#astv x y/n

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷  Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷  Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”

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[allysunny]

Can you do a Miguel x spoil pregnant wife. Ever since he found out about the pregnancy he's been overprotective and making sure his wife is spoiled and happy 😁

Catering to You ! Miguel x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Words: 3.0k

Warnings: Fluff! Tooth-rotting sweetness, truly! But in the end there's a bit of NSFW (it has a warning before!) Spanish translations are at the end, as always!

A/N: Hello!! I'm honestly so in love with this idea because we all know Miguel would be the most amazing husband, and would break his back doing everything he could to spoil his pregnant wife. I loved writing this!

Also, a small warning before you read, I got a little carried away and wrote a small NSFW section at the end. I know I said I wouldn't write it, and I also know that you did not request it, so I'm going to add that after a warning, and you're free to not read that part! It does not ruin the flow of the fic, nor add anything else, it's just that I personally felt like writing it, and you don't need to read it if you don't want to!!!

But for those who do read that - please be kind! It's my first every writing anything smut related, so please don't judge too harshly!

No because we all know this man would be soooo protective!

When you told him you were pregnant, he was over the moon. Went the whole nine yards, got down on his knees, kissed your stomach, lifted you off your feet and spun you around in the air, professed his undying love for you over and over again until you were both crying, and you could not tell where his tears began and your ended.

And from that moment on, you never lifted a finger ever again.

The End!

I’m joking – but seriously, he would be adamant in not letting you lift a finger.

No more chores for you.

“Miguel, I’m pregnant, not disabled!” You’d try to reason with him, but he’d just mock your pout and kiss your forehead.

“Sorry, mi amor. But I can’t allow it.” Then, he’d be peppering your face with kisses until you had no choice but to relent.

One time, he caught you cleaning the floors and he wasn’t happy.

“How many times do I have to tell you, chiquita, you don’t have to do anything. Just sit there and relax your pretty self, ¿si? Can’t have you making any efforts, our baby needs to rest.” He would say, picking you up and setting you down on your couch.

Don’t worry, after a few weeks of pleading and telling him you’d be careful, he would give in. I mean, how could he not, when you were looking so gorgeous in front of him, glowing, even? He would do anything to make you happy, and if doing a couple of easy enough chores around the house keeps a smile on your face, he’d be damned if he didn’t agree.

Once your pregnant belly started to show, he was in cloud nine.

You want to tell me that he gets to look at you – everyone gets to look at you and immediately know that you belonged to him? That the life growing inside of you was his child? It made him feral.

Everywhere you guys went, he’d be there, proudly showing you off. Smiling gratefully as old women on the street complimented your looks, giving his own two cents on why your beauty is timeless, and how you seem to get more gorgeous with each day that passes.

When you start worrying about your weight, he makes sure to remind you that he is crazy about you, and that you are stunning. He’ll run his hands over the skin of your thighs, fingertips silently promising what words cannot express, while his lips are pressed against your neck, whispering praises in your name.

“How could you even think that?” He would ask, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss. “You’re so gorgeous, mi amor. You’re carrying our child inside of you, that is… coño, that is miraculous. Have you thought about it? You and I created a child. Your body is nursing a life. That is beautiful.” And then he’d be kissing you and you would forget why you were upset in the first place.

Miguel would be the most attentive husband, for sure.

The moment he saw you uncomfortable, or in pain, he’d be all over you, asking if there was anything he could do to help soothe your pain. You know when husbands hold onto their wife’s bellies to carry their weight and help them relax? Miguel would do that; he would just stop anything he was doing to walk over to you and carry the weight of your belly.

When your feet were swollen and hurt, he’d guide you to the couch, place your pretty legs over his lap and massage your feet to provide some relief. He’d even go as far as applying some oils and creams, to make the experience extra nice.

“My princesa deserves the best,” Would be his reasoning.

And don’t get me started on your cravings.

You’d been fidgeting on the couch for a few minutes now. Looking at the tv, immersed in your silly show, but visibly uncomfortable. You’d sigh and hum to yourself, casting weary glances at Miguel. These silly pregnancy cravings would be the death of you, but even though Miguel had always been a very doting husband, you didn’t want to bother him any further.

However, nothing could go unnoticed by this man. He had been observing you for a while, eyeing you curiously. What was on your mind?

He could let this silly game go on for a while longer, but the urge to aid you was way stronger; he couldn’t help himself, he had to make sure all was okay.

“Is everything alright, cariño?” In a heartbeat, he was sitting next to you on the couch, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach.

