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for-parker · 6 months

Text

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

crying, actually

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part II

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

"Can I hold her?" You dread the question. The way he asks it, the way he looks at you, the way you know he's going out of his comfort zone to come to your house, knowing you don't want him there.

"Sure." You put your pride aside, having the best interest of your baby in mind. The little girl is placed carefully in his arms, and it breaks your heart to see just how well she fits there, like a missing puzzle piece.

"She's so beautiful." He whispers, brown eyes fully focused on his daughter—his daughter. For someone who avoided the topic of family like the plague, the concept was still weird to even think about, despite the way the girl in his arms looked just like him when he was a baby, countless pictures hung around his house before they were permanently destroyed by his father in attempts to torment Mrs. Riley.

"What was that, Captain?" Simon crooned teasingly, leaning his head closer to the baby to try to understand the babbles that were slowly becoming more and more clear each passing week. Of course, she was still too young to talk, though the little girl loved babbling out at any given moment.

"She's lovely, isn't she? Shame she looks like you." Your words came out teasing for the first time ever since you saw him again, the banter in your previous friendship coming back for a second as he playfully glared down at you.

"Shame she acts like me too." He jested, the baby's mannerisms very reminiscent of his own. You poke your tongue out at him jokingly before looking back down at your daughter, the strings of your heart being pulled the more you stare at her. The little creature doesn't cry much, luckily, so you have all the time in the world to simply admire what you created— what you both created.

"Look at her tongue stickin' out." Simon pointed out to the baby's tiny tongue sticking out, a quiet laugh leaving his lips at the way she imitated you. You gently pinch her chubby cheek, planting a kiss on her forehead as a small laugh escapes you too. It's not hard for her to steal your heart, Simon noticed.

"Hush, darlin', daddy's busy flirtin' with mommy." He knows he's overstepping, but... it's worth the risk. He wants what you used to have back then, despite knowing he doesn't deserve it. He'll prove himself, Simon promised since the first time he saw you again.

"Just so you know, this—" You point between him, the baby, and you. "Doesn't mean we're together. Not a chance." You try to be stern, though you both can't deny the look in your eyes. Still, you resist, not wanting to be disappointed again. Simon leaving is an open wound that never healed.

"I know." He replied after a few seconds, not looking at you. His eyes were focused on the baby, holding her close to his chest as she cuddled up to him, quieting down from her babbling. He sat down on the couch, one of his fingers absent-mindedly running over the features of his daughter.

"I'm thinkin' of retiring within a year or two, once Makarov's dead." He starts hesitantly, not daring to look at you just yet.

"Do you think the three of us can be a family? I know I messed up, and I'm sorry." He finally looks up at you, though only for a short second before he's getting up again, gently putting the baby in her crib. He gives her a small plushie to cuddle, soft blanket wrapped over her tiny frame. He comes back to you, bare hands hesitantly reaching for yours before noticing you're about to recoil back. He doesn't blame you.

"I'll do anything." He swears, taking a step back to respect your personal space. You look away for a few seconds, arms crossed and a small frown on your lips. The thought of Simon leaving or dying is always there, eating at the back of your mind.

"You're retiring?" Is all you can ask, not bothering to hide the sheer curiosity and confusion. Simon has been a soldier since he was 18— it's all he knows. He has given up his entire life and family— why stop now?

"Yeah. Think it's time to slow down... actually live life a little, for once. I had to retire at some point, yeah?" It wasn't an easy choice at all. He has bled for the army countless times, lost his family because of it, lost so many allies he can't even count them in his head, yet the tiny girl was the one that made him realize enough is enough.

"Interesting." It's all you reply, eyes slightly narrowed as you look deep into his, seeking for any signs of hesitation or lying. You find none.

"I'm serious. I can be a father to her, and... a husband to you, if you let me. Just like you wanted." Just like you told him you wanted things to be. Just like he thought about before breaking up with you after 4 years.

"Don't have to give me an answer now, but I'm retirin' and that's final." He went to grab his backpack, pulling out a folder. He placed it in front of you gently before giving his sleeping daughter a soft kiss on the forehead, eyes fully focused on her as he memorized her features. It's gonna be a long time until he sees her again.

"I'm deploying in an hour." He mentioned, his back turned towards you as you read the papers. His will, updated to include your daughter. Previously, it was only you there.

"Not comin' back for a long while, unless things go well. If shit hits the fan..." He knows it's always a possibility when dealing with Makarov.

"You'll both have enough to live a good life." He was getting choked up. Not crying or tearing up, but uncomfortable enough that he was struggling to speak.

"Simon." You call out and he turns his head towards you, slight surprise in his features. It's the first time you call him Simon since he came back into your life— it used to be Ghost, much to his dismay, to place even more space between you. He never said anything about it.

"Something to keep your heart safe." You walk up to him, both of your hands holding one of his, placing a hard object in his palm. He looks down at it and his heart almost stops.

The ID bracelet your baby wore shortly after she was born. He nods his head once in acknowledgment, expression growing more determined as his fingers trace the outline of the plastic.

"Come back to her safe." Your hand hesitantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead was against yours. He lets you, and you're both stuck looking deep into each other's eyes for what feels like forever.

"Come back to us." You plant a soft kiss to his forehead before letting go, basking in the slight sense of normalcy, ignoring your worthless pride for once. He leans down and returns the kiss to your forehead, nodding once. He stares down at you, memorizing your features the same way he did with your daughter before turning around and leaving, swearing to keep the silent promise with a newfound sense of determination.

[Previous]

Taglist:

@skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf

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for-parker · 6 months

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"Look at me, big guy." It takes a few seconds for him to look up, and when he does, you can feel everything. The regret, the longing, the sadness, the pain. You bring him closer for a soft kiss, both of your lips turning up into a smile as your daughter interrupts you by babbling and holding onto Simon.

LMAO SHE DID NOT WANT TO SHARE HIS ATTENTION 😭

Lovely — Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Mom!Reader

"She looks just like you." You whisper softly, gaze full of love as you admire the baby between both of you. He doesn't respond for a long while, completely enamored by the little girl who is holding his finger with her entire tiny hand, looking in awe at the life you both created.

"She's so tiny." He whispers back, secretly afraid he'll startle the baby with his deep voice despite knowing she has fallen asleep to his voice and hums more than once. A small chuckle from you is all it takes for her face to turn towards you, her free hand grabbing a strand of your hair and trying to take it to her mouth before Simon gently intervenes, taking it back and giving her another finger to hold.

"Thank you." His gaze focuses on you as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing random patterns on your skin as the corners of his mouth tilt up in a small, tender smile.

"What for?" You ask as if you didn't know exactly what he was talking about, as if he hadn't thanked you hundreds of times for carrying his child ever since he found out you were pregnant.

"For creating her." His tone is as gentle and tender, and if it didn't show just how much he loves you, the look in his eyes totally did. He's looking at you like you're a goddess in the flesh— and you are. You give him a warm smile, leaning closer to plant a small kiss on his cheek, which he returns.

"I like our baby." He murmurs, his hand coming down to caress her cheek gently with one finger. He treats her like she's made of glass, and in his mind, she is. She's so tiny compared to his behemoth frame, and it took a while until he felt comfortable enough to hold her. He plants a soft kiss on her forehead, gaze drifting between his angels before he lets out a small sigh of content.

"She likes you too." You tease, playfully poking his side as the memories of how much of a daddy's girl your daughter is already despite being only three months old. It's lovely, really, to see the man everyone knows as "the big boy with the skull mask" become absolute putty under the tiny hands of his daughter.

He bends backwards for her, holding her late at night and talking to her, telling her all sort of stories about his life despite knowing she can't understand yet. His heart melts whenever his daughter simply looks up at him and babbles, hand reaching out to him and pulling on anything she can reach with surprising strength.

"Mum would have loved her." Your heart breaks at his hushed words, hand immediately reaching out to caress his cheek as he refuses to hold your gaze, simply looking down at your daughter with sadness hidden deep inside his loving stare.

"You carry her love with you. In your eyes, your smile, your hair... her love didn't go with her when she passed." He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek softly before nodding his head, carefully holding onto your daughter before laying her down on his chest, one of his hands supporting her neck while the other one holds her body close to his.

"Never saw it that way." His voice sounds distant now, yet it's never devoid of affection and love for you. You know him well enough to know he's visiting a graveyard of memories. You lay down next to him, head resting on his shoulder, planting a kiss on his soft jawline.

"She was the best nan. Always spoiling Joseph and buying him anything she thought he'd like... at some point Tommy and Beth were running out of space because he had so many bloody toys." A small chuckle escapes his lips, smiling fondly at the memories of his family before they were taken from him. He felt comfortable enough with you to be able to speak about his family— you were always so patient, waiting years for this.

"They sound lovely." Another kiss to his jawline as you look at your daughter absent-mindedly run her fingers over his tattoo sleeve. It's ironic, to see such an innocent person tracing something meant to be representing of destruction and loss, yet that's what his life is, two sides of the coin that is Simon Riley's past and present. "I'm sure they're watching over you, proud that you have this life."

He gives you a soft grin, planting a kiss on your forehead as he looks out of the window, fingers absent-mindedly caressing your daughter's back while he looks up at the sky. I made it, mum.

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for-parker · 6 months

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“Oh shit. You think it’s broken?” Peter asked and held the arm up. It limply hung in the air and you gagged again. “Peter, honey, it looks like a fish hook.”

