-being than out of anger.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t take a nice, long break. There wasn’t a time in your life when you could relax for hours on end or do nothing for a whole weekend. There were always some tasks you had to do: grocery shopping, night patrolling, taking your car to the shop, missions, cases, house cleaning, laundry, and the list goes on and on and on. It was ruthless and never-ending.

"It’s still pretty early," Miguel noted as he picked up the unconscious Prowler. "How about we grab some lunch when we head back?" You weren’t focused on him, though.

The fight had taken place at a nature center with beautiful forestry and vast trails throughout the area. Your enhanced senses picked up on someone in the distance in the parking lot.

You.

A version of you who was getting out of the same car you drove. Eyebags were nonexistent. Your body glowed and radiated with energy and joy. It was like looking at the sun. There you were, happy, content, and normal, hanging out with friends on a Sunday afternoon in a nature center. You held no secrets about a double life. No hint of exhaustion. There is no looming worry about upcoming stress.

This version of you was living the life you dreamed of while you lived like this. Not living one life, but three.

Your eyes grew wet as your breathing slowed. All this suffering. All this exhaustion. What was it all for? You couldn’t tear your eyes away from yourself.

"Hey!" Miguel called out, noticing your lack of response. "Are you all right?" You couldn’t hear him. While you were wearing your mask, he recognized the symptoms and noticed your labored breathing. "Cariño—" he said, placing his free hand around your shoulder—"regresa a mí." He followed your gaze and saw what had shut you down. His heart sank. He knew all too well how you were feeling. "Let’s go."

Gently, he guided you back through the portal, dropping you off at his office for a quick moment while he took care of the anomaly. You sat on his new, non-swivel chair and stared at the multitude of holographic monitors showcasing all around HQ. All these different Spider-people, laughing and communicating as if they’ve gotten a good night's rest, as if they can guarantee one square meal a day. What were you doing wrong?

You bit the inside of your cheek as the envy bubbled within you.

Why did you have to get bitten?

A warm hand on your shoulder halted your thoughts. You turned your head to see Miguel standing over you, his eyes holding an empathy that could make you melt if you weren’t tipping over the edge of your mentality.

"I’m sorry," you murmured, taking a breath. "I shouldn’t have reacted like that in front of civilians. It wasn’t very professional of me." Allowing yourself to embrace his comfort, you placed your hand over his. In return, he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of you.

"I know we joke about our terrible work-life balance, but I’d rather see you happy and healthy than make jokes about your misery." You managed a small smile.

"Being funny is my charm. The misery comes with it."

"But having you in my life is a charm I never want to lose," he argued, not wanting to feed into your humor. "I know how much seeing something like this can hurt you, so please talk to me."

You trusted Miguel with your life, so you opened a part of your heart to him. A part that buried your burdens with each passing second because you worked for others and not yourself. The part that people hide from others to give the impression that they had their whole lives life together. Because if you didn’t, then you were incapable. Then you weren’t strong enough. Then, you weren’t worthy of a title you didn’t ask for but would still die on a hill defending the name.

You were incapable of living three lives, yet didn’t you just start out with one? What happened to that one?

Avoiding his gaze, you looked down at your interconnected hands. Unable to look at him without shedding tears, you flooded him with three different worlds. Your worlds.

He rubbed small circles into the palm of your hand, mesmerized by the weight of your hand against his. He wished he could hold it forever. How he wished he could take away the pain that was destined to fall on you. The feeling of your hands intertwined was one that he wished would take root and grow—a touch that was fairly unfamiliar to him yet one that he found himself craving desperately. Without a complaint, he absorbed every word you spoke like a sponge, knowing full well how you had dropped everything to do the same to him, his heart aching at every self-deprecating comment you made.

He understood where you were coming from. The worthlessness you felt as you wondered what it was that you were doing wrong. He also knew now that it's harder to see the ocean when you’re the one drowning in it. It was going to take time, just like how he was learning to forgive himself, but he’d help you through your struggles the same way you did with him: by providing patience, care, and normalcy.

When you eventually came to the end of your stressed ramble, he watched you take a shaky breath before he placed his hand on your cheek.

"I know you’ve already told me this once, but you deserve to be happy in your own life, and you will find it. You’re not weak for wanting to take on less responsibility or for wanting to be normal." He wiped a stray tear that was falling down your cheek, noticing the buildup of tears glazing over your eyes. "You and I both know that what you’re doing isn’t manageable, but I want you to know that I am here for you. I… I want us to be as normal as we can be as Spider-people, and we can do it together, okay?

The tears bundled in the corners of your eyes flowed freely down the wet tracks on your face. Trying desperately to take a breath—a breath meant to calm you and help clear your head—got caught in your throat.

You sobbed.

You sobbed like you had just lost your uncle, like you did when the captain of the police force (one of your closest friends) died. You sobbed like you did after a month of being Moon-Spider, except now you weren’t alone.

Miguel wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to join him on the platform, on stable ground, as he rubbed your back and let you have your long-overdue breakdown. Though your mind was scattered, your heart was set here with Miguel. No matter what, being your dimension’s masked hero was a title you would hold with pride, and you refused to hang your cape even if it killed you. Yet not all your lives revolved around the mask.

When Miguel calmed you, he reluctantly said his goodbyes as you insisted on going back to your own dimension. You weren’t going to sit here anymore and cry; with a newfound freedom, you went home.

You took on no new clients.

Finished your cases.

And quit.

===

I’ll touch every star in the sky.

So this is the miracle,

Everyone had their own nickname in the Spider Society. After a year of being members, you and Miguel were crowned the "work spouses." It started off as a joke.

"Hey, your work husband is mad again. Do you mind talking to him, please?"

"Miguel! Where did your work spouse run off to now?"

Now, it wasn’t really a joke. After everything you two had done for one another, how could someone not fall in love?

===

That I’ve been dreaming of.

"Break?" Miguel offered after the now-paralyzed anomaly was safely captured. You agreed, stretching your arms above your head to look at the sky. Despite it being around six in the morning, it had begun to lighten up. Together, you picked out the highest rooftop you could find and swung up to take your usual five(ish) minute break. Side by side, you sat, enjoying each other’s company and having idle chit-chat.

For once, this break wasn’t a desperate attempt to switch off a light bulb that’s been shining for far too long. After quitting your job over a month ago, life became much more bearable. There was still a long road ahead to unstick the pessimistic mindset you had grown comfortable with, but being able to breathe without the resistance of stress on your shoulders outweighed the costs. You were still missing something, though: peace. A type of peace that was so close to you that you could hold its hand. A type of peace that was so handsome that sometimes you found yourself blushing. You wanted that peace, and peace wanted you. It wasn’t enough to be friends with it anymore.

"Miguel?" you said softly, moving your hand to press up against his. "Can I ask you something?"

Miguel placed his hand on top of yours.

"Sure."

You took a moment before responding.

"What am I to you?"

His hand practically froze on top of yours as he turned to look at you, the gears turning in his head.

"We’re… friends."

You scoffed, but there was no malice behind it and gestured at your hand intertwined with his.

"Do you really call this ‘friends’?"

"Okay. Close friends."

"Miguel."

Nervous about the confrontation, he stood up abruptly and headed toward the unconscious anomaly, ready to head back to HQ.

"I don’t think we should mess with what we have now," he lied straight through his teeth, not wanting to look at you in fear he would fold. You stood up after him, slightly shocked at his response but not wanting this conversation to run away.

"Am I just a work spouse to you?"

"Now you know that you are more than that to me," Miguel scolded as he turned and pointed a finger at you, upset that you would think such a thing.

"Then why don’t you want to show me? Treat me the way I want to treat you? I don’t want to keep acting like this knowing that I love—"

"Fuck, I’m scared!" His voice raised slightly as he cut you off, his heart pounding at your near confession. You froze, recognizing the look in his eyes, but still pushed to ask:

"Why? What makes you so scared to be with me?"

"How every time I start feeling excited about my future, how I start feeling excited with you, it goes terribly wrong. I’m scared it's all going to crumble. No quiero perderte, amor. If something bad happens to you, I just— It would be my fault!"

His words sat in the air. This behavior was familiar. It was the same ocean, just a different person drowning.

"And if you were to get hurt…" you cautioned as you carefully chose your words, not wanting this to become an argument, "…would it be my fault?" Miguel opened his mouth, but you refused to let your words go unsaid. "If I were to feel loved and safe with you, would it be my fault or yours? You can’t control the actions of others, Miguel, but you can control yourself and how you respond to others." You sighed as you gazed at him with those worried eyes he loved so much. "Miguel I thought you were working on this," you said, referring to the therapy sessions he had taken in the past.

"I have—chingado—lo siento!" He cursed, trying to remedy the situation. "I swear I’ve been. It’s just… I love being with you, but I’m worried that if you get too close, you’ll get hurt. Having that normal life, it feels unnatural to me."

"In the year I’ve known you, I have never gotten hurt because of something you've done," you refuted, refusing to let him compare this situation to what had happened with his daughter. You walked closer to him and reached out to hold his hands. "I understand why you’re nervous, but this is different. We are different. It’s your own happiness. It’s your own life, and it hurts watching you try and punish yourself for living it. You’re not a bad person, Miguel."

Unable to form words of his own, he pulled your intertwined hands toward him and wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You don’t understand how good you are to me," he sighed as he embraced your comfort. You move your arms around him, allowing yourself to sit in this temporary peace for a moment. When you felt he was calm, you spoke again.

"Do you feel ready to be in a relationship right now?"

He was hesitant to answer, but when his head was above the water, he knew denying it would be self-sabotage.

"Only if it’s with you."

Your face heated up; you were constantly at the mercy of Miguel O’Hara’s words.

"We can take things slow. It’s not like I have much experience with relationships either, you know? So, if there’s anything you ever wanna do or try, just ask. Just stay with me, and I’ll stay with you."

Miguel hummed, and you could feel a smile forming on his lips in the crook of your neck. Slowly, he moved his head to face you, leaving a mere few inches between you two.

"Can I kiss you?" With your breath now hitched, all you could do was nod before he closed the gap. It was short, sweet, and addicting. He held you tight around your waist, and in return, you moved your arms around his neck, pulling him in. When you broke apart, who could blame you when you leaned back in for another? Another? Okay, maybe just one more, but you promised it was the last.

Miguel chuckled, finding it in himself to pull away and open his eyes to you. Your pupils were dilated, and your lips were slightly swollen; you were electrifying. He had the urge to finish what he started right there on the rooftop, but you didn’t deserve some quick sex in a random dimension. He’d have to settle with just this for now. Leaning back in, he trailed his lips along your jawline, stopping to leave little pecks along the way. Pecks on your cheek, your nose, your forehead—anywhere he could reach without letting you go.

You couldn’t stop giggling, the light trail of his lips tickling your face. Your heart bloomed with a love for him that could last forever. He leaned away and gazed at you with loving eyes, taking in every little feature that made you who you are. The shape of your lips and how they fit perfectly between his. The curve of your nose as you dragged it across his jaw. The look in your eyes as you looked at him with a love that’s meant only for him.

The sun began peaking over the horizon, shining behind Miguel in blooming shades of yellow and orange. He was so beautiful; his vulnerability and care warmed your soul. He shined a light on your life and helped you learn to grow and to continue to grow together.

Your sun.

From his view, the dark shades of pink, purple, and blue colored the sky. The glittering stars only illuminated your presence in front of him. So pretty, so handsome. You were so perfectly flawed. To hold his heart so gently in fear that someone might come and hurt it. Not you, though; never you.

His moon.

To him, you provided the peace he needed to come to terms with. Someone to help ground him in the quiet hours of the night and show him that comfort was a calm feeling he should indulge in.

Fuck, you were just so—

"I..." he trailed, his throat closing in a nervous tremor. You hummed, urging him to continue as you trailed your fingers up to cup his face in your palms. "I want to be normal with you. Te amo, cariño."

You grinned, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

"I love you," you lilted, giving him another quick peck. "Let’s go be normal together."

So this is love.

{Hope you guys liked it! It's my first try at an x reader. I had two people check over my Spanish, but if there's something that's not right, please let me know!!}

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #atsv fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x gn!reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman across the spider verse

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rev-glut · 6 months

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2023 Fic Recommendations

A list of all my favorite fics that I read this year that I wanted to share. Many of them and more can be found under my “fic rb” tag. A lot of them are also available on AO3. Please read any and all warnings and tags on fics and respect any boundaries writers may have.

Peter Parker

The very first one of this year was and they were roommates by @rowniebow. A sweet, gay story that I loved and hold dearly. Summary: peter parker and y/n y/l/n are roommates, and if there’s anything to know about them it’s that they hate living together.

The next is Florence by @periprose. An ongoing multi-chaptered fic. It’s great every time I see a new update. Every turn is incredible as they deal with reconciliation and a few wedding mishaps. Summary: You and Peter Parker are former childhood best friends. As next door neighbours, you and him spent a great deal of time together, either at school, playing video games, or during your yearly summer vacations at Florence, Italy. But after you drifted away from him- you both went to different colleges, and you figured you wouldn't need to bother him anymore with your unrequited crush that you had never spoken of but clearly showed symptoms of- things are very awkward. It's even more so when you receive an invitation to Harry and MJ's destination wedding, located at Florence, of course.

Peter B. Parker

A different Peter Parker, all the same love. The first one is it’s rotten work by @cockdestroyer32. It’s soft and incredible. Summary: Peter's been a wreck after his divorce with MJ. Thankfully, you're there to look after him.

Similarly, is an AO3 work called That’s Rough Buddy by Cats_Cradle. Genuinely all the love to ITSV Peter. Navigating through both their individual issues and loneliness together while Peter also deals with hiding Spider-Man was so sweet and soft, at times messy. Summary: In which Peter 'chaotic mess' Parker meets his match. Excerpt: “Heights and alcohol, typically not the best combination.” A male’s voice teased. You bit the inside of your cheek and scowled, turning to bark back an insult at the nosy man. But there was no one on either side of you, which made your anger fizzle into more of an irritated confusion. “Great, now I’m hearing things.” You scoffed and tilted your head back to take another swig from the bottle out of spite. As you tilted your head back though, a blob of red and blue caught your eye. Sticking to the wall above you was none other than your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Miguel O’Hara

I’ve only really got one recommendation for this one and it’s Every You Every Me by @astroboots. I already read and liked some of her other work, this one did not disappoint at all. It was exhilarating and interesting. The buildup, dynamics, and twists were all incredible. Summary: You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you’re saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man.

