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sweet-as-an-angel · 10 months

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Miguel and Hobie Fighting for Your Love

Summary: Both men knew they were wildly in love with you. But, as you remain oblivious to their feelings, their conflict strengthens. A war is brewing.

“I won’t let you have her.” Miguel’s eyes gleamed between the velvet sheets of artificial night, the dim glow of the control panel at his back, casting a shroud over his front. Hobie stood before him, gripping his guitar by the neck, resting it over the back of his shoulders. His other hand sat in his pocket, creating the illusion of comfort. Yet, beneath his lax exterior, Miguel could hear his heart pounding. Racing. Hobie drew a breath, looked off to the side.

“I don’t think that’s your decision to make, Big Man.” Eyes half-lidded, he returned to Miguel, dragging his stare. Lethargy. Gave a thin smile. “Though, I suppose that if you knew that – really believed it – you’d know that you don’t stand a chance–”

Miguel’s fists clenched, the sound of his suit squealing beneath his grip causing Hobie’s gaze to flicker. He swallowed, shallow. He knew what Miguel was capable of – had seen how many lives he’d gladly put at risk for you. And he’d do it again if it weren’t for the fact that your friendship to both him and Hobie was what kept them locked in a stalemate; a spectral triangle; Bermuda. An anomaly in itself.

Of course, you had no clue that you’d captured the hearts of the two superheroes. The problem was that they did. Their softened attitude towards you, their care for the most banal of features of your life, their seemingly bottomless investment in your close circle of friends and beyond could have been construed as platonic concern. Friendship of the highest degree.

Once they realised that, individually, they were not alone in the pursuit of your heart, a competition was born. Miguel, ever the organised, careful individual he was, orchestrated your time together, manufactured it, monitored it – poured over it with a fine-toothed comb. Many a night had he spent awake wondering what your accidental brushing of hands had meant, whether the warmth that had flushed your cheeks was the result of his presence or the joke he’d just cracked, your laughter Calliopic. Persephonic.

He savoured every hug you shared, no matter how brief, sewing the patchwork memories into the fabric of his heart, the fragrance soaking into his bones. Your phantom warmth wrapped around him tightly, a second suit, whenever he needed it – needed you. He’d find ways of encouraging physical contact whenever he could, his heart throbbing at the feeling of your face pressed into his chest, your arms around his back as he embraced you.

He wondered what your kisses tasted like. Whether you thought of him when you used that chapstick he bought you, ice cream cake – the aroma of celebration. Because, to him, any moment with you was a celebration.

Miguel would offer to take you home after work. Though, not via ordinary means of travel.

He’d permit you to hop onto his back and slide your arms around his neck, taking you on a spin through the city, bringing you to the highest peaks, the pinnacles of human beauty through neon illuminations making the city sparkle like a sea of jewels. He’d feel his heart stutter as you shifted to get a closer look, your chin almost resting on his shoulder, cheeks just touching as you gasped, took in the scenery. In times like these, he was glad of the mask, of his ability to hide the effect you had on him, how you played his emotions like a string instrument.

“I’ve never seen the city like this before,” you told him, voice gentle at his ear, almost carried away by the wind. Miguel heard you. He strained his every spider sense to do so, no matter the conditions.

“Hobie hasn’t done this with you?” He tried not to let the hope in his tone show. You shrugged.

“He’s more of a stargazing kind of guy. Though, I’ll let you in on a secret,” your voice tailed off. Miguel leaned in. You whispered. “I think he just doesn’t want to go pivoting off buildings after a long day of already having done so.”

Miguel felt an idea spark in his brain. The start of a new ritual, routine, for just you and him. This would be for him what stargazing was to hobie – he’d bring you closer to the stars than Hobie ever could!

Whenever he’d return you home, whisking you through the midnight air, he’d place you at your door, imply what a good time he’d had. And, as always, you thanked him, eyes crinkling before parting with a hug.

Miguel would wait until you’d enter your apartment and locked the door behind you before leaving, and even then, he’d find himself perched atop a nearby building, waiting for something, anything to happen – for any opportunity wherein he could prove to you he was a hero. In times like these, he wished with a selfish heart that you lived in a more decrepit part of the city.

He realised how much he loved you – adored you – when you fell asleep in his arms after work one evening. He’d been carrying you to your room when you just nodded off. In his grasp, you were tiny, fragile. Weak. The responsibility of protection, the fierce need to watch over you, to possess you entirely, overcame him, overwhelmed every sensibility he’d cultivated throughout his life.

And so, he watched you. Eneamoured himself with your sleeping features, the trust you displayed to have fallen asleep on him. In his mind, this becomes a core memory. One which he turns into a joke between the two of you, his own fragment of sanctity – the beginnings of close friendship – one he’d use to build a statue like Hobie’s. A statue of you.

Hobie’s eyes narrowed. His nose wrinkled as his lips turned up in a half-sneer.

“You think the odd hug and a second of eye contact constitute as…what? A chance?” He scoffed. “A signifier that she feels for you more than she feels for the common man?” Incredulity danced in hobie’s eyes. Seethed from between his lips. The corner of his lips pulled back, revealed a smirk.

“Get over yourself, Mate. If she were interested, you’d know it by now.”

Of course, Hobie had his own collection of memories regarding you, his own wardrobe of moments sewn together with the thread of mirth to wear and fashion whenever and however he so pleased. He would wear it out to parties, on the town, to the Spidey-Station (as he referred to it with you). Show Miguel that his bare-threaded ribbon was nothing compared to his tapestry.

You and Hobie would wander the city when it was late and dark and quiet, talking about anything and everything that crossed your minds, more often than not leading the two of you to howl with laughter, leaning against each other as tears flooded from your eyes. The story, regardless of how funny it had been, held no weight compared to the joy that sparked in Hobie’s chest whenever you touched, whenever you simply existed with him. Fireworks.

You got him in ways nobody else truly could.

Many times had he come to visit you, only to lay his head in your lap and tell you what was bothering him. Sometimes it was trivial, others it was not. And every time, you’d sit and listen, playing with his hair and the badges on his jacket. And, of course, Hobie did the same for you.

One evening, you’d come banging on Hobie’s door, voice distraught as you called for him. He practically tore the door off its hinges when he heard how distressed you were, and, when he saw you, his heart tore. Your face was tear-streaked and your posture gave the impression of anguish, immortal and unrelenting.

“Hobie,” you cried. “Am–” your sniffing diced your words like meat in a kitchen. “Am I pretty?!”

Hobie blinked, unsure if he’d heard the question. And when he didn’t respond, you wailed.

Hobie knew what this was, for you’d spoken about it at length many times before. Insecurity was a powerful tool, especially when fuelled with sleep-deprivation and alcohol, one which Hobie wished he could destroy. But, while he couldn’t do that yet, he reached for you and took you in his arms. And as you cried into his shoulder, he told you how beautiful you were, how surprised he was that he was able to get a look in with you at all with how many men were chasing after you. And when you tried to say that no such thing had ever happened, he pulled back, gave you a smile, the visage of mischief.

“That’s ‘cause I scared ‘em all away!”

Your veneer cracked, and a laugh sprung from the concrete, the beginnings of life in an apocalypse. What Hobie wanted to say, though, what he nearly said, was everything he felt for you – how no word in the human vernacular could ever even begin to comprehend or compare how ethereal you were to him, how widely his love for you encompassed his very being, everything he said, did and wanted dictated entirely by the thought of you.

He opened his mouth, holding you close again. He could say it all now, while you were drunk – pretend it never happened if the exchange turned sour. But he knew he couldn’t live with your rejection, even if you’d have no memory of it.

He closed his mouth, swallowed the confession that teetered on his tongue like a pill. Consumed his contemplation, obscuring his feelings from you for just a little longer. While he couldn’t say it – not yet – he pulled you closer still, chest-to-chest, one hand at the back of your head and the other wrapped around your waist. A lover’s lock. And he held you. Tightly.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in every universe, (Y/N). I should know.” he murmured. He felt you nestle into him. You’d heard him. He sighed. “I just wished you could see it, too.”

Both men viewed the other as possessing some unattainable advantage, the beginnings of a fabled proverb blatant in their desire to attain what they thought the other had. What they were both striving for.

You.

For Hobie, the very thing he had prided himself on was his self-believed downfall. Friendship. The two of you had been friends for years, basked in a platonic limelight. Initially, Hobie hadn't needed to worry about how you viewed him, but as he fell deeper and deeper in love with you the longer he knew you, the fact that you’d maintained such a close friendship with him without once giving the indication of romanticism frightened him.

Miguel had only waltzed into your life a few months ago. You didn’t have to see him in a platonic light, didn’t have to bear witness to his deepest faults or his subtlest of quirks. Quite simply, you didn’t know enough about him for his mystique to be shattered.

On the contrary, Miguel saw how close you and Hobie were, how, without saying a word, the two of you knew what the other was thinking. He found your incessant asking of “Do you think Hobie would like this?” when visiting a store to be intimidating. He wondered if you asked the same when you went out with Hobie. If he was the subject of your concern as your best friend often was.

Whereas Hobie knew your every thought and desire, Miguel knew he clutched at straws by comparison, drinking in every detail you afforded him, taking nothing for granted. He’d bring you gifts, stories, regalements from his time out in the field, and his chest would swell whenever you watched him with wide eyes. He hoped, with every fibre of his being, that your astonishment was confined to him and him alone. He prayed that your years of friendship to Hobie was enough to dull any excitement you may feel when he told you similar tales.

This war was simply beginning, no two ways about it. And as they surveyed each other, Hobie and Miguel, weighing up the other’s pull on you, their minds conjoined to speak once and for the last time.

“May the best man win.”

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urgonnaneedabiggership · 11 months

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Host of a Ghost

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse) x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language. Spoilers (Miguel's backstory is mentioned). Mild violence. Very, very light mention of a foiled SA (not to reader). Some angst.

Word count: 4.1K

Short A/N: This man has become my hyperfixation since I watched the movie and I'd been wanting to write something with him and today finally the muse came to me do I deliver you this decent-sized thing I wrote. Hope you like it <3

PART II

“Unusual” wasn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your life at all. At least not until about a year ago.

It was unusual to find a spider with such an odd color palette roaming your apartment since you were used to more dull-colored typical critters. It was also unusual that you didn’t panic enough to turn the apartment upside down to look for the thing before it bit you, but there was too much work to do, and a million notes from Dr. Connors to go over. It was equally unusual that you hadn’t rushed to the hospital the minute you noticed the tiny marks on your thigh.

“I mean, if it was really dangerous, it would have hurt more.” Was your reasoning to ignore it and keep scanning the pages before you. Nobody said pursuing a Ph.D. was without sacrifice.

By the time you tried to stand up to make more coffee just to end up collapsing on your kitchen floor, it was much too late.

From then on, “unusual” was pretty much every day’s motto.

Having a nightmare that night about being suffocated and unable to escape just to wake up hanging upside down and wrapped in sticky shit was the first clue. Turns out you were actually able to produce said sticky shit at will in the shape of a thin thread, then you discovered the wall-climbing abilities, and before you knew it you were roaming the city at night trying to get comfortable threading between the tall buildings, running across rooftops and challenging yourself to climb this or that building as fast as you could. You felt indestructible, alive. It was wonderful.

You’d never forget the night of your first save either. For several reasons.

It was an ordinary night, right before returning to your apartment, when a violent shiver abruptly ran up your spine and every cell in your body commanded you to stop. When you did, a scuffle in a nearby alley caught your eye. A young girl was violently shoved against a wall by a man who pressed his hand against her mouth. The same second his hand came dangerously close to the zipper of her jacket, you practically tackled him from above and pinned him against the ground, having no clue of what to do besides throwing punches at his face until you knocked him out. A whimper coming from a dumpster behind made you realize you had an audience.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, remembering your uncovered face, the only solution at hand is to wrap your scarf around your head to try and hide as much as possible, “Oh god this feels too much like cultural appropriation for my taste,” You kept nervously rambling to yourself as you slowly approached the dumpster.

“Um…hi,” You greeted, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Being met with nothing but silence, you were about to leave when a soft voice replied.

“No. He didn’t. Thank you so much.”

“Is there…I don’t know; is there somebody you want me to call?”

“I want to call my mom.” She replied, her voice still shaking, “He took my phone.”

“Right. Phone. Okay.” You quickly made your way back to the unconscious man and pawed his clothes looking for it. He let out a groan in protest.

“Yeah it doesn’t feel right, does it asshole?” You muttered as you retrieved it from one of his pockets. Then you shoved him onto his stomach to tie his hands and legs behind his back before returning to the girl.

“Here. It still works,” You just held it over the dumpster, seeing nothing but her pale hand as it reached out to take it before you took a few steps back.

“No, wait,” She immediately pleaded, “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“Like hell I am. I’m staying right here.”

So you waited with her until the police arrived. However, the minute you saw the flickering lights and heard the approaching siren, you retreated into the dark part of the alley and climbed onto the nearest building to escape through the rooftops.

It wasn’t until you were back in your apartment that you realized you’d been smiling all the way home. Carefully shutting the window behind you, you let yourself fall onto the couch and screamed joyfully, the pillow muffling the sound.

She was okay. A person was okay because you could intervene and do something about it.

However, a new wave of shivers flooded your veins so abruptly that you sat down immediately.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” Came a feminine voice from the unlit kitchen, “Being able to help, I mean.”

You scrambled to your feet and started walking backward. However, the voice didn’t remain hidden for too long. A woman emerged from the shadows, dressed in red with a yellow hairband pushing her near-afro hair back. She greeted you with a soft smile.

“Your reflexes need polishing,”

“My…?” You repeated, dumbfounded.

“And you have to learn how to fight properly. Randomly throwing punches isn’t always going to cut it,”

“I’m sorry, who are you? Why are you in my apartment? Were you following me? Do you know about…?”

“Whoa, slow down, kid. I know you have questions, and I might be able to help you with that. But you’re going to have to come with me.”

“Alright, I’ll…let me just get my car keys,”

“Oh, sweetie,” The woman said in between laughs, not malicious but truly amused, “You have so much to learn,”

You were starting to wonder why she had elongated that “o” like that until, after pressing a few buttons on the device around her wrist, something that you would’ve described as a “black hole on LSD” erupted in the middle of your living room.

That night you learned that her name was Jessica Drews and that she was completely right about you having so much to learn. With a four-second-o.

Over the following months, you became capable of things you didn’t think possible. Walls that took you a minute to climb became easy obstacles that didn’t take up more than fifteen seconds of your time, your fighting skills had also improved exponentially under Jess’s tutelage, and of course, going from a life where you could count your friends with less than one hand to being constantly surrounded by amazing (no pun intended) Spider-People who not only understood the changes you were going through but warmly welcomed you into their circle was more than you could’ve asked for.

Well, perhaps some more willingly than others. And by others you meant him.

He, who seemed to be always around, silently watching but never intervening.