THE WAY I CACKLEDDD

Two Normal Arms

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis: when Peter breaks his arm, he notices he gets a lot of attention from you. So much attention that he prolongs the broken arm as long as he can

Masterlist

Peter had a strict no texting while swinging rule.

That rule was broken one night on patrol during a particularly heated back and forth text conversation with Ned over whether chili was a soup or an entirely different category of food. Peter didn’t feel like waiting until he got home to respond, so he texted with one hand while he shot webs with the other. His eyes were glued to his phone as he went to grab a web that wasn’t anywhere close to where he thought it was. He went crashing to the ground, landing right on his right arm. He heard the crunch loud and clear and let out a little whimper. Peter peeled himself off the pavement and pulled his mask off to look at his arm.

“Well that’s not good.” He mumbled when he saw the curve in a place his arm didn’t typically curve.

He knew there was no way he could swing home with the arm but he was too far to walk. He looked around and realized he was in your neighborhood. He’d been to your place once before when Tony first bought you an apartment and wondered if he could find it again by memory. He ran up and down the block until he spotted a window with a light on near the top floor of a building twice the size of Peters. He could see a little Iron Man flag in the window and took a leap of faith that that was your apartment. He cradled his arm to his chest and gingerly climbed the side of the building until he reached the window. He used his head to knock on the window and sighed in relief when he saw you running to open it.

“Peter? What are you doing up here?” You whispered.

“I’m sorry. I would never bother you at home but I got hurt really badly and I can’t swing.” Peter winced and held up his arm. You could see exactly where the break was and put a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my God. Come in.” You said as you wrapped an arm around him and helped him inside. You helped Peter sit down on your couch before sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Let me see this.” You said and gently moved his hand away from his arm. It was bent in an awkward way and resembled an “s”, something you didn’t know arms could do.

“Is it bad?” Peter asked you.

“One second.” You smiled sweetly and calmly walked into the next room. When you returned, you had a forced smile on your face.

“It’s not bad.” You answered him.

“You went over there to gag gagged, didn’t you?”

“I did. I’m sorry.” You cringed. “Broken bones gross me out.”

“Oh shit. You think it’s broken?” Peter asked and held the arm up. It limply hung in the air and you gagged again.

“Peter, honey, it looks like a fish hook.”

“Yeah. That’s probably not good, right?” He asked as he looked at it.

“I need to get you to a hospital.” You decided and grabbed your car keys.

“A hospital? That won’t be necessary. There’s no need for all that fuss. Can’t we just wrap it up and call it a day?” Peter laughed nervously.

“I don’t think so. I can put bandaids on your other cuts but this needs to be looked at by a real doctor.”

“You said you’ve seen every season of Greys Anatomy right? Can’t you just put on an episode and do what they do?”

“All they do is have sex during work hours. We can’t do that right now.” You shook your head as you threw your coat on. Peter stopped panicking for a second and felt his face heat up.

“But later?” He asked. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and set your keys down.

“Hang on. We gotta get you out of those clothes.”

“Really? Now?” Peter gulped and grabbed his shirt with his free hand.

“Well we can’t get checked out as Spiderman without the doctors seeing this pretty face.” You teased and cupped his chin before walking towards your room.

“Oh. Right.” He blushed and touched his chin.

“I’ll grab some of my stuff.” You called from your room. You returned shortly with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Peter pressed the button on the center of his suit and shimmied out of it before making eye contact with you. You gulped and quickly turned around to give him some privacy. Peter blushed and stood up to shake the suit onto the floor. He gingerly stepped into the pants and pulled them up with one hand. When it came to the hoodie, he knew there was no way he could put it on with one arm.

“Um….” He said as he struggled to get his head in the hoodie.

“You need help?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Yes please.”

You laughed and turned around to help Peter get dressed. You pulled his head through the opening and laughed when his messy hair stuck straight up.

“Thank you.” Peter smiled shyly as you fixed his hair.

“Anytime.” You smiled back.

“I kinda hate that your pants fit me.” He said sheepishly and looked down at the pants you had given him.

“Why? I think you look great in my clothes.”

“Oh. Well thank you.” He blushed. “You’d probably look great in mine.”

“I don’t know if I have the muscles to fill out your suit.” You sighed and nodded towards his discarded suit.

“It doesn’t have to be the suit. You’d look good in just my T shirt.”

“Just your T shirt?” You asked coyly, making Peter go bright red.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly explained.

“We can put your theory to the test later. Let’s get your arm looked at first.” You said and pulled him towards the door. Peter gulped and made it all the way to the car before stopping in his tracks.

“I can’t go to the hospital.” He blurted. You stopped and looked at him and we’re supposed to see the embarrassed look on his face as he cradled his arm.

“Why not?” You asked him as you put your hand on his shoulder. Peter looked at your hand before looking into your eyes and sighing.

“My aunt would never be able to afford it with her new job.” He admitted. “We’re barely making rent as it is. I can’t put this on her.”

“So don’t.” You shrugged. “Put it on my dads card.”

“I can’t just charge my medical bills to your dad.” Peter laughed uncomfortably.

“Sure you can. He won’t even notice. And if he asks about the card, I’ll just tell him I was shopping.” You insisted and pulled Peter towards your car.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He shook his head and stayed where he was.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Actually, I’m forcing. Get in the car.” You insisted as you opened the passenger door. You playfully pushed him into the car and buckled his seatbelt for him. You then climbed into the drivers seat and started the car.

“Thank you.” He smiled shyly when you looked over at him.

“Of course. You can trust me, Peter. I’m your friend.” You smiled back and started to drive.

“Right.” His nodded as his smile faltered a little at the word “friend” but he didn’t say anything. By the time you pulled up to the hospital, Peter was in bad shape. His arm was swelling and causing him more pain than he had ever felt. You opened his door and helped him out of the car, feeling the way he was barely able to hold himself up.

“Hey, Y/n?” Peter winced and held on tight to you.

“Yeah, Peter?”

“Do you think you could lift someone my size?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Because I’m about to pass out.” He said right before collapsing onto the ground.

When Peter woke up later in his hospital bed, he felt a whole lot better. So much better, in fact, that he didn’t even notice the giant blue cast on his arm. He didn’t know if it was the morphine he had been given or fact that you were sitting at his bedside with your hand that was keeping him pain free.

“Hey, Peter.” You smiled softly at him and brushed the hair off his forehead. Peter sat up a little in his bed and smiled back.

“So pretty. You look nothing like your dad.” He said sleepily.

“What was that?” You laughed even though you had definitely heard him.

“Want jello.” Peter said and licked his dry lips. You held his cup of water to his lips and helped him drink as the doctor came in.

“Oh, good. He’s awake.” The doctor said.

“Woah. What happened?” Peter asked ad he noticed his cast.

“We had to do surgery on your arm to set the bone back into place. You’ll be in a cast for the next six to eight weeks.”

“I didn’t know your favorite color so I picked blue. I hope that’s okay.” You explained sheepishly.

“Blue is great. Thank you.” Peter smiled at you as he slowly felt more with it.

“It’s a good thing your girlfriend brought you in when she did. You had free fluid in your arm. It could’ve been much worse if you hadn’t come in right away.” The doctor told him.

“Oh. She’s not my-“

“Thank, doctor. Is there anything we should do now?” You cut him off as you turned to the doctor.

“He’s safe to bring home. Just keep the arm elevated and don’t get it wet. I can prescribe some pain meds as well.”

“Thank you. And could we get some jello too please?” You requested.

“No problem. I’ll be right back with that.” The doctor smiled and left the room.

“You broke your wrist, elbow and radius bone. Which I just found out is the bone in between your wrist and elbow. Who knew it had a name? But that’s why the cast goes so high.” You explained to Peter once you were alone.

“Damn. That’s a lot of bones. No wonder it hurts.” He said and shifted uncomfortably in the bed. It didn’t actually hurt that bad, but he liked it when you were worried about him.

“Oh no. It does? Can I do anything?” You asked and brushed his hair back again. Peter blushed and smiled softly as he looked into your concerned eyes.

“Just keep holding my hand, please. It helps with the pain.” He said and faked a cough for added measure. You fell right for it and squeezed his hand.

“It’s gonna be okay, Peter. I won’t leave your side. But do you want me to call your aunt?”

“No, this will just freak her out. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Okay. You could crash at my place tonight if you want. I’ll drive you home tomorrow so we can tell her together. I wrote down everything the doctor said since you were still knocked out.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Peter smiled in appreciation when you showed him the list you had made. You smiled back and put the list down on his bedside table before looking at him. Peter was gazing at you intently because he could tell you had something on your mind.

“I like the color you picked.” Peter said to cut the silence.

“Oh, thanks. I was gonna go with red but I always thought you looked best in blue.” You said without looking at him. Peter blushed at the casual compliment and tilted his head to get you to look at him. You finally did look into his eyes and smiled softly.

“Peter, could I….”

“Yes?” Peter sat up eagerly at your question.

“Sign your cast?” You finished your sentence and he sat back in his bed.

“Oh, sure.” He agreed. You pulled a sharpie out of your bag and wrote your name on the front of Peters cast. Peters face reddened when he saw how big you had written it and he looked at his cast proudly.

“First one.” You smiled and put the sharpie down.

“Probably one of the only ones that will be on here.” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, really? Maybe I should add something else then.” You said and picked the sharpie back up. Peter couldn’t see what you were drawing until you gently turned his cast towards him.

“Do you like it?” You asked timidly. Peter looked at his cast and saw that you had drawn a big heart around your name.

“I love it.” Peter blushed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s an honor to be the first.” You told him. “Oh, and I went by the tower while you were sleeping and grabbed some of your clothes. The doctor said I can take you home once you can stand on your own.”