Matt Murdock

I fell in love with this man this year and it only feels right to start off with @bellaxgiornata. All of her work is incredible but I’m specifically adding Falling For The Devil and All These Years to this list. Both are ongoing series. FFTD is a series that sticks with me and I think about at random times. It’s sweet, fun, angsty, and in the author’s own words, “spicy”. You really get to see the whole relationship develop and them navigate it and life, up and down. ATY is a lot of hurt, a little comfort later on. College, lack of communication (that’s not frustrating to witness), growth and trying to push forward and move on, yet hopeless devoted to another. I stayed up until nearly 4AM reading this one. FFTD Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses. ATY Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Next is Of blood and worship and Go to him, therefore, by the sea by @raelwrites. I love a lot of Rael’s writing, but I’m sticking to these two for this list (as much as I love Gunpowder and cinnamon). Stories about non-humans are awesome. The descriptions and dynamic in Of blood and worship is so good and merman with a human bonding is a classic. Of blood and worship Summary: You, an elderitch horror with a soft spot for humans, are awoken from your slumber by a lonely voice of one young Matt Murdock. You stayed by his side constantly, helping him, keeping him company. And you tried to keep him from knowing you were there. But what would happen if the ever vigilant blind lawyer takes notice of you? Go to him, therefore, by the sea summary: You save an injured merperson in the caverns you frequent often. And now, he's there every time you venture down there. Communicating with the being is hard, but you learn how to talk to each other. A story of longing-

Third is The Key You Wear by @devils-dares. I love a good exes to lovers, people with strained relationships that still deeply care for each other. This is that with some gentle loving. Summary: you get a voicemail from your ex, who is very much not well. you visit him the next day to make sure all is well (spoiler alert: it's not)

Please, Be Okay by @farfromstrange. A classic vigilante trope of worry and concern if your beloved will return, the dread as it doesn’t look like and then a spiral. This one is just incredible. Summary: When Matt doesn't text or answer your calls during a night out, you can't help but suspect the worst.

This one-shot is a little heavier, still a great read. Muted Dawn by @ellephlox. Life’s dangerous, it’s rough, Matt Murdock being around certainly helps a little though. Summary: You get mugged in the middle of the night, but Matt isn't there to save you.

Last of Matt’s is, The End of the World and Everything After by @up-in-space-reading. Blip stories about Matt are always so interesting but this one is so sweet. Loved watching them heal and learn as they continue to build their life together. Summary: Half of the universe is turned into dust because of Thanos. You and Matt were left behind to pick up the pieces of yourselves and try to learn how to live without the most important people in your lives.

Moon Knight

First Moon Knight fic is Small Surprises by @angel-of-the-moons. A sweet fic featuring autistic Steven as he bonds with Reader’s daughter along with the other boys. Eventually they fall in love and the boys fit into her and her daughter’s little domestic life rather easily. For the most part. Ongoing fic. Summary: N/A

A Night to Remember by @xcalciumx. This one is so interesting, especially the demon. Jake reveal combined with a fight against, along with a demon. Summary: A nice night with your boyfriend Marc quickly unveils into chaos. A third altar? A horrifying demon? Your half-assed Egyptian God of Wind and Air, Shu? What could possibly go wrong

not him by @loud-mouth-loser. I love stories of “I love you, you do not. I still love you, regardless.” along with, “the people we love, do not love us” and then they bond over that and cope with it together. Multi-chaptered. Summary: you’ve been steven’s best friend for a while and have had a crush on him as long as you’ve known him. unfortunately, his eyes are on layla, his alter’s wife. let's just say, you’re not the only one put off by this. this is a story of how you and marc bond over your sorrows.

Last, but not least, is Constellations by @asimplearchivist. A sweet, ongoing series with gentle love and action as the boys grapple with everything post-S1 and falling in love. Their relationship with the Reader is so sweet. The full multi-chaptered fic is available on AO3 to registered users. Summary: steven, unbeknownst to him, meets the love of his life at one of its lowest points.

X-Men

This is section is just to recommend more of Rael’s work. Florentine and Wasurenai by @raelwrites. Both are ongoing multi-chaptered fics with poly relationships. Rael writes dynamics and relationships in a way that I just love. I love their world building too. Florentine Summary: Right so here is the harem-esque royalty au fic (Titled achromatopia) with some of the marvel characters. You are a newly coronated Emperor to the Empire of Nocturnus, having gained the throne after your father's death as well as your mutiny against the heir to the throne. The Empire had gotten corrupt, and you took over to remove that mold from the place. But as an illegitimate child of the former Emperor, you have little to no political influence and have no experience in finances. How could you cover for those flaws? Well, you could get married to all the geniuses you meet... Wasurenai Summary: N/A

#fic rec #peter parker x reader #peter b parker x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #matt murdock x reader #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #erik lensherr x reader

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madixkiwi · 1 year

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Pressure (Chapter 3)

Miguel O'Hara x Reader (fem)

Word Count: 2.8k

Description: Miguel and Y/N are in an established relationship. As the events of "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse" gradually unfold, conflict arises between the couple. Miguel is a complicated man with the fate of the multiverse riding on his shoulders. Y/N is a Spider-Society technician with a big heart and strong morals.

______________________________________________________________

“Yo, this place is wild!” Miles said as he took in the incredible sight before him. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she watched him look around in awe, approaching the dock he and his friends arrived in with brisk steps. Jess waved at Y/N and led the others towards her.

“Hey, guys, what have you all been up to?” Y/N asked once she was close enough to the group.

“Nothin’ much,” Hobie answered.

“Oh, you know…” Gwen laughed awkwardly, avoiding a conversation about what happened in Pavitr’s universe a few minutes ago.

Jess glanced at Y/N with a knowing look. “It’s a long story, you’ll hear all about it soon enough.”

“Oh, alright,” Y/N chuckled and faced the new kid. “Hi, new guy! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Miles,” he responded.

“Alright, Miles, I’m Y/N,” the group stopped walking forward when they reached the end of the dock. Y/N gestured to the expanse of the building that was crawling with other Spider-People. “Welcome to Spider-Society!”

Miles’ jaw dropped. Thousands of Spiders occupied the floors, walls, and ceiling; it was truly a sight to behold.

“Come on, guys. Miguel wants to see you,” Jess began walking in step with Y/N, who nodded in agreement with her friend.

“It’s actually my job to take you to him. Follow me, everyone.” It wasn’t very often that Y/N had the opportunity to walk through the magnificent building, for she and Margo were always cooped up in the control room. Almost every face was familiar to her, and she received a plethora of greetings from everyone she passed.

As the small group walked together, Miles began to glitch out. Jess stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes, fishing for a wristband in her pocket. “Here,” she said, tossing the band in Miles’ direction. He caught it with ease.

“Woah, my own watch!” He gasped.

“It’s a day pass,” Y/N clarified.

“It’ll keep you from-” Jess was cut off by the sound of Miles glitching again. He slid his band onto his wrist and the glitching stopped. “-doing that.”

They ran into Peter Parkedcar shortly after that, and Jess instructed him to deal with a “spot mess”.

“I wouldn't call it a mess, more like a success in progress,” Miles suggested.

Y/N looked at Jess for some elaboration. “What are you guys talking about?”

“You mean Miguel hasn’t told you?” Jess seemed genuinely surprised.

“Nope, nothing.”

Jess almost told Y/N everything, but she got distracted upon seeing Ben Reilly in the hallway. “One sec, Y/N. Ben, I need-”

“Sorry, I can’t talk right now,” Ben began dramatically. “I’m thinking about my past.”

“Actually, we need you here for some reason.”

Ben groaned and threw himself onto the nearest structure. Jess and Y/N remained unphased by the action, but the kids behind them were a little thrown off. The group continued their walk across HQ, and Lyla joined them when they made it to the room containing all of the captured anomalies. Y/N tried coaxing any information out of Jess that she could, but something always prevented her from telling the full story.

Y/N said “hi” to Margo and let her take on the role of explaining the Go Home Machine to Miles. “Jess, please, I’m dying here,” she pleaded with her friend.

Jess looked at Lyla, and they shared a look that Y/N couldn’t read properly. “Look, Y/N, you know I love you.”

“Yeahhh?”

“Which is why it’s been so hard to keep this from you. But Miguel specifically said not to tell you about this.”

Y/N’s expression dropped. “Oh, so Miguel put you up to this. He doesn’t want me to know what’s going on?”

“Y/N, come on-”

“Hey, don’t worry. I know it’s not your fault… It’s just frustrating.”

“I can only imagine.” Jess’ sympathy was written all over her face.

The conversation concluded when Miles, Hobie, and Gwen started walking back towards the grown ups. Lyla disappeared for a second and then came back with a smirk on her face. “Miguel sounds hungry,” she declared.

“He likes those empanadas from the cafeteria,” Jess added.

Normally, Y/N would have specified the details of Miguel’s food order, but the thought of him stung too much to dwell on. She clenched her jaw and stared at the floor as the group made a detour to order an empanada, a sort of peace offering for Miles to give Miguel.

Meanwhile, Miguel watched all of them from one of his monitors, paying close attention to Y/N’s behavior. He frowned before collecting a vile of the solution that gave him his powers, inserting it into a unique syringe and injecting himself with the green liquid. Videos of the life he shared with his daughter flashed on the other screens surrounding him, reminding him of the past and worsening his mood. The life he desperately wanted for himself taunted him with its unattainability; although, he would have never met Y/N if that universe never collapsed.

***

The door to his room opened abruptly. Miguel started moving his platform downwards towards the floor. He knew that Hobie, Miles and Gwen stood waiting for him in the doorway. He didn’t expect Y/N to be standing next to them, though, protecting the kids from the full extent of his temper. Jess had sent her in with them to act as a cushion.

“Te traje una empanada,” Miles held up the food he had picked up for Miguel from the cafeteria.

Miguel shot his webs at the container, slinging the box directly into his hand. “Que maravilla,” he responded. His voice was emotionless. He looked over at Y/N for a split second, taking note of the sadness in her expression.

“Listen,” Miles continued. “I’m really excited to get going-”

“Oh, great.”

“I have some fresh new ideas on how to catch the Spot.” Y/N’s interest was piqued when the “spot” was brought up.

Miguel didn’t allow his demeanor to falter, but he internally panicked when Miles mentioned the secret that he had kept hidden from Y/N. He knew Y/N would inevitably find out about everything, and she was going to kill him for hiding it from her. Miguel took out his anger regarding the predicament on Miles, throwing a table at his head. Even though his spider senses allowed for him to dodge the projectile, it was still a low blow in Y/N’s opinion. “He’s worried about Spot,” Miguel mumbled. Then his voice grew increasingly louder. “I’ll worry about Spot!”

“What did I do?”

“Miguel!” Y/N yelled at him disapprovingly.

Gwen stood in front of Miles. “It’s not his fault.”

“You blew another hole in the multiverse!” Miguel snarled.

“He doesn’t know any better!”

Y/N jumped in to support Gwen. “Calm down, Miguel! He’s just a kid!”

“Stay out of this,” Miguel snapped. Y/N felt shivers run down her spine. He had never spoken to her like that before. Something about the red glow in his eyes and the venom in his voice scared her.

Miguel turned back to Gwen. “You knew better, Gwen. And you-” He turned to address Hobie, who couldn’t have cared less about what Miguel was saying. “I was gonna try to ignore you, but I just can’t.”

Miles looked from Gwen, to Y/N, to Hobie, to Miguel. “What’s happening?” He asked.

“Hey, Miguel, go easy on the kid. He had a terrible teacher,” Peter B’s voice entered the conversation like a saving grace. Y/N whipped around in excitement; Peter was one of her closest friends, and she absolutely adored his daughter.

“Peter?”

“Peter-”

“Peter!”

“Oh boy, humbling reality Spider-Man has arrived.”

Miles ran up to his mentor and gave him a hug.

“Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel,” Peter began. “He just looks scary, he’s got no bite.”

“You sure about that?” Y/N questioned playfully.

Peter’s grin grew wider when he saw her. “Hey, there’s my favorite normie!”

Miguel turned his back to the group, jealous of Y/N’s enthusiasm for Peter. “Peter,” He spat under his breath.

“Wow, everyone’s here, this is great!”

“Hey, Peter, what’s that?” Miles pointed at the vacant baby carrier that was strapped over Peter’s shoulders. Mayday’s joyous screams answered Miles’ inquiry. She swung through the room with her webs, climbing on the walls in true Peter B. Parker fashion.

“You have a baby?” Miles watched as she happily explored the room. Peter chased after her, and Miguel rubbed his forehead in annoyance. He mumbled incoherent sounds to himself in an attempt to remain collected. His moment was interrupted by Mayday climbing onto his shoulders. Peter swung next to Miguel and showed him some of her baby pictures.

“I’m trying to hold a serious adult conversation,” Miguel dismissed Peter’s antics.

“You know, you’re the only Spider-Man that isn’t funny. We’re supposed to be funny,” Peter reminded him.

“The fate of the multiverse-”

“You always lose me with that. You say, ‘The fate of the multiverse,’ and my brain dies.”

Mayday fell into Miguel’s arms, and he handed her off to her father.

Miguel took a deep breath and returned to the original topic of conversation. “Miles, you disrupted a canon event.” Y/N noticed that the bags under his eyes were darker than usual.

“Canon event?” Miles repeated.

Peter chimed back in, “The kid wasn’t thinking. That’s not how he works.”

Miles frowned. “That’s insulting. Wait,” he faced Miguel. “What are you so upset about? I saved those people.”

Miguel jumped down from his platform. “And that’s the problem. Lyla, do the thing.”

Lyla appeared next to him. “Huh, what thing?” She teased.

“What do you mean ‘what thing’? The information explainy thing.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

Suddenly the entire room was covered in a holographic projection. Miguel looked over at Y/N once more, but she was too busy admiring Lyla’s work to notice. Miguel then went on to explain how the multiverse worked to Miles. He covered the importance of canon events, and he detailed why Miles’ shouldn’t have saved inspector Singh’s life back in Pavitr’s universe. According to Miguel, Pavitr’s dimension was currently unraveling, and it was Miles’ fault.

“That’s what happens when you break the canon,” Miguel stated.

“How do you know?” Miles’ question caused Miguel to pause. Y/N stared at him, concerned about how he would react to such a sensitive subject.

Miguel looked at Miles with a somber expression. “Because I broke it once myself.” He went on to detail the truth that he happened to learn about the hard way. Lyla replayed the footage of Miguel’s last moments with his daughter. He was frantically trying to run away from the destruction that chased him as the little girl clung to his suit. She eventually glitched into nothingness while Miguel helplessly watched. Y/N almost started crying when she saw Miguel’s reaction to the loss of his child. She looked over at her partner and noticed that he wasn’t watching the replay.

“You break enough canon and save enough captains, and we could lose everything,” Miguel told Miles.

Miles took a moment to process Miguel’s words. “My dad is about to be captain,” he said. Suddenly he began to stagger and pull on his hair. “Spot does it… he kills him. When does it happen?”

Miguel avoided Miles’ gaze.

“When does it happen?” He demanded.

“In two days. When he’s sworn in.” Miguel claims.

Lyla popped up next to Miguel for support. “That’s what the model says.”

“I’m sorry Miles.”

Miles’ breathing is staggered. “Send me home.”

Miguel sighs. “I can’t do that. Not now.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just let him die?”

Miguel gives him a look that says, “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

Miles turns around and faces Gwen. “What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”

“Yeah,” is all Gwen responds with.