“Yeah, mhm,” You’d try to lie, but who were you trying to fool? Miguel knew you like the back of his hand, he knew when something was amiss. You couldn’t lie to him, not like this.

“Are you sure? You look awfully uncomfortable. Come on, tell me. ¿Qué pasa?” With soft caresses and a velvet-like voice, Miguel knew exactly how to coax an answer out of you.

You looked away for a few moments, slightly embarrassed. Miguel wouldn’t shame you, absolutely not. And he wouldn’t get upset – that’s out of the question. Ever since the beginning of your pregnancy, he’s been the poster child of “helpful”. So when you mumble that you need his help, he nods dutifully and places a soft finger on your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Hey, it’s alright. You know I’m here for you. What’s wrong?” He would ask, kindness and devotion spilling from his eyes. You saw all of the love this man had for your small family right in this little moment.

“I… I’m…”

“¿Si?”

“I… I’m really craving pickles and strawberry jam!” You blurted out, relief washing over you. It felt so nice to say you. You really wanted pickles and strawberry jam – no. You needed pickles and strawberry jam. You were positive you were going to die if you didn’t get your hands on both things right this moment.

Miguel stared at you comically, stifling a chuckle.

“Pickles and strawberry jam?” He repeated, hand leaving your chin to rest on your stomach again.

“Shit – Miggy, I will love you forever; but please get me some pickles and strawberry jam! I would kill for a sandwich of pickles and jam, I will kill for a sandwich of pickles and jam!” You kept babbling about this odd combination, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Please, please, please, I’m begging you, my love.”

And he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were looking so pretty, bottom lip jutting out in the most adorable pout, eyes wide and hands on top of his. Miguel kissed your forehead, lips still forming a teasing smile.

“I’ll be right back.”

In around 20 minutes, you were happily sitting on your couch with a tray in front of you. Jars of pickles (that your husband lovingly opened for you after you begged him) and of strawberry jam (that your husband also opened, because you just looked so adorable when you pouted) were on top of it, slices of bread stacked on top of a plate as you happily created what to Miguel was the most monstrous sandwich he’d ever seen.

But you looked so content, that could brush aside the fact this meal looked like an abomination.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you Miggy! This is delicious!” You chirped, fingers covered in jam and mouth full.

It wasn’t the only time Miguel had to help soothe your weird taste in food, no doubt caused by those pesky pregnancy hormones.

“Miggy, would you bring me that nice tomato soup you make and the gummy bears?”

“Honey, I’m really craving some spaghetti right now – but not with the tomato sauce, will you please bring me the chocolate topping?”

“Do we have any sardines? I wanna dip them in whipped cream so badly…”

“Oh darling, I would just die for a few nachos with cream cheese. Will you get them for me? Please?”

Upon hearing these strange requests, Miguel would just laugh and happily oblige. He understood your body was going through a million things at the moment, and the least he could do was try to make this pregnancy easier on you. Even if it meant gathering the most eccentric of ingredients to cook what in his humble opinion could be considered ghastly.

But once again, it made you smile. You looked so happy, and you were glowing, and there was nothing Miguel wouldn’t do for you.

Speaking of hormones, we need to address your mood swings.

Miguel considers himself a rather stable person. He’s able to maintain a professional front at HQ, and keep his emotions out of his job, and stay calm – most of the times.

Which is why seeing you go through a flurry of different emotions in the span of a few hours threw him off guard the first time it happened.

One day, while you happily sat on your balcony while reading a book, you spotted a bluebird nest, which fascinated you. You watched them contentedly, the mother bird feeding her children, chirping, and nuzzling against their feathers.

It was a lovely sight.

And then, Miguel, who by then had been doing the dishes, was startled by the sound of your sobs. He rushed to the balcony to find you hiding your face in your hands, wailing loudly – and because of what, he had no idea.

“Cariño, what’s wrong?” He tried prying your hands away, but to no avail. You kept hiding from the world.

In between choked sobs, you managed to speak a few broken words.

“T-The bird! He, he c-can’t fly!” You cried even louder, pressing squeezing your face tightly against his chest.

“¿Perdón?” He was dumbfounded. The bird? What bird? And what did you mean, he couldn’t fly? “Darling, I can’t understand what you mean. Will you please look at me?”

It’s okay. He’s patient.

Slowly, you look up towards him, and the sheer confusion mixed with patience and devotion just made you bawl even louder. Now Miguel was getting worried. What had gotten into you?

“Take your time, honey. But please, do tell me what is wrong. How can I help?”

You sniffled a few times, wiping your tears on the sleeve of your shirt.