“I feel great, actually. Thanks for getting the clothes.” Peter thanked you as he got out of his bed. He got changed in the bathroom and met you in the room once he was done. You helped Peter get signed out before taking him back to your apartment.

“Stay here. I’ll make up the bed for you. Can I get you anything?” You asked as you helped Peter sit on your couch.

“Could I have some water please?”

“Of course.” You cupped his chin before going to get him a glass of water. Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way you were babying him because of his injury. You returned with his water and sat beside him on the couch.

“Is there anything else I could get you?”

“I would love to shower. But I can’t get my cast wet.” Peter frowned and looked at his cast.

“You don’t have to.” You said and got back up. You returned shortly with a black garbage bag and held it up to show Peter.

“You’re a genius.” He smiled and got up from the couch.

“I aim to please.” You shrugged and opened the bag up. Peter went to put his arm inside but you stopped him.

“Um, you should probably take off your shirt before I put this on.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh. Right.” Peter replied and tried to take his shirt off, which proved to be difficult with only one hand. After watching him struggle for a bit, you grabbed the hem and helped him take it off. Peters face reddened as you pulled the shirt over his head and he smiled softly. You did your best to keep your eyes on his as you tied the bag around his arm and tried not to look at his body.

“There. That should protect it from any water.” You said as you never broke eye contact.

“Thanks. That was really smart.” Peter said quietly. You stayed staring at each other for a little too long before you snapped out of it.

“The bathroom is the first door on the left. Shampoo and conditioner is all in there. And I have extra towels under the sink.“ You said as you stepped away from him.

“Cool. Thank you.” He smiled once again before walking to the bathroom. Your garbage bag idea worked perfectly and he was able to clean himself without getting any water on the cast. He dried himself off to the best of his ability with one hand and stepped back into his boxers and sweatpants from before. That’s when he realized he had left his shirt out in the living room with you. Peter gulped and fixed his hair in the mirror before going to find you again.

“Hey. All clean?” You asked when he came back into the living room.

“Yep. Could you take this thing off of me?” Peter asked and held up his arm.

“Sure.” You gulped and went over to him. You put on your best performance of pretending he wasn’t shirtless and glistening from the shower as you untied the bag and pulled it off. You made eye contact once again and quickly looked anywhere but his naked torso.

“Do you need help getting your shirt back on?” You asked and hoped the answer was yes.

“It’s okay. I think I can do it. You’ve already done so much.” Peter said as he grabbed the shirt. He managed to get one arm and both shoulders in before realizing he had no way of getting his cast through the shirt.

“I’m stuck.” He whined, making you laugh a little. He had his good arm sticking out over his head and his shirt riding up like a crop top .

“Aw. Look at you.” You chuckled and carefully pulled his broken arm through the shirt.

“Thanks. Again.” Peter laughed as well now that he was dressed.

“You’re very welcome. Now follow me. I’ll show you your bed.” You said and brought Peter to your guest bedroom. You had set it up for him while he was in the shower and put lots of extra pillows so he would be comfortable.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” You turned to him to ask. Peter looked down at your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“Um….” He trailed off and looked over at the bed.

“How about some sleep?”

“Yeah.” He laughs through a yawn. “That sounds really good. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Anytime, Peter. Goodnight.” You squeezed his arm before leaving the room. Peter stayed frozen in place for a minute and tried to touch his arm where you hand had just been, then remembered it was broken.

Peter woke up the next morning to the sweet smell of pancakes. He got out of bed and noticed that the pain in his arm had almost completely gone away. He flexed his fingers, something the doctor mentioned that he probably wouldn’t be able to do for a while, and realized his arm was probably mostly healed. He decided not to mention that discovery to you as he went to go find you.

“Good morning.” You smiled at Peter when he walked into your kitchen.

“It’s a very good morning. Hi.” He smiled back as you handed him a cup of orange juice.

“Sit. Eat. I can cut it for you if you need.” You offered as you put a plate of pancakes in front of Peter.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.” Peter smiled gratefully and picked up his fork. He went to pick up his knife and remembered his arm was in a cast.

“Hm.” He hummed when he realized his dilemma.

“Here. I got it.” You chuckled and took his fork. You cut Peters food up for him as he watched you with a dreamy smile. He’d never gotten this much attention from you before, or any girl for that matter. He was starting to think this broken arm was a gift from God.

“After breakfast, I can take you home and we can tell May together.” You offered as you got up and grabbed a spray bottle and a comb from the bathroom.

“Thank you. For everything. You’ve done so much already.”

“Please. I’ve barely done anything.” You scoffed and proceeded to wet his hair and then comb out his bed head. Peter turned to look at you with his newly styled hair and you sheepishly put the comb down.

“Okay. I see your point. I just like to take care of people. And I feel bad that you broke your arm. I’m sorry if I’m doing too much.” You explained as you sat back down.

“That’s okay. I’m not used to be taken care of like this. It’s kinda nice.” Peter admitted without looking at you.

“I think it’s nice too. To look after you.” You replied. You looked into each others eyes for a moment and exchanged a smile. Peter finished up his breakfast and got back into your car to go tell May what happened. As you explained to her everything the doctor had told you, all May could focus on was the pretty girl Peter had brought home.

“Wait, sorry, who are you?” May interrupted with an excited smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Y/n Stark. Peter works with my dad. He got hurt on patrol and my apartment was as close by.” You explained.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so glad Peter had such a lovely girl to take care of him. And that he knew where your apartment was. Because he’s been there before?” May asked and clasped her hands under her chin.

“Oh my God.” Peter groaned and hung his head. “It’s not like that, May.”

“Peter’s a friend.” You chuckled. “But I was happy to look after him.”

“Well I appreciate that. And I know he does too. He talks about you all the time, you know. I just didn’t realize it was you. He didn’t tell me how pretty you were.” May added.

“May.” Peter said warningly.

“Oh, thank you.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I should probably get going. See you later, Peter.”

“She’s cute.” May said once you were gone.

“She is. But you’ll probably never see her again because you just scared her off.” Peter groaned.

“I don’t know. Don’t think I don’t see that signature on your cast. It’s gonna take a lot more than an overbearing aunt to scare that girl off.” May said coyly.

“Wait, you really think so?” Peter asked.

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t go to that length for just a friend.” May shrugged. A smile crossed Peters face as it occurred to him this broken arm might have been exactly what he needed to get you to like him back.

Peter walked into campus next day with his cast in a sling. He went to the table he usually sat at between classes and saw Ned already sitting there.

“Hey dude. You never texted me back last- OH MY GOD.” Ned screamed and pointed when he saw the cast.

“Calm down. I’m okay. I just broke my arm.” Peter said with a huge smile.

“Uh, why do you seem so happy about it?”

“Because Y/n Stark took care of me.” Peter whispered excitedly as he sat down.

“Wait, Tony Starks daughter?” Neds eyes widened. “What?! How?”

“I couldn’t swing so I had to go to the nearest apartment I could find, which was hers. She drove me to the hospital and got me clothes while I was in surgery. Then she brought me home and let me sleep at her place.” Peter explained.

“You slept at a girls place?” Ned’s jaw dropped as he grabbed Peters shoulders.

“I know! I wish you could’ve seen it, Ned. She was so worried about me so she did everything for me. I’m talking combing my hair, cutting my food, she even helped me get dressed. Honestly, I think she might like me.”

“That’s hilarious.” Ned laughed. “Good thing you didn’t break your funny bone. Oh my God, wait, did you?”

“No, dude. I’m serious. You should’ve seen her. She was all over me in a way she never has been before. I think this broken arm is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Peter!” Your voice came from behind Peter so he and Ned turned around in confusion.

“Woah. What’s she doing here?” Ned asked and shook Peters arm.

“I have no idea.” Peter replied as a smile broke out on his face.

“Hi. I hope it’s okay I showed up like this.” You said as you sat down beside Peter.

“It’s totally okay. I’m happy to see you.” Peter said and leaned on his good arm to stare at you.

“I know it must be hard to do things for yourself with only one hand, so I thought I would bring you lunch. My dad mentioned that you always eat all the peanut butter when you’re at the tower so I made you a PBJ. Do you like those?” You asked him.

“I love them. Thank you so much. This is so nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.” Peter said and touched your arm.

“It’s okay. I wanted to. I also cut you up some apple slices and packed a juice box.” You said and showed Peter was else was in the lunch bag you had brought.

“No way! I love apple juice.” Peters eyes lit up when he saw the juice. He reached for him but you put your hand on his arm.

“I got it.” You smiled at Peter and put the straw into the juice box. You then held the juice box up so that he could sip it, all while Ned watched in disgust.

“Oh my.” Ned mumbled.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” You asked Peter.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I figured since you can’t go on patrol while you’re healing, you could come hang with me at the tower. My dads been working on some new technology and I think you’d be a great help.”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds awesome.” Peter grinned and nodded his head.

“Oh, good. You said yes.” You smiled timidly. “I could pick you up after class?”

“Sure. I get out at 4:25.”

“I’ll be here. See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm and got up to leave.

“Did you see that? This arm is a goldmine! She’s never been this interested in me!” Peter exclaimed once you were gone.

“No girl has!” Ned said with equal excitement.

“This is even better than the spider bite. I hope I never heal.” Peter sighed happily and looked at his cast.

“Can I sign it?” Ned asked and fished in his backpack for a pen.

“Of course.” Peter smiled and moved his cast towards Ned. Ned gently held Peters arm in place and tried to write on the top of his cast above his elbow.