“And that’s it? You just aren’t going to do anything about it?” The whole room is silent. “Okay, what about Uncle Ben? Would that have been okay if you knew and you just let it play out?”

Peter reached out and rested a hand on Miles’ arm. “If not for Uncle Ben, most of us wouldn’t be here, Miles. And all the good we did, it wouldn’t have been done.”

“So we’re just supposed to let people die because some algorithm says that that’s supposed to happen? You realize how messed up that sounds, right?”

Y/N understood where Miles was coming from. Suddenly, every piece of information that had been deliberately hidden from her was fitting together like matching puzzle pieces. The Spot was the anomaly that Miguel was concerned about, and Miles had somehow gotten entangled in his mess. They ended up in Pavitr’s universe, where Miles disrupted the canon. Y/N was well aware of how the canon worked, and she knew it was unfair. It had been cruel to every Spider-Person.

Currently, she was on Miles’ side. No one could realistically expect him to let his father die when his death could easily be prevented. The containment teams didn’t always manage to save unraveling dimensions, but sometimes they did. If it were up to her, then every Spider in the building would work hard at finding a way to save Miles’ father and his universe. Unfortunately, Miguel was the one who called the shots, and he was inherently narrow minded.

“You have a choice between saving one person and saving an entire world- every world.” Miguel said.

Miles shook his head. “I can do both! Spider-Man always-”

“Not always.” Peter looked heartbroken as hundreds of Spiders gathered around the group. They all came to support Miguel, and to remind Miles that he wasn’t alone.

“Miles,” Miguel continued. “We all want to live the life we wished we had. Believe me, I’ve tried. And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.” His eyes finally met with Y/N’s again. They briefly shared an expression of immense grief. ”Being Spider-Man is a sacrifice. That’s the job. That’s what you signed up for.”

Miles looked around at the people that surrounded him. “What is this?” His voice trembled. “Is this an intervention or something? You can’t ask me not to save my father.”

“I’m not asking.” Miguel slid a device on the floor that imprisoned Miles in a projection of red light.

“Miguel!” Y/N had had enough of standing in the background. She ran over to Miguel and grabbed his arm. “Let him go, Miguel. He’s too young to understand!” She didn’t really believe that, but she wanted Miguel to let him off easy.

“Stop it!” Gwen yelled. Peter tried persuading Miguel to let Miles go as well.

Miguel closed his eyes. “If we let him leave, then he’ll only do more damage. You all know that.”

“This can’t be the only way,” Y/N concluded. She tugged at Miguel’s arm desperately. “Don’t do this, Miguel, he’s a child. Please, don’t do this.”

He ignored Y/N’s pleas. “I just need to hold you for a few days,” he told Miles.

Hobie looked at Y/N from across the room, and then he looked at Miles. He started walking over to him, and Y/N had an idea of what he was planning. “Don’t ignore me!” She tried her best to distract Miguel. “That’s all you ever do nowadays. You don’t even care about me anymore, do you?”

Y/N hadn’t intended to say something so harsh, but it managed to successfully distract Miguel for a moment. “Is that what you really think?” The hurt in his voice was extremely apparent. Y/N instantly regretted what she said. She moved her hands from his arm to cover her mouth.

“Miguel, I-” A wave of electricity swept across the room with a static jolt. Miguel instinctively grabbed Y/N and pulled her towards him, shielding her with his body. When everyone looked back towards the center of the room, they saw Miles free from the containment chamber. Without wasting any time Miles bolted out the door. Miguel immediately chased after him, leaping forward with intensity. He left Y/N behind without a second thought, leaving her on the cold floor. All of the other people in the room began to chase after Miles as well.

A few moments later, Y/N heard Miguel’s voice over the overhead speakers again. “All stations, stop what you’re doing and stop Spider-Man.” Confused conversation buzzed throughout the building. “Ay, coño, Miles! Miles Morales! He’s entering sector 4!”

Y/N picked herself up and rushed over towards the control room. If Miles wanted to go home, then he would have to use the Go Home Machine. As she ran through the empty halls, she silently hoped that Miles would make it back where he belonged, and she prayed that Miguel would forgive her for what she said.

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dilf-lover99 · 2 years

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The Secrets We Keep | P.P.

Pairing: Tasm! Peter Parker x Reader (no pronouns mentioned)

Summary: Reader and Peter have been together for over a year, but lately Peter’s been acting strange. When a rumour goes around that he’s cheating, will Peter finally confess the secret he’s been keeping?

Warnings: angst (with a happy ending), major miscommunication(s), spreading of a rumour, mentions of cheating, a kiss or two, like two swear words i think?

Word Count: 3.4k

a/n: this has been in my drafts forever but better late than never i guess ! happy reading besties<3

There are certain moments in time, you believe, specific junctures in which you can unambiguously determine a person’s character.

For instance, when Peter Parker magnanimously rescued you from being the quintessential misplaced new kid on your first day of school, shattering your momentary apprehension with a series of epigrammatic jokes, you knew he was good. He was the type of person you could trust with anything, with everything.

Including your heart.

You never intended for it to happen. For the mere sight of his gentle crooked grin to set loose a thousand monarch butterflies within the environs of your stomach. For his lambent mahogany eyes to elevate the beating of your heart to a near-incomprehensible speed each time they came into contact with your own. For your fingers to itch with envy each time he ran a slender hand through the tousled strands of chestnut resting contently atop his head.

You never intended to fall for him, but you did.

And somehow, to your outright unabridged relief, he reciprocated your affections.

Peter Parker was no longer the unattainable fantasy that consumed hours of your thoughts with visions of stolen kisses or illusions of whispered devotions. He was your boyfriend.

Perfection is a counterfeit concept; An unobtainable title which countless people have fallen short attempting to procure. But the first year of your relationship with Peter was exclusively comparable to the word perfect.

Peter was the resolute characterization of what a partner should be. Patient and understanding, affectionate and gentle, always there with a witty joke and a whimsical grin on your good days, or a comforting embrace and sibilations of reassurance on your bad ones.

Recently, things have been different. Peter has been different.

When you see him, on the rare days he’s not preoccupied with matters he neglects to inform you of, he’s perceptibly distracted, his fascinatingly intricate mind absorbed with thoughts of something else entirely.

You’ve contemplated bringing it up with him, yearning for some reassurance that you’re still what he wants, but each time your words attempt the journey from your brain to your lips, they get stuck in traffic. How exactly does one ask their boyfriend why he’s avoiding them like an umbrella-wielding pedestrian in an unusually heavy stretch of rainfall?

In all fairness, you’ve been avoiding him too. Since Friday night. Harry Osborne had thrown a party that night, ‘The Party to End All Parties’ according to the entirety of your peers. Extravagant house parties and overflowing crowds aren’t your preferred circumstances for socialization, but you seized the long-overdue opportunity to spend some time with Peter.

You wish you hadn’t.

You can’t pinpoint the precise origin of the conversation, only the ending which resulted in your premature departure from the Osborne residence, neglecting to mutter so much as a goodbye to Harry while the biting sting of unshed tears filled your eyes.

“I just- I wanted to spend some time together. I feel like we hardly see each other anymore.” Your voice trails off at the end, becoming a mere shadow of its former self.

“We see each other all the time! I was at your dorm the day before yesterday.” Peter’s voice holds firm in both volume and pitch, he’s not yelling but you can sense his tone’s underlying urgency as his hand weaves its way through his auburn tresses.

“That was Monday, Pete.”

“Okay, then we saw each other on Monday. Can you just give me a little space? Please? Just for a couple hours. I’ll come find you after and we can talk, okay?” His chocolate eyes soften near the tail-end of his sentence, making it evident how blissfully unaware he is of the internal war now waging behind your eyelids.

It takes more strength than you knew you could muster, to prevent the plethora of melancholy emotions from overtaking your being as you mutter, “You know what? I actually have that Chem lab on Monday morning, I think- I’m just gonna’ go home and study.” You don’t wait for his response, uncertain if it would only cause you more heartache, turning swiftly on your heels and making an abrupt exit.

You’re adrift in the memory, wondering if you should have reacted differently, explained to him the impact that the nuance of his words had on you. An unyielding hand on your shoulder seizes your attention, graciously preventing you from vigorously overthinking any further.

A single glance informs you that the impeccably manicured hand belongs to none other than Penelope Marsh, designated campus gossip. You can count on one hand the amount of conversations you’ve had with Penelope since you started university that didn’t include her spreading a rumour like a wildfire. You’re certain this encounter isn’t likely to take up another.

“(y/n), I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry. About what Peter did to you at that party. It was so messed up, seriously. Nobody deserves that.” There’s a discernible undertone of pity to her voice, though she wasn’t sorry enough to hold off commencing the conversation to begin with.

“How did you-?” You cut yourself off with a gentle shake of your head, a chuckle of acknowledgement breaking through. A magician never reveals their secrets and a Penelope never reveals their sources; You’re wondering if there’s not a trace of magic in the girl alike, the speed with which she seems to possess other people’s secrets is borderline wizardry. “Never mind,” You simper amusedly, your outward cheeriness fading as you continue, “It wasn’t a big deal, really. Every couple has disagreements, right? We’re fine.” You aren’t entirely sure which of you it is you’re trying to convince.

She’s looking at you with a mixture of pity and confusion, though you haven’t the faintest idea what she could possibly be confused about. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again, akin to that of a gulping fish in the sea, “(y/n), whatever you said in the argument doesn’t justify him hooking up with some rando! There’s no way you guys can be fine after that!”

What?

You want to call her a liar, or tell her that she’s wildly mistaken, but you don’t. You’ve been driving yourself near the brink of insanity wondering what Peter’s been hiding from you. Though you could never imagine him doing this, how can you immediately deny the only answer you’ve been offered?

You have a plethora of questions, each one violently clawing at your trachea with its talons in an attempt to be the first one out. The words never make it past your lips, though the burning sensation remains in your throat. Articulation ceases to be within the realm of your current capabilities, because, how does one verbalize the breaking of their heart?

Penelope, with all of her ill-timed metaphorical bomb-droppings, is perceptive enough to read you like a storybook, “Oh my god. You had no idea, did you? Oh I’m so sorry! I thought- Actually, scratch that, I wasn’t thinking at all.”

Had these been any other set of circumstances, you’d find great amusement in watching the typically put together Penelope Marsh stumble over her words in a misguided yet well-meaning attempt to soothe you. But the verisimilitude of the situation persists like the unceasing violence of a thunderstorm without the assurance of a tepid luminous addendum.

Peter didn’t want to be alone that night, he just didn’t want to be with you.

Suddenly, the mere idea of sticking around for the Chem lab you’d spent the remainder of that Friday night studying for, turned the tides in your stomach. You have to get out of here.

And so you do.

Wallowing.

That’s the only activity you’ve partaken in since Penelope told you about Peter’s supposed cheating scandal this morning. The logical part of your brain knows you owe it to him, or at the very least yourself, to have a rational adult discussion about everything before mourning the loss of a relationship that hasn’t actually ended yet.

But the acerbic heartbroken part of you isn’t keen on having a conversation with him at all.

Neither part of you knows the appropriate way to react when Peter shows up at your dorm holding a charmingly disheveled bouquet of flowers.

“Hi.” His eyes take their time searching each carefully crafted feature on your face before stopping at your own eyes, a timid smile resting on his delicate lips.

When you don’t answer, Peter takes a modest step inside, softly closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact. “I’m a jerk.” He states resolutely, knowing it’s best to usher the elephant out of the room before it causes any severe damage.

You let out a sardonic chuckle at his words, believing they hold an air of truth to them now more than you ever thought previously. “You can say that again.” The sound of your own voice takes you by surprise, you were honestly unsure wether you were going to speak or not.

“I’m a jerk,” He repeats with a heart-shatteringly beautiful smile, making things even harder than they were before.

You can’t take it anymore, the bitter resentful part of you can’t, at least, “Penelope Marsh.” You state simply.

It’s unfair, truly, how Peter manages to look so handsome, even now, sporting a look of outright confusion. “What?”

“Penelope Marsh.” You say again, as if you’re adding any level of clarification.

“Gossip Girl?” He jokes, “What about her?”

“A year and a half, Pete! We’ve been together for a year and a half, and I have to find out you don’t want me anymore through Penelope goddamn Marsh.” Woah. You said that.

The words hit you harder than they did when they were simply thoughts. But you don’t ignore the minuscule tinge of pride you receive for finally verbalizing your feelings.

Peter’s face has paled significantly, he’s trying to convince himself that he couldn’t have possibly heard you correctly. Doesn’t want you anymore? You’re the only thing he wants anymore. That’s why he’s hardly seen you these past few weeks. Keeping you safe is all that matters to him, and if Spider-Man’s enemies found out about you? There would be no more you to want.

But he can’t tell you that.

Because keeping you safe also, painstakingly, means keeping you in the dark. He knows you, better than he knows himself, and he knows how you would react if he told you he was Spider-Man. You would panic first, dismayed at the level of danger he often finds himself in, then you would get angry that he kept this a secret so well and for so long, lastly you would bargain with him, tell him that you were proud of the work he’s done but he’s too young to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and that he should give it a break, at least until after college.

And as positively relieved as he would be to finally unload the burden of harbouring this secret from you, he’s not ready to give up being Spider-Man, no matter how dangerous it is.

But he also can’t not tell you that.

Because the only thing worse than not being Spider-man anymore, is not being yours anymore.

“(y/n),” He starts, taking gentle determined steps toward you, “You know that’s not true, right?”

You swallow in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the burning feeling that’s once again made itself at home in your throat. “How would I know that Peter? Was I supposed to know you wanted to be with me when you spent all month avoiding me like the plague? Or was I supposed to figure it out when you were hooking up with somebody else at Harry’s party?”

You’re not sure how your brain has finally decided to work in tandem with your vocal chords but you’re glad to rid the words from their endless loop inside your brain.

“What?! (y/n), what the hell are you talkin’ about? I didn’t touch anybody, okay? I swear,” His voice is equal parts frantic and confused, “I would never do that to you! You gotta know that by now.” He takes another step in front of you, the perfect distance to reach out a gentle hand and caress your cheek, though he resists the urge, wanting to give you your space.

“I want to believe that Pete…”

“Okay, so believe it.”

“Then you have to tell me why.”

You both know the meaning of your words, yet he asks, “Why what?”

“Why do we hardly see each other anymore? And when we do, why are you a million miles away? Why are you keeping whatever this secret is? If you didn’t do whatever people are saying you did at that party, then why the hell can’t you just, please, tell me what’s going on?”

There’s an inkling of relief you feel, finally releasing the tiresome burden you’ve been staunchly carrying around for weeks, but there’s also a legion of salty unshed tears waiting to be freed from the surface of your eyes.

Simultaneously, Peter’s eyes well up with their own tears. His brain is shouting at his throat to vocalize the truth, the whole truth, and assure you that you couldn’t be further off the mark.

But it’s like he’s frozen.