“T-The bird!”  You pointed to the nest and Miguel followed your finger. That’s when he spotted the little family of birds that graced your balcony. “H-He can’t fly! The ba-baby bird is s-struggling to fly!”

Okay, so.

Is Miguel an understanding person? Towards you, always.

Does he love you unconditionally and would never make fun of you in a way that would hurt your feelings? Never. That’s out of the question.

Is he amused by the situation unfolding in front of him? Very much.

In fact, it takes every bone in his body not to hunch over himself laughing.

It doesn’t work out entirely.

Miguel hugs you against him, chuckling tenderly.

“Oh, mi amor… It’s only natural. It’s a part of nature, that little bird will eventually learn how to fly.” He says in a gentle voice, catching your hand in his and caressing it.

“B-But he can’t fly now!” You wept, shaking your head. In your emotional state, the sight of a baby bluebird struggling to lift its wings and fly was heartbreaking. How could mother nature be so cruel?

“But he will learn. His mother will teach him, and he will learn, and one day, he’s going to be the most graceful bird, flying in the skies of Nueva York.” When he finished talking, you looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. How beautifully they sparkled in the afternoon sun.

“He will?”

“Sí, cariño. He will.” Miguel dipped down to catch your lips in a tender kiss. You kissed him just as delicately, trailing your hand up to his jaw. Your fingerprints left a pathway of sparkles and magic in their wake, making Miguel wish he would never let go.

These emotional outbursts happened at the most random times.

One day, you spotted a heart-shaped stone on the pavement and teared up. That moment, you turned to your husband and hugged him tightly, proclaiming your love for him, and appreciating all he did for you. In return, Miguel kissed you on the tip of your nose, softly, as if you’d break were he to apply more pression and vowed to love you eternally.

Sometimes, you’d burst out laughing at the silliest things.

While watching a movie, the lead character uttered the word “butt”.

For a few 30 minutes, you’d laughed and laughed and laughed, swearing you’d never heard anything as funny as the word “butt” being spoken by the actor on the screen.

When you got angry, you got angry.

Someone littered on the street? Miguel would have to hold you back from following the person and lecturing their brains out. You’d always been quite feisty, but this pregnancy brought out the fearlessness in you even more.

And let’s not forget that time when a woman tried to flirt with your husband at the supermarket, while you had gone to fetch some of your most recent craving (ketchup and watermelon). The audacity! The woman giggled and twirled her hair, while Miguel tried to politely reject her advances.

When the woman reached out to touch his arm (an action that made Miguel frown and take a step back), you figured that was the last straw. You knew Miguel to be faithful – he’d never dare to cheat on you, not even in his dreams. Your love was the kind of love seen in movies, in fairytales – everlasting and true.

Before your husband could say a word, you stepped right in front of you.

“Do you want anything?” 

You didn’t care about coming off as rude, all you cared about was putting this cheeky woman in her place.

“Yes, I was just – I was speaking with this man right here. Is there a problem?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Considering this man right here is married to me,” You lifted your left hand, giving the woman a glance of your wedding ring. “And definitely not interested, I would say that, yes, there is a problem. So if you could just turn around and leave him alone, since he’s clearly not interested, that would be very much appreciated.”

The woman gawked at you, mouth agape. She looked like a fish!, you later commented with your husband. She even tried opening and closing her mouth a few times, but to no avail. She was truly speechless.

So, you held onto your husband’s arm (who by now was shamelessly snickering) and left.

Miguel could clearly see you were fuming! You kept going on and on about how shameless the woman was, how you could definitely take her on a fight if you weren’t pregnant, how he was too handsome and shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house because men and women everywhere drooled at the sight of him –

It was endearing, to say the least. Sure, he liked to protect you and make sure everyone knew you were irrevocably his, but he would be lying if he said his gorgeous wife being overprotective of him wasn’t a sight that made his heart skip (and his pants tighten. As soon as you two got home, he was all over you).

Your anger could be triggered by anything – a broken plate, someone chewing too loud, people running on the street, etc.

You were like a ticking bomb!

But to Miguel, all of that made your pregnancy much more special.

It made his chest swell to know he was the one you went to when you craved something, when you were feeling sad, or when your anger boiled. It made him incredibly happy to know he was the one you trusted, and that he was able to share these precious moments with you.

Overall, Miguel would be the bestest, most amazing, most caring, most fantastic husband ever. He would dote on you 25/8, always making sure you felt comfortable and happy. And he would be oh so proud and happy to be by your side, so thankful the world granted him a chance to have a family, a real family, to love and cherish forever. He would fantasize about your future child with you, when it was late at night and the world was sleeping and promise you both the world.