“Ugh, it’s too curved. Can you flex so I can get a solid surface?”

“No, I can’t flex my broken arm. And your name is just three letters. Is it really that hard?”

“I wanted to draw the blue amongus guy. Please?” Ned whined.

“Fine.” Peter rolled his eyes and flexed his arm the bets he could to give Ned a flat surface. When he did this, the cast cracked in half and fell in two pieces onto Peters lap. Chalk from the inside filled the air, making Peter and Ned cough as they waved it away.

“Oh shit.” Peter said and flexed his arm back and forth. Sure enough, it was perfectly healed.

“Dude!” Ned coughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that.”

“My arm is healed. Damn it!” Peter groaned and slammed his now healed arm on the table.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ned asked as he drew an amongus character on one of the halves of Peters cast.

“No. My broken arm was the one thing making Y/n pay attention to me. Without it, she’ll want nothing to do with me.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face.

“Maybe you could break your other arm?” Ned suggested. “Or both arms?

“I’m not gonna break my arm on purpose. That’s too crazy. I just need a new cast.” Peter said as he began to brainstorm.

“Maybe not. Maybe you just need some tape.” Ned said as he held the two halves of the cast together. Peter looked at the two halves and smiled as he formed a plan.

Peter texted you that he’d meet you at the tower instead so that he could rush home to work on his plan. When you opened the tower door to greet him, the first thing you noticed was that his cast had been wrapped in duck tape down the middle that was then colored with a blue sharpie. You could see spots of wet Elmer’s glue around the obvious crack, despite the sling Peter had placed the arm in.

“Hi!” He greeted you.

“Hey, you. What happened to your cast?” You laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing. I just scuffed it a little.” Peter lied and pulled it deeper into the sling.

“Uh huh. Come in.” You chuckled skeptically and led him to the lab. You held the door open for Peter and noticed him touching it with his broken hand as he passed through. You were already skeptical and decided to play with him a little.

“This is so cool. Your dad never lets me in here.” Peter said as he looked around the lab in awe.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Come sit.” You smiled innocently and patted a chair at the lab table that wasn’t pulled out. Peter pulled it out with his broken hand and sat beside you. You eyed him curiously and he gave you an awkward smile. You decided not to expose him just yet and let him help you with a few things around the lab for an hour. He was beyond excited just to be there and you didn’t want to ruin it just yet.

“Can you figure out this formula for me?” You asked and handed Peter a marker.

“Sure.” He smiled and went to the whiteboard. He started writing with his broken hand and you watched with an amused smile.

“You should probably use your other hand.” You said, making Peter freeze.

“Oh. Right.” Peter forced a laugh. “I keep forgetting it’s broken. Which it definitely is. You saw it.”

“I did see it. Does it still hurt?” You asked and touched the sling.

“Oh yeah.” He lied. “Real bad.”

“Aw. Poor baby.” You pouted and brushed some hair off his face. Peter gulped and blushed under your touch as he made a fist with his broken hand. You noticed him moving his supposedly broken hand and decided to tease him a little.

“You know, it’s really a shame your arm is broken.” You said and took a step towards him.

“Why?”

“Because we have the place to ourselves. We could’ve had a little fun together. But obviously we can’t, with your broken arm and all.” You replied and watched his face carefully for a reaction.

“A little fun?” Peter gulped again as you got even closer.

“You know….” You smiled coyly and walked your fingers up his arm.

“No.” Peter swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Come on. You’re telling me you haven’t dreamed of fooling around in one of the giant rooms in this place?” You asked and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And you’re saying that’s what we would be doing? If my arm was healed?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

“Uh huh. Too bad it’s not.” You sighed dramatically and took a step back. Peter looked down at his fake broken arm and contemplated telling the truth.

“Yeah. That’s too bad.” He mumbled.

“Hey Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Catch.” You said and tossed a paper weight at him. Peter caught it with ease in his broken hand, making his cast break in half again. You raised your eyebrows as Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

“Shit.” He whispered.

“Don’t feel bad.” You chuckled. “I knew you were faking it the second you walked in.”

“You did?” Peter sighed and pulled the cast and sling off.

“Come on, Peter. Duct tape?”

“I know. I’m not a craft boy.” Peter admitted with defeat.

“I can tell. So what’s with the fake cast?” You wondered as you folded your arms.

“The first one was real. I swear. But it healed quicker then I thought it would and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Then why would you tape the cast around your healed arm?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know it was healed.” Peter mumbled, just barely audible but you still heard it.

“What?” You laughed. “Why not?”

Peter sighed again before looking into your eyes. You looked at him expectingly and he knew there was no way out of this.

“Because then you won’t hang out with me anymore.” He said with a sad smile.

“What?” Your smiled faded as your arms dropped.

“Before I broke my arm, I had trouble getting you to even look my way. But that night in your apartment, I never lost your attention. Not even once. And then you showed up at my school and met my friend and I guess I liked that so much that I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. So I taped my cast back together to keep your attention a little longer. I’m sorry.”

“Peter, I didn’t do all those things because you have a broken arm. I did them because I like you.” You said as walked back towards him.

“You do?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Even though I have two normal arms?”

“It’s something I’m willing to look past.” You smiled teasingly. Peter smiled back before winced and gripping his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I kinda triggered the injury when I broke the cast.” He grimaced and moved his shoulder in a circle.

“Aw. Do you want me to kiss it better?” You laughed sarcastically.

“Yeah. Can you?” Peter replied with equal sarcasm and held up his arm. You moved his arm down away from his face and leaned in to kiss him. Once Peter processed what was happening, he was able to kiss you back. He wrapped his now healed arm around your waist to pull you in, feeling the dull ache he got from moving it but deciding it was worth it.

“Any better?” You asked once you pulled away.

“Much.” Peter smiled and went to kiss you again.

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

@officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

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for-parker · 7 months

Text

oh to have a Peter Parker to take care of & cuddle 😔

band-aid brand || TASM!p.p.

summary: taking care of Peter is a full-time job

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: swearing, injuries, tooth-rottening fluff

a/n: this doesn’t have any NWH spoilers so everyone is free to read :)

tags: @dpaccione

“Fuck!” He hissed out, accidentally slamming himself into the side of her apartment building. Truthfully, he shouldn’t have been there. He knew that. But in his pain-filled, drowsy state, he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

It was late. Or early? He didn’t know. His brawl with New York’s latest threat had worn him out physically and mentally. His hands were bloodied and bruised, his arms were sore from the constant web-slinging, and there was an awful lot of blood coming through his spandex suit from a wound he couldn’t see.

“Peter?” Her voice was filled with sleep. He felt a rush of guilt for showing up at her window yet again.

She caught a glimpse of him through the window as he sheepishly smiled. A horrified gasp escaped her mouth as she took in the battered state of his face and she rushed to push open the window. He hadn’t had a chance to look at himself, but judging from her reaction, he looked just about as bad as he felt.

Keep reading

#andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker #when is it my turn #loml shaped #my baby #literally #i love him

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for-parker · 8 months

Text

298 notes · View notes

for-parker · 8 months

Note

Oh my god I saw your requests were open and I love eveything you write<33

I See many fics where Miguel is the one who is jealous, but what if the tables turned and the reader is the one who is jealous, maybe she’s a civilian and she feels like he’d be better of with a spider person who understands his work better? I’d love to see him feel sad that his love feels that way can you tell I like pain lol

Thank you so so much<33 wishing you all the best for your exam! I’m sure you’ll do amazing!

shameless

pairing: bf!miguel x f!civilian!reader

warnings: jealousy, fluff, suggestiveness, public display of affection

summary: you're worried that miguel might be better off with a spider-person, but he is eager to reassure you (and everyone else) that you're more than enough

a/n:thank you and i hope you like it! im thinking of making a part 2 with balcony sex above nueva york let me know if yall would want it<3

divider by @cafekitsune

You are aware of the so called disadvantages of him being your boyfriend.

He is handsome, no doubt. But that means a lot more than being able to watch him work around the HQ, swinging your legs and wondering how you landed him.

It means having unfamiliar eyes linger over him more than you'd be able to tolerate. Flirty looks and remarks thrown at him like he's magnetic, regardless of everyone knowing he's with you.

Even walking through the glassy hallways and cloud scratching towers of Spider Society is a stab in the heart.

Noticing all the single spider-women look him up and down, eyelids heavy with the seconds that passed as they unabashedly stared at his physique; his broad back, the bulky arms and toned thighs, at the way the muscles underneath his suit rippled with every heavy step he took, not letting his weight drop lazily on each foot but rather walking with the energetic strength of a man with insane stamina.

You couldn't stop a venomous surge of anxiety mixed with the most sour amount of jealousy from dripping into your nerves as you met their gazes, seeing how beautiful and charismatic they all were.

How agile and gracious they were, swinging by just to blow Miguel a fleeting kiss.

And you certainly couldn't stop wondering if he'd be better off with one of them. One of his kind. One that would be able to swing alongside him, to practise with him, to accompany him.

One that would understand him better than perhaps you ever could.

You know he loves you, or else you wouldn't be together. But the idea that he maybe even once looked at all the women lining up for him and thought they'd be interesting to try is gutting you out.

And he starts noticing it.

Of course.

He isn't oblivious to how you straightened your back or curled your arms around his when another spider woman passed you with flirty looks or remarks. How you'd shut down and become awfully quiet when you two would get home following one of these encounters.

He couldn't bear to see you unhappy. Some of the times he even felt the sharp sting of guilt poking into his heart, knowing that he was the reason others were upsetting you.