The glacial sub-zero temperatures biting at the tips of his fingers prevent them from making contact with your own. The snowstorm waging within the arctic blurs his vision, keeping him from seeing reason.

Sensing a lack of response, you continue with a final desperate plea, “Please, just tell me the truth, Pete.”

Belatedly, the ice thaws, melting away his doubts along with it. You want to know the truth; You deserve to know the truth. And so he makes up his mind.

He’s going to tell it to you.

His sparkling umber eyes look at you with a mixture of sorrow and determination as he takes one more step, inching ever closer to you, a gesture that conflicts each of the thoughts jumbled together in your head. Closing his eyes briefly, Peter releases a subaqueous sigh before reopening them and fixing them on your own.

“Promise you won’t hate me?” His voice gives its best attempt at a facetious tone, but is quickly overtaken with nerves.

“I could never hate you, Pete.” You admit honestly, reaching your fingers out and resting them gently upon his arm, giving it a tender squeeze of reassurance.

And now he knows that he’s making the right decision.

Because even when you mistakenly think that he may have done something incomprehensibly horrible to you, you’re still comforting him, still vowing to be there for him no matter the circumstances.

Respiring once more, he braves himself as best as he can, and, eyes never wavering from their heavenly contact with your own, utters “I’m Spider-Man.”

You’re not entirely certain your ears have processed his words correctly. They couldn’t have, right?

“You’re what?”

“I’m Spider-Man.” Peter repeats, voice laced with disbelief. He’s shocked that he actually managed to get the words out, twice no less. He’s tried telling you before, a multitude of times in fact, but he’s never managed to come close until now.

Of the myriad of ideas circling around in the confines of your cranium pertaining to the secret that your boyfriend’s been withholding from you, none of them resembled anything similar to the truth.

He’s Spider-Man?

It made no sense. And yet it made all the sense in the world.

How had you not discovered it before?

The plethora of scrapes and bruises being smoothly swept away with a ‘Guess I’m too clumsy for my own good.’ The times he’d been hours late to a date or a study session only to turn up sweat-slicked and out of breath with an ‘I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry.’ The time you attempted to grab a hoodie from his closet only to be stopped by a panic-stricken, ‘No! I’ll get it. It’s- It’s messy in there.’

“You’re Spider-Man.” You murmur, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell, Pete!” You innocuously swat at his arm with your hand, drawing a soft ‘ouch’ from Peter as you continue, “You’ve been Spider-Man this whole time and you’re only telling me now?”

“I didn’t want to put you in danger, (y/n)! Do you have any idea what could happen to you if bad guys find out you’re dating Spider-Man?” Peter’s voice is a plea, desperate for you to understand that he kept this from you because he loves you.

“You should have told me sooner.” You mumble, frustrated, as you know he had a hell of a good reason for keeping it a secret so long.

“I know,” He moves his hand to cup your face, tenderly rubbing shapes into your cheek with his thumb, “I just didn’t know how. I couldn’t-” He rests his forehead against your own, sighing contentedly at the warmth, “I can’t stop being Spider-Man, (y/n), I won’t.”

“I would never ask you to do that, Pete.” You pull back, confounded that his assumptions would suggest otherwise.

“You wouldn’t?”

“No?” Confusion seeps through your utterance.

“It’s not exactly the safest job in the world.” He explains facetiously.

“Oh really? They don’t give you health insurance and monthly check-ups?” Your sarcasm holds a teasing undertone that makes the corners of Peter’s mouth twitch upwards; The early stages of a masterpiece in the making.

Your voice becomes serious once more as you gaze into his eyes, your hand moving to rest over his own on your face, “I don’t doubt it’s dangerous, Pete. But Spider-Man helps people- You help people. That’s pretty amazing.”

There are more words to be shared, further concerns to be addressed, but Peter can’t be bothered to think about anything but kissing you in this moment.

And so he does.

His tender pink lips brush themselves gently upon your own. His hand remains on your face, the opposite one making it’s way up to your other cheek as you wrap both your arms around his waist. The kiss deepens, your lips moving together leisurely and deliberately in synchronous ebullient harmony.

When you finally part, reluctantly requiring the catching of your breath, you’re both donning blindingly luminous smiles.

“I just kissed Spider-Man.”

“Woah, what? Where is he? I’ll kick his ass.” Peter’s blissed out smile remains on his face, widening tenfold as he registers the sound of your laughter originating from his bad joke.

“Hey, what do you think Penelope Marsh was talking about? At the party on Friday?” Your curiosity returns, without the presence of anguish, knowing whole-heartedly that your boyfriend hasn’t broken your heart.

Peter cringes slightly, resting his forehead against yours once more with a diminutive chuckle, “I might have had a small Spider-Man emergency. That’s why I sorta blew you off that night, which I’m still really sorry about, by the way. I snuck out through one of the guest room windows, but when I came back, my hair was all messy and someone opened the door and saw me putting my clothes back on. Not my finest hour.”

You can’t contain the laughter bubbling in your throat, Peter laughing along with you once the sound breaks past your lips. The two of you remain like that for a while, sharing laughs and gentle caresses.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.” You mutter earnestly.

“What? What’re you sorry for?” His eyebrows are drawn together in confusion while a small pout plays upon his lips.

“For believing that stupid rumour, I know you’d never do anything like that. And I should have told you how I felt sooner, instead of holding it all in until I blew up at you.” Communication is the key to any healthy relationship and you’re frustrated with yourself that you appear to have lost sight of that over the last couple of months.

“Hey,” His voice is velvet as he tenderly grabs hold of your face in both hands, steadying your gaze into his sentimental chestnut eyes, “It’s okay. We’re okay.” He smiles a contagious smile, “I’m sorry too. About everything. Let’s make a promise, okay?”

You nod your head perceptibly, an amiable smile resting contentedly on your lips.

“Promise that, from now on, we’ll tell each other everything, okay? Even if it’s hard, or dumb, or one of those weird facts you always seem to have about the moon.”

“It’s earth’s natural satellite, Pete!”

Your smile widens as Peter chuckles affectionately at your quick defence of moon, “Yeah,” You start, still smiling brightly, “I promise.”

“Good. Me too.” He pulls your body closer to his own, kissing you once more with sincerity.

“I love you.” He mumbles against your lips.

“I love you too.” You murmur bringing him in for another kiss.

You’re veritably certain that you were right, all those moons ago, in your decision to entrust Peter Parker with everything.

Including your heart.

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frankoceanluvrr · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 - 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : college!peter, fem!reader, college!au

warnings : topics of cheating and being intoxicated is included ! Angst (?)

summary : [name] and Peter are going through a rough patch in their relationship. With exams upcoming and all the stress with being spiderman Peter becomes distant and doesn’t communicate.

a/n : first post !!!

“[Name], this is so unlike you, you okay?” Your friend said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“I just need a distraction from studying, no big deal, ” You said trying your hardest to convince them, “a drink would do me some good.”

A look of doubt was plastered all over their expression. In reality, you needed more than a simple “distraction” from studying, but you couldn’t tell them it wasn’t just studying. You wanted to, but you were worried they would tell him.

“Him” being Peter Peter. Your everything. More specifically your boyfriend of 6 months, but you had been friends since high school. Everything about him even now gave you butterflies. The way he says your name, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs, the way he remembers every detail. Everything felt so easy when you were with him. Until now.

From conversations into arguments. Staying over late into leaving early. Reasonable jealousy into possessive behaviour. Yet the thing that got you the most was the lying. It felt as if he was lying over every little thing. Every situation he’d make up an excuse to leave. Obviously, you did not know he was spiderman. He hadn’t told you out of fear you might leave him. Or you could potentially end up hurt, as many have been in the past.

“You sure it’s just studying? I can tell something’s up [Name].” Your friend sighed, persisting on knowing.

“Yes I’m sure, let’s leave now” you smiled, taking their arm.

***

“Should I have another?” Your words slurring out your mouth before you got a glance at your friend leave with some guy.

You sighed looking at the time. It was 2 in the morning, you must’ve lost track of time. Your heart suddenly felt heavy as you remembered why you even came. You gathered your things and left the bar, paying for both you and your friends drinks, even though they left you.

You began to walk back to your student flat. Your city wasn’t the safest at night, so you attempted to look sober and alert.

“Uh, miss?” A voice from above you said.

You had got to be hallucinating. You took a deep breath and just kept walking.

“Miss?” The voice got closer, until it was directly behind you, “is everything okay?”

You turned around to see the one and only masked vigilante, spiderman. Definitely hallucinating.

He took in your puzzled expression, “sorry, it’s just very late at night and you’re all alone.”

“Are you real?” Your eyes squinting.

“What?”

You reached your hand out, pointing and touching the spider on his chest.

“Why are you here?” You mumbled.

“It’s just not safe out here, let me walk you home at least? Or wherever you’re going. And also I promise you it’s not because you’re a girl or anything you can most definitely protect yourself but it looks as if you’re drunk and it’s just this area is dangerous and-” He rambled.

You stared at him blankly, trying to process a word he just said, “uh, sure? You can walk me home, it’s just down here.”

You began walking, not much space in between you as you kept bumping into him.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, what brings you out drinking on a Tuesday night? Anything to celebrate?”

“My boyfriend.” You stopped walking.

“Oh? Where is he?” His voice low and almost embarrassed.

“I don’t know, probably with another girl.” You said, “and if he isn’t, why has he been acting this way with me the past few months?”

You didn’t care letting it all out now, you didn’t even know this guy so what’s the worst that could happen right?

“What do you mean?” Spiderman said, his tone staying the same.

“It’s just, I know he’s lying to me about where he goes. He barely talks to me now. I feel like such a burden all of a sudden, like, what did I do? I wish he would just tell me. And I wish I was just, better.” You ended up slurring out, “it must be my fault, right?”

An insane wave of guilt washed over the boy.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He said looking down, “anyway, sorry for prying. Let’s keep walking, yeah?”

You took a deep breath and kept walking. I guess alcohol is really truth serum.

#spiderman x reader #Peter Parker x reader #x reader #x you #spiderman #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel comics x you #superhero #fanfic #fan fiction #college au #comics

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purpdaderp · 1 year

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Hi can I ask for a ler!miguel O’Hara fic please?

Ler!Miguel x reader

Hello anon! This is going to be in a romantic relationship, and you are not a spiderman/woman (next time pls be more specific with requests like if their spider person or gender)

I I Requests are open!

"miggy! Miggy miggy miggy miggy!"

"yes, y/n?" Your wear wolf vampire spider thingy boyfriend replies in a somewhat playfully annoyed tone, he had got one day of of work every couple months, once in a blue moon when everything was as close to stable as they could get, and you decided that your mission was to annoy him.

"how 'ya doin?" You say while looking at him with a smirk

"I was 'doin' fine till you started annoying me" he said with a scowl, hiding the chuckle and smirk that was creeping to his face

"aweeee why are you so meeeaaaan?" You say in a childish tone while playfully pouting.

"mean?" He asks "mean!" He rolls his eyes

"you still got problems with that cute 16 year old?" You look at him with a bit of confusion

"cute?" He says with a 'what do you mean by that' look

Jealous much, "Sálvame Dios, I found him cute in a PARENT like way, Miguel" you knew little Spanish, you really only used the words Miguel used, so you knew sálvane dios pretty well. You sit on the couch.

He looks just a little ticked off but not mad

"can't believe you have beef with a 16 year old" you say a little snarky while giggling to yourself. Miguel sits next to you, you are looking at a photo the opposite way from him

"I'll give you something to laugh at" he says sounding some what menacing "huh-?!" Before you could even turn to look at him you could feel a ticklish squeeze on your inner thigh "Miguel waihahahait! Nohoho!" You start giggling loudly

"no what? Don't stop tickling you? Okay if you insist." He teases starting to tickle your sides

"nohohohoho! Mihihihiggy!"

"what? Miggy what? You're saying my name but not what you want!" He teases

"nohohoho! Screhehew yohohou!" You say blushing from his teases, you bat at his hands and try to squirm away at to no avail.

"that's not a very smart thing to say in this position mi amor." He teases again. "Maybe you aren't getting the message, I know how to get it through." Suddenly you feel claws scratching at your sides.

"NOHOHO! STAHAHAP YOHOHOU VAHAHAMPIHIHRE WEHEHEARWOLF SPIHIHIDER THIHIHGNY!" you manage to squeeze out in your fit of laughter

"once again, not very smart" he moves his hands from your sides to your stomach and starts spidering across it

"MIHIHIHIHIGGY!" You tell out, he'd be worried if you guys hadn't had a safe word, worried that he had gone to far or if his claws might've actually hurt you but he knows you're fine for now

He lifts your shirt up a bit, one hand behind your back holding your lying figure up, and the other holding your hands above your head

"get ready mi amor" he waits a couple seconds for dramatics

"nohohoho!" You giggle in anticipation while squirming trying to get away

He takes a deep breath and... "PFFFFTTT* blows a raspberry right on your bellybutton and starts clawing at your sides again

"NAHOHOHOHOH! SPIHIDER SPIDER!!" You yell the safe word and he stops tickling, hugs you close and puts his head in the nook of your neck

"I'm happy this is how I get to spend my days of" he says fondly, you are the only person who gets to see the cheesy soft side of him (others like Peter b see the cheesy tickle monster side)

"ihi aham too dear."

#across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse tickle fic #across the spider verse miguel #miggy #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara

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liz-allyn · 1 year

Text

sugar and vice, pt. 18 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!reader]

summary: everything you need to know about the woman with no name.

words: 6.4k

chapter warning: heavy chapter warnings for s-lf h-rm/ s--cide. Read at your own risk.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, wh-mp. hurt/comfort. s-xu-l situations. spousal ab-se. family trauma. dr-g use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you never laid awake at night in a cold sweat, afraid the FBI was going to break down your door because you downloaded a Metallica song on Kaazaa, then well, wait was it just me? oh. okay then. minors dni.

Back to Part 17.

Part 18

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5),1 defines dissociation as a disruption, interruption, and/or discontinuity of the normal, subjective integration of behavior, memory, identity, consciousness, emotion, perception, body representation, and motor control.

This was another dream.

She was dreaming again.

The DSM-5 dissociative disorders (DD) are:

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID);

Dissociative Amnesia (DA);*

Depersonalization/Derealization Disorder (DPDRD);

Other Specified Dissociative Disorders (OSDD);

Unspecified Dissociative Disorder (UDD).

She was having an out-of-body experience. Like astral projection. Everything she saw through her own eyes were the actions of someone she was ghosting over.

Her life wasn’t happening to her.

She was dreaming.

Having a really bad dream.

*In DSM-5 Dissociative Fugue (DF) is now a subtype of Dissociative Amnesia (DA), and not a separate disorder.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

This is a nightmare. It’s only a nightmare.

This is a nightmare.

This can’t be happening. Can’t be real.