Because let’s be honest, Miguel would do anything – and I mean anything for his family.

NSFW Section Ahead - Read at your own risk!

This man would become even more obsessed with you and your body.

You were rounder, plumper, thicker, and while sometimes it made you self-conscious at times, to him, it just meant he had more of you to love. You looked so… So his. Every time he looked at you, he’d be driven by this primal urge to have you.

The mere sight of you made him drool, no matter where you were or what you were doing. Making dinner? He was hugging you from behind, hands creeping underneath your shirt to caress your swollen breasts.

Watching tv? He was by your side, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and kissing your breath away.

When you attended early parenthood classes, he couldn’t help but stare at you throughout most of the lesson, picturing how pretty you would look on top of him, a moaning and writhing mess.

He would have you reclined, propped up on multiple pillows and pregnancy cushions in order not to strain your back and cause any pain or discomfort for you or the baby, legs spread as he eagerly lapped at your folds. Your hands would be on his hair, tugging, pushing and pulling and you mumbled incoherent sentences.

“Miggy, ‘s too much…” You’d babble mindlessly, sweat sticking to your forehead. He’d just rewarded you your… fourth? Fifth? Orgasm of the night, and you were sure he wasn’t intent on stopping.

“Shh, cariño, don’t worry,” Would be his response, muffled by the obscene sounds he made while he soothed your aching heat with his fingers. “Just one more, ¿si? One more f’me bonita, I know you can take it, please, you’re so good f’me… Is that okay? Will you let me?” And then he would look at you with those lust-blown eyes…

How could you deny him, when he treated you so well?

Spanish Translations

Chiquita - It's an endearment term, like "cutie", little one, little lady, etc ¿Si? - Yes? Mi amor - My love Coño - Shit, or fuck Cariño - Dear, sweetheart, it's an endearment term as well ¿Qué pasa? - What's wrong? ¿Perdón? - Excuse me?

A/N: I hope you liked it! Again, I'm really sorry for adding the NSFW part when you did not request it. I hope you don't mind that I did it - it just felt very natural to show this side of Miguel with a pregnant reader. I'm sure that he would be very intent on showing his love and appreciation physically as well as verbally! <3

Thank you for the amazing request! Have a nice day! :)

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #astv x y/n #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel atsv

[primaviva]

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gwen has been acting distant lately. first, she started taking longer to reply to your texts, then she became less responsive to your calls, and now you hardly get to see your girlfriend at all. every time you do manage to talk, it feels like she's dreading something yet to come. it's starting to seem pretty obvious to you that gwen doesn't want to be in a relationship with anymore. and maybe you're not too far off from the truth. can she make it up to you though?

WARNING/NOTES: heavy angst with comfort at the end, relationship issues/mentions of breaking up, emotionally unstable and struggling gwen who’s in need of some love, heavy making out and romantic frustration, parents gonna be parents, nothing nasty she’s a minor yall please !! also this isn’t spell checked or grammar checked much it’s too long for allat ENJOY THO

gwen had been distant for a while.

so much has been happening lately in her life, you know that. it’s like she's struggling to keep up with everything life throws at her. every day, gwen just seems more exhausted, drained, and down in the dumps. you can see this look of sadness and hopelessness in her eyes whenever you catch a glimpse of her. you always used to be the one to cheer her up, and she'd even call you her favorite girl. but now, whenever you try to comfort her, talk to her, or even get close, she just avoids it all. it's not just suspicion anymore, it's real worry. the doubts began to creep in. are you not doing enough? did she lose interest? hell, you've even wondered if she found someone else who's more adaptable to her life, even better than you.

but at the end of the day, you just missed her. you found yourself reaching for the clothes she had given you more frequently, slipping into her shirts as you settled into bed or donning her hoodies when stepping out, just like you were doing at that very moment. it was as if her clothes held the power to bridge the distance between you, it always made you feel close to her even when she wasn’t around.

today, you had a list of errands to run, prompted by a last-minute text from your guardians, urging you to pick up essential groceries for the week. as you inhaled deeply, gwen's hoodie enveloped you with her essence. the scent of lavender and vanilla mingled with a hint of something sweet and leathery. it was a fragrance that encapsulated her very

presence, intensifying your ache for her.

it didn’t take long for you to get to the market and pick up what you needed. but as you were heading out, something caught your eye.

it was spiderwoman, gwen, perched on top of a building, looking completely exhausted. she looked tired, like she had just finished thwarting a local crime. the building wasn’t too tall, so you knew she would be able to hear you.