He, who despite being allegedly “always locked up in his lab” always seemed to personally oversee your training since day one.

Whom you’d tried to greet as gleefully as you did the others just to receive, if anything, a vague nod of acknowledgment. In your first three months, you had spoken maybe four times. Well, you had. He only hummed, nodded, or answered in monosyllables. You knew better than to waste your energy with people like that, but for some reason you were unwilling to just accept Miguel O’Hara didn’t like you and that was that.

“For some reason” being code for “I’m one second away from fainting every time he as much as looks in my direction,”

You weren’t a child, for crying out loud. You were aware that no matter how cold, distant, and seemingly indifferent the leader of your new team was, he was an insanely attractive man. Even with the fangs…no, especially with the fangs, for some reason. His whole aura that screamed “completely-inaccessible-frighteningly-powerful-twice-my-size-man” had you harboring a huge crush on him within two months of meeting him. So painfully unrequited that it was embarrassing. Just the fact he could ignore your greetings and surely never think twice of it but you would spend the rest of the day wondering what you could’ve possibly said to make him at least say “hello” back made you want to scream into a pillow until your throat burned.

It was right up there with the time he’d muttered ‘much better’ when he saw you land a kick you’d been practicing and those three seconds kept playing on your head for the rest of the week.

The night of your first mission you decided you were going to prove your worth, not to your crush but to your team leader.

“I told him you’re ready,” Jess said with a proud smile, “He’s going to call you in sometime throughout the day to let you know where you’ll be going and with whom, probably me. How do you feel?”

“Excited, I guess,” You replied, pressing your lips together anxiously, “Also nervous. I don’t want to screw this up.”

“With me as your mentor? That’s unlikely,” Jess replied with a wink, giving you an encouraging pat on your shoulder as she walked away.

However, the day continued normally. You did some assigned tasks here and there, which mostly included helping Spider-Byte to keep everything running smoothly given your background in the tech field. You grabbed lunch, then thought it would be a good idea to train some more before going away.

You were beginning to lose all hope when, as you leaned down to fix some wiring, Lyla popped right beside your head and called your name so loudly you hit your head against the metal and hissed. One year and still you hadn’t used to the way she appeared out of nowhere.

“Oops, sorry,” She promptly apologized, “Well you’ll have to walk that off, Miguel wants to see you STAT.”

“How am I supposed to walk a head injury off, Lyla?” You joked, rubbing your forehead as you rushed across the halls with the holographical figure floating after you.

“Not in my code,” She replied using her usual excuse.

When you walked into his working space, Miguel’s back was turned to you as he used a digital pen to do some annotations on what looked like blueprints of new equipment. After he didn’t react to your presence for a few seconds, you hesitantly walked closer and cleared your throat.

“That looks nice. Is it a new suit?” You asked, as always, trying to start a conversation.

“I just received an alert about the…” He stopped and sighed as if saying the silly nickname was physically painful to him, “…the Go-Home-Machine. It said there was a small power overload since we sent back that Vulture from the 192-011 Universe.”

“Yeah, but Byte and I are already working on that and it should be fully functional by tomorrow morning,” You replied, a bit confused as to what that had to do with your mission.

“Good. Let me know as soon as it’s fixed.” Miguel hastily replied, not even turning to face you until a whole minute passed and he realized you were still standing there. Even then, he just barely turned his head.

“That’s all, (Y/N). Thank you.”

That’s all? What do you mean that’s all?

“Was there something else you wanted to do?” He asked. Shit. You’d said that out loud.

“I…Jessica told me that I’m ready to go on a mission and that today you…”

“I said I would think about it, and I have.”

He fell silent again. No matter how attractive he was, you were starting to truly get pissed at his stupid theatrical antics.

“And?”

“And the answer’s no. You’re not ready yet.”

That felt like all the disappointments in your entire life added up and multiplied by ten. Especially because of how easily he dismissed you despite being aware of how hard you’d worked, how many nights you decided to forgo hours of sleep just to train and polish every movement until it was as close to flawless as you could.

“Not ready yet?” You practically hissed in a voice you almost didn’t recognize. Hell, it was enough for him to put down the pen. “Not ready yet? That kid Pavitr has been here for what? A month? And he’s already going off on missions. Alone, I might add!”

Unsurprisingly, he did not answer.

“And he’s very, very good, I’m not saying he isn’t. But I’m just as good. And more experienced, both at being here and at being a Spider-Person. I have completed every training scenario you’ve thrown my way, worked my ass off to understand every bit of information regarding interdimensional traveling, and studied the protocol to control anomalies, what is it that you still need me to prove?”

He took a deep breath. So deep that his shoulders rose, flexing the muscles of his back in such a way that if you hadn’t been so angry, you would’ve been too distracted to keep arguing. Even with your blood boiling, you couldn’t help but stare and feel your stomach tense at the sight.

“Do you like being part of this team, (Y/N)? Do you like training in our headquarters, having access to all our information, and maintaining contact with the other members of this society?”

“Of course I do,” You replied immediately. Slowly, Miguel turned around to face you completely and walked towards you, descending the two small steps that separated you until he stood towering over you. Even if your knees were about to give in to this unexpected closeness, this wasn’t the time to fold. You held his glare defiantly and folded your arms in an attempt to mentally guard yourself against him.

“Then I suggest you get in line and do as you’re told,” He said in a low voice. But it wasn’t threatening, or condescending. It was an odd, flat tone. Tired, perhaps. Almost as if…as if he was reprimanding you against his will.

He was almost unbearably close. You could feel his breath hitting your face. If right then all logic flew out of the window and you stood on your tiptoes you could…

“I’ll do that when you’ve earned my respect, and I have a policy of reciprocity when it comes to respect, Miguel. I’ve been in line for a year, I’ve listened, learned, and improved so much that if you’re still looking down on me, then it’s your problem, not mine. And no self-righteous, big-headed…”

“Just get out,” He cut you off, once again turning his back to you and walking towards the blueprints again.

“Oh no, I’m not finished…” You insisted, trying to follow him. However, as soon as you gave one step forward he turned around so violently that you stumbled backward and stared at him with something you hadn’t felt towards him up until then: fear.

“Yes, you are,” Was his only reply. As dull as the others.

While you could only see his face for a moment before he walked past you and left the room, something about his expression stuck with you even hours later, when you laid on your bed at night and combed through the scene over and over. You thought he would be fuming, maybe even shocked that you’d dared to talk to him like that. The last thing you expected was for him to look…upset. Hurt, even. The mere thought of you being able to hurt Miguel O’Hara was as ridiculous as imagining a goldfish fighting back against a shark. Still, you realized that even if you thought he was in the wrong, you felt bad about how things went down back there. You would never understand what being the leader of hundreds of super-powered people was like. Commanding each and directing their particular abilities as best as he could all while maintaining a vigilant eye on endless strings of causes and effects because he knew firsthand the consequences of being careless with them.

Even if he had made a mistake with you and of course you still wanted to address it later, right then all you wanted was to apologize.

And so, not even an hour later you were roaming the halls of the HQ, your heart beating furiously as you got closer to his quarters, wondering what you could even begin to say.

When the automatic doors slid open, you stepped inside and turned back to look as the doors closed behind you. Well, no turning back now.

“Miguel?” You called, looking around the large room, pondering whether a first-name basis was okay. After everything that had happened, going back to Mr. O’Hara sounded terribly stupid. Then your eyes landed on the row of screens where he spent most of his time. An extremely ill-timed wave of curiosity filled your chest as you approached them, taking another look at the seemingly empty room before stepping onto the platform. Getting bolder, you reached out your hand and brushed your fingertips across one of the screens. It immediately came to life with a blue glow, startling you and making you curse under your breath. You were about to look for a button to switch it off when a video started playing automatically from where he had left off. He was in it, holding a young girl. Miguel wasn’t just smiling. He was laughing. His laugh was exactly as you’d pictured it. Not particularly loud, but hearty and low. He had the kind of laugh that made you unwittingly smile as well as a newfound sympathy filled your chest as tears filled your eyes when you pictured that being taken from him just like that. How could one have a family, and then one day be completely alone and keep going?

With a renewed disposition to make things better between you, your hand reached out for the switch that would turn the screen off until a third voice piqued your interest. It belonged to whoever was holding the camera.

“Would you please stop hoarding her? I deserve some mother-daughter time too! Here, hold this thing and give her to me,” The voice said between laughs. There was something about that voice that made an extremely cold shiver run down your spine.

“Fine, you’re right. Bueno pues, mijita, ve con mamá, ¿quieres ir con mamá?”

The picture became blurry as the camera switched places with a giggling Gabriella, who could be briefly seen stretching her arms toward the third figure.

“Alright,” Came Miguel’s voice again, “But when I turn the camera towards you I want both of you to blow Daddy a kiss, can you do that for me?”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned the camera around.

And then you found yourself staring into your own eyes. They weren’t quite the same shade as yours, and “your” hair was styled differently. And “you” had freckles. But otherwise, it was like staring into an interdimensional mirror. Then, your voice spoke.

“Okay sweetie, let’s humor him, shall we? Blow Daddy a kiss. And another one from me because now I have to use both arms to hold you, my big girl!”

Miguel laughed again at the way his daughter’s face lit up at being called a “big girl”.

“¿Saben que las amo a las dos, verdad?”

“And Gabriella loves you too. I think you’re…nice enough.”

“(Y/N), I don’t think you marry somebody for ‘nice enough’, mi amor,”

“I love you too. Against my better judgment.”

With one last interrupted laugh, the video ended, and, in a cruel irony, the once again black screen showed your actual reflection.

Except this time, it wasn’t the only one. With a loud gasp, you turned around. After seeing him in that video, it became much more evident that the Miguel in it was nothing but a memory of the past. And in a matter of seconds, everything shifted into place like a gloomy puzzle. His expression was unreadable, though he wasn’t even looking at you. His eyes were fixed on the empty screen.

“I wasn’t supposed to ever see that, was I?” Was the only thing that came to your mind after a lengthy, tense silence.

“What good would it have done?” He replied, almost numbly.

“So that’s why you’ve always…stared?” You kept pushing. Against your better judgment, you thought.

“It was at first,” Came his only response. Like always, it seemed like you would have to tear the answers off him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, turning your head to look for his eyes. Even then, something warm filled your chest. Something that made your heart beat so quickly you felt as if it would stop at any moment, and it spread all over you no matter how much you tried to fend it off. Hope.

Surprisingly, this time he caved in and looked at you. Still, the answer never came. For the first time in all the time you’d known him, Miguel O’Hara was at a loss for words. And that said more than anything he could’ve come up with.

“And you expect me to believe that, by sheer chance, you happened to catch feelings for somebody who is practically your wife’s interdimensional twin?”

“It sounds so much worse when you say it like that,” Was that a hint of a smile? An attempt at a joke? One year and the only time he’d bothered to be decent to you was when you were talking about how much you looked like her?

With an annoyed look, you moved away from him and started to make your way to the exit.

“Do you think I wanted this?” He spoke rather loudly, his whispers going out of the window as he started to follow you across the room.

Miguel O’Hara following you to keep you from leaving. Just hours before you would’ve died of happiness at the mere thought of this scenario. Right now, your brain was a flurry of thoughts and emotions that you didn’t know how to handle.

“I was doing an amazing job at keeping my distance. Watching you from afar, seeing you laugh, grow, win everybody over with that awfully big heart of yours, and still I reined myself in,” He continued, “Today’s the perfect example. You thought I didn’t respect you, for fuck’s sake! I respect you so much that every single day I have ignored you and pretended you are nothing but another face in the halls. Damn it, (Y/N), I couldn’t even look you in the eye when for months you’ve been all I’ve wanted. All because I didn’t know if I loved you or what was left of her. And I didn’t want you to get involved in shit that’s mine to figure out.”

Hearing him not only withdraw his previous statement of you not being capable of doing things and accepting the problem was his and not yours made you stop in your tracks.

Fine, the sudden (though odd) love declaration had something to do with it too.

“So you don’t think I’m not ready?” You asked, turning around and even taking some steps towards him.

“Are you serious? I’ve watched you closely all these months. You learn in days what others do in weeks. You push yourself way more than so many of our members and yet I’ve never, ever seen you become overconfident. Today you never said you knew everything. You said you knew enough.”

This time, it was you who remained silent. There was something else you wanted him to elaborate on, and from the look in his eyes, you realized he knew damn well what it was.

“You were right. The problem wasn’t yours. It was mine all along. I could manage to push you away and keep my feelings at bay. But knowing that you were eventually going to go out there and take so many risks...worst case scenario, you could get hurt or not come back at all. That was too much for me to handle, s’all.”

“Were you afraid of losing me…?” You started to ask just for him to interrupt you.

“Yes. Very much.” However, you lifted a hand to stop him. You weren’t finished.

“Were you afraid of losing me, or were you afraid of losing her again, Miguel?”

Three seconds later, when no answer came out of his mouth, you were about to turn around once again when he rushed and stood in front of you. For a second, you thought he was going to grab your shoulders to keep you in place. Not wanting to come off as if he was forcing you to stay, his hands just hovered on both sides of your shoulders without touching you.

“Listen, she wasn’t a picky eater like you are. But I swear that woman never drank enough water and every time I see you there’s either a bottle in your hand or laying around. And she was so, so messy. It took us at least ten minutes to find the keys every single time…and Spider-Byte said you sort your tools by size and color. Color. (Y/N), I don’t think even I…”

“Are you getting somewhere with this?”

“You’re not her, (Y/N). You have never been, and you never will, I know that. I want you to know that I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. I love you.”

After that, he moved out of the way and folded his arms.

“If you want to go back to your dimension and stay there for a while…or for good, I don’t know, I completely…”

“I love you too, you know?” You cut him off, pressing your lips together after blurting out the three words that’d been haunting you for the past months. Words that up until now you were sure would never leave your chest. When you turned to look at him, you saw in his eyes what minutes ago had filled yours. Hope.

God, his face was so hauntingly beautiful when his features softened.

“What do you want from me?” You finally asked him, your voice shaky from the effect you knew his answer would have regardless of what it was.

Miguel moved closer to you almost hesitantly, his eyes never leaving yours. When he was close enough, he reached out with both his hands and slid them up the back of your neck, his thumbs tucked in front of your ears as his warm palms engulfed the back of your head so he could hold you while he brought his face down to press his forehead against yours.

“Mi amor, I’d give you all I am and be happy with whatever you’re willing to give me for now,”

You knew it would take some time for you to get used to hearing him say things like that without wondering if you were the only one in his mind when he did. It would be a while until you felt completely certain that you were made of flesh and bone and not just a ghost in his eyes, but it would happen. You saw his eyes as he drew his face closer to yours and when your lips touched, you knew that it would definitely happen sooner or later. Until then, you thought as you stood on your tiptoes when he almost desperately pressed his lips onto yours, he was very much worth the wait.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #atsv

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oharabunny · 7 months

Text

imagine being miguel's live-in doll

Description: You're kind of a loser and horrible at taking care of yourself so much so that he takes it upon himself to be your one and only caretaker.