More so, your bond.

You are heading towards his lab at HQ, walking beside him, heart pounding intermittently with anxiety and bubbling anger. Eyes darting around you swiftly, like those of a feral feline making sure no other animal is preparing to jump her and snatch her food from her.

Suddenly, two flowy silhouettes shoot mile long webs far up into a tunnel bridge, only to drop down and swing right past you and Miguel.

Purring out a simultaneous "¡Hola, Miguel! Looking good today!", reaching their hands down to him while boasting perfect balance with their webs tied to their ankles, they disappear into the distanced skyscrapers of Nueva York, with echoing giddy laughters.

Miguel doesn't move his head in their direction, already way too familiar with such interactions, and already too interested in hearing only one particular ¡Hola, Miguel! - yours.

Only your focus isn't on him. Your mind is running wild with how talented they seemed to be, how flexible and enticing. Already imagining him, playfully swinging with them, his force and precision perfectly matching their grace and melodic rhythm.

A dance you could never participate in.

What you also fail to see is the frown on his face as he turns to you, intrigued and finally ready to catch you off guard.

"¿Qué pasó, amor?" (What happened, love?) He leaned into you, dragging you by your arm to stop you behind a glass pillar.

You're hauled out of your reverie, eyes widening in panic as you think of something less pathetic and embarrassing to say than the truth.

"Hm? Nothing, I just think they're nice to look at." You motion with your head the direction the two women swung in, clarifying. "Everytime you bring me here, it's all so … breathtaking." You internally wince at the excuse, pulling the best poker face you could muster.

He takes a deep breath, annoyed but patient.

"You know you can tell me anything." He assures you, voice low and whispered so as not to embarrass you in front of the spiders passing by. He is aware that the place isn't the most fitting for the conversation, but any other time he'd tried to coax it out of you, you dismissed it with a "It's nothing. I'm just feeling off today."

Truth be told, he had his suspicions. He is by no means unacquainted with the ways of women, and without a single condescending bone in his body when it came to you, he wants you to spit it out so you could talk about it. So he could untangle the knots in your heart, the doubts about him and your relationship.

"I know." You reply shortly, something in you dying to snap out and tell him everything, but instead, you shut it down at the last moment and decided to leave it at that.

"Then why don't you?" He looms over you, unintentionally, but you start to feel utterly cornered. Your heart is drumming out of your chest, and you are more than certain he can at least hear it. His face reveals his disappointment, however hopeful and attentive he wants to seem.

And just like that, your fronts break down.

"I'm - Don't get me wrong," you trail off, not looking him in the eye. You feel his warm breath fan over your forehead, getting dizzy from the sudden proximity. "I love this place. All the work you put into it.." Your eyes meet his for a fleeting second. "But sometimes it reminds me of how different I am.", You pause, waiting for a response. When he doesn't interrupt, you continue, "How I don't fit in,... here, beside you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He looks almost pissed, as if you had told him he doesn't fit in. As if he was the one that didn't fit you.

"I mean I'm not … them. I'm not a spider."

"I'm aware of that." he retorts, ironically. "When did that stop me from loving you?". His tone is scolding. He is trying to maintain an unaffected demeanor so you would keep talking, but inside, his heart cracks at your words.

Your face heats up, surprised.

"It's not that." You have to actively stop yourself from leaning into his body and hiding into the warmth of his embrace, so that maybe all the jealousy and worry will wash away. But he deserves an explanation, now that you've admitted your feelings. "They know a side of you that I can only imagine. How it feels to be…like you."

His face softens, full of love and pity.

"I'm the odd one out here." You spit out, frustrated with his silence. "I can't give you everything they can!"

"I don't want what they have." He answers quickly, sincerely. You find it hard to believe, even though he's never lied to you.

To you, he's perfect. He deserves everything. Everything he could get.

And you're not enough.

"Escúchame." (Listen to me) He leans closed into you, his breath hot on your face. "Estoy enamorado de ti." (I'm in love with you.) "I only need you to be happy."

You finally meet his gaze, full of consideration and fondness. You pray to whatever god hears you that he means it, because you're too far gone in your love for him to go back now.

"What will it take for you to just relax and stop being jealous, hm?" He whispers, smugly and amused. It's clear that he's flattered with your sentiments and possessiveness, but wants to nonetheless fix your issues.

You feel yourself getting immersed into the scent of him, his body heat radiating onto yours. You don't quite know the answer yourself. He grabs your waist right above your hips, sending shivers up your spine. Pulling you closer to him, he moves his head to your ear.

"What if I kissed you right here, right now? Let everyone know that I love you, and only you."

Miguel was very clearly overjoyed with the excuse to show you some public affection, especially if it meant having you so flustered and pliant beneath him.

"Would that make you feel better? Knowing they'll be the jealous ones now?"

You nod, more or less consciously, lifting yourself up on your tiptoes almost reflexively.

His warm and eager hands on your waist strengthen their grip, lifting you further up against his body as your feet lose contact with the ground, your chest meeting his. His lips are soft and tender against yours, dancing in a slow, passionate kiss. With your eyes still closed, you hear a few gasps near you in the hall; some happily amused, some offended.

But you don't care. All you care about right now is how he's tilting your head to the side with one of his palms at the back of your neck, slipping his tongue into your mouth and deepening the kiss.

You continue to make out without a care in the world, just for the whole Spider Society to receive a much needed reminder that Miguel O'Hara is taken.

His hands knead the supple flesh of your lower back, making your hum softly into his mouth, your own arms curling around his neck in a vicious hold.

When you least expect it, you feel one hand descend swiftly, leaving you no time to react as he grabs at your ass hard, so hard you jolt up against him, eyes snapping open in shock.

Without moving his hand, he presses his nose to your pulse point, exhales sultry on the sensitive skin.

"I have another idea."

3K notes · View notes

for-parker · 9 months

Note

🥹🥹

was a bit hesitant to ask this but thoughts on how Miguel would feel if reader was vv self conscious abt their body/said anything negative abt their appearance..? (talking abt this as someone who's also self conscious abt their body cuz i need to know how he would react/what he would say to the reader tbh 😭)

AAAAAAA BESTIE I FEEL YOU !! I'm part of the self conscious about their body gang - i just had to write more than just a thought on this<3

when it comes to self consciousness about my body, there's always one line from the song Paradis by Orelsan (french rapper), that says "Je comprends pas pourquoi tu t'inquiètes quand tu prends du poids. Pour moi, c'est ça de pris, ça fait toujours plus de toi." which i used in this text (clue : it'll be in italic)

summary : miguel reassures a self conscious reader on their body content warnings : comfort, fluff, miguel being a worshipper of you, genderneutral!reader, no use of Y/N word count : 739 tag list : @fandom-ash

Miguel is a man who notices details, all the more so when those details are related to you. He noticed how you looked at yourself in the mirror from time to time, how you sometimes stood on your tiptoes when you were sitting to make your thighs look less large, how some days, even when it was hot, you wore a sweater covering you completely.

You were used to wearing baggy clothes, oversized sweaters and t-shirts, baggy pants, nothing that showed too much of your curves.

He'd noticed how you'd changed your diet lately, and how the portions you allowed yourself were... far too small for a normal meal.

You were depriving yourself of your favorite snacks, and even when Miguel offered you some, you begrudgingly refused. He could see the pain in your eyes, and he couldn't understand.

Then one day, standing in front of the mirror in your underwear, you started to cry. Miguel came running straight to you, taking you in his arms as you wept silently, little jolts shaking your body.

He stroked your back and hair gently, letting the sobs take their place as you sniffled against his shoulder.

"Hey hey hey," his voice was low, as if he felt that a word or a gesture a little too strong could break you into a thousand pieces, "nena, what's wrong?" he asked, stepping back.

He wiped your tear-streaked cheeks, your eyes were reddened and your lips bulged with heartache.

"I hate my body."

His heart cracked, and he came to take you in his arms again. So that was the reason for all this, for your restrictions, for all these choices that were doing you more harm than good. He couldn't understand how you could think such a thing, because he worshipped you like the goddess or god or deity you truly were.

"I wish I just looked different," you murmured against him.

"Why?" he asked, pulling away from you again to cup your face.

"Because, I look ugly, I feel ugly..." you sighed, your brow furrowing as hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

His lips were parted, he couldn't understand how it was possible for you to feel this way, to think this way about yourself. He found you so beautiful that the very thought of you thinking that way seemed almost impossible.

"I'm not pretty enough to be with you. There are so many prettier girls and boys than me-" you began, but he cut you off, not even letting you finish your sentence.

"Don't ever say that again," he said, his tone serious and almost warning.

He looked at you, sorry and almost angry. Because he was wondering who he was going to have to correct (annihilate) for having succeeded in making you think you weren't beautiful.

"Come here," he said, lifting you with ease to rest you on the sink while you were still wiping your cheeks. "Listen to me: Your body is not the reason I love you. I've fallen in love with your soul, your qualities and your flaws... even if I'm still trying to find the flaws."

You blew out a quick laugh from your nose, a tear running down your cheek as he brushed it away.

"It doesn't make you a failure, or undesirable, or ugly not to have the body of a celebrity on the cover of a magazine." he said softly as he kissed your cheek, his hand gently caressing your thigh. "Why should you worry about gaining weight?"

"Because it makes me ugly." you murmured, but he gripped your chin between his fingers so your eyes observed the truth in his.

"No, it doesn't make you ugly," he assured. "Even if you do gain weight, for me it's a given, because it always gives me more of you."