“hey, spider! feels i haven’t seen you in forever,” you shouted up at her, causing her to look down with a startled expression etched on her mask.

“oh uh, hi. i didnt expect to see you. what brought you around?” she questioned, surprise apparent in her tone.

“what? i’m not allowed to go grocery shopping outside my house?” you teased, but it seemed she took it seriously. “sorry… i didn’t mean it like that.”

“i know, gwen,” you reassured her with a small smile, but it faded as you studied her face. the corners of her usual smile when she saw you were drooping. it was as if your presence brought her a sense of dread, and it only deepened the heaviness in your heart. why were you causing her to feel this way?

“hey, um… i can take you home if you want. it's safer that way,” gwen suggested, hopping down from the building and walking towards you. she didn't even meet your gaze; it was like she physically couldn't. her eyes darted to the ground. “oh? how protective of you.”

gwen simply nodded, taking the groceries from you and holding them herself. she wrapped her arm around your waist, and together, you swung through the city back to your place. the wind brushed against your face, your clothes fluttering in the breeze. you glanced up at her, expecting her to look at you with her usual playful smile, teasing you about how fast she swung. but she didn't. she stared ahead, her eyes distant. even behind her mask, you could sense the strain in her eyes, as if she carried an unyielding burden on her shoulders. you could feel her gaze, sensing her stealing glances at you from the corner of her eye. in those stolen moments, she absorbed your beauty, your caring nature, and your love for her, which only made what she was about to do hurt even more. her heart ached.

"is everything okay?" you asked, concern lacing your voice as you tried to gauge where her head was at. however, she remained quiet, completely ignoring you as you drew closer to your destination. sensing her withdrawal, you decided to shift back into the uncomfortable silence and sounds of new york. "let's just focus on getting you home, okay?"

her lack of response only deepened the sense of unease within you. you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was troubling her, something she wasn't ready to share. it was as if a barrier had formed, isolating her from you, and it pained you to witness her distance.

before you knew it, you arrived at your place. she safely dropped you off inside and handed you the grocery bag. gwen turned to leave, but you quickly grabbed her hand. she was about to walk away, without saying a word to you.

“can you stay? just for a little?” you asked, your voice carrying a heartfelt plea. holding onto her hand, you gently tugged, motioning for her to come inside.

as she stepped through the doorway, her tall figure lowered, and then rose again. an anxious air filled the room, and you couldn't help but feel your heart race. she stood there, looking down at you, her face still obscured by the mask, but you could sense her deep ocean eyes staring right into yours. it was as if the weight of unspoken words lingered between you, begging to be acknowledged.

for a moment that felt like an eternity, the silence enveloped you both. the intensity of the unspoken emotions hung in the air, and you wondered if she would finally let the walls around her heart crumble.

as the silence lingered between you, gwen finally spoke, her voice carrying a tinge of detachment. "alright, i can stay for a little bit," she conceded, her words lacking their usual warmth. gwen took her mask off and leaned against your wall, and it looked as if she hated every minute that was going to come. she attempted to bridge the gap by asking generic questions, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. "so, how was your day? anything interesting happen?"

but the tension became too much for you to bear. frustration welled up inside you, and you couldn't suppress it any longer. “gwen, please, we need to talk,” you announced firmly, your voice tinged with a mix of concern and exasperation. you needed to confront her about her behavior, to understand what was truly troubling her.

gwen's eyes widened slightly, and a flicker of apprehension crossed her face while her body suddenly tensed. you haven’t even asked her anything yet and her body language already betrayed the inner turmoil she was trying to hide.

"what's really going on with you?" you pressed, your voice filled with a mixture of frustration and concern. "first, you started spending less and less time with me. then you stopped texting, and eventually, you stopped calling altogether. you're being so distant, and i can't understand why. i don't even see you anymore. gwen, talk to me, please."

gwen took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly as she responded, "i... i don't know. i've been struggling lately, and it's just been a lot, okay?"

your heart ached, feeling the weight of her words and sensing the depth of her pain. but you couldn't let her vague answer slide. the frustration bubbled up within you, pushing you to make your own feelings known. "no, gwen, it's not okay, miss me with that!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with desperation. "you can't keep being vague and shutting me out. we can't expect this relationship to work if you won't let me in. i know you, and i can tell when you're hurting. when you're struggling, i want to be there for you, but you don't let me. why? i just want to be there for you, to see you, and you refuse to let me!"

the words hung in the air, the tension between you palpable. before you could reach out to comfort her, gwen's next words burst forth with unexpected force, as if they had been bottled up inside her for far too long. "well, maybe we need to break up!"

her words hit you like a sudden blow, knocking the wind out of you. the intensity and impulsiveness of her statement took you aback, leaving you momentarily speechless. in truth, it startled you. her voice raised involuntarily, the words tumbling out before she could fully process them. it was as if she had unintentionally unleashed the bottled-up thoughts she so desperately tried to keep from you. but as the shock subsided, a surge of determination coursed through you. you couldn't let her push you away without a fight.