Word Count: 2271

Warning: yandere!Miguel, OOC!Miguel, coercion, fem!afab!Reader, pitiful!Reader, Author projecting their problems, not beta read

So let’s say your universe collapsed and you were the only one that Miguel managed to save.

Since you have no universe to return to, he allows you to stay in HQ and provides you with a modded dimensional watch to keep you from disintegrating.

You have your own room and access to the amenities in HQ like the cafeteria and the training center.

Honestly you hit the jackpot because before your universe collapsed you were a loser who barely scraped by for your shitty apartment. You never graduated college, and you job hopped between minimum wage jobs.

The catch was that you are not allowed to leave the premises. Apparently the outside world is too dangerous and overwhelming for someone of your time. For a while, you didn’t seem to have an issue.

First couple months passed, and you loved having no responsibilities and being able to laze around, but you quickly found that to be very boring PLUS you had survivor’s guilt and wanted to be useful for Miguel, who saved you.

So you ask him for a job to do and he seems a little impressed. You are just an ordinary human so he gives you the job as his assistant that doesn't handle sensitive and complicated information.

He may have regretted a little for assigning you a job because now he sees you as a clumsy oaf. It’s not like you couldn’t do your job properly, but you always somehow trip, fall, scrape, and bump into everything. Not a single day were you not mildly injured.

What sealed the deal one day was when an anomaly broke out in HQ and you were caught in the crossfire.

Basically, you are never going to have freedom ever again.

You are rushed to med bay and diagnostics concluded that your injuries are not life threatening, but for some reason he never left your side. Was it pity? It couldn’t be, because pity wouldn’t make him stay while you healed.

He basically wouldn’t let you discharge until every single cut on you was healed and sealed.

When you are discharged, he tells you that you’re no longer sufficient for the job and will be promptly relocated to a safehouse aka his apartment.

You almost fought him on the spot because you enjoyed your job and being able to socialize with the other Spider people. (Which you didn’t know had him seething)

Also, you would be a horrible roommate.

He didn’t give you much choice because it was either his apartment or be homeless.

You couldn’t risk being homeless in a futuristic society with nothing but the clothes on your back.

He personally escorts you to his apartment and to no one’s surprise it was luxurious and spacious. However, it was plain and boring like his taste.

You have free range in his apartment since there was nothing particularly important stashed there. All of it would be at HQ anyway. He practically lives there.

While he did give you a salary when you had your job, but not enough to sustain yourself forever since he fired you. So, he lets you use his credit card to order groceries and whatever you want within reason. And yes he will be monitoring every purchase.

And of course, he also tells you you’re not allowed to leave the apartment. For any reason. Unless you have his explicit permission.

And if you ever do try to leave, the door has a very loud alarm when opened and he is immediately alerted. Even if you manage to get three steps out of the apartment building, he’ll haul your ass back.

Or if you actually do make it into the streets, he has your location pinged in real time from your dimensional watch that he also made completely locked to your wrist (to your dismay cuz it’s so ugly and clashes with your outfits).

Man, you just wanted to go for a walk.

But he’ll just tell you to sit on the balcony that is completely sealed all around only allowing light in so don’t even bother trying to jump.

Anyways.

Since he won’t be coming by often, you can basically redecorate and redesign it to suit your preferences. If anything, he encourages it.

It was fun for a while, but having no structure in life caused you to spiral. As a certified loser with executive dysfunction, you ordered take out and instant food everyday, left trash to build up over time without taking it out, slept and woke up at random hours of the day, and showered once a week.

He definitely knows you are spiraling. He hid many many cameras all over his apartment before taking you here.

He comes by unannounced one day while you are sprawled on the couch, sleeping, with the TV running.

Yeah he cleans everything and takes out all your trash. He wakes you up. You’re startled. And he just tells you that you need to shower.

Man how embarrassing is that. You stank like butt.

You apologized profusely, but he doesn’t seem to care. He wasn’t mad but he definitely pitied you.

You go to the bathroom right away to take a shower and he follows you.

You’re like wtf get out.

He then exposes the fact he knows you’re a clumsy idiot who definitely slipped and hit your head multiple times before.

Still, you think he doesn’t need to watch you shower right? RIGHT???

Wrong, he is going to personally wash you head to toe.

Yeah you are definitely fighting his ass off because you two are not that close and also you’re not handicapped! But he keeps treating you like one.

You kept struggling and kicking him like a baby which did annoy the shit out of him so he bit you so his venom can paralyze you.

He strips you bare and tests the water temperature before setting you down on the shower bench. He is very thorough with you. He scrubbed every spot and yes even your private parts which made you think he was trying to cop a feel.

Oh boy when he starts to wash your hair, you literally melted. Why is this man giving you a full scalp massage????

He even dries you off, lotions your body, and gives you a full skincare routine. WHY DOES HE KNOW YOUR SKINCARE ROUTINE???

Yeah and he also dries your hair off and comb it too. He would style it if he wasn’t too tired that day.

Bruh, he even cuts and buffs your nails and toenails. Applying creams and massages them.

The paralysis seems to wear off around your head and neck area so you’re able to eat and drink. He cooks your favorite dish but he has you drink water as your beverage because you kept having soda so he thinks you should be barred from beverages that weren't water.

And since your body is still paralyzed, he hand feeds you. And for some reason when it comes to helping you drink some water, he spits it into your mouth like a mama bird. And if you weren’t going to open your mouth, he would kiss you.

Now you’re wondering why he’s even here. Why was he doing all of this?

The only answer he tells you is that you’re pathetic and you need someone to take care of you. He took a week off just for you.

You argued with him that he doesn’t need to do all that but he insisted and said you can work through it together.

You think he was going to help you manage your executive dysfunction but nah he was going to do all the housework himself for the whole week and hang out with you.

Well he does try to give you a schedule for when you wake up, what to eat (he literally made you precooked food all labeled and everything), when to work out (he bought you workout gear), and what else you can do in between until when you have to sleep.

He says he’ll come by more often to check up on you so you don’t spiral again. (Which still includes him doing all the housework and washing you)

He went from coming by once a week to every other day, but he usually visits at night. You wondered how he wasn’t drowning in work right now like he usually does.

And every time he visits, he’s taking care of everything you forget to do like when you left dirty dishes in the sink to clean for later.

He makes you take showers with him and it always involves him washing you first before he washes himself. He’ll let you help wash his back though.

He even started making you sleep in the same bed as him and it was hell because he would snore and cough like a dying engine. He keeps you trapped in his arms and legs, and you being a smol bean makes it impossible for you to escape.

He’ll literally start dressing you up, brushing and styling your hair, and doing your makeup every morning even if you want to do it yourself. But it’s interesting to see what he finds attractive on you.

At one point he decides that it was time y’all should get married and have a baby since he literally takes care of you like a baby anyway.

You’re reluctant because you still wanted to figure out what you wanted in life, but because he’s not someone who wastes time in getting what he wants, he’ll just tell you that you can figure it out after you give him your hand in marriage and babies.

You can’t figure out if you hate him or you like him because he does a lot of things without your consent and doesn’t allow you to make your own choices in almost anything, but you also appreciate the sheer amount of effort he makes JUST to take care of you on top of being Spiderman. Plus he’s hot as hell.

In terms of marriage, he doesn’t care for weddings and wants to keep it lowkey. It may sadden you if you love weddings, but it’s not like you have any friends and loved ones anyway. He just wants to have a domestic life with you right away and is not a huge shower.

He’ll make it up to you with the best honeymoon you can ask for. <3

And honestly, especially now that you two are married, he’s going to be a lot more physically affectionate with you and expects you to be the same. Especially whenever he comes home after work, he’s dying for you to pepper kisses and hug him.

The idea of giving birth scares the shit out of you especially when you hear stories of men finding their wives disgusting or how they aren’t there for you in the process or god forbid the husband stitch.

He doesn’t do any of that. He literally worships your body and tbh he’ll be even more proactive in making your life easier that you don’t even lift a finger.

He’ll be on paternity leave so that means he’s gonna stay in the apartment 24/7.

Also, he seems the type to have multiple kids. So, uh, prepare yourself.

And honestly, his controlling and overprotective tendencies are dialed up to the nines after you give birth.

He will watch your every move like a hawk. He’ll hand feed you in every meal. Most of the time he just carries you instead of letting you walk to where you want to go. He blows your nose if it’s stuffy. Massage you when you’re sore. Always being the one to remember when you need to take your medications. Like, literally everything.

And at first when your kids are still babies, he’s extremely protective of them in the same way he is with you. Like taking care of all their bathing and feeding. But as they grow older he definitely loosens his protective hold a little and teaches them skills that helps them learn to be independent.

He even takes them to school, but he usually insists that you stay home until you fight him that you have the right to see your kids at school too.

He still literally does everything in the house and doesn’t let you lift a finger because he partially doesn’t trust you not to hurt yourself.

Which makes your own children think you’re sickly and weak. Because sometimes Miguel would have the kids help you when he’s unable to like delivering your breakfast to your room or doing your dishes.

Ironically, your own children have more freedom and independence than you do.

If he ever does let you go outside, he would be gripping your hand the entire time he doesn’t care if you’re sweating. Or if he has to let go, then his hand has to be somewhere on your body. If not, he will just leash you like a toddler.

Now, I haven’t mentioned how you guys bond, and to briefly sum it up: he is interested in getting to know you such as your personality quirks, hobbies, favorite food, favorite color, etc etc. He does take into consideration what you like especially in terms of aesthetics (you have better taste than him). But if you do anything that could lead you into independence or potential to hurt yourself, he immediately shuts it down.

Honestly, you don’t really get why he does it and how he’s not tired of you, but he enjoys that you’re his doll to take care of. And you can sure as hell bet he's taking care of you until your deathbed. (Imagine him still taking care of all of your needs when he's too old and wrinkly too and ngl that's romantic ❤

A/N: Okay I got a little tired of trying to compress my ideas while trying to describe how exactly crazy this yandere caretaker Miguel would be (even though he would 100% not act like this at all especially if you’re incredibly dysfunctional and unable to take care of yourself with ADHD like me). I rewrote like 4 times to not overwhelm you guys in detail. Even though at the same time, there were areas of detail I didn’t know how to get into. I also at some point lost all my writing and started over again. (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Sorry if this wasn’t really well written it’s like 6 am right now. I kind of wanna rewrite it when my brain is more organized but I just wanna shoot my idea out there first.

Idk I might delete this later.

I wanted to like credit my inspos to @jessamine-rose for their fic and the manga ��My Childhood Friend is Overprotective” by Kumanami Sae (you should check it out it’s so cuteeee)

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tonyspank · 10 months

Text

TRUTH HURTS

Summary: Your girlfriend finds out your secret.

A/N: I was listening to Lizzo when I wrote this lol. And I didn't revise this at all, so if there are mistakes, sorry!

Warnings: Reader and Jenna being too cute at the end. But actually, I can't think of anything.

"I just took a DNA test turns out I'm 100% that bitch! Even when I'm crying crazy." You sing on top of a rooftop, your Spider Suit hugging your body. Karen (an artificial intelligence user interface created by and installed in your Spider Suit by Tony Stark) had turned on your swinging playlist that you had created last month. You pause your singing to take a bite of your sandwich you'd gotten from the deli a few blocks down, savoring its sweet and salty flavors.

Being New York's Spider-Man/Woman was absolutely exhausting. Yet, the thrill of it all was worth it. You smiled, content with the knowledge that you were making a difference in the city. You had to balance your heroic tasks with your everyday life, but it was worth it. You felt proud to be able to help people in need and make a difference in the world. You had found your true purpose. Sometimes you'd fear for the people you loved. You didn't want them to get involved in the crime you fought everyday. You kept doing your best to protect them while taking on the criminals. You knew that you were making a change and that's what kept you going.

Jenna, your girlfriend and also an upcoming actor didn't know exactly who you were. She thought you had a normal job, and thought you were just an ordinary person. She had no idea that you were Spider-Man/Woman, risking your own life to save others. You were afraid to tell her the truth, but at the same time you wanted her to know the truth. You decided maybe one day you could tell her hope she would understand.

You freeze your dancing and chewing, seeing a group of thugs walking into an alleyway. You knew you had to act fast, so you shoved the remaining half of your sandwich into your mouth, pulling down your mask. "Karen! Pause my playlist please." You asked the AI assistant installed in your mask. You started running, jumping off the roof and shooting a web out towards the alleyway, determined to protect your neighborhood.

You followed them, keeping a safe distance, and watched as they opened a door in the back of the alleyway. The door revealed a secret hideout with a large stash of weapons. You web yourself to a corner of the hideout, waiting for an opportune moment to act. Suddenly, the door opened and several armed men entered the hideout. You knew you had to act fast and without hesitation. You quickly webbed one of the thugs to the nearest wall.

"It's Spider-Man/Woman!"

The other thugs were taken by surprise raising their weapons at you. "Now that's no way to treat company!" You say with a smirk under your mask. "I was on my lunch break before this!" You fired a web at the thugs and they were suspended in mid-air, helpless. You quickly zip around the room, disarming each thug and taking their weapons.

You turn to the last one, still suspended in the air, and say "Let that be a lesson to you. Don't mess with me on my lunch break." Before you fire another web, your phone vibrates. You drop to the ground, pulling it out of your tight pocket and read the contact name, which reads "Jenna" Face-Timing you.

Really? Now? When you're fighting criminals? The thug attempts to attack you with a crowbar, but you dodge it easily holding up a finger. "Dude, please? I gotta text my girlfriend."

The thug stops, stunned, and laughs. He throws the crowbar to the side, shaking his head. "Man, you got some serious priorities. Alright, go ahead and text your girl, I'll wait."

The thug stepped back and crossed his arms. He watched with amusement as you texted away, trying to explain to Jenna you were too busy to Face-Time. After a few moments you put away your phone, turning back to the thug. "Alright, I'm ready." The thug grinned, showing off his broken teeth. He took a step forward and raised his fist. "Let's get this started then," he said.

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, preparing for the fight. The thug lunged forward, but you were ready, dodging his attack and counterattacking with a flurry of punches and kicks. In a few short seconds, the thug lay on the ground, defeated.

"Karen could you call this in and call Jenna back for me?" You nicely ask the AI, Karen responded, "Yes, of course. I am calling Jenna now." Karen connected Jenna to a call and the police were dispatched.

You web away from the scene, as Jenna answers and you hear her lovely voice. "Hey, where are you?" You answer, "I'm at home. I just got back from Feast. " Jenna is suspicious but you assure her that you were just busy helping your Aunt.

She reluctantly believes you, "Oh, okay. Well, I have good news!" You swing low in the streets, dodging cars to entertain yourself. She continues, "I got the role!" You nearly get hit by a car, but move just in time. You yell with joy, "That's great! Congratulations!" Jenna laughs and tells you how excited she is about the new role. You talk to Jenna for a few more minutes, sharing your excitement about her news. "How about I take a shower and come to your place?"