The DSM-5 diagnostic criteria for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) now include a Dissociative Subtype (PTSD-DS). Dissociative amnesia as a symptom is a diagnostic criterion for both DID and for PTSD. Criteria for PTSD-DS are that reminders of the PTSD Criterion: A traumatic stressor lead to depersonalization/derealization symptoms. In DSM-5, the DD section is specifically placed after the Trauma-and-Stressor Related Disorders to show their relationship to traumatic experiences. 1

She was calm.

Heart steady.

She wasn’t sweating this time. Wasn’t pissing herself.

Why would she? This was all a dream.

A strange dream—with John and Peter looking at her like she was a sight for sore eyes. They both wore a smirk. Both of them sharing a secret.

And Felicia was there. And Eddie was there. Johnny Storm, too. Miguel was there—magically reanimated.

What a strange dream. Who else was going to make an appearance? Jesus? Her third-grade teacher? Tod?

None of that really mattered, though. Nothing really mattered. So much so, she wouldn’t even remember what happened next.

How surprising was it, then, to wake up standing in the middle of Peter’s office. Felicia and Eddie lingered near the doorway. Peter stood across from her, eyes wide and alert.

He was speaking to her. Muddled words. It really looked like she should be listening.

But how did she get here?

Oh well. It didn’t matter.

This is a dream. Nothing can hurt you in a dream. Even if you die, you don’t really die. There was nothing to worry about. Everything was fine.

Her fingers were cold, though, wrapped around cold metal. Black as night. She was holding a gun. How strange.

Peter was standing at the barrel end of it. The pistol that had been hidden in his desk. Her finger was on the trigger. Hand shaking.

“Honey,” Peter's voice echoed against her eardrum. He sounded far away. He sounded like he was inside her head. “Please, just talk to me.”

Suddenly, she was awake.

Her heart sped up, eyes focusing sharply as the color drained from them, swallowed up by the black holes of her pupils. She took deep breaths through flared nostrils. Cold perspiration trickled down the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

She stood with her back to the office windows. Blinding daylight drenching the horrified expressions of the people surrounding her. Boxing her in. Closing a gap around her. Locking her into a trap.

That wasn’t going to work. She had the key in her hands. She had the key to it all.

“Honey,” Peter repeated, his voice featherlike yet full of terror. He fixed her with wide eyes, hands up at his shoulders to placate her. He inched closer.

“Stay back!” she barked, eyes feral. She suddenly noticed the tears on her face. Goddamn it, she’s crying again. When did that happen?

“It’s me, baby,” Peter cooed at her. “Jus’ me—”

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice cracking with the force of thunder. It was a wretched, vicious sound. “Who the fuck are you, really?”

He blinked in confusion, reeling in a step backward. Too far to reach for her. Her eyes darted frantically, searching the faces of Felicia and Eddie. Searching for danger. Searching for safety. Searching for any way out.

John wasn’t in the room. He could be hiding around the corner for all she knew. Hiding in her closet or under her bed.

Her lower lip wobbled. There wasn’t a way out.

Her heart wrenched in her chest. “Why did you pick me?” she desperately whimpered, returning to Peter. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Her voice was small and fragile, like a sugar glass figurine. Blinking rapidly, he furrowed his eyebrows, staring at her in confusion.

“Okay, Honeybun,” Felicia chimed in, singsong. “Let’s all just calm down, shall we?”

Honey jerked her arm, pointing the gun at Felicia. She shrieked, jabbing her with each word, “I wasn’t talking to you, you lying bitch!”

Felicia raised one of her brows and muttered barely above her breath, “Not with that tone, you’re not…”

“Cat,” she heard Peter gently admonish, a warning in his tone.

Slowly, he took another step towards the gun, mapping the distance between him and the bullet's path. Honey responded to the subtle movement like the cracking of a whip. In an instant, she was back on him, her watery glare and shaky aim directed at his chest.

“Is Miles in on this too?” she wept breathlessly, rage filling her lungs and suffocating any sense of trust. “Is Bella already dead? Did you fucking hurt her? Tell me the goddamn truth, Peter!”

Peter shook his head, exasperated. “What—I-I don’t—what are you—?”

She cut his sentence short. “I saw what you did to that woman!”

Peter froze. Eyes wide, lips parting.

Fury surged through her, bulging her veins and twitching her muscles.

“You asshole—you fucking tell me that you love me, that there’s no one else, and you had that fucking stripper-whore all over you!”

His jaw locked, eyes filling with remorse. Voice dropped to a whisper. “I can explain—”

“And then you murdered her!” she spat, words burning like acid. “You mutilated her! You fucking monster!”

Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, blurring her vision. Sharp crimson splatters and deep umber stains replaced it like frames of a snuff film on celluloid.

“Dumped her body like a used condom, you motherfucker!”

He lifted his chin, shame shadowing his face. His expression was as good as a confession in her eyes.

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she hotly demanded.

Peter grimaced at the question like she’d already fired the bullet. Finally, desperation overtook him as he opened his mouth to speak.

Eddie blurted out, “That ain't how it happened—”

Peter shot a warning glare over at him, face turning pale. Eddie bit his tongue, but the damage was done. Angry eyes were now fixed on him, their black holes threatening to tear them all apart.

“You knew about this?” she hissed, horror spreading across her face. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?” She was vibrating with self-righteous rage, her features melting into a vicious sob.

Eddie buttoned up his lips, helpless against her betrayed expression.

Jaw agape, Felicia shot a frustrated glare at both men. “Jesus Christ.”

“I know what it looks like,” Peter cut in, desperate to regain her attention and refocus her wrath on him alone. “But he’s tellin’ the truth, okay? You’re right, you're right, but that’s not how it went down. I swear it, I-I don’t remember—I-I didn’t even know what happened—”

“You know everything, Peter, you always know everything!” the heartbroken woman sneered lividly, mocking him. “You know everything about me, doncha? What’d he tell you? Huh? Did you already know I was married?”

The room fell silent. Peter gazed at her, a crease painted between his brows. He glanced at Felicia, who mirrored his expression, before turning back. “I… didn’t.”

“You didn’t, huh?” she seethed, her anger simmering with anguish and shame. “You couldn’t find the marriage certificate? You wanna know why?”

He stared at her, blinking. Jaw opening and closing.

“Because I forged my sister’s signature and stole the savings in her bank account! I used it to pay off an old creep at the county clerk’s office!” She hissed with a twisted mouth, as if the words tasted rancid on her tongue, “Five grand and a blow job were all it took to erase the shittiest mistake of my life.”

Peter stared with eyes like saucers. Despite his desperate attempt to keep his face neutral, he reflected silent shock.

“I was high when I met John,” Honey added, her voice trembling. This time, she leveled her contempt toward Eddie. “Did he tell you that, too?” She pictured every sentence as a knife wound. Each punctuation was a twist of the blade.

“Stole two of my mom’s Xanaxs,” she hiccuped, swallowing her sobs in an effort to force out the words. “Let him fuck me in the back seat of his car with a camera in my face. He came in my mouth, and I cried on camera, and I told him I wanted to kill myself and asked him to murder my mother.”

The words spilled out of her in a frantic blather, vile puss spewing from old wounds. “I used to sneak into the kitchen at night, turn on the gas, and think about blowing up my family. Me. My little sisters. I didn’t care! Did he tell you about that?!”

Peter’s eyes shimmered with tears. Opening his mouth felt like prying apart steel. Despite that, he kept his words gentle. “Honey. Whatever happened, we can talk it out—”

She blurted out a livid laugh, hot tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, you wanna talk to me?” She pointed her finger, jabbing it at the doorway. “Talk to him!” Felicia and Eddie glanced at the door, both of them perplexed. “Let him tell you how he used to get drunk and pass me around to all his friends like a fucking Fleshlight!”

Peter flinched at the noise her voice made, cracking like glass. Her lip wobbled as she fixed him with giant, horrified eyes. She looked as if a sudden realization struck her.

“Is that what you were gonna do to me?” she cried in a tiny voice. “Were you two gonna share me after you fucked with me? Was that the plan all along?”

His face was clouded with bewildered horror.

Conversely, her vision was crystal-clear. Everything suddenly made sense to her. She didn’t know how he did it, but she knew.

John and Peter were working together. They were always working together. She had never escaped either of them.

John knew where her apartment was. Peter did too.

John was waiting outside of her mother’s home. Peter was waiting inside.

Peter kidnapped her whole family. He held Bella hostage. John knew where to find them.

John had pictures of Bella. He had pictures of Gabriella.

Peter had pictures of her, too.

John was Peter. Peter was John.

She was stupid. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Nothing is free!” she was muttering aimlessly, babbling without realizing it. Giant sobs racked through her. “Nothing is safe! Can’t trust anyone—they’ll do anything they need to to survive. That’s what I did! I survived!”

“Please,” Peter’s voice cut through, recapturing her attention. “Please, please, baby.” His eyes shimmered with desperation. “You got this all wrong. I don’t know—I-I-I never meant to hurt you like this. I swear.”

She shook her head, fat tears spilling down her cheeks. “Were you lying to me about Gwen, too, you fucking bastard? She didn’t fall, did she?”

“Honey—”

“Did she?!”

“She jumped!” Peter yelped, his heart shattering as the words escaped his throat.

The gasp that followed seemed to reverberate off the walls. It was as if every sound in New York went quiet. A blaring, piercing silence that made eardrums ache. Peter looked devastated, on the verge of collapse. She settled her stern gaze on him, watching his face crumple. He brought his hands up through his hair, tugging his scalp hard enough to tear. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming.

Gobsmacked stares from the other side of the room confirmed that this was a piece of information that no one had.

Looking stoic and shattered, he sucked a big breath in and out, keeping his jaw firm. Wiped at his nose. Dug his fingers into his hips.

“I didn’t want this life for her,” he finally muttered, silent tears flowing. “She was a smart woman. Smarter than me. She was supposed to do something—something amazing with her life. She wanted to help people.” He swallowed hard, apparitions playing in his gaze. “The fear. The violence. It took a toll. She tucked it away inside. Never let it show.”

He gulped, running a hand down his face to clear his watery eyes. “They, uh, came after us, and-and she killed someone. She had to. I tried to tell her that but... she never was the same. Somethin’… somethin’ ate her alive. From the inside out.”

His brows furrowed, heartache seizing his expression. “I didn’t see it.” He sounded like a wounded animal. In many ways, he was. “I didn’t see what it was doing to her. Not until it was too late.”

He went quiet. The tears that rimmed his eyes flowed free. He marinated in agony and self-resentment. His voice was calm with resolve.

“I destroyed her,” he said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that.” He lifted his heavy eyes. “I don’t know how else to say it to you. But I’d rather die before I let that happen again. So if you’re gonna shoot one of us, shoot me.” They locked gazes with each other, his eyes swelling with tears. “I’ve had it comin’ for a long time.”

Her arm was beginning to shake from the weight of the weapon.

His doe eyes fixed on her. She couldn’t read them anymore. Too afraid of the next chapter. Too weary for the following sentence.

But none of that mattered anymore. Because this was all just a dream.

“Maybe she had the right idea,” Honey whispered, her lip wobbling. She closed her eyes. Put the gun to her own head.

The sound of the gunshot deafened her, swallowed up by an unholy roar.

She didn’t expect the falling sensation. She was expecting pain—maybe. She was expecting a tunnel or a big white light. Or maybe for it all to go pitch black. Maybe she was expecting nothing at all.

But she was falling backward unexpectedly. The gun tumbled from her reach. Tentacles wrapped around her arms, oily, cold, and slick. Like a primordial monster out of the ocean depths.

They encircled her entire body. Constricting around her waist. Wrapped around her throat. Locking her ankles in place.

When she looked up, Hell wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t expect the Devil to have oozing, inky, onyx flesh. Or dead white eyes that wrapped around its skull. She expected horns. But not a mouth the size of a Great White’s with twice as many teeth.

Certainly, not that tongue. Twisting. Dripping. Like a black serpent slithering from his mouth.

“Pete, no!”

Eddie was here too. How did Eddie get here?

Then, she felt the pain.

The still-healing crack in her bone buckled as her ribcage was compressed. She thought her pelvis would be next as the tentacle's heavy, crushing, constricting force closed around her hips and waist. Another thick mass squeezed her throat. The air was being forced from her lungs as the ooze gripped tighter.

“What the fuck is that?”

Felicia. She sounded surprised. She sounded terrified.

Honey was terrified too. Opened her mouth wide to scream. But she couldn’t. No air. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was gaze up at that horrifying Cheshire smile as it grew wider. The monster loomed larger. It was getting bigger. Towering over her.

It would be over soon, she hoped.

“Pete!” Eddie again.

This time, the beast let go.

She was tossed backward, flung through the air, landing hard against the side of the desk. After taking a deep, painful gasp, she fine-tuned her attention to what was happening in real-time.

A steel blade glinted in Felicia’s hand as she buried it deep into the black tentacle of the monster beneath her.

Miguel was in the room now, keeping himself from being dragged off by the creature with repeated jabs into its flesh. He flexed his wrist, and a set of razor-sharp blades, curved like talons, retracted from a device mounted on his forearm. He hit the monster with the spines of his arm guard, causing it to cry out with a shrieking squelch.

The real damage was done by Eddie. He held a pressurized canister of dust cleaner in one hand and a lighter in the other. Igniting a spark turned the spray into a blow torch. A column of fire shot out, lashing at the monster’s body. It shrank backward, retracting its shape.

“The window!” Eddie shouted, his voice nearly lost in the creature’s shrieks. “Felicia, take out the window!”

Gunshots rang out. Honey covered her ears as glass rained down into a crashing cascade. The monster screamed with a noise similar to nails on a chalkboard as cold air rushed into the office.

In a moment, everything was silent. The monster vanished.

And so had Peter.

An hour had passed. The great room was eerily silent, even with the gang gathered there.

John was in the wind, having slithered away. Johnny Storm had been escorting him to the garage just as Honey was retrieving Peter’s gun. Walker was gone before anyone knew what was happening.

Honey gazed down at a wound on her right thigh—a scrape from being tossed across Peter’s office. The ring in her ears from the gunshot was only now fading. Her head was throbbing. Although if Peter had been a quarter-second later knocking the weapon away, there’d be a hole in it.

Whatever healing her rib had accomplished had likely been undone by the desk. Or the—fuck, is tentacles even the right word?—the fierce grip of the monster.

Whatever healing she had accomplished was undone. All of it, out the window. Whisked away with the monster living inside of Peter.

Which the Spider family had now seen.

Once her sense of hearing had returned, Honey tuned in to the conversation again.

They had questions for her. They had questions in general, minds swirling with confusion and doubt. They were squabbling over facts, terrified by truths they weren’t ready for. Everyone, except Eddie, holding a solemn gaze on the windows outside.

Felicia was beyond questioning and had progressed to action. She paced the floor in the room, eyes firm. It wasn’t a nervous tick, although fear was not an inappropriate response. Instead, she looked more like a general strategizing in the war room.

That’s precisely what this was—a war. Honey could see that now—with secrets, spies, and death. Everyone was a casualty. The lines were blurred.

Even amongst Peter’s team.