"no, gwen, we can't just throw it all away like that," you responded, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and resolve. "i refuse to believe that breaking up is the answer. we've faced challenges before, we're a team, remember? we can work through this, but we need to communicate, to be honest with each other. don't give up on us so fucking easily,” you spoke, but it sounded like a demand for her not to just dispose of everything you both have.

silence hung heavy in the air.

gwen's fists clenched as she leaned against the wall, her back turned to you. "i'm sorry, but i can't continue like this with you," she said, her voice filled with a mix of determination and sorrow. "the city needs me, and i can't prioritize you the way you deserve."

she turned to face you, her hands gesturing passionately as she tried to explain herself. "i'm spider-woman, and this is who i am. it gives me a sense of purpose, a responsibility to protect people. but it also means my life is in chaos, torn between so many different obligations. breaking up is the best way to protect both of us from hurt."

gwen can't stand arguments, and the thought of hurting you crushes her. she knows she'll never love anyone as much as she loves you, but she's stuck and unsure about what to do. her life feels like a total mess, with a million things pulling her in different directions. how can she be spider-woman and still be with you? and honestly, she's not even sure if she's being selfish by considering a breakup. her brain keeps telling her it's the best way to protect both of you from getting hurt. but deep down, her heart screams at her to stop overthinking and just hold you tight.

you looked at her, shock evident on your face as tears welled up in your eyes. wiping your tears with your hoodie, you tried to keep your composure. "do you really mean that? you want to break up just like that, without even considering other options?" you asked, the hurt and confusion evident in your voice.

gwen snapped, her words sharp but tinged with regret. "i do mean it! you have to understand that as long as i'm spider-woman, our relationship will never work out. i'm sorry, okay? i love you more than anyone else."

tears streamed down gwen's cheeks as she despised herself and the situation she found herself in. her voice choked with emotion, she pleaded, "please, don't make this harder than it already is."

you raised your voice in frustration but quickly regained your composure. "how can you ask me not to make it harder? do you hear how you're talking to me?" you said, your tone filled with a mixture of annoyance and concern. "i love you, gwen. i wanted to be by your side. why should you have to go through this alone?" cupping her cheeks, you wiped away her tears with your thumb.

gwen sobbed, her voice trembling with sadness. "i know you do. and you would be by my side, but i can't bear the thought of you getting hurt..."

that was the crux of the matter. gwen couldn't bear to see those she cared about in danger. she had witnessed the pain and loss that came with her superhero life, and she couldn't bear to risk hurting you too. she pulled you close, embracing you tightly with all her strength. "i'm sorry, it's just... it's for you," she cried.

"for me?" you whispered, your heart aching. "but this isn't what i want..." you hugged her back, standing on your tiptoes to reach her height. "gwen, you can't let the weight of your past losses consume you. you say this is for me, but it's not what i want. i want to be with you, to support you."

gwen's voice cracked as she spoke through her tears. "but what i want is for you to be safe. i am really sorry. please don't try to convince me otherwise, it will only hurt me even more."

gwen may project strength and confidence, but deep down, she feels anything but strong. every word she speaks right now fills her with self-hatred. she believes that breaking up is truly for the best, as she wishes to shield you from the chaos of her life.

"it's really for the best," you muttered, your voice tinged with uncertainty. your eyes were red and puffy, and you pulled away slightly, nervously playing with your hoodie as you gazed up at her.

seeing your pain only intensifies gwen's own anguish. she fights back tears desperately. "it will be. i'll always love you, i promise," she whispers, holding your face gently, her eyes fixated on your swollen, red eyes that only deepen her sadness. "you'll find someone better than me, i know you will."

"please don't say that," you respond, your voice trembling as you struggle to hold back sobs. "i don't want someone else. i want you, gwen. nobody has ever understood me the way you do. every relationship has its challenges, but that's normal. i just want to be with you through it all. please don't push me away because you're scared."

and that's exactly what she's doing, pushing you away out of fear. fear of your pain, fear of her own emotions, fear of her feelings for you. gwen is overwhelmed with emotions in this moment, and your declaration of love and your belief that no one could be better for you only intensify the guilt she already carries.