"Orrrr," She trails off, "I come to your place and we use your vinyl player and celebrate over dinner?" You hesitantly agree. Were you going to make it back home in time to shower, prepare dinner, change, and beat her there? You start swinging off your webs faster, hoping not to run into anything with the speed you're going. You see your apartment building in the distance and you're relieved. You quickly swing inside from your open window. You turn around to close your window, but your heart drops when you hear a gasp behind you.

You spin around to find your girlfriend standing in the doorway, her mouth agape. How did she get here so fast?! You stand there frozen, unsure what to say. She stares at you, her eyes wide and searching for answers. Your heart beats faster as you try to come up with an explanation. You take a deep breath and take off your mask throwing it somewhere in your room as you open your mouth about to speak.

You finally blurt out, "It's not what it looks like!" She looks at you skeptically and you can tell she doesn't believe you. You take a step back, trying to figure out how to convince her otherwise. You open your mouth to explain, but no words come out. You sigh, "Okay, maybe it is what it looks like."

She stares at you, and you take a step closer to her. You reach out to take her hands in yours. She flinches and pulls away, but you continue to hold out your hands, looking into her eyes. She takes them, and you squeeze her hands, letting her know that you understand. "I wanted to tell you."

"Why haven't you?" "I was scared," You say. "I thought you wouldn't believe me, or worse, that you would think I was crazy. And I don't want you to get hurt because of me." She nods, letting go of your hand to run a hand down your cheek. It was a claw scratch from months ago, a battle you had with The Black Cat.

"What happened here? I’m now starting to realize it wasn’t Ms. Browns cat." You take a deep breath and tell her about the fight, and the superhuman strength of the cat, and how you managed to get away. You tell her about the strange feelings you have been having lately, and how you think something strange is going on. She listens quietly, her face a mix of concern and understanding.

"Are we okay?" You ask, your voice barely above whisper. She smiles softly and takes your hand again. "We're okay. I believe you, and I'm not going anywhere," she says, her voice gentle but strong. "We'll figure this out together." She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You take a deep breath, the tight knot in your chest loosening a bit. You can do this, with her by your side.

You nod, your eyes meeting hers. She smiles again and brings your hands to her lips, kissing them softly. You feel a warmth rush through your body as you realize that, together, you can take on anything. You pull her into a hug, your hearts beating in time.

You whisper in her ear that you love her and she whispers it back, her breath tickling your neck. Holding each other, you guys are okay. You stay like that for a few minutes, before finally pulling away. You both laugh and she takes your hand in hers, the warmth of her skin instantly grounding you. You walk together towards the future, ready to take on the world.

"So, Black Cat. What's she like?" She grinned, her eyes twinkling with mirth. You playfully roll your eyes at the question, "A real wildcat and a tease." You smiled, "You kind of remind me of her." Jenna looks at you, a brow raised. "I remind you of one of your villains?" You chuckle, "In some ways. But that's why I like her. She keeps me on my toes." Jenna grins and shakes her head, "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

You laugh, glad your girlfriend took everything so well. You didn't know what you would do if you lost her over your secret identity. Jenna puts her arm around you and says, "I'm just glad you're here with me. I love you no matter what." You smile and kiss her forehead, relieved that you could share your secret with her and that she accepted it.

After you change, shower, and prepare dinner Jenna and you spend the rest of the night talking about your powers and how you got them. You feel a connection to her that you didn't before, because you can now be open and honest with her. You are grateful for her understanding and love.

Jenna steps out of the apartment as her phone rings, and you lay down on the sofa, relieved as you watch TV. You feel like you can finally take a deep breath and enjoy the night's calm.

Outside of your apartment door, Jenna answers her phone. A known voice is on the other end. "Kingpin," Jenna murmurs into her phone, sighing. "Hey Felicia," Jenna grits her teeth together in anger. "That's not my name anymore. I left it behind along with that life." Jenna pauses for a moment, her heart racing as she remembers her old life. She takes a deep breath and continues. "I'm not going back." Kingpin laughs, a mocking sound that grates on Jenna's nerves. "You know I can find you wherever you wander."

"Listen," she says firmly, her voice full of determination. "I'm done with the old me. I'm creating a new life, and I'm not going to let anyone drag me back." She takes a deep breath and straightens her posture, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'm done with crime."

"But is it done with you?" I've seen you on the TV. Trying to convince everyone and yourself that you're a good person." Kingpin replies, on the other side of the phone. "I know what you're trying to do, I can tell. But you can't run away from who you are." Jenna remains silent, not knowing what to say.

He continues, "Or do I have to touch that spider of yours to remind you?" Jenna takes a deep breath, feeling like a million thoughts are running through her head. "You won't get the chance," she says angry. "If you or your goons show your face in New York, you're done with."

He laughs. "I admire your courage, Jenna," he says. "But don't forget who you're dealing with. I'm not some kind of joke." The line clicks, and the call is disconnected. Jenna takes another deep breath, trying to calm down. She knows she's made a powerful enemy, and she's not sure what to do next. She has to be careful, she knows. She can't let her guard down. But she also knows that she has to stay strong and fight for what she believes is right.

Suddenly, the door opens and Jenna comes back, a small smile on her face. "You okay?" You ask, concerned. Jenna nods and smiles, not wanting to worry you. She takes your hand and leads you away, ready to take on whatever comes next.

Jenna jumps at a noise emanating from your bedroom. With your super-hearing you can hear it clearly. "Oh, when you walk by every night. Talking sweet and looking fine, I get kinda hectic inside."

"Sorry," you mumble, embarrassed. "That's Karen playing my swinging playlist." Jenna's face relaxes in relief, and she smiles. You take her hand and lead her to the bedroom. You ask Karen to turn up the music, and you both start dancing to the music coming from your mask. You both laugh as you twirl around the room, forgetting the world outside. As the song ends, you pull Jenna close and kiss her. You both agree that there's no better way to spend your Saturday night.

#reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #spiderman #spiderman reader #spider woman #spiderwoman reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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nocturnalrat · 10 months

Note

Hihi, ik this is corny lol but could you do a fake dating scenario with 1610!miles where he uses the relationship to cover up his identity as spiderman and why he’s always gone ?

I LOVE THE FAKE DATING TROPE SO MUCH!

Thank you for the prompt! I added some childhood friends to lovers to this :) Hope you like it!

---

Miles and you had been inseparable friends since childhood. Growing up, your families had lived in adjacent apartments, but circumstances forced your family to move to a more affordable neighborhood when you turned eight. Despite attending different schools, you remained friends throughout the years.

As fate would have it, you had come to suspect that Miles was none other than Spider-Man through your occasional encounters with the web-slinging hero. His unmistakable voice, his quirky sense of humor, and that distinctive laugh had given his true identity away.

Miles’ double life as a superhero kept him perpetually occupied. It had been a while since you had last hung out, but you were understanding of the situation. Keeping New York safe was not an easy task.

Each time you witnessed him soaring through the towering skyscrapers of the city, a smile appeared on your face. He was happy, and that was all that mattered to you.

On this particular day, as you were heading home from school, an unexpected event unfolded before your eyes. It was quite a comical sight – a shopping bag laden with groceries in Spider-Man’s hands, as if he were an ordinary citizen carrying out mundane tasks. But just as he exited the store, a car raced down the street at a dangerous speed, closely followed by a convoy of police cars.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the shopping bag and leaped into action, joining the chase. Amused by the relentless chaos that seemed to follow Spider-Man wherever he went, you decided to do what any loyal friend would have done: You picked up his abandoned groceries and embarked on a mission of your own – to deliver them to his parents’ apartment.

It took you quite some time until you finally arrived at your destination. The sound of a heated argument echoed from the inside of Miles’ apartment. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“¡No puedo creer que te hayas olvidado de comprar los comestibles otra vez!” His mother’s voice rang out, filled with frustration.

“Lo siento,” you heard Miles’ voice reply. “I just – I got distracted, and then forgot about the food entirely!”

“Distracted by what?” His dad sounded equally irritated. “You had one job!”

Technically, the poor kid has multiple responsibilities, you thought. That’s when you decided to step in and save the day. You knocked on the door, determined to help.

The conversation abruptly fell silent. Miles opened the door, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment when he saw you.

"You left your groceries at my house," you said, attempting to convey with your gaze: Hey, I know you're Spider-Man, and I saw you drop your shit just to chase after a criminal. Step up your game.

His father appeared in the doorway. When he recognized you, he smiled. "Oh, it's you. Miles, why didn't you tell me you were visiting a friend?"

You could see the gears turning in Miles' head. Then, to your own astonishment, he responded, "Girlfriend. Not friend."

A sudden crash of dishes on the floor interrupted the scene. Miles' mother stormed towards the door. "What did I just hear?"

You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. What the hell, Morales?

Thankfully, you and Miles had always possessed the unique ability to communicate without words.

His look pleaded: Play along. Please.

Who were you to let down a friend in need? If he needed the excuse of a girlfriend, then of course you would provide your assistance.

His father's jaw had dropped. He stared at you as if he were seeing you for the first time in his life.

"Yep!” you said cheerfully. “Girlfriend. We've been dating for..." You looked at him, seeking his support on the matter.

"For a while!" he rushed to say.

Not helpful, you thought.

"What do you mean 'a while'?" his mother inquired suspiciously.

"Nine months,” he said.

"NINE MONTHS?" Her shrill voice pierced through the room, making you cringe. "You've been dating a girl for nine months, and you're only telling us now? Come on in, dear, don't just stand there in the doorway!" She grabbed you by the shoulder and, before you could protest, you were dragged into the living room.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a disaster.

"That explains a lot," his father muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself and thinking out loud. He patted Miles on the back. "You could have talked to me about it, kid. Although... I guess you're not a kid anymore, huh?" His tone turned sentimental and fatherly, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the entire situation. You had to suppress the urge to grimace.

"Miles, don't just stand there like that, take your girlfriend's bag! She came all the way here because you're forgetful." His mother gave you a tense, yet warm smile. She probably would have reacted worse if Miles had introduced them to a complete stranger.

Miles, who suddenly seemed to remember that he had a role to play, hurriedly took the bag from you, putting it on the kitchen counter. When he returned, you could see him hesitate for a moment before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Tame.

Well. You were in front of his parents, so displaying restraint seemed appropriate.

But if you were already doing him a favor, you wanted to have your fun with it.

With a mischievous grin, you took his hand in yours, and he looked at you with wide, somewhat panicked eyes.

"I don't understand why you didn’t tell us sooner,” his father said.

"Because you guys embarrass me," Miles murmured shyly.

"Embarrassing? Us?" His mother gave him a disapproving glare. Then, turning to you, she said, "Don't break his heart, yeah?”

"Mom!" He whined, blushing.

His genuine reactions were delightfully innocent, and you couldn’t resist taking it a step further.

You threw both your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a quick kiss. He was taller than you, and his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. Caught off guard, his eyes widened as your lips met his.

His father cleared his throat, and his mother made a choked sound.

Grinning, you released him from the embrace.

"I'm afraid I still have a lot of homework to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Miles. You guys have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"

You left the apartment.

Miles ran after you and caught up with you on the street.

"You – what was that just now?" he exclaimed.

"I should be the one asking questions. Since when did I become your girlfriend?"

"I had to use that excuse!" He sounded contrite. "Sorry, it's just... They've been on my case for ages because I'm always busy and away from home."

"Don't worry about it." You gave him an encouraging smile. "I don't mind playing your girlfriend. Was that your first kiss just now?"

He flinched, embarrassment written all over his face. "No, I've kissed hundreds of girls. What are you talking about?"

"You're a pretty bad liar, Miles."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Fine. Yeah, it was my first kiss. Satisfied?"

"No, not yet. But it seems we'll have plenty of opportunities to practice kissing in the future."

Before he could say anything in response, you had already walked on, leaving an extremely perplexed and embarrassed Miles behind.

Well, you thought, this whole ordeal might actually be a nice distraction from my boring life.

You just had to be careful not to fall for him.

#miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #miles morales x y/n #miles x reader

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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Could you write an angsty hobie x reader where they both get into an argument? Everything is up to you!

ask and you shall receive anon :> i eat angst up for breakfast, lunch, snacks, dinner, and late night snack and dessert. i hope you like this !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

sometimes, you can't make it all better. — hobie brown x reader (angst)

summary: you loved hobie dearly, and you loved how despite how shitty the world was, he kept trying to make it a safer place for you two. but when you see him beat himself up over almost losing you... you can't recognize the boy you once loved in those frightened, hopeless eyes of his. pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader genre: angst. word count: 2,481 author's note: ok, i feel like i haven't been doing enough with my interpretation of hobie in more daring ideas an prompts, so i've wondered what he'd be like in an angsty situation. i hope y'all like it, and i'm sorry if the british pronunciations/slang are awful 😭😭😭

to hobie, it felt like everything was possible with you; like everything began and ended with you to him, that everything wouldn't be anything if he wasn't there for you, to save you, be spider man for you. he had never wanted anything more than to just be there for you, make the world a little better than how it was before you two were together.

he may appear cool and level-headed, a bit of a jokester as well, on the surface–but deep, deep down, in the recesses of his psyche, therein lies a dark void of fear, irrepressible, palpable fear. that fear being that one day, if he slips up, lets go at a crucial moment when he can't handle everything being thrown at him–when he closes his eyes for even a fraction of a second–you'd be gone.

hobie has seen and gone through a lot of unfortunate things in his life, and every time, he gets through it somehow. some may say he's incredibly tough and fortified for handling all that he's been through, all that he's seen, but what doesn't kill you doesn't make you stronger–it makes you question just why it had to happen to you, both the bad... and the good. the good being you, the sole ray of light that shines in his life–the only reason he has to tread carefully and look after himself is you.

to say he was in love with you was an understatement, hobie was completely and utterly smitten, enamored with you. he loves you dearer than dearly, he loves you with a love that doesn't overbear, a love that isn't selfish–he loves you with a love that only he can give you, that nobody else can give quite like he can. he adores you for who you are, for what you can do, for your heart and mind–you were so perfect in every way because you were so flawed and real, and that was the beautiful reality of you that hobie fell headfirst for.

but he can't bear to face that other, pivotal reality that haunts him, that reality being that you were more fragile than him. you were a civilian–an ordinary person that lived an ordinary life; but ordinary people can only do so much to defend themselves from extraordinary threats. he can't stomach the fact that you might not be able to save yourself from a devastating threat that doesn't even want your life, but instead, his. he can't stand to think that you would really be serious about telling him that you'd really die for him.

and tonight... you held yourself to that.

you tried saving him, tried to save him–spider man, who saves others before himself–at the expense of your own life.

it happened in an instant, when he was wounded, vulnerable, and weak. he was going to throttle the villain, but now, it felt like merely throttling the villain who practically pummeled you to the ground would be way too lenient. it was like his heartbeat halted, his whole world stopped, time stopped when he watched you get body slammed by the villain; the villain was doing their job, being evil, hurting whoever they wanted to hurt, to hell if who they hurt is spider man or his partner--and hobie felt like he couldn't even do the most basic job of all that was entrusted to him: keeping you safe.

you couldn't remember a thing after you jumped at the villain, all you could feel now was a complete, total, stinging numbness. it's ironic, isn't it, that when you's supposed to feel nothing, all you can feel is a distraction disguised as nothing; that's what the numbness felt like as you lay there on the hospital bed, incapacitated and immobile. you could still speak, but very weakly, you couldn't raise your arm, nor your hand, nor a single finger on either of your hands. you were still. completely still.

next to you by the bed was a beaten, battered and bruised hobie. he took that villain out, a little more violently than he usually would have, but none of that mattered to him right now except for you and how you were doing. hobie was tormenting himself by looking at you, seeing you stare up at the bright lights above you in a daze, unsure of what happened, why you're here, where you even are... he can barely walk over to you without staggering, not because of his injuries, but out of sheer relief that you're alive.

he was sobbing, and smiling--he was smiling because against all odds, you toughed it out, you lived. "hey, love..." he murmured as he fell to his knees next to you by the bed, clutching your hand that was hooked up to an IV. you weakly glanced over to your side and peered at hobie, who was muttering and kneeling next to you. "hobie..." you whispered his name as you felt his grasp on your hand tighten. he sniffled back his sobs and wiped away the tears in his eyes. he was beyond relieved you were okay, but he felt like this couldn't go on anymore; neither of you could keep seeing each other, it was for your own good. he endangered you, and all because he failed to keep you safe, his mind was a mess right now.

hobie wasn't in the best place when he watched you get thrown into the ground, hearing a loud thud as you hit the pavement below you. you were so soft, so fragile, so easy for his enemies to squash and kill. you couldn't be with him, not anymore, not when your life would always be at stake when he's around you. he clutched your hand and cleared his throat as he shakily got on his knees, his smile now gone from his face as he avoided looking at your face directly.