Johnny sat on one side of the sectional with a pout on his face, and his arms crossed against his chest. “Wait, none of you were going to tell me that he was a psycho?” he protested. “Christ, I walked that guy to his car! I could’ve been killed!”

Miguel held an ice pack to the welt on his face. His response was colder. “Clearly, we were worried sick.”

Disgusted, Johnny whined, “You all left me out of your plan!”

“You’re not the only one,” Eddie muttered bitterly, staring at the black sky.

Felicia spun on her heel, facing the beefy hothead. “Johnny,” she began calmly, “I appreciate that this has been a real challenge for you. It’s been hard on all of us. And I want to be able to address your concerns. But for now? Do me a favor. Put a pin in it. And Shut. The Fuck. Up.”

Her raised voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling. With a scowl, Johnny wedged himself back further into the sofa. But he was silent.

Felicia turned her ire towards Eddie. “And you’ve got a lotta nerve bitching about secrets, Brock. You and Pete left out a couple of crucial details about Vegas.”

“Look, we can point fingers later,” Miguel sighed, agitated. He slapped the ice pack on the sofa cushions next to him. “Right now, we have bigger problems.” He fixed Honey with a stern gaze. “You’re the one who's been in communication with him. What can you tell us?”

Honey glared up at him coldly from beneath the fringe of her lashes. Didn’t bother to move her head or her slouched position in the armchair. “His name is John Walker,” she glowered. “He’s a Leo. And a vegetarian.”

Miguel’s lips straightened into a line. “Preferably something useful.”

“He’s a Fed and an asshole.”

Miguel huffed sardonically, “Okay, then. Something we don’t already know.”

Eyes flashing red, she hissed, “If you knew anything, you would know not to fuck with him!” Now sitting up in the chair, her vicious bite gave him pause. “He’s the devil,” she said. “He’s ten times worse than anything you’ve come up against.”

“I highly doubt that,” Miguel scoffed.

“You think this is a joke?” she snapped back, seething. “I’ve watched him destroy lives. Not just end them—destroy! The more violent, the better. He’s a cancer. He’s everywhere. He’s inside everything. He’s the man behind the curtain. The monster at the end of the book.” She fixed them with a grave expression, full of bitter resentment. “And one way or another, he always wins.”

Miguel shook his head with a sigh. “Look, no disrespect to what you’ve gone through, but you’re not—”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what I’ve gone through!” Her voice snapped like a whip, crashing like thunder. Miguel’s mouth snapped shut. “If you did,” she spitefully said, “if you knew what he was—you wouldn’t breathe the same air as him, let alone work with him!”

Felicia stepped into her field of vision, fixing her with a firm gaze. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice low and calm. “We are not with him. Never were. I need you to understand that right now.”

Honey blinked up at her skeptically, the corners of her mouth downturned.

“We were never against you,” Felicia explained, lips tight. She downcasted her eyes with a bitter scowl. “He came to us about the same time you did. We knew ‘Steve Rogers’ was a sham. The social security number on his accounts belonged to a real Steve Rogers, who died in 1945.” Honey’s brow furrowed curiously. Felicia continued, “Figured he was a Fed, but we couldn’t crack his identity. Whoever hid him hid him well. We knew he was important. That he wanted to help us. And he was lying to us. That’s all we knew.”

Honey glanced down, her tear-laden eyes suddenly heavy.

“I promise you,” Felicia declared, her steel gaze locking onto Honey’s. Her words were weighed with sincerity. “We didn’t know how you were connected.” A moment passed. Her face fell somber, eyes going cold, “Or why you were working for him.”

Honey stared at her, offended. “You say it like I had a choice!”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Felicia threw her hands up with a ‘come here’ gesture. “Why did you agree to help him?”

Her eyes narrowed defensively. “Because,” she answered with a razor-sharp edge, “if I said ‘no,’ he would’ve murdered everyone I ever cared about. So. I said ‘yes.’”

It was a simple enough answer, and Honey tossed it at her as such. The two women held an uncomfortable stare for several breaths. It was difficult for Honey to accept that this was Felicia whom she was skewering with her gaze, and the realization only made her heart sink further.

Honey’s face softened as her guilt settled in. “He had pictures of Bella. Peter said that he’d protect her, but that was a lie. It was never possible. Not when John’s involved.”

Miguel gazed at Honey, disappointed. “That’s not true,” he softly replied. “Peter wouldn’na let anything happen.”

Felicia shuffled her feet and continued to pace again. “Evidently not,” she muttered scornfully, “considering what we just saw.”

Miguel scowled at her. “We’re talking about Peter here!”

“Go suck his dick, then!” she cracked back like thunder. Miguel pulled his chin back as she jabbed her manicured finger towards him. “Letting a Fed into our backyard was your stupid idea,” she growled as she leveled her cold gaze, “and Peter was an idiot for agreeing to it! If you’d both listened to me, this Walker creep would have a bullet in his head already! And instead of dealing with that mistake right now, we have to focus on finding Peter and... killing whatever that thing is that’s got ‘em!”

“It’s not that easy,” Eddie replied, his back towards the group. “M’not even sure it can be killed.”

“What do you mean by it?” Honey looked over at him, wide-eyed. “Isn’t this about the drugs? The stuff he shoots up with?”

“Pete’s on drugs?” Johnny exclaimed, further irritated. “Whatthefu–are we Breaking Bad now?!”

“It’s not a drug,” Eddie said. A graveness weighed heavily on his voice. “It’s not... easy to explain.”

Felicia gritted her teeth. “Try.”

He looked at her over his shoulder, finally turning to face them. “It’s— it’s a living organism. A symbiote. Gets inside you and holds on. Like a parasite.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “We call it ‘Venom.’”

“Where the hell did that thing come from?” Johnny asked, eyes wide.

Eddie cast his gaze towards the floor. “From me.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

The gruff man tightened his lip, clearing his throat. “Pete helped me contain it,” he explained. “He studied it. And we thought... we thought we could use it to our advantage.”

“How exactly is turning into a giant squid helping our cause?” Miguel asked snidely.

“It feeds off of you—yeah, but it also makes you stronger,” Eddie said. “Makes you practically invincible. Makes everything better—gives you abilities you couldn’t imagine.” He sighed, then added thoughtfully, “If any of us was gonna take a bullet, Pete wanted it to be him. ”

“Yeah,” Felicia groaned skeptically, “That sounds like our boy. But I’m not sure ‘better’ is the word I’d use to describe it.”

He swallowed hard, bitter remorse returning to his eyes. “It doesn’t have the same effect on everybody,” he explained. “Everybody’s different. The way it responded to Pete was... different. His body was adapting to it too quickly. Kept needing more, using more. Sometimes... Sometimes he’d black out. It would take over, and he wouldn’t remember a thing.”

Eddie turned his attention to Honey. “That’s what happened in Vegas. The woman you saw was hired to kill him. Almost did. Ran him through with a sword. Then It took over. She never stood a chance.”

Honey glanced down, biting her lip as she contemplated the information.

Eddie turned his attention to the others. “That’ll happen to all of us if we’re not careful,” he warned.

Miguel said thoughtfully, apprehensive eyes fixed on Eddie, “You keep talking about this thing like it has a consciousness. Does it?”

“It has a mind of its own,” he answered. “It takes all your thoughts and scrambles them. Implants its own. Pete’s not in the driver’s seat anymore. And Venom will kill us if we get too close.”

“Not all of us,” Felicia said, gears turning. Honey followed her voice to see the silver-haired woman’s gaze fixed on her. “It kept her from shooting herself,” she said. “Maybe Pete was the one in control. Maybe he can stop It from killing her.”

Honey’s eyes bugged out of her skull.

Miguel was already thinking the same thing. “If we find Peter, we can use her to snap him out of this. Get him somewhere safe and—uh... ? Detox him? Exorcize him—whatever, I don’t know—find a way to get that thing out.”

“Bait?” Honey exclaimed. “Are you kidding me?!” She shot a glare at Felicia. “You can’t be serious—”

“It’s not the best plan, but it’s what I’ve got,” Felicia replied, holding up her hand to silence any protests. Her tone was cold. “And considering this is your mess, too, I’d appreciate your cooperation.”

Honey blinked up at her, stunned. “Are you mad at me?”

“Yeah, I’m mad,” she said with an eerie calm. “Not because you lied. I don’t care that you kept secrets from us. I can even understand why you did what you did.” Her somber expression gave way to bitter anger. “But you put a gun to my friend’s head,” she said through gritted teeth. “And that I can’t abide.”

Honey blinked up at her several times, her jaw agape. The image of Peter’s desperate expression as she pointed the gun at him echoed in her mind, filling her with shame. “I-I don’t think I would’ve actually shot him,” she murmured, more of a whimper than a statement. “I-I’ve never fired a gun before—I don’t even know where the safety is!”

Johnny raised a finger, offering his two cents. “Guns like that don’t have a safety.” He was ignored.

A hard crease had formed between Felicia’s eyebrows as she glared down at Honey, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m not talking about him,” Felicia glowered.

Honey blinked again, pursing her lips shut. Then, reading her stern expression, confronting the betrayed look in her eyes.

Felicia didn’t have many friends, that was certain. But she had counted Honey as one of them. And with the same fierce protectiveness that she used to defend her, she also used to admonish her.

Buttoning up her emotions, Felicia turned to the others, “Alright, we can't afford to look vulnerable right now. We keep this quiet to everyone that’s not a Spider.” She looked at Miguel, Johnny, and Eddie. “We need to spread out. Cover all the ground we can until we find Peter. Eddie and Honey, you’re with me. Everyone, keep your eyes open. Not just for Peter but for our enemies. Feds included.”

Honey gasped, a terrifying thought crossing her mind. “Miles,” she said with alarm.

Felicia went still. “What about Miles?”

Honey glanced up at her, only taking a split second to decide. “John threatened to go after him,” she explained urgently. “He’s in danger.”

Felicia rolled her eyes, growling, “Fuck me! You shoulda led with that!”

Johnny leaped to his feet. “Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

Felicia said to Honey and Eddie. “Let’s go.”

Honey came to a careful stand. Eddie joined her side. “Where are we goin’?”

“Empire State Building,” Felicia grimly replied.

The first time Honey had been to the Empire State Building was on a class field trip. She remembered experiencing overwhelming vertigo from the sidewalk, one that almost kept her from being able to go up the elevator. She was equally unsettled now as she looked up at the orange sky.

Eddie stood beside her on the sidewalk, both in the glow of a convenience store. He was less interested in the building and more interested in lighting his cigarette. Felicia wasn’t present, having instructed them to wait for her.

“Did you know it only took, like, 400-something days to build?” Honey said.

Eddie glanced over only briefly, uninterested. “You don’t say.”

She looked over at him incredulously. “So you’re mad at me, too?”

“Why’d you do it?” Eddie asked, tossing out all pretense.

Honey pressed her lips in a line and returned her gaze to the sky. “I told you,” she said. “He threatened—”

“I’m not talkin’ about your ex,” Eddie argued. “I mean, what you did back at the office. Why’d you put the gun to your head?”

Honey didn’t have an answer for that. “So, you are mad.”

He bristled, stewing in his frustration. “Didn’t say that,” he muttered, then took a long drag from his cigarette. “It wasn’t the smartest move.”

She let out a long sigh, an edge of sarcasm in her voice, “You know, I looked inside my bag of ‘good ideas,’ and as it turns out—it was empty. Just like my bag of ‘fucks to give.’”

Eddie blew the smoke out of his lungs. “That doesn’t sound like you. ‘Specially after what Pete told you about how his girl died.”

“I never said I was a good person, Eddie,” she remarked with a clipped tone. “You want to judge me, that’s fine.”

“I’m not speaking from the point of judgment,” Eddie replied quietly. “I’m speaking from experience.” She turned to him curiously. He took another long drag. “That’s how I met Pete, y’know?”

She stayed silent, shaking her head, ‘no.’ He shoved his free hand in the pocket of a far-too-thin hoodie for the weather.

“Yep,” he sighed, avoiding meeting her gaze. “You’re not the only one that ran out of good ideas.”

Her head tilted at the admission, eyes softening. Idly, he scratched the scruff on his face, rubbing the back of his neck. He fidgeted in a way that reminded her of Peter.

“It was a couple of years ago, actually,” Eddie explained, only glancing up briefly. “I used to be a reporter back in San Francisco. I was covering this shady corporation— pretty sure I was about to expose them for illegal human testing. Instead, I, uh...well... Venom found me.”

His eyes darkened, shadows falling across his face. She stayed quiet.

“It was, uhm... rough,” he continued. “I couldn’t control it. Then the company I was investigating accused me of stealing their ‘property.’ I was trying everything I could to get rid of it. Lost everything. My job. Apartment. Girlfriend. Came here to start over, but... I pissed off the big guys in Silicon Valley. You don’t start over from that. They made sure of it.”

He paused, tensing with wet eyes. Sucked another breath through his cigarette, then continued. “I was angry,” he snarled under his breath. “Not just at them. Not even at the Symbiote. I was angry at me... for getting into this mess in the first place.”

The words slowed down, almost getting lost in his thoughts. “I got low. Decided that I didn’t care, either. All that mattered was killing this thing. Even if it killed me first.”

He stared at the passing cars with calm, haunted eyes. By contrast, she was shocked.

“Pete stopped me,” he said. “He saved me.” The fading sunlight reflected a shimmer in his gaze. “He’s the only one that tried to help me. He’s the only one that ever understood that this thing—Venom— it’s a gift and a curse. ‘Oppenheimer’s Genie,’ he called it.” A brief smile crossed his lips before it faded into his memories. “He’s the only one that understood the burden and wanted to help me carry it.”

She gulped hard as a burning sensation piled up behind her eyes. Her jaw tensed as she tried to blink the moisture away.

“When I met him, I didn’t realize that, of course,” Eddie added. “He had to knock my ass out. Carry me fireman-style out of a belltower.” A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed it down. “He coulda just let me die. I’ve never understood why Peter would go out of his way to save me. Until today.”

She stayed silent, although her heart ached so much she was confident the throb was audible. The pain she felt for him shimmered in her eyes.

“Nobody that tries to do the right thing is a bad person,” Eddie said, glancing over at her. “You’re not a bad person.”

His soft words felt like a knife to her heart, cutting open the thick muscle walled up around it. Tears welled up in her eyes. She fought the urge to collapse into a pile on the sidewalk.

“I know it seems like sometimes the world wants you to be your worst,” Eddie added. “Sometimes, you want to be your worst. I get that too. You think it’s easier that way to deal with all the bad shit that’s happened to you. As if it can make you immune.” He turned to face her, and for a moment, she felt like they were in their own little world. A snow globe amongst the chaos.

“Stop trying to be whoever you’re pretending to be,” he concluded thoughtfully. He put the cigarette up to his lips, taking a final draw. “Accept who you are, and work with that.”