"please stop," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "there's nothing you can say to change my mind."

this is much harder than she anticipated. she thought she could simply utter those five devastating words and walk away, but she can't help but savor what might be her last moments with you. gwen locks eyes with you, torn between her heart and her mind. her mind tells her that keeping you away is the only way to protect you, but her heart yearns for the warmth of your embrace.

"we'll still see each other, i just..." she struggles to finish her sentence, tears cascading down her cheeks. she gently tries to create distance between you, despising herself for even desiring it. loving you more than anything doesn't necessarily mean she should have you; if anything, it seems to suggest that she should stay away.

"i'm so scared," she whispers, closing her eyes tightly as she holds you close. "i'm scared of all the wrong things. my mind races, imagining all the things that could go wrong. i don't want to be in a relationship where i have to choose between you and what i need to do."

she lets out a deep sigh. "it's just... my life never seems to get any easier, and i don't want to drag you down with me."

she desperately tries to convince herself that she's making the right choice, but deep down, she's failing. seeing you standing there before her breaks her heart, not only because of what she's about to do, but because it's the first time she's been this close to you in a while. it's different from the times she watched you from a distance as spider-woman because she missed you. no, not at all. you're right in front of her, and she yearns for you so intensely. yet, she can't help feeling that it's wrong for her to want you.

"life isn't supposed to get easier," you say weakly, your voice filled with sincerity. "that's why we have people who support us." cupping her cheek, you gently tilt her head to meet your gaze. "i know you're scared. i know you've been through a lot... but you're not going to drag me down with you, gwen. don't push away everyone you love. don't push me away. you don't have to face this alone. we're in this together... that's what a relationship is."

gwen stares at you, tears streaming down her face. her heart races, and her body trembles. she's never felt so torn in her entire life. what can she say? you're right. why is she trying so hard to push you away? is it truly to protect you or is it to protect herself? the latter thought resonates with gwen the most. the idea of having someone to lean on, someone to share the burden with, it's intoxicating.

"i-" she stutters, her voice unsteady. stuttering is not something typical of gwen. what you're saying means everything to her. you're expressing what she desperately wanted to hear.

"i know, i know," gwen sobs. "but there are too many 'buts.' i won't have time to see you, i'll be constantly worried about your safety, i'll have to cancel plans, and i won't be able to fully be present in our relationship anymore." tears continue to stream down gwen's cheeks as she pours out her fears. "i've lost so many people, and i can't bear the thought of hurting the few i have left..."

she locks her gaze with your tear-filled eyes. "i just don't want... to hurt you." gwen can't bring herself to say the rest. she can't vocalize her deepest fears, dreading that they might become a reality.

gwen walks past you and sits on your bed, her legs spread out slightly as she cradles her head in her hands, taking a deep breath. "i'm sorry," she mutters softly, her words muffled by her hands.

"don't apologize, gwen. none of this is your fault. you have to stop blaming yourself. we can get through this together, okay? remember, i'm your girlfriend, and i'm not going anywhere."

you approach her, positioning yourself between her legs at the edge of the bed, lifting her face to meet yours. without a second thought, you lean in and kiss her.

in that moment, time seems to slow down. gwen feels as if her heart stops beating, only to start again in the next instant.

gwen kisses you back, her body releasing the pent-up relief she has longed for. she had been scared, pushing you away when all she truly desired was to be loved by you. your words and your kiss make her feel safe. the kiss feels like pure magic. she feels your lips lingering against hers, and she can't help but smile ever so slightly.

"i thought... i thought i was alone, but... i was wrong," she whispers, her arms enveloping you in a tight embrace. in this moment, she feels an overwhelming happiness with you that she never knew existed. it's been a while since she felt this way, since the last time she saw you.

gwen loves you, and you love her. amidst the chaos surrounding them, there's no reason to push everyone away when she can pull them closer. "i love you," she manages to say, her voice weak. "and i'm so scared of losing you, of being alone. but... i'm going to try," she promises, holding you tightly.

she's deeply in love with you, and her mind is finally aligning with her heart's perspective.

"i love you too," you respond, pressing your forehead against hers. "all you have to do is try, and i'll be right here, ready to lend you my shoulder to lean on."

as you hold her close, gwen allows her mask to slip, surrendering to the overwhelming emotions. she cries into your shoulder, clinging onto you tightly. "can i... stay at your place tonight? i don't want to sleep alone," she pleads, holding onto you desperately. "i just want to be with you so badly, please."

blushing at her words, you feel relieved that you were able to talk her out of her impulsive behavior. "of course, i'll stay with you, gwen," you assure her, leaning in to peck her lips.

she looks like an emotional mess, and you can't help but feel remorse for not fully understanding the toll being spider-woman had taken on her. you knew it was a heavy burden, but you didn't grasp the extent of it. "would you like another hug?" you ask, offering a smile.