Your chin trembled slightly, and you bit the inside of your cheek.

"No matter how long it takes, I'll make you love yourself," he confirmed. "I don't care what you look like, I'll still love you."

You smiled, tears still gently flowing, Miguel coming to place both his hands on your cheeks to clear them. You let out a little laugh:

"Even if I was a worm?" you joked.

He smiled, sighing softly.

"Yes, even if you were a worm." he laughed, kissing your forehead before hugging you again.

"Lucky worm." you whispered, wrapping your arms around his back.

"Lucky me." he whispered against your hair, stroking it gently.

500 notes · View notes

for-parker · 9 months

Note

heard you were desperate for requests!

im oriented aroace and i'd LOVE to see a hobie x spider!reader where they're not dating or putting labels on it, they're just in a mutually loving and supportive symbiosis. everyone in the spiderverse keeps trying to figure out if they're in a relationship or not and are incredibly confused that hobie will straight up kiss the reader's neck and they'll give him massages at work but they refuse to say they're a couple

where you and hobie have the most loving connection, but don’t label it

hobie brown x gn!reader

u just like me fr i miss when u could platonically kiss people, was that just me ?

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader

requests: closed, im fucked rn

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

so you two have a completely unlabelled dynamic that benefits the both of you w the untethered love you can just casually give out without really giving a second thought

there might be something romantic, there might not be- you’re not naming it anything at all

it’s completely natural for the two of you to hold hands, kiss, comfort each other and generally just be there whenever the two of you need it

you’re not afraid of PDA, especially if hobie’s involved. you physically cannot shy away from PDA, the man simply won’t allow it

naturally, speculation will start over your guys’ relationship and the exact details

are you dating ? is it something less or more ? is this a prank ?

but those questions remain unanswered

hobie will either just shrug or say something along the lines of “we’re just there for each other,” or if he’s feeling a bit snarky he’s like “wouldn’t you like to know” but that fucker knows what you’ve got going on don’t got a label at all, just the way he likes it

again, you two will straight up just refuse to confirm or deny questions about your relationship- it no one’s business but yours and you both are completely comfortable remaining unlabelled but loving as fuck

cause why do we even need to label that at all ? stop limiting love u fucks

hobie views it as people tryna dictate your relationship sometimes and he just doesn’t give it the time of day

actual benefits of this dynamic ? spontaneous affection whenever you need it, words of affirmation.. hobie’s capable of being real loving i think

almost always has an arm around you, especially around spider society

within HQ there’s always an arm around your shoulder or maybe you guys hold hands, he likes to playfully tug you along with him just randomly while you hold hands

like you could literally just be following a group together and for some reason he’s pulling at your hand as if you’re walking the wrong way, y’know he’s smiling too while he does it

you two are probably way too comfortable around HQ, too

especially since you guys don’t really label your relationship as anything, so you don’t see why you should hide certain actions if they’re not inherently romantic, y’know ?

spider-people can literally find hobie chilling in ur lap just whenever in headquarters while he fixes his makeup or you fix it for him

you can swear on ur life it’s just a more practical way to do it, or that you’re just lending a hand

dozens of spider-people are so sure you’re dating, it’s split evenly down the middle

the other half just think ur gross and need to get a room

there’s probably one or two hobie x you fanatics out there (pav, it’s pav. probably peter b too, loves young love)

you guys don’t help your case when you get back from missions and hobie’s massaging your hands from swinging all day- if you’ve got organic webs he’s working away the kinks in your wrists too

hopefully he’s wearing a mask to hide that concentrated, idle look he’s wearing that’s somehow charming

the speculators are even further convinced when you’re eating one of those miguel burgers in the cafeteria and hobie appears from literally nowhere, bends down to kiss you on the side of your neck while he snatches some of your food and then walks off

daylight robbery

now everyone at the table is just perplexed, including you when you realise he just stole ur fucking chips

in meetings you two are fucking insufferable i just know it

if you’re more sensible, you can probably distract hobie by letting him draw on your hands during the meeting

if not, you two always sit together and are just so bothersome (ily)

plz stop snickering in the back miguel cant take this stress in his old age

naps around spider-society are top tier

make like a web hammock suspended from anything and you two are sharing it, out like a light

hobie loves it cause he’s simultaneously shitting on the establishment while he gets to bask in the comfort you two share

probably a community game about the locations people have found you guys slacking

loves it when he can come back from a mission and kiss you casually before telling you all about it, pulling you away from everyone else with an arm around your neck

you are not spared from his typical hobie-ness however, still preaches anarchism to you on the daily while saying the most outrageous punk statements like you guys don’t share a bed every other day

he just incorporated compliments into it somehow to be supportive

“you’d make a great anarchist” thanks man

miguel will claim you guys cause a hostile work environment and all hobie’s gotta say is “i don’t believe in hostile work environments” before walking off w you to go set a miguel burger on fire or smthn

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

if hobie drew on me i’m getting that shit tattooed i’m just sayin

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for-parker · 9 months

Note

(One thought before I gtb)

Sweet shy lil baby Miles (42) interrupting everything his lover says because he always has the urge to kiss them and, as much as he loves listening to them, their sentences always end up unfinished bc them n Miles are smoochin

damn ok i forgive you

HE WOULD GIGGLES

also he would so distract you from whatever you’re doing by trying to get your attention

no matter what it is

he’s obsessed i swear i swear

—

“Milds, baby, you doin’ ok—, Oh!”

A small peck was placed on your lips right as you turned, Miles staring down at you from his position, hands wrapped behind his back with tea cloth, tied together.

You had to tie them, considering the man couldn’t keep his hands to himself the entire time you’d been cooking.

So you wrapped them up, with him snarkily grinning at you, and sat him on a stool, telling him to wait patiently or one of you was going to get burned.

“Yeah, Chiquita, I’m good.”

You gave him a look, flashing the knife you still held in your hands and watching his smile widen at the sight of it.

“Go sit back down, whore.”

He snorted, stepping closer. Canines peaking from behind his lip and making his smile ever more charming.

“C’mon, I’m jus’ tryna help—.”

You flicked the knife, backing up as he followed, and watching him stop, a bemused expression dawning his features.

“You wouldn’t.”

The tip of the knife poked directly centre of his torso, his abs clenching at the feeling. He’s right, you wouldn’t. But when you slowly spun the (newly deemed) weapon, his shirt catching on the blade and twirling with it, he groaned into a chuckle — throwing his head back dramatically and backing up.

Miles grumbled under his breath, and sauntered back to his dedicated stool, shooting you a pouting look as he went.

“You’re no fun—,”

“Do you want me to burn the house down?”

“Girl on Fire, Rhianna again.”

“It was Beyoncé last time,”

“Answers yes either way, we die together, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

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for-parker · 9 months

Note

What’s your favorite fics to read over and over again

wow ok this is going to be a lot so sit back, relax, and enjoy the fics lol

(I feel like there is more but I can’t find them)

Bucky Barnes

ONE SHOTS:

Oral Fixation by @boxofbonesfic

Body talk by @boxofbonesfic

Merciless by @buckycuddlebuddy

At Least I’ll Have Me by @buckyxplumsss

There Has Been a Misunderstanding by @touchstarvedirl

Through the Year by @punani

You’re a What Now by @floatingpetals

To Build a Home by @fanficimagery (warning! you will fucking have a mental breakdown reading this. I sobbed for days)

What the Fuck Did You Do by @sunmoonandbucky

Clockwork by @aries-writingblog

Tell Me Which Is Worse (Living or Dying First) by @nightowlwriting

Torture by @just-dreaming-marvel

SERIES:

The Old man’s Grocery Order by @yarnforbrains

Something More by @tellmealovestory

It’s a Deal by @justreadingfics

Harmless by @shurisneakers

To Be a God Or a Hero by @spiderbitchspiderbitch

Nostalgia for the New by @real-jane

Appointments by @buckycuddlebuddy

The Price of Truth by @cloneswars

All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by @ursulaismymiddlename

3B by @softlybarnes

Bad Match by @justreadingfics

Your Hands Have Made Some Good Mistakes by @thenhewaswrongaboutme

In The Embers by @foreverindreamlandd

If I Could Fly by @buckyys-doll

None Like You by @bonky-n-steeb

Maple Syrup Memories by @kinanabinks

Spill It by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Couldn’t Be Me by @drunken-imagines

I Won’t Give Up by @christycurlswrites

It Never Ends by @chouettedubois

The Mess by @sanguineterrain

Henry Cavill

ONE SHOTS:

You & I by @buckyownsmylife

Command and Obey by @wanna-do-bad-things

Dumbass Cat by @angelic-kisses13

Achey Thighs by @jadegrey711

Leave Me, but Don’t Leave Me by @buckysgoldenheart

For Auld Lang Syne by @daydreaming-in-letters

Toss a Coin to Your Witcher by @mel-the-fangirl

SERIES:

The One With the One Night Stand by @angywritesstuff

The One With the Advent Calendar by @angywritesstuff

Geralt of Rivia

ONE SHOTS:

Sorry Not Sorry by @thefanbasewhore

Vixen by @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Leaving For Good by @cap-n-stuff

Jasker’s Plan by @anna-pixie

Sex Pollen by @clareguilty

A Jealous Man by @cap-n-stuff

Found by @kh-ael

Maneater by @thewritingdoll

SERIES:

Henry!Sherlock Holmes

ONE SHOTS:

Jealously by @cinebration

Emotionalism by @cinebration

What I mean by @cinebration

Impressed by @cinebration

It’s Alright Darling by @thebadboyfanclub

The Only Women by @writingfortoomanyfandoms

SERIES:

Richard Madden

ONE SHOTS:

Or Else My Heart Consealing It Will Break by @rocketrhap3000

Eternal(ly Yours) by @ikaris-whore

Fighting Temptation by @ikaris-whore

SERIES:

Snapshot by @beananacake

Ikaris

ONE SHOTS:

Regrets by @girl-of-many-fandoms

Try by @thatfangirl42

When You Love Something, You Protect It by @ashc-from-ao3

Dead By Deviants by @starshipsofstarlord

Cruel Lover by @defaulttwig

SERIES:

Savior by @beananacake

Wayward Devotion by @ava-kedavra

Chis Evens

ONE SHOTS:

SERIES:

The Prenup by @vannybarber

Ransom Drysdale

ONE SHOTS:

Say It by @stargazingfangirl18

SERIES:

I Trust[ed] You by @likeahorribledream

The Assistant by @trillian-anders

A List of Authors Whose Masterlist is Something I Binge Frequently

@agentofbarnes Masterlist

Zee’s AUs literally bring me to life. My favorites of hers is; The Barnes au, Hacker’s Heart au, Dewdrop au, and Young & Free au! But every single work in her masterlist is amazing and a must read!