He fell silent, taking in the sounds and sights of the city at twilight. She stared up at him with her lips pursed and her heart aching. Her first impression of Eddie was amusing to her in retrospect—the stoner-loner with a mouth full of cupcake— and now he had proven himself to be one of the wisest people she’d ever met.

They turned their attention towards Felicia as she jogged up to them breathlessly. Her look of barely-concealed dread told them what she had confirmed. “He’s not here,” she sighed in frustration. “Christ - do we really have to comb through every landmark that this pathetic emo boy could possibly mope on? We’ll be out here for days—”

“Why were you in a bell tower?” Honey asked Eddie. Both he and Felicia looked baffled by her question.

Eddie’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“You said you wanted to get rid of it,” Honey explained, “and you were in a bell tower? Why there?”

Eddie shrugged, “It doesn’t seem to like loud noises very much. Thought I could kill it.”

Honey gazed at him, her mind spinning as she plugged in pieces. “That’s what his plan is.”

“What?”

“Maybe Peter is in control,” she explained, turning to Felicia. “Maybe he’s trying to find a way to kill the Symbiote.”

Eddie shook his head, stunned at the foolishness of such a plan. “So, what, you’re saying he’s banging his head against a giant bell somewhere?”

Felicia’s eyes widened, before they rolled into the back of her head with frustration. “Shit.” The two of them turned to her worriedly. “I know exactly where he is.”

Continue to Part 19

[back to masterlist]

A/N Thank you for your patience on this update everyone! We are in the home stretch. The next two chapters will feature almost everything you've been waiting for. :-)

To be tagged when they release, you must reblog so I can keep track of all 100+ of you!

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lilhoeforevanpeters · 8 months

Text

Dress

Evan Peters x Fem!Reader

****inspired by Taylor Swifts’ ‘Dress’****

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Our secret moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you

You wore your best dress tonight, wishing to attract Evan’s attention. You two had been dating for about six months, but he still wanted to keep the relationship a secret. Tonight, you put on your best heels, painted your nails, spent an unholy amount of time on your makeup and hair, and finally- the cherry on top- a beautiful black dress.

There is an indentation in the shape of you, made your mark on me, a golden tattoo, all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you

As you walked out of your car and into the club, you ruffled your hair slightly and felt an excited flutter in your heart. You hoped this would catch Evan’s attention, you hadn’t seen him in a week due to him filming. You looked around the dimly lit building, bright, colorful lights occasionally flashing across the room and your face. You walked through crowds of people, keeping your eye out for a specific blondie, your boyfriend, whom you loved with your entire heart, and wanted nothing more than for him and you to be alone together.

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking from all this

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed as all of your concentration is on one thing and one thing only- finding Evan. You ponder to yourself if you should take your phone out and send him a quick text before you hear a familiar name.

Say my name and everything just stops

When he calls your name, your heart races and you spin around, your excitement evident as your eyes meet his. He gives you a warm smile and walks towards you. You smile back at him, quickly moving to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing him into a tight embrace.

“Hey, darling,” Evan whispers into your ear, placing a soft and quick kiss on your neck. Your breath catches and you look up at him.

“Hi…”

“You look… incredible,” He compliments, looking at you up and down. You smile and mentally high five yourself due to getting the reaction you craved.

“Thank you, I think you look very sexy tonight,” as you say this quietly he smiles at you and leans down to be able to talk to you and only you.

“If you keep saying things like that, we’re not going to make it to bed…” He whispers in a slight growl, making you smirk and look up at him.

I don’t want you like a best friend, only bought this dress so you could take it off

He looks down at you again and smirks softly.

“My god… that dress,” He whispers to you, pressing himself slightly against you. If anyone took notice of how close you two were to each other, it’d be evident that you and Evan were dating. I smile softly and kiss the side of his face quickly.

“Well… I wore it for you, so I’m glad you like it,” you whisper back to him, a bigger smirk crossing his face as you tell him this.

“Is that so?” He asks, a bit of a smug look on his face as you nod and hum.

“Mhm, it is. In fact, I only wore this dress so you could take it off of me.” I whisper in his ear, making him smile and gently grab your hand, leading you to the bathroom.

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try, and if i get burned, at least we were electrified, I’m spilling wine in the bathtub, you kiss my face and we’re both drunk, everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing about

You smile as Evan leads you both into the bathroom, locking the door behind him before turning to face you with a smile on his face.

“Alone… at last…” He whispers before moving over to you and softly yet hungrily kissing your lips, his hand resting on your lower back, and the other under your chin and tilting your face up towards him.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” He mutters softly and moves from your lips to peppering small kisses down your neck, leaving a few love bites along his way.

All of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you, all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking from all of this

Evan’s hands slid up and down your sides, nibbling at your neck softly.

“Do you want to go further?” He whispers, to which you hum and nod, desperate for him. He chuckles softly and gently pushes you against the bathroom door, moving your dress up slightly around your waist, your thighs and underwear exposed to him. He gently caresses your thighs before playing with your clothed pussy.

“I haven’t even done anything and you're this wet already? I guess you really missed me, huh?” He smirks up at you, making you blush slightly and gently grind against his hand, he lets out an airy laugh at your neediness. He slides your underwear down to your ankles before toying with your clit, rubbing it in painfully slow circles.

“Evan, please,” You whine out softly, him smirking and kissing just above your pelvic bone.

“I’ll get there, sweetie, be a little patient,” He teases you quietly before rubbing your clit in quicker circles,causing you to squirm. He dips a finger into your entrance, gently pumping in and out slowly, your breath hitches as you let out a soft gasp. He smiles softly and looks at you to make sure you’re alright before adding in another finger, stretching you out slightly before he adds a third and starts to pump his fingers in and out of you quicker.

You let out a quiet moan before silencing yourself, Evan kissing your lips to help muffle any moans that might escape from your mouth. His pace quickens as he fingers you, his other fingers rubbing circles into your clit as he adjusts his speed now, going faster. You breathe a little heavier before he curves his digits up, hitting your spongy g-spot, and you let out a gasp and a quiet moan before he kisses you again.

“F-fuck Evan, I’m close,” I whimper softly to him as he smirks and goes a little bit quicker, sending you over the edge and causing you to release on his fingers and send you through a shuddering orgasam. He helps you through it before slowly removing his fingers from your pussy and licking your wetness mixed with your cum. You kiss him, your release still on his lips. He smiles at you, sends you a quick wink, and leaves the bathroom, trying not to make it obvious to anyone else what you were doing in there. You stay there for a few more minutes, breathing heavily, trying to recover.

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me, flashback to my mistakes, my rebounds, my earthquakes, even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me

#american horror story #evan peters #Evan Peters #Evan Peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #ahs #ahs asylum #tate langdon #ahs coven #ahs murder house #ahs fandom #ahs hotel #kit walker

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vigilanterenaissance · 10 months

Text

let me put my lips to something

warnings: smut but make it soft and loving, established relationship, a bit of clothes ripping but no hard kink, reader wears a bra but gender is not specified/no mention of readers genitals, handjobs, the author hasn’t written fic since middle school, the author hasn’t written smut ever, the author is a fan of run on sentences… also breast worship, because every man looks better with a tit in his mouth let’s be real. no beta we die as is our canon event.

banners by @cafekitsune

author’s note: you can thank the wonderful artworks of @guruan-is-not-here for this piece, specifically those from her most recent poll with miguel. if you didn’t catch her most recent stream, you are in for a pleasant surprise with what secret option number 7 is hehe. if y’all like this i’m up for a part 2!

Miguel is pissed.

Yet another day when the multiverse feels like it’s about to fall apart, anomalies popping up endlessly, and one too many versions of Peter Parker thinking they’re so funny.

So yeah, Miguel is pissed.

All he wants is to come home to you, the only person who can calm the storm in his mind. He has the courtesy to use the door like a normal, non-universe traversing person; he knows you hate it when he opens up a portal and upsets the entire living room. Shutting the door behind him and leaning his weight back on it, Miguel searches for you in the shared space.

“Hey, cariño, how was work?” You ask from your spot on the couch, wrapped in a throw blanket and pursuing through your phone mindlessly.

“Don’t get me started…” he grumbles, running one of his large hands down his face. Pushing himself off the door, Miguel walks over and collapses on the couch next to you. The tension in his body is obvious, and his eyes look exhausted.

“Was it Parker again?” You smirk. The lot of you are friends, hell, you even babysit Mayday when Peter and MJ have date nights, but that doesn’t stop the two men from running each other up the wall at work. Miguel turns towards you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“I just want to forget what happened today,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Would you rather I give you some space, lovey?” You ask softly, not wanting to crowd him. His arm shoots out and wraps around your waist, pulling your thighs flush against his.

“Of course not, I always need you, mi vida,” Miguel whispers, and you know by his tone where this evening is most likely headed.

“…you want me to stick around and help you forget?” You purr back, threading your fingers through his dark hair. The hand that’s resting on your waist begins to sneak up your shirt.

“Please…” he groans, pawing at your bra. You giggle at his half asleep attempts at foreplay.

“Patience, Miggy, let me take care of you,” you slip away to lift your shirt over your head. “I have an idea: lay in my lap, cielo.”

He stares up at you, puzzled. With a gentle tug on one of his broad shoulders, he relents, draping himself across your lap like a house cat. Miguel’s eyes, normally harsh and cold, look up at you with warmth, vulnerability, and a bit of wonder. The way they keep drifting to your chest is not lost on you.

“See something you like?” You tease, smiling at his unguarded expression. He can only nod in response. “Can you take your suit off for me, baby?”

Miguel clicks a button on his watch, letting his suit disintegrate into pixels, revealing his broad chest, firm middle, and half hard cock between his plush yet strong thighs. You hum in delight; nothing better than having a boyfriend who will strip at a moment’s notice, right?

“Atta boy… care to do the honors?” You arch your back, offering him access to your bra hooks. Miguel has other plans, though, popping out his claws and dragging them through the delicate fabric, throwing the garment behind the couch. “Miggy! I liked that one!” You scold, glaring at him a bit. This man and his passion for literally ripping your clothes off, good lord.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he murmurs, too entranced with your newly bared breasts to really care about your stern words. Miguel’s tongue slips out to wet his bottom lip, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “M-may I?” he nearly whimpers, too tired to be suave or demanding.

You nod, leaning over him a bit. He captures one of your delicate buds between his pouty lips, moaning as he swirls his tongue around. You shiver from the feeling, and begin trailing your hand down his abdomen. Tracing the handsome line of hair that starts below his bellybutton, down to his sweet spot, you find him now fully hard and leaking onto his stomach. Miguel groans and sucks harder when you finally wrap your soft hand around his weeping cock.

“This better, Miggy?” Unable to keep the grin from your face, the odd pleasure of being the one in charge taking over you as you pump him steadily.

“Mhm… this is perfect, mi vida,” Miguel pops off of your breast, a string of spit connecting your nipple and his lips. He begins on the other one feverishly, letting his fangs nip at your sensitive skin just enough so you can feel it, but it won’t hurt. You’re his life after all, he’d never want to hurt you.

Miguel’s cock begins to pulse in your grip; he’s close. He gets more vocal as he sucks on you, a steady stream of huffs and moans pour from him. His hips buck up, begging for that release he so desperately needs, that which only you can give him. You stroke him a few more times before he fucking mewls around your tit, biting down slightly. The two of you cry out in pleasure while Miguel paints his abs white before melting in your lap. You lean your head on the back of the couch, skin on fire, panting. Both Miguel and yourself need a moment to recoup.

But your boyfriend isn’t one to take these types of things laying down.

He reaches towards your hips, hooking a finger into the waistband of your lounge pants.

“I should be making you feel good now,” he whispers, brow furrowing.

“No, you shouldn’t. You take care of so much Miguel, let me take care of you. How about we take a nice, hot shower and head to bed? Does that sound good?” You run your fingers through his silky hair.

“Mhm,” Miguel hums in agreement, turning practically boneless in your lap. Maybe the shower can wait a few moments more…

#graeme’s writings #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader smut #spiderverse

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tinyvesselhearts · 1 year

Text

What Fear Does to People (Egon x You)

It's Chapter 8 of my series Thing Is but can be read as a standalone.

Rating: Mature (descriptions of violence) Pairing: Egon Spengler x You (no Y/N) Others: "Platonic" bed-sharing, pre-relationship, gentle touching, hurt/comfort, ghosthunting, Lovecraftian monsters, Ray's recovering from a bust and he's not currently at the station

(also: a reference to GB game. If you know, you know)

It’s roughly 2 a.m. when it starts.

Egon wakes up with a shiver. He’s freezing. A gust of wind runs through his clothes and that in itself is enough to put him on guard. Thing is, all the windows are closed, both of you are covered with quilts and there’s no tangible cause for the cold. No rational excuse, unless…

With mounting suspicion, he takes a look around. It’s pitch black and he can barely make out the edges of Ray’s empty cot. Warmth of the linen seems to hit him all at once, stark contrast to what he’s just felt on his skin. Disconcerting. Eerie, maybe— but he’s calm nonetheless. This is how those entities operate. The Collective: all kinds of eldritch horrors. They’re playing hide- and- seek until their victims can’t keep their wits about them anymore and he— as a devoted scientist and a Ghostbuster (yes, the very same)— is here to teach a lesson.

You’re unabashedly curled up against his side. Safe, unbothered, sound asleep. The attacker must be considering you innocuous enough, likely due to your comparative vulnerability, and is focused on Egon. Perfect. He lays his head back but doesn’t close his eyes— he’s vigilant— alert— ready.

The thing about Collective Unconscious is that despite being aware of its modus operandi, human brain is pretty pathetic in comparison. Its innate susceptibility to fear, specifically. During his years of Psychology, Egon would repeatedly hear that fear and love were the strongest of all human instincts, as they made the whole body receptive and focused in an instant. Later he’d find out that’s true about fear. He has no first- hand data on the latter— he supposes due to the troubled relationship with his parents— but Peter and Ray have done enough stupid things out of affection to confirm the thesis. Since Venkman’s incident with the tank a few years back, Egon hasn’t questioned love or its impact on a subject’s decision- making process. Or common sense. Or mating choices, just to be clear.

With that in mind, Egon knows what to expect. Diminished control of his body. Flinches. Unconditioned reflexes. He is determined to distinguish between real, physical stimuli and paranoia- induced ploys. A moment to cool off, analyze and conclude before acting on impulses. That’s the plan. Right. It’s easy in theory.

A distant bang echoes in the garage. It resembles a metal tool— a wrench, maybe?— but the sound is followed by nothing else, so Egon decides it’s nothing but a figment of imagination. Until—

“What was it?”

He leans back. He can’t see your face properly but enough to notice your eyes are open.

“…Oh. You’ve heard it too?”

“It’s not like… Ray got discharged in the middle of the night and sauntered back here, is it?”

There’s another loud bang. Nobody moves but both of you are very much awake.

Egon finally speaks.

“I’ll check it.”

“Uh, okay, okay”, you whisper. “What do I do?”

“Stay here and try to sleep. I’ll handle it.”

“…what?”