"i... i have something to tell you." he said as his grip on your hand was loosening, with little strength in your body, you tried to hold on to him, not to let him go--but he let go first. he looked at you in the eyes, and you could see a shadow looming over his eyes as he attempted to conceal all the pain, all the remorse and guilt he was experiencing for as long as he needed to tell you this: "we can't be together anymore. we're done." he murmured, but in that murmur, hobie carried a stinging pain in his heart that merely worsened and ached harder than any wound he's ever received at the hands of his opponents and enemies; or even those of his own allies once.

you stared at him with widened eyes, your eyes were blank but shone with a twinkle, a twinkle that came about when you saw hobie come into your hospital room. now, that twinkle had shone and waned, it died as quickly as it came, and you found yourself in the dark--in an oblivion where light could never enter, where everything that is ever in it gets trapped, confined, bound t never escape. you were lonely, all over again. you were pushed to the side, all over again. you felt an overwhelming grief and pity for yourself, all over again.

"but, h-hobie, i..." you trailed off as you tried to get up, the pain in your recovering wounds prohibiting you from speaking. hobie looked back at you in shame, he couldn't bear to touch you, couldn't even bear to look at you. he loved you, even if you were now scarred and bruised, but he hated how you got all those horrible, horrible marks on you. they reminded him--each and every strap of gauze, every scar, ever bruise, every cut on you; it all reminded him of why you two could never be together. he had to gulp down the rising wails he wanted to let go of in that moment to keep you from worrying any more. he shook his head as he turned away from you. "no. we can't be together anymore." he said with a crack in his voice as he hurriedly headed off to the window and pulled it up, feeling the breeze against his face as he climbed up on the windowsill and pulled his mask down.

"hobie--!" you exclaimed as you tried kicking off the sheets from you to get up and follow you, but instead--in your haste--you accidentally fell off the bed, with hobie's head almost snapping as he sensed you were going to fall--but he still couldn't bear to be near you... what right did he have to be near you again, hold you again, ask you if you were okay when he caused all of this to happen to you?

'they'll be okay... they'll be better off, they'll be better off without me.' he reminded himself internally as he heard you get up on your feet, wobbling and clinging onto the bed frames to support you, feeling his heart break with every sound he heard coming from you trying your hardest to reach him. you rolled your IV with you as you meekly approached hobie. "hobie, please don't do this." you pleaded him as tears started welling up in your eyes. hobie didn't respond, he just sat there, perched up on the windowsill as you sobbed behind him, waiting for him to say something, to do something. "please... this isn't your fault." "don't be ridiculous." he said as he finally made this conversation a two-way one as he turned to face you slightly.

"i'm the reason you jumped at that wanker, wasn't i? if not for me, you wouldn't have... have been confined to that blasted bed, have that fucking thing get hooked up to you, get stitches, wrapped up in gauze, almost die..."

hobie choked at his words when he said that last word, 'die'. his greatest fears, the realities he had put off facing for so damn long were finally realized that moment when you jumped in to protect him, to let yourself be killed in his stead. hobie inhaled, sniffling all the while as he took off his mask and placed his hand over his eyes, trying to concentrate on the right thing to do, parting ways with you. your legs quaked as you walked over to him, but you wanted to be close to him, even when he was trying his hardest right now to distance himself from you.

"love, i did that because i... i love you--" "and that's exactly the problem. you love me. you love me, and because you love me, you got hurt, didn't you?"

he asked you in a sharp tone, one you had never heard him speak to you with before. he removed his hand that was covering his eyes and soon looked up at you. his eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes carried a different emotion in them. instead of fury and aggression, a frightened hopelessness was seen in those dark brown eyes of his. that fiery passion he had, that brilliant confidence of his had been extinguished; all that was left of him now was a darkness, a darkness that had to be satiated by finally distancing you, 'protecting' you.

hobie put his mask back on and turned back towards the city outside, the city that he would disappear in, hoping to never cross paths with you again--not after this, not after seeing how dedicated you were to him... he can't bear to break you even more, even if you were more than willing to shatter yourself for him. "so that's just it, huh?" you asked aloud as he leaned forward, about to bring his hand out to shoot a web and swing off, far away from you. but he stayed. he listened. he lived in that moment with you for a little bit, let you linger in his life for a few more moments before the inevitable happens. "you're just gonna... swing off, leave me here, forget we were ever together? is this... is this it? do you honestly think you can control what i do? i did that out of love for you, it didn't matter what would happen to me anymore, i promised you that i--" "i'm doing this to save you." he interrupted you as hobie stood his ground and refused to stay any longer.

this was it. this was the fall out. this was the beginning of the end, the entirety of the end between you two.

the tear streaks on your face were drying up, until new tears rolled down your cheeks as you stared at your now ex-boyfriend's back. where spider man ended and where hobie began, you could never find out--and you feared that you never knew the real hobie to begin with, the frightened hobart brown that you had never met before had finally crossed paths with you for the first and last time.

as hobie extended his arm out and shot a web at a signal tower nearby, you spoke weakly in a quieted voice. "you can't always be a hero, hobart. you can't... you can't always protect people like me, no matter how much you want to..." hobie exhaled deeply and slowly nodded at your statement. "i'm well aware." he said in a soft voice as he readied to hop off the windowsill and swing off into who knows where.

"...sometimes, you can't make it all better."

you uttered as you turned your back to him, not wishing to watch him leave you in this cold hospital room. and no matter how painful and searing this moment was for you, you couldn't hate him. even if you got hurt for his sake, got confined to the hospital for him even when he's cutting off all ties with you for what happened after... you can't hate him.

the minute you turned around, he was gone. the wind whistled as it blew a gust of wind into your already freezing hospital room. an orange leaf was left in hobie's stead, must've been carried by the wind and left here. you picked it up as you walked over to it and gazed at the intricate details of the leaf. "it's... nearly fall." you muttered to yourself as you stared off into the distance, trying not to wonder where he could've gone, and instead, think about how different it feels to see orange and yellow leafed trees down the block instead of green.

"change is scary... but i'll get through it." you uttered to yourself as you held the delicate, orange leaf in your hands; a few teardrops fell from your eyes involuntarily, with you being unable to wipe them in your daze. "i'll... i'll get through it... right?" you asked yourself in a croak as you smiled to yourself, with undertones of grief in that layered grin of yours.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @arachnoia @solecitoszn @conitagray

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown angst #spider punk #atsv #atsv angst #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse angst

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badchoicesworld · 8 months

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hello hello hi ! i hope you're doing well ! may i request a miles!42 and hobie with like a butterfly mutated reader (masc) ? ironically he's more bug than beauty and has alot of features that he tries to hide (antennae, long ears and :3 mouth that opens up to a long tongue to suck up food ? he has teeth too but theyre sharp with fangs in the splatoon inkling way. skin is like a bug's sort of hard and exoskeletonly and bro is just really fluffy. like his wrists and neck have fluff)

reader is a result of like a weird science experiment gone wrong so he sort of feels like an alien trying to fit in whenever his features pop out. he just wants to live an ordinary life but somehow keeps on gettinh pulled in the middle of every superhero fight there is :'). also ! ARTKIDDD

im sorry if the req got really specific to work w aha :') hope you have a good one !

hobie brown and miles42 with butterfly mutated boyfriends !

huge fan of these mutated readers, i am however a tmnt man so (i fuckin see you btw, my most active friend and that tmnt blog)

separate, established relationships

warnings: nah

pairing: hobie brown x masc!reader, miles morales!42 x masc!reader

requests: check out my guide/masterlist

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

we all know hobie’s a massive fan of making a statement, so he thinks that you look absolutely incredible with your mutation

will likely go through a phase of insisting you should embrace it and flaunt it, he’s gotta be told a few times that you just wanna live an ordinary life

sounds a little boring to him, but whatever suits you, y’know?

he’s not the guy to go to however for tips on how to blend in, do not ask

you’ve got a butterfly mutation, he’s got a spider mutation- he calls you the bug boys sometimes when he’s feeling hyped up and you can feel how you wanna feel about that

if you ever tell him about your mutation, about the experiments and such, it just fuels hobie’s habit of antagonising authority n all that

you’re like walking proof of the government taking advantage of the people through the systems they put in place to protect them but in reality are just some form of propaganda to give the public false hope and sense of security

yeah, hobie wasn’t surprised when you told him

not too pressed over it either since it’s been and done, no point in getting worked up over something thats irreversible and apart of you now

feels disrespectful to even feel bad to a degree

of course he feels bad that you were experimented on, but he’s not gonna say anything about your actual mutation

does however have something inappropriate to say about ur tongue im sorry

yknow what hard skins good for ? drawing on, let him please

yknow what fluff around you ur neck and wrists is great for ? hobie and his desperation for contact, ur mad comfy dawg

he likes to wear his studded collars and wrist bands in the same places as your fur sometimes, matching innit

hobie absolutely recognised how badly you want to have an ordinary life, so can honestly empathise and sympathise when you somehow manage to find yourself sucked into every super scrap in the city

he can try diverge the fights, but can’t promise a thing since they tend to be unpredictable

hobie’s plenty happy to diverge from large crowds with you if it helps you stick out less, he’ll navigate for the two of you and somehow come up with insane routes to get to where you need to be

will diy you clothes tailored to your mutation, shirts with holes in the back for your wings just so they don’t have to be uncomfortably folded under clothes n stuff

miles42

i feel like with society going up in flames, standing out is something you generally wanna avoid in earth42, just doesn’t seem so safe

so miles definitely goes the extra mile (ha) to make sure you’re not gonna stick out too much

if you’re smaller than him he’ll for sure lend you certain things to wear if they cover you up well enough, he knows just about every nook and cranny in the city to hide in whenever your features decide to make a guest appearance

like if you’re ever just walking down a street then your antenna poke out, he’s very fast to act and doesn’t make a big deal out of it

now you either just chill in an alley together or start making your way home through the intricate backstreets miles can effortlessly navigate

he appreciates your mutation though, it’s one of them things that he can silently admire and daydream about instead of worrying about the future

realistically ? you could be a result of a really shitty human experiment gone wrong at oscorp, god knows they can take advantage of the people without a spider-man to protect them

if you ever reveal this to miles, he’s obviously upset, but it’s probably predicted at this point

i imagine in his universe that they’re a force to be reckoned with

asks his mum to make things for you sometimes, to help you feel better about your appearance and to help hide certain features that you wanna

can completely understand your desire to want an ordinary life, he does too

he’ll help you achieve it, it’s one of his dreams and he can only hope to share it

your mutation takes time to get used to but it gets to the point where miles simply won’t bat an eye at your mutation, he treats you like any other person in the world except he loves you- wants so badly for you to feel normal if that’s what you want

in the least condescending way he will insist from time to time for you to stay home, just for your own safety if he starts to notice a particular rise in stats

he completely understands your desire to just blend in, but it’s not worth it if you’re genuinely at risk

he gets into the habit of doodling butterfly features on scraps of paper, on the back of his hand during classes- you’re on his mind a lot

says that he’s indifferent towards ur fluff but then he’ll fix it up for you after putting a shirt on and it’s a lil outta sorts

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

sorry this is kinda brief and not great, i’ve been out of it for the longest time but i’m tryna provide 💪💪

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byhuenii · 5 months

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spiderman! satoru is an absolute menace, if you thought he was already a menace think again. it just ups the menace level by like 20.

spiderman! satoru who wasnt really your normal average boy unlike the other peter parkers he was rich, had both of his parents, was popular! he broke the spiderman norm but that was okay! he nevee had to experience the whole uncle ben death because he had no uncle ben! he was really just living his life the fullest till he got biten by a radioactive spider in a laboratory for a school field-trip.

spiderman! satoru who thought of the name spiderman because he afted like a spider but was a man! (yes thats how he came up with it.) he is much more than just your neighbor hood hero,

he dawns his white black a blue suit all throughout shibiyua (what it looks like), his eye light up in the dark. he thought people would take him serious with it but it turned out to be a positive. the eyes lighting up in the dark gave him more of a ‘shit imma piss my piss’ kinda vibe.

this takes place in college! so spiderman! satoru is a business major struggling juggling his superhero duties with his ordinary college life! he met you because you both take the same english class, funnily a film analysis class.

spiderman! satoru who was so whipped for you he stumbled over her words whenever he saw you, when he had tried to build up the courage to talk to you; he failed miserably but its okay you understood and said yes. oh man he was over the moon, he wanted to tell you everything but he knew he couldn’t cause that could only lead you into danger.

spiderman! satoru who somehow fcked up (well he thought) when you had found out he was spiderman from sitting on his bed watching him crawl into his room wirh the full suit on.

spiderman! satoru who loves to pull you into a kiss or a hug while nobody is looking with his webs shooting at you pulling you in for a hug or for a kiss or just to get your attention

spiderman! satoru who has a shit eatting grin on his face whenever he can pull you into a secluded area closing it with his webs whenever his hands are busy wondering around your body!