@angrythingstarlight Masterlist

I fricking love Star’s writing! The amount of feels she makes me feel when I read her writing! My personal favorite is her Biker au. I love how everything connects with each other and the plot! The plot is amazing!

@wkemeup Masterlist

Ok, listen, call me overdramatic but Kas’s writing is a work of art. The way she develops characters, plots and how she connects everything together is amazing. You get sucked in the world that she wrote and can get lost in there forever. My personal favorites are Graveyard & Sacrifice,The Witness, By Any Other Name, Delicate Edges, Suburbia, Behind the storm, and that is just naming a few.

@pellucid-constellations Masterlist

Kathie’s writing style unique, I can read a fic without looking at the author’s name and know its her. Kathie has drawn me in with every single work she put out. It’s so hard to choose my favorite but I love it when she writes for college!au bucky. Everyone must check her out, literally reading her masterlist is part of my daily routine.

@metalbuckaroo Masterlist

My goodness, where do I start? Darcy first grabbed my heart with her series Sweet Pea but once I started I could not stop. Her writing is fun, entertaining, wholesome but she can also break your heart in a dozen of pieces; like with her two parter (soon to be three) fic For the Best. Another fic that I normally read first when I binge her masterlist is The Bet.

@babyboibucky Masterlist

Bee is an amazing writer. She almost always have the holy trinity (smut, fluff, and angst) I love every piece of writing she has done but my personal favorites of The Match and Project V.

@babycap Masterlist

Devon has amazing writing skills. I love how she takes shows/movies or books and create her own little story with it. She goes in depth with all the feels and makes me honestly tear up at times. Some of my favorites are Not Other Shade of Blue, Security Deposit, and Just a Glimmer.

@littlefreya Masterlist/Drabble Masterlist

I’m new to the Henry Cavill plus his characters fandom but one of the first writers I have ever read for Henry was @littlefreya. Her writing is fun and exciting. I always look forward to read her stuff. Plus her smut is a A+, in my book. I don’t think I can choose my favorites as I love everything on her masterlists.

@mcubrunette Masterlist

Almost immediately after I watched eternals I went and search for Ikaris x reader fics. Thats went I read Fly Baby for the first time and was memorized. Since then @mcubrunette has added more fics and I have been loving every single one. If you want your heart to squeal, this masterlist is the one for you.

@cruelfvkingsummer Masterlist

I fricking love Tia’s blog! Not only is her writing amazing but I am in love with her theme! Her masterlist is unique and really fun. But her writing is where its really at. The way she writes her story lines is phenomenal and I look forward for more to come.

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for-parker · 9 months

Text

“You’re our only hope.” 🥊

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for-parker · 9 months

Note

The end with them in her room and him at her door :') so perfect

miles deflecting is so GOOD he makes me ILL!!!!!! i love ur writing <3 do u think we cld have like a short continuation 4 it?

Deflecting on you.

42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“Would you hurt me?” “Never again.”

continuation to this C:

im infecting people with the 42!Miles propaganda cough cough 🗣️ ly2 pookie (also this is definitely not short)

A few days had passed now, and Miles had stayed his previous level of civil, bordering caring, with you.

He wasn’t glad with how easy he had let the two other kids get off. But when they were reduced to cowering forms in darkened corners whenever he was around, it brought a pinch of justice, pride to his chest. Although, James had a rather decent punishment, in his opinion.

Word had gone around that he’d gone insane, smashed his head against a desk in an old , deserted classroom until he’d passed out. Mangled his own skull, intended to stab someone, but couldn’t get up from the damage to his own self.

A tip to the cops surveying the scene, and the rumour was spread a little wider.

He had been wary with you, from the moment you both sat staring at the city life below you, in his bed.

In his room, his house with his Ma just outside. The domesticity of the moment making the ache in his lungs suffocate his heart. Squeezing and pumping out as much blood as it could, heart rate trying to keep up with the lack of air.

He’d thought back to it too often in the mere days since occurrence for him to simply brush it off, but he sure tried.

—

He tapped the rubber of his pencil along his desk, staring at the page below him. The words being said had been drowned out by his racing mind, something he fully knows would get him in trouble eventually for “lack of effort”. But it was maths, there wasn’t a single thing being told that he didn’t already know.

What had his current attention, was the faint sketch of you on his gridded paper. He hadn’t meant to draw it, he’d just—, spaces out and it was there when he snapped back.

Now he was at a standstill with himself, use the currently tapping eraser to get rid of the drawing, or live with the faint lines hidden between pages. It was obvious, rub it out. But the thing, the most difficult aspect—,

—Was how utterly gorgeous the drawing was.

How your hair framed the page, the shape of your eyes being shaded in led. The soft look you’d given him that night being practically pulled from his mind and placed on the cheap paper. He’d recreated it perfectly, he could feel the apprehension, the uncertainty.

But despite how bitter those words sounded, uncertainty was still consideration.

You were considering him. Not as an enemy, or a nuisance — as a stranger.

You can get to know a stranger.

You can get to know him.

Miles closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, rolling eyes at the hope rising in the back of his neck.

He flicked to the next page, promising to never open to it again.

If it ended up cut out of his book, folded neatly and stuffed in the hidden latch of his desk drawer, no one but him would know.

—

You hadn’t forgive him, of course you hadn’t — you’re not that naïve.

He hurt you, cause you an entire season of torment, sleepless night and stress filled days.

You tried to stay quiet, like you always had. Passing by crowds unnoticed and surfing under the noise with a cotton stuffed ear.

And he’d started a ruining of that.

Trying not to draw attention to yourself, despite him so clearly trying to put you in spotlight.

This whole ordeal was a domino effect from that damn kaleidoscope, and he was just another finger flicking the next tile.

Until he wasn’t.

And he’d near killed a man for you. Taken care of you, feared for your life.

He’d found you, from nothing but a gut feeling.

The way he would stare now, was less vindictive. His gaze no longer that of anger but of a man conflicted. Like he couldn’t tell what to think of you.

You lay over your ruffled sheets, quilt and bedding under you to not overheat yourself. You window was wide open, airing out your humid room. The soft sway of leaves sprouting from the vines crawling over your building was pleasant. Digging their roots in the crevices of your window sill like Miles had been digging into the crevices of your mind.

You put a hand over your head, stretching your back up and listening the the crack that came from it.

Dropping back down and huffing, you continued to watch your ceiling in mild disinterest, trying desperately to reach the essence of sleep, and let the way Miles’ lips curled into a smirk fall from your mind.

He hadn’t realised it, but his small rebuttal to your teasing that night in his room had made a permanent statement in your head, no longer able to forget about it.

“No, just you —,” Your mind hadn’t cared to supply the rest.

Every single thing about that scarring night had burned its way into your temporal lobe. Like giving it a searing kiss with memory stained lipstick.

A small clicking had caught your attention, like fingernails tapping glass. The clinks were rhythmic, had the coordination of a spiders legs.

Your focus on the plain ceiling was now broken, a curiosity replacing it.

You approached the open window without caution, Moonlight spilling through the glossy panes. Placing your hands on the sill, you leaned forward, and felt the small rush of wind over your shoulders, the breeze cooling your heated face. An urge to close your eyes and take it in almost over-reigned that new curiosity, but your self preservation thought better of it. Checking left and right either side as if someone was going to be waiting right there for you. Because that was a completely rational and not at all ludicrous thought. You scoffed to yourself, glancing at the skyline with glistening eyes before turning and heading back inside, to finally — maybe, fall asleep.

—

Miles released a quiet breath, braids swaying from his suspended position hanging from a rooftop. Your rooftop, of your building—.. Where he was watching you. It was coincidence, really. That somehow, running from guys he stole a cure his Momma needed for a patient from. And when grappling from building to building, using clips and hooks and zip lines to get away from them, he’d stumbled into your street.

He’d lie to himself and say it was just the street his Ma’s favourite Paella was made, but the one time he’d seen you, exhausted from school—, drag yourself into an apartment across the street from that very place..

His opinion hadn’t changed, so to speak. But there was an added motive, that’s it.

And he’s hiding, it’s not his fault if your apartment is high up. Or his need to see you is growing at alarming rates, or his heart was beating so loud in his ears that he hadn’t heard you approach the window.

So when your fingers had softly scraped along the sill of your window, he’d pulled himself above you — and prayed you wouldn’t look up.