“Don’t argue. There’s no time. I’ll take care of whatever that is. I’m a professional, listen to me and I’ll make sure you’re safe. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Yes, but the Ghostbusters are a team. Now you’re on your own. I’m not leaving you! What if—”

“No time”, he mutters, putting the proton pack on. “Stay here. You were so tired you almost passed out on the couch. Do I need to remind you that you put my shirt on backwards?”

“My mom says it’s good fortune!”

“I’m serious”, he states and switches the backpack on. “Eldritch horrors are different than regular spirits. They harm both physically and emotionally. Lack of proper rest weakens the cognitive functions and you may be a real, tangible danger to yourself— and to me. Especially if you’re not familiar with their strategy.”

Egon slides into a pair of slippers. It’s not the perfect job attire but it’ll have to do— he stupidly left his combat boots in the locker downstairs. Maybe when he slides down to the garage, he’ll manage to change.

He takes the final look at you because you’re awfully quiet. Exhausted and hopeless, he guesses. He’d appreciate some backup but the boys aren’t here and you’re in no position to fill the role now. When you ignored his precaution the last time (while fully capable and well- rested), you ended up wounded in his lab. What you’re facing here can do much, much more damage.

Egon briefly considers escorting you out of the premises altogether—just in case— but then, how could he ensure your safety if the spirit decides to leave after you?

His chest is heavy when he speaks.

“If anything suspicious happens in this room, call me immediately. Shout, if you have to.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Alright”, he shoots you a look. “Stay here.”

You nod. It’s weak, devoid of conviction and Egon wants to emphasize how crucial it is for you to stay— but another loud bang comes from the reception area and there’s no time to waste.

Egon turns around and scuttles towards the pole. He slides down. Lands with a loud thump, doubled by the flip- flops and takes a slow, cautious look around.

He’s quick to spot the source of the noise: it’s a loose pipe lying on the floor. It might not be currently moving but it sure as heck was just a moment ago— Ray doesn’t leave spare parts scattered around the floor. He has his secret dirty stash for that.

Egon takes a long, wary look around. Nothing’s moving, except for gentle flow of a dirty cloth drying on the heater. He pulls out the PKE meter and glances at the readings. Whatever this thing is, it’s here. It may be invisible but it’s here. Lurking. Leering. Hidden in the shadow, a predator on the hunt. Any moment now.

He doesn’t even manage to slide the device back into the pocket when a slimy tentacle shoots at him.

It’s massive. Heavy and slick. Whatever creature it belongs to, it must be huge and, uh, incredibly unusual. The dissonance is almost incomprehensible: to see a wet, marine limb which acts very much alive here— in the garage of New York’s finest— in a place devoid of water (well, save for a tap).

Egon screams. He drops the PKE meter and reaches for the charged rod. A proton stream lashes outwards with full power but before it catches the giant limb, it’s already gone— slithered into the shadows, shrouded in shade.

A few things to note right away: one, the ghost is huge. Two, it’s unlike any other they’ve seen before. Three, the sheer amount of mucus suggests a healthy dose of Marsh genes. Four, it’s out of sight and apparently good at staying there. Right. All Egon has to do is pretend to be unsuspecting, so that the ghost—

“Yeah, so I’ve done some thinking and I can’t do this.”

He whips his head around. There you are: in his crumpled shirt still inside- out, peeking through the hole in the ceiling. You’re in the middle of putting on your socks.

He can’t with you. He can’t.

“What did I tell you? Don’t come down here!”

“Oops?”

“No”, he yells. “I told you to STAY! Stay! How many times—”

“Sure, and pretend your screaming flows like a nursery rhyme.”

You clutch the pole with both hands, pull yourself close and slide down. Egon curses under his breath. Shite. Shite. Of course you wouldn’t listen. Psychology classes pop up in his mind again— the most powerful instincts— the things people do for fear…

“I’m here now. Poof. Too late”, you say. “Whatever happens is on me.”

He stifles a groan. It’s a lost cause. The stairs are at the opposite end of the garage. Escorting you there would take way too long and expose you to a stealthy attack and— well, he doesn’t suppose forcing you to climb the pole is on the table.

“Alright”, he decides. “Grab the pack.”

You manage to put it on yourself. He helps you to switch it on. You huff, smile and turn to him.

“Which trap?”

“Regular.”

“On it!”

You dash towards Ecto- 1. Just as Egon suspected: the enormous tentacle emerges from the shadow and aims.

Egon shoots. The proton stream reaches the ghost this time. The current wraps around its shape. The ectoplasmic limb wrestles and yanks but he holds it in place: it’s your turn to capture it before it rips the shackle.

“Now!”

You slide the contraption right under the ghost. Set the pedal. Step. Open. Wait.

Intense glow fills the room. Egon navigates the tentacle downwards but for some inexplicable reason the trap doesn’t seem to swallow its prey. It tries— sucks some ectoplasmic residue, hoovers up some of its slime— but the monster doesn’t get pulled in, as if it was… attached to something?

A roar echoes through the garage and everything happens at once: the trap closes, proton stream breaks and the ghost dissipates again.

You’re the first to whisper.

“…Is it…?”

“No”, Egon exhales. “It’s around here somewhere.”

“So… The trap didn’t work? Why?”

“Apparently it’s not just a ghost. It must be a complex being with some sort of material form. We may need to overpower it in a more… traditional sense.”

“Chain? Wires? Chandelier? Forget- me rod? A random hydraulic pipe of oblivion?”

Your flowery language is both a blessing and a curse. That translates into a perfect bait. Keep talking.

“So you’re opting for brute force?” Egon asks and that’s all it takes.

“Uh, I thought you were suggesting. I’d try another approach. If that guy is a marine cephalopod he may have a hard time adjusting to open air. Maybe dragging it out of the drainage will do the trick, right? Instead of streaming it, we could—"

Your mouth is still open when the giant tentacle shoots in your general direction. You let out a loud shriek and manage to evade— albeit barely— and even though Egon assumed using you as a lure would be the practical choice, he, for once, can’t stand the sight of it.

The proton rod won’t help any. Hitting you is a real threat— and it’s way more dangerous for you than the ghost. He’s about to resort to brute force but the monster steps out of the shadows and Egon can’t believe his eyes.

It’s human.

Oh, that makes things significantly easier.

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a tiny bottle and charges.

A hit from behind may be cheap but it works every time. Egon swings the uncharged proton rod right into the creature’s head. It squeals, unwraps the tentacles protruding from its sleeve, then snarls and shakes its head. Egon has a few seconds to take in the entire picture: three gargantuan ectoplasmic limbs (a developing ghostly sickness?) have taken over the poor guy’s left arm. He seems dazed: his eyes are foggy, droll seeps through his teeth and for a split second Egon wonders if there’s any spiritual cancerous disease he’s failed to discover.

The hybrid lifts its arms and aims at you again, full force. Before you have the chance to scream, Egon slides right in front of you, pushes you aside and splashes some of the bottle’s contents on the monster’s face.

It howls and retracts.

“…What is that?!” You manage.

“An old trick. Handy when possessed individuals fail to be cooperative.”

Egon spots the dirty cloth still hanging on the heater. It should be dry enough. Easy to soak. Perfect.

He dashes for it, grabs it and presses it against the bottle, pouring a decent amount of the liquid on it. Heavy drops of the potent solution spill around. Tiny wet lines trickle down his gloves. He takes a deep breath, holds it and looks at the monster. It snarls. Then charges.

Egon isn’t a great fighter but he dodges just fine. He slides under the tentacles, turns around and hops on the hybrid’s back. It screeches— then stops— wet, throaty sounds stifled by the rug in Egon’s hand. He clutches the monster’s throat, squeezes it with an elbow and turns to you.

“A common tranquilizer. Learnt it during my coroner years”, he grunts, pressing the pad into its face. “You might want to find something to tie him with.”

You’re awfully quiet, staring at him blankly— but you nod. There’s a spare, long chain in Ray’s stash (nobody knows what he uses it for) so you take it and approach the scuffle with apprehension. The hybrid’s movements slow down but it’s still trying to break out of Egon’s unrelenting clutch.

“Thank you”, he says, composed as ever. “You’re doing great.”

It takes a few more seconds. The monster’s muscles eventually give in and it slides down on the floor. Its arms loosen. Eyes close. Its head hits the garage floor.

For a long moment nobody moves.

“Yo”, you whisper. Egon looks at you, then at the limp body beneath him and takes a step back.

“Sedated. Perfect.”

“What now?”

“Let’s tie it up.”

Egon reaches for the chain you’re holding. He wraps the creatures torso (making it extra tight and unnecessarily confusing around the arms— safety first) and you take care of its legs. The constraint turns out pretty solid and, most importantly, impossible to slip through by the tentacles. Once you make sure it’s sealed, each of you grabs a loose end of the chain and proceed to drag the dead weight across the floor.

It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace level of service anyway— not like you owe anybody standards— but when the monster’s back slams against a concrete pillar, you flinch.

“Oh no!— Oh dear, it hurt him—”

“It’s just tried to kill you. You do understand that, right?”

“Sort of”, you groan. “I really wanted it to warm up to us. We’ve sort of killed our chances at cooperation.”

“Don’t worry. It isn’t capable of drawing conclusions in this state.”

Egon pulls the chain and ties the creature around the pillar in an ungallant knot. It’s not his proudest work but a staple of initiative nonetheless. Links are sealed. Hostage is secured. It’s all under control.

He’s still focused on triple- checking the locks when you speak.

“Egon, why did you…?” You rub your hands together. “You… It was dangerous. Reckless. You don’t do reckless, Egon Spengler. Overcomplicated, yes, way too optimized, yes. But this, whatever you were thinking, was almost careless! You… You could’ve—”

He looks upwards. You seem anxious but you’re alive and well. He doesn’t understand.

“I could’ve what?”

“Well, I mean, you stuck your neck out for me. It could’ve been bad”, you gulp. ‘You could’ve been hurt.”

“I wasn’t though, was I?”

Egon’s at a loss. He watches you closely. You’re both okay and that’s all that matters. It’s not the first time he’s done something stupid out of fear— ah, fear, the bypass of rational thought— the Psychology classes again…

You stay silent for a moment, then sigh.

“I’ll call Peter.”

“Yes. No. Wait.” He frowns, takes off his gloves and approaches you. “Check- up first.”

“…This again? Seriously?!” You huff. “It’s, like, the third time this week! If something happened, I’d tell you immediately. I’m fine, Egon! I’m fine, you should be focused on yourself, you’re the one who went berserk for some reason I can’t wrap my head around—"

No bruises, no scratches. He touches your face, looks you in the eyes.

“It’s a precaution. I’ll make it quick. Tell me if anything hurts.”

His fingers skim over your features— cheeks, nose, forehead, temples. Your voice catches. Breath gets shuddered, eyes go frantic and cheeks are still awfully warm but it’s a natural response. Egon’s expected that much. His thumb runs across your lip, even though it looks untouched and there’s no justifiable reason to examine it closely. He just… can’t resist. Nor does he want to, really. There’s still room for excuses which get half- woven in his head but their seams are loose and each sentence falls apart before it leaves his mouth.

Egon knows he lingers too long. Needs to pull back. He doesn’t understand why his body won’t listen.

The tip of his thumb rests at the corner of your lips, then moves on to another gentle caress. Then again. And again, until you sigh. Warm breath tickles his skin. He tries it once more to check if you allow him— and you do— more than that— you melt into the touch, heat radiating from your skin, breathing deep— receptive, indulgent, responsive.

This is… inebriating.

“…You seem okay”, he concludes. “No injuries?”

“No. You?”

“None”, he says, letting his hands hang loose again. “I’ll run a few tests. Call Venkman, tell him we’ve got a subject. He should come immediately.”

“Okay. But tell me what’s going on.”

“…We’ve just caught an anomaly. As I said.”

“Not that. I see you. I notice things”, you say cautiously but he makes sure his face is as blank as ever. “You’re usually so collected. What happened?”

Egon doesn’t think it needs explanation. It’s obvious. Should be, at least. He frowns and says:

“I don’t want my friends to get hurt.”

“…After Ray?”

He nods.

A pair of soft hands brush against his jaw and in a moment— before he’s able to fully process what’s happening— his face dips down, guided by the delicate touch and you gently place your lips near his chin.

It’s a simple gesture. Gentle touch. A shadow of a kiss, lighter than Dana’s, nothing more than a brush of hot skin but— Lord, help him— he shivers— it’s so much more— it’s everything— it’s overwhelming.

“Ray is fine”, you whisper, looking at him again. “You’ll see him tomorrow, remember? It’s almost over.”

“…Again, please.”

“You’ll see him tomorrow...”

“No. Not this, the…”

It takes you a second but you get it and breathe out a laugh. Brush his jaw again, then wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a tight hug.

Oh. Oh.

His arms tentatively reach for your back and once they’re there— recognize the texture of his shirt (outlining your shape in a way he declines to register)— and he lets down his guard a bit. Tightens his grasp. Sinks into the moment. He lets his hands really feel you for the first time since the both of you’ve started accepting proximity and it frightens him beyond belief— it’s soft, welcoming, disarming and pure— so his eyes close, stiff muscles let go— anxiety abates— he’s out of breath— but all you do is hold him close, no doubt, no shame. You’re as open and affectionate as ever, a salve for his mind, a missing link. You fit right here. He’s never known a feeling like this, not even with his family.

That’s something new: his fear for your life instigates a soothing response. Highly unusual. He’ll have to write it down for future reference.

“Could we include this into the list of things we do? Under… particular circumstances, of course?”

“Sure. Whenever you need it.”

You stay like that for a moment. It’s quiet and dark. Egon relishes every breath tickling the nape of his neck, every slight fidget against his chest, every movement— and when you finally take a step back, his chest feels almost hollow. As if it’s just tasted peace and had to let go.

“You should also add a point in which you listen to me in case of immediate danger”, he says. “In a bold, red, permanent marker, preferably.”

You smile. It’s playful. Cheeky. Beautiful. Whatever anxiety you’d felt a moment ago, evaporated.

“I did cooperate, doofus! You won’t find a more flexible squire than myself.”

“Flexible tends to mean obedient”, he raises an eyebrow. “When I say you fall back, you do.”

“When you require assistance, I help! That’s literally in my agreement. I signed the paper, you have no say in this, Spengler.”

“Spenglers are a team. And, when faced with danger, have to be unanimous.”

“You’re right!” You give him your finger guns and turn to the reception desk. “See? We’ve just agreed and it’s that easy!”

He smirks.

“Call Venkman.”

“Ai, ai, Sir!”

He watches you pick up the phone and dial Peter’s number. A few beeps later your voice fades into a mumble of funny noises.

When he turns towards the hybrid, he notices another curious thing: the tentacles seem to deflate and seep into a bile of ectoplasmic goo.

He must take a sample immediately. Ray is going to love this.

#ghostbusters #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #egon spengler x you #fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #self insert #ghostbusters fanfiction #ao3 #harold ramis #self ship #self indulgent #happy easter

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