#w.riting ‹𝟹 ‎scripts #— prim’s ☆ wildest dreams!#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru blurb #gojo satoru fluff #SPIDERMAN GOJOOOO

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phyrestartr · 7 months

Text

Simple Things [1] | Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# SFW, fluff, light comfort, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, smoking, implied depression, implied trauma, old men just doing their best, dad energy, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet The Kids

Notes: Yes, this will have more parts to it! I'm editing the next bit as we speak (beheh) and it should be up within the week? Maybe? I keep bouncing around from draft to draft, so finishing parts can take a while, pls forgive :pray:

--Smoke Break--

You were just another hero. There wasn't much else to it, you'd decided, and in joining the Spider Society, the same rang true--Miguel didn't think much of it, you didn't think much of it, none of the others did, either. It wasn't a bad thing, no, it was just how it was when one gathered hundreds of superheroes together. Everyone was special in their own worlds, so being a cut above the rest when you were all insane super freaks was exceptionally rare.

Miguel O'hara, however, proved to be exceptional.

Even after all the time that stretched on, he still existed as an anomaly of sorts within HQ. Cool, calm, collected, he led everyone with his head held high and his words resonating like a church bell; everything he said became gospel, everything he said affected their way of saving the multiverse.

Miguel knew that.

You knew that.

Most thought him invincible, unyielding and unforgiving towards the laws of the multiverse, and most admired his dedication. You knew troops clicked well with strong leaders, that they felt secure in their mission and battles when lead by a brave soldier, but your experience-trodden understanding burned in the forefront of your memories.

To you, it was obvious. If you watched his back long enough, if you too often caught glimpses of what he thought were well-hidden tells, the fracturing became all too easy to see.

Miguel was breaking.

You knew that feeling well, the feeling of being unable to bend anymore, to have your limits pushed and surpassed, yet still somehow stay intact and working, like a frayed web.

Maybe that was why you couldn't keep him off your mind. Maybe your primal loneliness, the weeping cracks you'd endured on your lonesome, resonated with another's. Maybe it begged you to do something while you still had the chance.

You'd come to see him one day to force some baked goods into his hands and leave, the excuse that you and your daughters had made too much armed and ready on your tongue.

Yes, you were caring, and yes, fine, you were a bit awkward approaching your fearless, strict, hard-ass of a leader with a piece of pie in your hands like you were at some fucking chummy pot luck or parent-teacher night, so you needed an excuse, something to veil your heart. Were you supposed to tell him you were worried about him, or something? No, no, that'd come later (if there was a later).

You expected to see his broad back turned to you, to hear him mumbling to himself or talking into comms; instead, you found him tucked away in the corner of the lab, sat in an old desk chair, napping. His arms rested crossed over his chest, and his head hung down. It was reassuring, a nice reminder that Miguel, too, was mortal just like yourself

The corner of your mouth twitched into something fond and lopsided, though barely there, before quietly, slowly, you left the Tupperware container on his stage console and saw yourself out. You couldn't bear the thought of waking a fellow "old man" from a much-needed nap.

Time stretched the way it usually did; missions assigned, spiders injured, anomalies captured--nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary.

But, shit, were you tired. You were always tired, sure, but these days the stress of life and love threatened to break more of you down and grind you into dust. It must have felt terrifying. But you couldn't feel it. Your mind wouldn't let you.

The smoke from your cigarette burned your lungs as you inhaled, grounding you, and reminding you of your existence. You sighed, thankful, and rested your head back against the outside wall of the secluded little balcony you'd found in your mindless wandering. Smoking inside always got you an earful from anyone and everyone in all dimensions, anyway, so you figured you'd skip the scrutiny and take it outside right away. Besides, it was easier to think and wallow this way.

But the door beside you slid open, ruining your quiet. You sighed, letting your eyes fall closed, waiting for the intruder to say something, do something, make themselves known. Seems they weren't in a rush, however.

You cracked an eye open, and spied him. He stared out at the city, his city, and held a clean Tupperware box in his hands. Miguel's fingers drummed against its sides in thought. His twitchy, fidgety restlessness made him too endearing.

"Finished the whole thing, eh?" You asked, cigarette hanging limply between your lips. "Guess you really do have a sweet tooth."

Miguel huffed a laugh, short and sweet, before handing back the box. "Yeah, well, can't say no to homemade food. Besides, Peter stole some." His face soured, nearing an annoyed pout.

"Ah. Bastard." You took the box back, words of gratitude light under your breath. "I'll give him a piece of my mind later."

"Let me know how that works out since, well, that Peter doesn't listen to anyone." Miguel crossed his arms.

"Pretty sure he just doesn't listen to you, Boss."

"Oh, great. Even better." Miguel was smiling, despite his annoyance. His eyes, warm and sullen like those poppies from your memories, flickered over to you, drawing your gaze. You'd never had the chance to speak to him so intimately, to be the only one standing beside him. It felt like a privilege, but it was too mundane to be so. You welcomed it.

"Didn't take you for a baker," Miguel said. His eyes followed your fingers plucking the smoke from your mouth. "Or a smoker."

You sighed as you glanced down at the wisping cigarette. "Yeah, well. I'm not much of the prim and proper hero type, I guess."

Miguel tilted his head, curious. "Never even had a phase?"

You thought back, far back, but shook your head. "Nah, I don't think I ever really had any pep in my step. Not that I can recall, anyway." You took another drag to suffocate resurfacing memories. "...A lot happened before Spiderman happened." For a long moment, you watched the smoke coil. So did Miguel. "But you? I can definitely see you as a peppy youngster."

Miguel sighed, something exasperated and light. "Dios, you're making us sound old."

"Aren't we?" You quirked a brow, almost smiling as Miguel put his hands on his hips. "What, you think we're young when we got kids like Hobie and Gwen running around? Damn, Pav too. That kid's the epitome of 'friendly neighborhood Spiderman.' Don't even get me started on May--"

"Okay, okay, stop, stop, stop," Miguel motored out, raising his palm to defend against the painful truth. "I get it. Y'know, talking to you is a lot more humbling than I thought it'd be."

Oh. You laughed. It surprised you with how it exploded past your defenses, choked and ugly, hampered by the plume of smoke in your lungs. Your hand waved at Miguel as you got lost in your fit, tears pricking your eyes and a smile aching unused muscles.

"Y-you're a dick," you eventually wheezed. "Humbling?"

Miguel smiled, too smug. "It's just been a while since I met another miserable bastard."

"Is that self-awareness?" You flicked ash from the end of your cigarette and shook your head, the aftershocks of laughter still shaking your voice. "Incredible. Inspirational, even."

"Alright, now who's being the asshole here?"

"That'd be me."

"Ah. Self-awareness."

"What can I say? You've inspired me. Such a good leader."

"Yeah, well, inspiration and good leadership come with a fee." His eyes flicked to the Tupperware tucked under your arm.

Your brows raised. Huh. Unexpected. But you nodded, and tapped more wasted ash onto the ground. "You're lucky my kids like to bake. You got a hankering for anything?"

Miguel's lips parted, surprise painting his face cool shades. He blinked then, breaking from whatever spell he found himself in, and ran a hand through his hair. "I--ah. Yeah, just, anything. Whatever your kids want."

"You're gonna regret that, but hey, your call." A comfortable silence fell for a few beats before, very unlike your blasé self, you pressed for the sake of curiosity: "So? Were you a plucky youngster? Sparkling eyes, heroic intentions 'n all that."

Miguel's gaze, pointed at the city, stared through the buildings and perhaps into a time you were not privy to. The tightening of his jaw told you more than you needed to know.

"Yeah, I guess I was." Miguel took a step and rested his elbows on the railing of the small patio. "Things weren't easy back then, but..."

"You didn't have to look after the multiverse?" You wondered, voice soft. The other's unshakeable shoulders slumped. You stuck the cig back in your mouth as you thought about your own history, about what you wish you had the chance to do, about who you could have been, who you wanted to be.

"Did you at least get to live a little?" You asked, maybe a little bit to yourself.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah. But I think I started really living after I became Spiderman."

Somehow, you understood.

"Kinda ironic."

"You're telling me. But it was eye-opening. Life-changing, in a bad way, in a good way." He paused before nodding with contemplative shrug. "Humbling."

"Hm. More humbling than me?"

"If you can believe it."

You snorted and shook your head. "Guess I have no choice."

He hummed, agreeing. Miguel turned, leaning back against the railing and crossing his arms as he regarded you. "You must've had a 'the hero is born' moment," Miguel suggested more than he asked. "We all do." And he was right, logistically--if you were all Spiderman, you all had to have a moment where you really became a hero.

So, you thought for a long, slow moment.

But too quickly did something find a soft, hollow place to fester in your chest. The pain pierced so like losing yourself in December's glacial lakes, so wicked with languid tortures and polar punishments. The pain could fade if you stopped fighting, if you let the water pull you into the peaceful darkness, but you'd indulged in the shameful malady of shadows too many times; your patience and self-loathing had grown so thin.

You don't need to remember, the lady of the lake would whisper to you, voice dripping with tears in a way that sounded so much like her. She lulled you, she pulled you back in, she urged you to turn her way instead of fighting her, instead of reaching for the roiling inferno that was the past. In those moments, in her arms, you never knew if you'd find your way back to the surface, but you were not one to obediently decay in ignorance.

Her wail filled your mind as you breached the blaze, and found that sunny day in the Bronx, with the wind carrying the honeyed scent of summer life when you'd met that pretty little thing from the flower shop...

You twitched a smile. "Well...I guess I--"

"Hey," Lyla suddenly cut in, blipping into existence between Miguel and yourself. The level of relief you felt upon being saved from talking about yourself was unhealthy, but you silently thanked Lyla for it: memories of the blaze and the ice could be put aside for a while longer.

The sprite adjusted her sunnies before continuing, "totally loving the bromance here, really cute, but we got a new anomaly that needs some extra love. You guys feel like kicking some bad guy butt, buddy-cop style?"

"Sure," you cut in before Miguel could. You need out of this conversation now. "I call bad cop. Wanna see good cop Miguel butter up a baddie."

Miguel twitched. "Hey--"

"Oooh, me too," Lyla agreed, nodding sagely.

"I don't think I like you two being on the same side--"

"Let's get the show on the road, Boss." You butted your cigarette out on the wall and set down the container. A warm sunset glow bloomed across you as a portal whirled open, shimmering and humming.

You tapped his chest playfully with your knuckles. "Last one there buys me a six pack."

With a hop, skip, and a jump, you were gone.

Miguel rubbed his face. Lyla fluttered around his head. "Well? Better go after him, good cop."

"You. You aren't allowed to team up with him," Miguel stated as he headed towards the portal. "Starting now, colluding is not allowed."

"Oh, what? Sorry, connection's getting fuzzy--"

"Lyla, don't--"

"Sorry--shhhrk--breaking up--" and she, too, disappeared.

Miguel rolled his eyes. His mask materialized over his face as he followed you, a comfortable fondness resting in his chest, chasing out any turmoil the day had brought him.

Good cop. Bad cop. It was stupid, childish, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe it was a dumb little something that he needed.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv reader insert #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #miguel o'hara x male reader #male reader insert #i had a lot of fun writing and editing this!!!!#everyone always talks abt miguel being fucked up but hey let's let the reader be fucked up ayo old men being sadge together

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calmcoldevening · 4 months

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Vincent Sinclair with s/o who is a writer

�� You were both creative people, so it's not surprising that you found a common language so quickly and fell in love with each other. His lost soul subconsciously reached out to your light, wanting warmth and support. You were his ray of light in this vile realm of darkness and cold.

• You really saw talent in him, even when you found out the true nature of these beautiful sculptures in the museum. Yes, it scared you and you didn't want to be a part of it, but you saw Vincent rushing around. You've seen the pressure his brother is under and the heartache with which he creates these bloody masterpieces. But no, you didn't condemn him in any way. You gave him peace of mind.

• Vincent immediately found solace in your presence. There was something about you that immediately endeared you to him. Whether it was your beauty or your kind soul, he couldn't answer even to himself. Perhaps you were just an angel sent to him by the Lord himself.

• As soon as Vincent finds out about your passion for creativity, it immediately interests him. Are you writing? How often? About what? He is interested in all the details of your amazing work. While he, being an artist, sees with his eyes, you see this world with your soul.

• Vincent is happy to read all your essays and stories, even if you think they are unsuccessful or stupid. He likes absolutely all your stories. The man is amazed at your ability to choose beautiful, interesting words to describe and the admiration with which you can describe even something very simple and ordinary, whether it's rain outside the window or some kind of plant.

• Over time, you get a little tradition. In the evening, when the Sinclair brothers are already asleep, you and Vincent are sitting in the living room by the fireplace. He holds you in his arms, leaning against the back of the sofa and clasping his hands on your stomach. You sit in his gentle hands, from time to time turning over the slightly yellowed pages of a leather book and reading aloud. These were stories of your own composition. And although your voice was gentle and soothing, Vincent did not give himself the opportunity to fall asleep, wanting to listen to your every gentle word. He squeezes you in his arms when you finish reading. Even if it was the tenth time he had heard this story, the man is ready to listen to it over and over again, because you wrote it. You look up at him tenderly, he's not wearing a mask. Your hand reaches up, tucking stray strands of dark hair behind his ear, and caresses his scar on his face. Your hands are so gentle and soft, Vincent involuntarily closes his eyes. He remembers perfectly well with what trepidation you described his appearance with your magic lines. There was no horror or condemnation in them. Your words were gentle and beautiful, as if Vincent was the most delicate and beautiful flower you've ever seen.

• Over time, he noticed what you often compared his personality to. Spider lily. He had never seen such a plant in his life, so it was very interesting for him to see it. What was he like in your eyes? The man's curiosity was satisfied when he saw the cherished flower in the magazine of one of the victims. "..he was beautiful. Bright scarlet drops of cranberry blood on the icy crystal of pure fluffy snow or gaping spider lilies bursting out from under the snow cover, as if an omen of something significant, inherently divine. His being was bright and innocent, it was completely unsuited to the place where he was born. And yet, he decorated the world around him with his beauty and God's gift.."

• You often created together. You were both creative people, so you really knew how difficult it can be to catch inspiration. And when you were together, the task seemed to solve itself. Vincent was sitting at his desk, facing the exit from the basement. You were sitting across from him in the big rocking chair that Lester brought for you from the city. Your legs were covered with a warm blanket, and your eyes were fixed on the paper, fingers nervously clutching the ill-fated pen. Vincent looked up from time to time, noting your concentration. He always liked watching you work. You were so serious and collected, but at the same time sweet and funny. The man liked to watch your eyebrows wrinkle when you were thinking especially hard. Or when an idea comes to your mind, you bite your tongue slightly, excitedly starting to quickly write something down in your notebook. Every detail about you was just beautiful to him. He was in a hurry to capture you in his drawings right away. You were like a sip of fresh water for him in the midst of a sultry desert.