You hadn’t, thankfully.

He’d watched the way your skin had shone under the city lights, your features illuminated and accentuated by the chaos the streets. You were so unbothered—, so calm, even amidst everything he (and everyone else) had put you through.

Like a stubborn stone keeping the whole wall from collapsing.

His admiration for you had grown, not only from the past months — which he realises is slightly sadistic — but from your tenderness that had only lasted mere minutes. Even the glimpse of a softer you, not the one covered in a satiated rage, hands squeezing lemons until the bitterness dripped not from the fruit broken skin, but from your own. The sting of acid only making your bloodied finger feel more justified.

Not that.

What he saw was a woman free of woes, no need to split her skin when her heart was already so vulnerable.

And he craved for a mere glimpse of that again.

Like old, your anger had satisfied him. Gave him those doses of you he’d fiend for, and had excited him to no end. Now, he’s found something stronger.

He can’t let you go.

He watches you scoff at yourself, his mask retracting from his face. You look towards the city’s edge one last time before turning and making your way back inside.

He sighs, adjusting his position on the buildings ledge, and grabs the waterspout running the side of the building, crawling back to the shadows.

His claws clink, like nails tapping glass.

—

There wasn’t a day of peace in the last fortnight.

You were still suffering the effects of your previous injuries. People knowing that something had gone down between you and James, seeing as he hadn’t showed up in two weeks. And the near-healed bruises on your face were a well indicator of your involvement.

So when you stumbled upon Keith, someone you’d basically owed your still-intact-body too, scrambling out of an alley. Bloodied and bruised, nose broken and face almost as busted as your was that day. Safe to say you weren’t exactly confused to what was happening.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours almost eerily fast, the blood from his nose coating his teeth a deep crimson. A sick chill ran down your spine and you stumbled back. A wet gasp for breath was heard, diverting your attention towards its gruesome origin.

Turning your body towards the darkened alley, vision blurring at the edges. Your breath escaped you.

Keith had started speaking, and over the ringing in your ears he’d begged for your forgiveness, scraping his knees while he clawed to get away from his friends continuous spluttered coughing.

“What—..”

Mathew was lying on the floor, avidly trying to protect himself using only his bare hands. While a figure you could only see the back of punched in a strict, repeated pattern — like they’d done this before.

“Miles?”

The man whipped his head towards you, blood dripping down a cut on his cheekbone, and a snarl over his face.

Said contortion quickly smoothened out, a rather *confronted look replacing it.

Keith was long gone by now, having dragged his bloodied body away from whatever mess you were now a part of.

“Chiquita, don’t freak out.”

The way your lungs seemed to refuse oxygen kind of refuted that command.

You were frozen still, eyes stuck on the barely conscious body beneath the subject of your recent intrigue.

Mathew was barely recognisable, eyes puffed up in bruises and bloodied flesh. Miles had taken near no damage compared to the other men.

“[Name], c’mon.” He was getting up now, shuffling off his opponent with a tone of apprehension.

Only when his movement shifted your frozen eyes, did you see the key details you’d missed.

Braids, Nikes, Jacket, Collar, Claws.

A spray painted logo you’d only ever seen one man branding.

The Prowler.

"No te precipites, Ma."

“Don’t act rash, Ma.”

Right as the endearment left his mouth, you turned on your heel and ran.

"[Name], Por dios — quedate aquí."

“[Name]! Oh my god — stay there.”

He waved nonchalantly to the definitely not-going-anywhere boy on the floor. Shifting his foot back and jumping at a wall, claws digging in and gripping the ledge to the roof, swinging himself over it and keeping the momentum in a run.

Darting through corner stalls and confused pedestrians, you tripped over yourself to get away.

A strong, persistent mantra of ‘Holy fuck.’ was circling through the forefront of your mind, and yet everything else was hyper aware.

Not a fault in your step as your grace seemed to come out in times of dire panic, like a dancer following their cues, every movement made around you was an instructors yell.

You turned into the alley leading to your apartment, a shortcut, when you heard someone drop down behind you. You spun around, fast enough to dizzy yourself, and gave one look to the neon mask of the vigilante before going to run again. A small noise of panic escaped your shaking form.

“No corras, por favor!”

“Don’t run, please!”

Your heart beat fast, reaching the door to your apartment complex, swiping your key card and launching yourself inside, the scuffle of shoes being heard just outside the slammed shut door.

“Please, [Name], let me in. We can talk this out, Ma.”

Miles begged, knocking on the complexs’ back door.

"They were gonna jump you, [Name].”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your voice came out shaking, confused and *scared. You’d known he’d been capable of violence. It was adamant in the way he wouldn’t flinch at a hit, or the scars that coated his exposed skin.

But this? A man who’s killed people? Who was going to do it again had you not been a witness.

“I—“ You whined, voice giving out and tears finally breaking the surface of your waterline. “I’ve seen you—,” The back of your head hit the metal door and you sobbed silently. “,—On the news.”

Outside the thin steel, Miles sighed, guilt weighing his chest down heavy. He got sloppy, and paid the price. His anger, rage toward these men. And what they’d planned to do to you — he’d say it was justified. You’d say it was monstrous.

“You kill people, Miles.”

His heart broke at the tone of your voice, the quiet sniffles and shortened sobs. The way your voice cracked and broke under the pressure of your open heart.

“Ma, I—“

“I don’t wan’ hear it.”

His hands rest on the cooled metal, forehead pressing against it as he sighed.

“Please let me in.”

“I can’t.”

“[Name]. Chiquita, por favor.”

He’d begged, ready to get on his knees and stand out in the 40° (104°) heat, and wait until you opened the door. Even if it took days.

Although,

“I’ll break in.”

“Wha—,” you cut yourself off in a sobbing laugh, rubbing at your tear tracked face. “Miles, That’s not a very good bargaining chip.”

He smiled, closing his eyes and loving the sweetened tone you held. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of the Prowler.

“‘Made you laugh.”

His accent thickened over the words, dragging them out in a rasping hush. Something only for you to hear.

Your resolve was breaking, lungs slowing to a calmed lull as the adrenaline left your body. You didn’t break though— couldn’t.

“I can’t—,” You looked to the ceiling of your apartment’s ground floor, standing in an empty back room. “,—You’re not good, Miles.”

“You helped them, before.” Your brows furrowed, not of anger, but of betrayed desperation.

“You.. You just watched—“

“I know, baby, I know.”

He opened his eyes again, staring at the door like it had attacked you.

“Go upstairs, yeah?”

“Why—“

“Just go on, Ma.”

You huffed out a slow breath, fight draining from your being. You wanted to yell, to scream at him how wrong of a man he was. How he couldn’t risk everything he had for you, not now. Not as the estranged people you were.

You wanted to show the anger you never could, reach that brink of anguish until you’d finally given him what he’d wanted since your moment of meeting. But he no longer wanted that.

He’d always wanted you to break, now he just wants you.

“Okay.” You were breathless and tired, coerced.

He lifted his head quickly, hands splayed against cooled metal curling into fists, an excitement running through him like that of a promise.

—

A minute later you were opening the door to your apartment, and locking it behind you. Anxiously making your way to your bedroom, worried to see what was inside, When you stepped inside, you weren't exactly surprised when your eyes landed on Miles' face, what had surprised you though — was that he was hanging off your window sill with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Now will you let me in?" His voice muffled through the glass and you breathed out a quick gasp, "You— Miles, get down!"

"Down?" He smirked, letting one of his hands drop from the wooden sill. "Oh my god!"

You rushed towards your window, discarding your phone on your bed carelessly. You slid your window up, as Miles laughed, swaying from his one hand. "Jesus Miles— are you trying to kill yourself?!"

He crawled through and you grabbed his free hand, dragging him inside. "Get—.. get." Giving up on your scolding half way through, you quickly ushered him towards your bed and turned to close your window.

"When you said 'Go up.' I didn't think yo—"

"I'm sorry.'

Your hands were left floating above your windowsill, shaking in still air. Miles had come up behind you, hands resting over your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. His face lowered towards your ear voice dipping with it.

"I know you're mad— hate me, all that. 'S okay. I know—,"

He slowly moved his arms further around your waist, watching your breath hitch and the feel of your pulse under the blow of his breath.

",—And I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you."

"You don't hate anyone."

You relaxed into his hold, tears brimming forth again.

"You keep—" "Scaring you." "Yeah." He dragged his left hand down, trailing his fingers over the skin of your arms and watching as the bumps rose along your flesh. You were entrancing.

"Are you scared now, Mami?" He grabbed your wrist in a gentle hold, swiping his bloodied thumb over your smooth skin. Your hand twitched, and his thumb stopped.

"No." You flipped your hand into his, linking your fingers together, careful to not agitate his bruises.

"Would you hurt me?" He reciprocated, closing his fist over your own, the flick of pain felt like nothing— not when the aching in his chest was finally being calmed.

"Never again."

—

DUDE MY PHONE IS FUCKING BROKEN LOLLL

no ending image today im on my laptop (fucking cries)

translator (bbg) @sataraxia

taglist!! @red-riot-rat , @stvrfir3 , @erensbbg , @umawooma , @wisteriaflowersss , @inejsknifes , @meowsannie , @manduse , @rainy-darling , @riya1161 , @key-zee , @toasttew , @em711 , @starsval , @gemma42 , @lovelymiaablogs

#miles morales x reader #spiderverse x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles x reader #earth42!miles x reader #earth42!miles #miles morales x you #miles g #miles morales my beloved

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