• Sometimes you missed him when there was a lot of work and he didn't leave the basement all day. You brought him food straight down, but the man didn't react in any way. That's why you were doing something that he would definitely like. You beautifully described all the accumulated thoughts on paper, carefully folding a piece of paper into a beautiful envelope and putting it with dinner. Or it could be a whole sheet of words about how beautiful Vincent is in your eyes. And you took the food to his office along with a love note. Later, he sat alone in the basement, clutching your letter with trembling hands. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. You were so kind and wonderful to him, he wasn't worthy of you. Vincent kisses a piece of paper and pulls it to his chest. After that, he carefully puts it in his box. It was a beautifully decorated box filled to the brim with your poems and stories. Even if you threw out some "unsuccessful" work, Vincent took it away and carefully kept it, sometimes rereading it. Although he liked it more when you read.

#slashers x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair house of wax

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devilfic · 11 months

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❝small favor❞

III. peters, peters, peters.

parts: previously / next plot: what’s in a name, anyway? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: angst, fluff, lots of feelings, lots of unresolved feelings, protective!peter, a whole lot of overthinking on your part, two steps forward one step back, j jonah jameson jumpscare. words: 4.5k.

a/n: don’t look at me,,, it has been almost THREE years since I updated this series. a lot has changed for peter in the mcu since then....... anyway hope you enjoy ^^

It’s such an ordinary name, “Peter”. There were probably a million Peters in the state of New York alone. Peters of all colors, shapes, sizes. Peters in high school. Peters who were fathers. Peters in punk bands. Peters working bodegas. Peters in retirement. Peters in your house.

Your hand is slack in his grip. His smile wobbles as you stare through your lashes, struggling to comprehend what you’ve just heard. Of course he would spring this on you when you’re least prepared to hear it.

When it becomes evident that you’re just going to sit there gaping like a fish out of water, Spidey releases your hand and backs away. Unconsciously, you follow.

Your knees dig into the arm of the couch, then your feet touch the floor one by one, all the while keeping eye contact with the Spider. Afraid he’ll slip away. He has a wall up all of a sudden. Every time you step too close he puts a little distance between you again.

“That was… not the best time to do that, huh?” Spidey- Peter is all over the place now. Your living room is as familiar to him as the name “Spidey” is to you, yet now both of you were out of your depth with either. “You know when you have a really good idea in your head, and then you say it out loud and it doesn’t sound as good as you planned? But you’ve already said it, so you’ve gotta stick by it-”

“Peter.” He stumbles at the name. So it definitely belonged to him. You feel strange calling him anything other than Spidey, “Why’d you tell me your name?”

“Peter”. Peter worries his bottom lip. You wondered if he did that all the time, discreetly, beneath the mask he’d chosen to leave up this time. “Because... I’m not good at stuff like this. You know? I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Trusted the wrong people, made stupid decisions. One thing they don’t prepare you for in superhero school is how to keep a secret identity. I mean, Iron Man had one for all of two seconds and I- well, I’ve never known life without one. So when I met you, and you never asked or bargained... I knew. You know? Not like when I was a stupid kid and didn’t really know. I knew. Even when you had the chance to unmask me, you never took it. It’s... my name. And it’s a lot. But I trust you.”

He stops worrying his lip. He’s still now, watching you through those prodding white eyes.

It’s weird. A week ago, you only knew the figure that was Spider-Man. Now, in your living room, half his face exposed and his name (such an ordinary name, and still so much) feeling full in your mouth, a boundary had been crossed.

No, not a boundary. A threshold. Your threshold. The threshold of this living room that was so familiar to him as Spider-Man, now being crossed for the first time. As “Peter”.

If Jameson was a fly on the wall, he’d have you tracking down every Peter within an eighty mile radius right about now.

You fall back against the arm of your couch and Peter reaches out to you, fingers outstretched but never confident enough to make contact. You look winded, you’re sure.

The only thing that snaps you out of it is when he pulls down his mask, “It’s late. You really should get some sleep. You’ve got work in the morning, right?”

He’s bouncing backwards, sliding your window up and gracefully climbing out onto your fire escape before you can call out with a weak “Peter!”

But your voice barely echoes after him into the night. He leaps off your fire escape and out of sight by the time you reach your window on shaky legs. His red and blue is nowhere to be seen, as if he’d never been there at all. Your stomach is doing flip after flip and you brace yourself against the window sill for some kind of support.

You’d known him for so long as Spidey—just Spidey—and yet this new name was finding a home on your tongue all the same.

As much as you would have liked to heed Peter’s warning, you, in fact, did not get any sleep.

You’d stayed in a weird, shocked daze from the moment he left, barely having the wits about you to crawl into bed. Even then, you continued to stare off into the dark wondering if, by some magic or cosmic design, you had made all this up in your head. Some mad blogger pretending to know Spider-Man. Know him so well that he kept record of your favorite snacks, had baked with you in your kitchen, had a favorite mug of yours, gave you his name. His real name.

But maybe it wasn’t real? Maybe he’d grown tired of being called Spidey, maybe he wanted to give you an alias that felt more natural? Perhaps he wasn’t a Peter. Maybe he was a Preston or a Pedro...

...but then he said he trusted you. And if Peter was a lie, then that too was a lie. And as much as your frenzied mind would have liked to entertain the idea, the reality was that there was no one else like you to him. What he had started with you had never been done before. Unless he was lying about that too, and Spider-Man never gave the impression he had that kind of time on his hands.

You felt like a little kid, sitting on your hands or busying yourself with menial tasks to distract yourself. He’d been wicked, that Peter, for giving you so much. His voice, his name, his trust. He’d given it all to you willingly. He trusted you. You could slap rhinestones on your forehead and start spinning from the ceiling like a disco ball right now.

Your jitters don’t go unnoticed by your boss, unfortunately, because your name is barked at you the minute you head for your third cup of coffee that afternoon. Nearly spilling it all over yourself, you brace for the inevitable, “Yes, sir?”

Jameson was an irritable man of average stature, but he carried himself like a blimp, inflating the space with his temper and bellow suffocating you all up the walls. He rarely spoke in an octave below a shout, and when he did, he was often working up to it. Your favorite day on the job thus far was when he’d come down with a serious case of strep throat, “Your last article was trash,” he delivers the news as a greeting, giving you no room to argue, “I need you to cover the Stark Charity Ball this Friday.”

You blink, “Me?”

“Am I talking to the coffee machine? Yes, you!”

The Stark Charity Ball had become an annual tradition over the years, an effort on behalf of the late Tony Stark and the surviving Pepper Potts to keep the dream of science alive. The ball was like any other rich person event: full of Forbes’ 30 under 30, the 0.001% of the 1%, and more PhDs in one room than you’d ever reasonably come across in your lifetime. It also wasn’t your scene. You make that clear, “It’s not really my scene.”

Exasperated, Jameson begins walking to his office. You know better than to not follow. “I don’t care if it’s not your scene,” he mocks you, “Jillian’s still out on maternity leave and I don’t trust any other bozos to get me the scoop I need. You, on the other hand, could pass for half-decent. That’s why I need you to make it your scene.”

“But sir, I do crime journalism. I’m not a… ‘stand around and ask billionaires what they think about the stock market’ type of journalist.”

“You won’t be asking about the stock market. You’ll be asking about Wilson Fisk.”

That catches your attention. You pass the threshold of his office, “Fisk? What for?”

Jameson takes a harsh swig of his coffee and starts ruffling one-handed through some files on his desk, “I have a few sources claiming he’ll be at the ball.”

“How’d he even get invited?” By no means was Fisk so socially controversial that being invited to an event like this was unthinkable, but his involvement in the city’s less-than-savory underbelly was more than just rumor. The Pepper Potts wouldn’t entertain that. Tony Stark sure hadn’t.

“He wasn’t, but I trust my sources just like I trust that fat wallet of his to get him through the door. I need you to be there when he is. I’ve got a hunch you’ll get something good. Besides, you won’t be going it alone.” Jameson eyes you excitedly nibbling your thumb nail, his gaze judging, “Still wanna put up a fight about it?”

Damn him, he knew you too well.

“Who’s coming with me?”

Jameson rolls his eyes, “Parker, of course. Despite all his whining. He won’t be on the floor with you all night but he will be there.”

Your interest, already piqued, intensifies. “Parker? You mean the Spidey Stalker?”

As owner of the Web-Blog, the early days of Spider-Man had largely been photographed through citizens on fuzzy phones or street cameras and the news. It wasn’t until someone new had come onto the scene, getting the best pictures of Spidey to date: a (mostly) anonymous freelancer who Jameson exclusively referred to as Parker. You never saw him, even when you tried to.

He sent his photos by email, rarely came by the office, and those of your coworkers that had caught a glimpse had only ever insisted that you weren’t “missing out on anything”. His credit in every article on the web-slinger was simply “P. B. Parker”.

His photos were fucking amazing, and nobody knew anything else about him.

You feel a tingle of curiosity that hadn’t been there before. It would be all too easy, too convenient, if...

“If I’m right—and I always am—Fisk is gonna make a scene and Spider-Man’s gonna have a hand in the pie. He’ll probably swing in and destroy a few million dollars worth of charitable contributions to the needy before ‘saving the day’. Orchestrating the whole thing for good publicity, no doubt...”

You keep your lips sealed on that matter. You’d fought the good fight plenty of times and always managed to come out the loser, somehow. Instead, you think about Parker. How funny would it be if you became friends with the only other person at the Daily Bugle whose contributions in the Spidey community rivaled yours? Maybe you could get him to release some never before seen shots of Spidey for the blog. Or for yourself. But mainly for the blog.

At the very least, meeting him could put that silly thought out of your mind. Among other things. “Is there a budget for my outfit?”

You hear her before she approaches.

In all your time working at the Daily Bugle, you had never seen a hair on Jillian Reyes’ head out of place. She commanded awe whenever she entered a room, taking Jameson’s verbal beatings and spitting them right back at him. She was a powerhouse of a woman with the charm to make her perfect for the culture beat of NYC.

Even now, as her wife struggled to put their newborn to rest, she had a smile about a mile wide waiting for you at the front door. She’s crushing you in a hug before you even get the chance to say hello, “It’s so good to see you! I feel like I haven’t been to the office in forever,” she shoves you back an inch just to look you in the eyes, “tell me: how’s JJ treating you?”

“Like I’ve just handed him a parking ticket.”

Jillian replies with a pitying smile and lets you in. “You know, when JJ told me you’d be taking the charity ball feature, I had a feeling he muscled you into it.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your time off,” Jillian leads you to her office, your hands wringing each other for something to do, “I just... I’m not exactly built for this kind of thing.”

“Nonsense! You’ve covered plenty of brouhahas in your time. What’s the difference between covering a robbery and a charity ball?”

“A lot, actually. A lot.”

Jillian immediately sits in the nearest chair, looking winded just from the walk here. You take the seat across from her, minding a burp cloth. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a few Richie Riches. They’ll only bite if you tell them you’re for the taking. All you’ve gotta do is channel that fearlessness you have when you’re covering the crime beat and you’ll be fine.”

“But, Jill, I’m not you. You’re... exciting, and personable, and funny. You can fit in places like that. I’m gonna stick out like a sore thumb. Not to mention that Jameson wants me to keep tabs on Wilson Fisk while I’m there.”

Jillian suddenly lurches forward, her scent of baby powder circling around you, “Wilson Fisk is gonna be there? Maternity leave be damned. I’ll take the article off your hands.”

“Ah, no you will not,” you press your hands to her shoulders as she makes a move to get up, no doubt intent on berating Jameson to let her back early, “you just had a baby. The last place you need to be is in the same room as Kingpin.”

She sinks back into her seat with a pout that could rival her newborn’s. “So... JJ thinks Fisk’s got something planned?” When you nod, her brows draw together in thought, “And he’s making you go all alone?”

“No. Not alone. With... Parker.”

Jillian doesn’t always wear her emotions on her face. With the types of people she interviews, she has to have something of a poker face, but you can see everything when you say Parker’s name.

Her eyes light up like two jades hit by the sun. She scoops your hands up in hers and you try not to focus on the vague stickiness of them. You didn’t want or need to know what part of the baby played a part in it, “The Spidey Stalker? Do you... do you think Spider-Man is gonna show up?”

You swallow much harder than necessary.

The truth was that you had yet to even mention any of this to him. Part of you hoped that Jameson’s sources were wrong and that come Thursday (if the web-slinger found it in him to grace your fire escape once more), he’d fact check the news and that would be that.

But first, you’d have to talk to him. Talk to Peter.

Your paths had crossed a few times in the line of duty but this was Kingpin, the man behind the attack that had started this whole mess with Spidey. His lackeys had done a number on him, you hated to imagine what Fisk could pull in person.

You feel Jillian squeeze your hands and that brings you back to reality. “Maybe. He’s the only one who could stop him if he plans to do something... the only one around to do something.”

Your co-worker’s face has morphed from wonder into worry. For a moment, the way she’s looking at you is almost maternal, “You should really be careful. I love a good story as much as you but JJ sounds sure this’ll get ugly. I don’t care if Parker wants to stick around for Spider-Man, you hightail it outta there as soon as shit hits the fan, okay?”

You know she’s right to warn you. You’d do the same if it was the other way around. “Yeah, of course, Jill.”

But if shit were to hit the fan... did you really want to be anywhere else?

You tell yourself you’re not avoiding the inevitable. You fuss over tomorrow’s outfit and scrub at your nicest shoes, not because you need something to busy your hands or your mind, but because you’ve got to be ready. You keep your back to the window while you iron, not because you’d probably lose hours just staring out into the dark waiting for him to swing by, but because you... well, you would think of a better excuse later.

Time began to tick away as you consumed yourself in tasks. Sometimes, when your skin prickled in that telltale way, you’d look to the windows, but it was hard to see anything but your reflection and the speckles of city light swallowing the last rays of sunset.

At some point, when your eyes began to imagine his shape on the dark of your fire escape, you forced yourself to the kitchen for tea.

Tea (and hot cocoa and coffee) had become a staple of your evenings together, the method kneaded into your hands until eventually, frustratingly, you found yourself staring at a Hulkitty cup with no idea if you should bother filling it up. He liked cream and honey in his, it’d suck to leave it out for too long.

Just as you’re debating putting it out of your line of sight, the lighting in your apartment dims.

It’s silent, other than the kettle bubbling and the ever-present drone of the city. You look past the kitchen and into the living room where the overhead light’s been shut off and the window left open a crack. All that you can see is all that the lamp light touches.

Then there’s a knock. It’s timid, so quiet you probably wouldn’t have heard it if you were still stuck in your own thoughts. For some reason, you’re glued to your spot.

The shape your brain had been imagining was there again.

When you continue to stand still, the window opens, revealing one leg after the other until he’s standing in your living room. Mask down. You think that the awkwardness is on behalf of your last encounter at first, until... “Don’t go.”

Something is off. Spidey—the hero you met first—had never sounded so severe. Even when the city beat him down, he managed to crack a joke. Put a little humor in his voice. Keep the tone light, make you think that even the things that hurt him couldn’t keep him down for long.

Peter—the hero before you now—didn’t bother. Perhaps he’d unmasked more than just his name that night.

You leave the kitchen, kettle abandoned, tip-toeing around the last time you’d seen each other to get to the heart of his words, “What are you talking about?”

“The ball. Don’t go.” He shifts in place. Something else you’d learned about Spidey was that he couldn’t stay still for long. There’s still a whole room of space between the two of you and you see him rock forward onto the balls of his feet like a runner preparing to take off at the sound of a whistle.

The longer you stand there, confused, the more he fidgets. “How... did you know I was going?”

He stops moving. His hands (that he’d been clenching at his sides) splayed out on his thighs. Whatever he’s thinking, his brain can’t be moving faster than yours right now.

Your first thought would be a betrayal if he knew. There’s a small voice in your head (your reporter voice, the one that makes you push where your common sense tells you not to) that tells you there are camera lenses somewhere, his doing. A fail-safe, perhaps. He had the technological repertoire of one of the world’s greatest minds at his disposal. He could bug an apartment. He had plenty of time to do it, and how else would he know something that only Jameson, Jillian, and Parker should know?

Your second thought hits you like a ton of bricks, more fantastical and breathtaking. There were probably a million Peters in the state of New York alone, but how many-

“Someone told me.”

You blink, “Who?”

“...Parker.”

“Parker. P. B. Parker.”

“Uh-huh.”

“At the Daily Bugle?”

“Yup.”

“The Spidey Stalker?”

He makes something of a choked noise, “He’s not a stalker. I... let him take pictures of me. I give him the exclusive and he makes me look pretty damn good. That’s it.”

A disbelieving breath slips past your lips. You think back to every photo that you’d seen of his, some you’d even lifted and used on the Web-Blog, and how unbelievably... photogenic they were. Staged, some could argue.

“I thought I was your source at the Daily Bugle.”

“You are!”

“Your only source. How long have you and Parker been... working together?”

“Couple months, maybe? Not as long as you and me. I promise.” Peter surges forward, unable to keep himself still any longer. He takes your shoulders in his hands and the warmth from his palms are welcome against the bitter breeze. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just short of apologizing, “I know it’s a little weird. It feels weird.”

But you think about it, about how weird it should feel, and how it’s really more funny than weird, “All the reporters in the city, and you choose the paper that hates you. You’re more of a masochist than I first thought.”

Peter’s hand loosens, slips down your bicep a hair. “I didn’t choose the Daily Bugle. I chose you.”

You look away. “And Parker?”

He releases you. Bounces back on his toes, starts admiring the cracks in the wall. “What can I say? The guy needs the money. It was like looking in the mirror.”

“Peter,” you whisper, and his head whips to you before you’ve even drawn the breath to say his name, “you know if you... if you need anything...” I will help you, I will always help you, “there’s a whole city out there that wants to help you.”

The eyes of his suit softens.

You’d been tossing his name around in your head ever since he’d told you, wondering how long it’d take you to get used to using it, and yet repeatedly, consistently, it fell from your lips so easily.

It was funny. You’d been so worried about the conversation you’d have to have about all this, and you’d broken the ice without even thinking about it. “I’m sorry about freezing up last time. I just wasn’t expecting that... I mean, it’s not like I think you don’t trust me, it’s just... it’s your name.”

Peter shrugs, “And it’s you.”

Your throat closes up at that. The simplicity of it, the certainty of it. Your breath shudders, “It’s that easy?”

Peter laughs, muffled by the mask, but he might as well have been right beside you, it sounded so clear and light, “I meant what I said. I trust you with it. And I’d like to maybe one day trust you with more. But this whole, uh, superhero thing? It’s dangerous. I know they say that all the time in comic books but I don’t want to lose this. Lose you.” You hope his super-hearing can’t pick up how your heart stutters, clenches in your chest. “So don’t go.”

You swear that you have nothing close to Spidey senses of your own, but even without seeing his face, you can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves, “I have to. If Kingpin is gonna be there, I should be too. And I know what you’re thinking-”

“Oh, you have no idea-”

“-but this is a big deal, Peter. You mentioned before that Kingpin might be planning something big. This... this might be it.”

His voice quirks up an octave, cracking in exasperation, “And you want to be there? Where the big thing is supposed to happen?”

“I mean, don’t you think I oughta?”

“And risk getting hurt in the crossfire? Hell no. No job is worth your life.”

“Peter-” the name gets easier and easier to say the more you say it, “...you and I both know there’s no way in hell I can turn this down. Jameson would have my head.”

“Then let him have it. I’ll web you up a new one. Early Christmas gift.”

A shocked laugh leaves you at that, melting some of the tension in the room. Even Peter’s shoulders sag at the sound. “I really appreciate it... but no deal. I’m going.”

You watch the way Peter’s eyes narrow in thought. You can practically hear the gears whirring and turning behind that mask of his, unable to accept the situation for what it is. You’d only known him for so long, but his stubbornness truly knew no bounds. He had to have the solution to everything. He always had to save the day. “Why can’t you just be a friendly, neighborhood blogger and do your crime-fighting at home?”

Snorting, you roll your eyes, “Did you give Parker this much of a hard time, too?”

In the same moment, the long-forgotten kettle starts singing on the stovetop. Peter glances past you into the kitchen and latches onto the kettle handle with a sharp thwip!, dragging it to another eye until the hissing stops. He then beats you to the kitchen and grabs cups out of the cupboard, your cups (he even searches for the one you happen to favor, moves the other mugs out of the way until he spots it), and starts mixing the tea. You notice he memorized how you like yours.

You watch him, silently for a time, letting him feel his way around the kitchen having seen you do it a million times before. It doesn’t really hit you until this moment that perhaps Peter knows you better than you’d ever realized.

“You should come.” You decide, suddenly.

“Hm?” Peter hums, barely looking up from the fridge as he forages around your top shelf for the milk.

“To the ball. If you’re worried about things going wrong. Maybe you should come.”

Peter finds his treasure and returns to his Hulkitty mug, “What, in a Spidey-themed suit and tie?”

“I mean, maybe not at first... maybe you could come as yourself.”

You get the feeling he’s side-eyeing you even with his head turned to the backsplash. “With what invitation?”

“You’re telling me Spider-Man is afraid of a little breaking and entering?”

“Afraid of Pepper Potts? Absolutely.” He turns and hands you your mug, careful to hold the handle to you so you don’t burn yourself.

“But didn’t you know Iron Man? Didn’t he know you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind extending an invitation to you, especially if there’s an emergency. And, and! If Kingpin doesn’t show, that means you get to let loose for a night.” You try not to startle too much when he flips up the bottom of his mask to drink.

“I think I’d have a better vantage point from outside anyway.”

“Maybe, but still...” You frown, realizing that Peter’s shoulders start to tense again, “No. You’re right. And you’ll still be there. Maybe me and Parker can sneak you a glass of champagne on the rooftop or something.”

Peter’s lip twitches up into a smile, holding his mug to his lips, “No drinking and swinging, sorry.”

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker imagines #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker #tom holland peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spiderman angst #spiderman #tom holland spiderman #marvel #mjwrites

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secfics · 9 months

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my favourite starker fics, part 1

hi. for my first reclist in this blog, i put together my personal favourite starker fanfics that i re-read again and again. in no particular order and with some cw/dark themes here and there, here they come:

• maybe different, but remember; by RoamingSignals (@spider-mancan), E, 18k, 2/2 chapters

Peter is working at Delmar’s, sorting out tabloids on the rack in the front, and he sees Tony’s face plastered everywhere and then Peter is reading words and then he can’t read anything because he’s crying and his shaking hands rip the magazine in half.

Tony Stark…alive.

He saved the world, saved Peter, and Peter never even got to thank him. Not that it matters now. If Peter was a factor in Tony's decision to snap his fingers, Peter will never know. No one will ever know, because Peter fucked up and now he doesn’t exist.

• touchpoint; by RoamingSignals (@spider-mancan), M, 57’6k, 2/2 chapters

Peter lost a lot of things in Boston. When he lists them out, they fit in the margins of his napkin; his career, his degree, his motivation, his boyfriend, and himself. Not in that order. Not all by mistake.

“You’re just a secretary.” Tony tuts.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a secretary,” Peter says. “Your old secretary is the CEO of SI, these days.”

“Pepper Potts is the smartest woman I’ve ever met,” Tony agrees. “And she never let anyone call her ‘just a secretary.’”

• scaling the walls; by Starker1975 (@starker1975), E, 42’6k, 13/13 chapters

Peter is tired of crushing hopelessly on Tony, so he decides to create an online dating profile to meet someone new. Neither Peter (Webster01) or his strange beau (Mark70) have pictures on their bio. They decide to keep it that way so they can focus on bonding over things besides appearance.

Meanwhile, Tony decides to start spending more time with Peter because people always become interested as soon as you try to move on...

• fucking if; by Graceful_Starker (@graceful-starker), M, 9’7k, 2/2 chapters - cw: implied non-con, not between starker

Peter and Tony in a beginning phases relationship. Then the snap. Peter coming back to Tony, Pepper and Morgan.

• revelations; by Anonymous (#author has already arranged a ride to church trust me), E, 126’8k, 19/19 chapters

“I still don’t get it,” Ned says. “How you just... keep being ordinary in spite of all the craziness you’ve lived through. You were in space. You helped Iron Man save the universe. And nobody knows it was you.” His tone softens, becomes almost sad. As though he realizes that what he’s saying is so completely alien to him that he will never be able to understand this part of Peter’s life. “Peter, don’t you want people to know you for who you are?”

An AU where they get the Gauntlet off of Thanos that first time, on Titan.

• closer to a prayer; by LearnedFoot (@learned-foot), E, 17’4k, oneshot

“I think I’m dying.”

Peter stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, blinking. It feels weird to say it out loud.

In which Peter's powers turn against him, Mr. Stark is back and suddenly acting kind of weird (and by weird he means flirtatious), and it’s all a lot to handle at once.

• stuck; by Heathertastic (@heathertastic), E, 5’4k, oneshot - cw: Accidental Penetration

Tony and Peter get stuck together in a closet the size of Peter himself- and yeah, it’s basically porn without plot.

• Give Me Your Wallet (And Your Watch); by airebellah (@airebellah), M, 30’5k, 10/10 chapters

It was pushing midnight when Peter sent a text to his friend Ned asking for help with a chemistry problem. I know I'm doing something wrong but I can't figure it out, he wrote. He received a text with a picture of the solution. The elegant script should have been the first clue; the fact that it was on the back of a napkin the second. But he was tired, and failed to notice such details.

You misplaced your decimal when converting degrees to Kelvin, came the reply. Rookie mistake.

Gee, thanks, Peter replied with a roll of his eyes. Anything you need help with?

Yeah, who the fuck am I talking to, exactly?

• covet; by Anonymous (#author has already arranged a ride to church trust me), E, 33’9k, 5/5 chapters

Peter has a new boyfriend. Tony starts drinking again, for unrelated reasons.

• uranium heart; by spqr, M, 11´3k, oneshot

It’s probably better, Peter thinks, that he doesn’t know who his soulmate is. He wouldn’t want to lie to them about Spider-Man, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell them the truth, either. Not when he knows it would make them a target for every villain who wants a piece of him.

When he has enough free time to feel sorry for himself, he thinks about how lonely he is and how much he wants someone to talk to--just talk to. But he doesn’t really have that much free time. And anyways, there are thousands of lonely people in New York. Peter’s nothing special.

• another life; by InColor (@incolorwrites), E, 9’3k, oneshot

Tony comes back to a world where everyone's moved on without him.

Peter helps.

• secret santa, baby; by orphan_account, E, 17´3k, 5/5 chapters

Tony never intended to become Peter's Secret Santa. He just sort of stumbles into it. But now that he is, he's going to take advantage of it. Tony's got one week to spoil the kid, one week until Christmas. He just has to make sure that his secret stays secret.

• your thoughts are my desires; by Sparcina (@zsparz), E, 6’2k, 4/4 chapters

Peter doesn't know that Tony can read his thoughts.

Alternatively: Tony gets intimately acquainted with Peter's fantasies feelings.

• peter parker, sexter extraodinaire; by Sparcina (@zsparz), E, 7’5k, 4/4 chapters

Apparently, sexting Mr. Stark by accident is a thing Peter does now. While touching himself. And Tony... Well, he probably shouldn't fantasize about Peter, but the kid's just too damn attractive and brilliant for his own good.

• just for tonight; by keenwonderlandcollector, M, 31’1k, 10/10 - cw: incest/father-son incest

While out at an exhibit, Peter gets into an awkward situation and pretends that Tony, his father, is actually his boyfriend. Tony goes along with it, and Peter soon finds himself enjoying it a little too much…

• from the bounty; by feyrelay (@feyrelay) & natureboy, E, 31’8k, 3/3 chapters

Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

(20k words of food erotica foreplay and 13k words of porn)

• better than; by unsettled (@unsettledink), M, 40’6k, oneshot

Maybe there isn't really a fixed point where it starts, where any of it starts, nothing Tony can point to and say, there, there is where I made my mistake, there is where I could have stopped this, there is where I can stop it from happening again.

Maybe it shouldn’t have been something Tony tried to stop.

(or: the one where Tony is going to be responsible for once, okay? He is!)

• worth the word; by unsettled (@unsettledink), teen and up, 5’4k, oneshot

Valentine’s Day is not Peter’s favorite holiday by a long shot. And it’s not just because he’s a little jealous of everyone else showing off gifts from their partners.

But it’s still really nice that an unknown someone sent him a gift this year. Or two. Or— okay, this is getting out of hand.

• above and beyond; by unsettled (@unsettledink), E, 12’8k, oneshot - cw: incest/father-son incest

Trans Peter telling his dad that he’s never had an orgasm. And Tony eating Peter out until the boy’s oversensitive and crying out “dad” as he comes.

• still use work; by LearnedFoot (@learned-foot), E, 6’5k, oneshot

“In the spirit of scientific discovery,” Tony adds.

“Yeah, the spirit of scientific discovery, exactly.”

Or: Peter has a problem. Tony attempts to solve it. To be helpful, obviously. That’s the only reason.

• a familiar stranger; by Starker1975 (@starker1975), E, 132,1k, 21/21 chapters - cw: incest/father-son incest

Peter's tired of being single, but online dating scares him, so he creates a fake profile to scope out the playing field before fully committing. He isn't sure what to think when he sees his dad's profile on the app.

hope you like them as much as i did!

#starker reclist #check the tags #starker #starker fic #starker fic rec #starker fic recs #favourite starker fanfics

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the-egg · 10 months

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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!!}

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