"yes, please," gwen responds desperately, reaching out her arms and pulling you closer until your bodies are pressed against each other, allowing you to feel every heartbeat, every breath. “a hug would be really nice right now.”

the feeling of being tightly held by her girlfriend is all she craves at this moment, the feeling of being home.

"i'm sorry, i just... i just love you so much that i thought i had to let you go," gwen confesses, her voice filled with remorse. "i'm sorry, i'm so sorry. it's just... i feel like i'm going to crack in two. spider-woman and gwen stacy, they're both pulling me in different directions... i don't know how to find balance."

your heart breaks upon hearing her words. it pains you to know that gwen feels so lost and alone, and that she was scared to open up about it.

"you can't balance two things that are the same," you explain gently. "we can't always find perfect balance in our lives. it's about learning to live with it. if you felt this way, we could've talked about it, or i could've simply been there to hug you in silence... why didn't you tell me?"

bringing up the topic of communication is painful, as it was her lack of communication that sparked this entire conflict.

"because!" gwen practically explodes in her attempt to defend herself. "because i... i'm scared." she stands up from the bed, looking you in the eye. "i didn't want to be a burden, someone you had to 'deal with.' i wanted to be there for you, but i'm always stuck being spider-woman. that's why it hurts so much. i don't want it to be the only part of me, but it is. i'm scared of having these problems, scared that they will push you away. i was afraid that telling you these things would make everything worse... i'm only realizing now that if i'm going to have any chance at a successful relationship, i have to be open and honest, even if it scares me." she takes a deep breath, walking around the room as she searches for the right words. "i was so afraid of expressing how i felt, what these overwhelming emotions meant, and most of all... i was terrified of you breaking my heart."

you listen intently, absorbing every word that falls from her lips.

"i was just so scared of everything, and i didn't expect you to be so amazing about it, like you are right now," gwen admits with a dry laugh. "i guess that makes me a bad girlfriend, doesn't it?"

gwen's tearful sniff subsides, and she wipes away her tears once more. "i know you're going to hate me for this, but if this becomes too much, and you get exhausted with me, promise you'll tell me," she says, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"i can't promise you that, gwen," you respond, your voice filled with love and reassurance. "because i'll never get exhausted being by your side. i'll always be your number one supporter... and groupie," you add, attempting to lighten the mood with a playful tease.

she chuckles at your words, a genuine laugh escaping her lips. "yeah? at least now i know who my number one fan is," she jokes, a light smile gracing her lips. the weight of guilt that had burdened her for weeks begins to lift as she realizes that talking to you is making her feel better than ever. she's starting to believe that together, you can make the relationship work.

looking up at you, gwen's eyes turn serious, peering into yours with intensity. "promise?" she asks, her voice filled with desperation, but not in a way that seeks pity. she simply yearns for reassurance and comfort. "promise me that i'll never just... be another problem in your life, something that drags you down or forces you to do more than you want to? i know you'd never truly get exhausted by me, but i understand that the pressures of being in a relationship can feel overwhelming at times."

her doubt-filled voice tugs at your heart. you want to erase all the insecurities and doubts that haunt her mind, but you also know that she must learn to stand on her own. after all, she is spider-woman.

"gwen, i will always be patient with you. i want to be by your side, and you can tell me anything, you know that," you reassure her, reaching out to touch her, your hands gently holding the sides of her neck.

as gwen sees your smile, her heart races with joy. in this moment, she feels more alive than ever before.

"my girlfriend is patient, amazing, and gorgeous..." gwen whispers, her eyes glancing at your lips as you giggle at her comment. "i love you," she says softly, leaning in to kiss you, her hands cupping your face. "i'm sorry for acting this way. if i'm honest, i think i'm the crazy one for pushing you away. i don't know what i would do without you. i'm so sorry for everything. it feels like all i've done is apologize to you."

gwen longs for your embrace, for your hands to caress her hair. the past few minutes have been a nightmare, and all she wants is to be close to you, to share the same breath. unable to contain herself any longer, she kisses you again, her hands reaching out for you as she pulls you closer, trying to make up for all the emotions she had kept inside. you kiss her back, your arms around her neck pulling her closer, feeling her chest against yours.

"you're so perfect... i can't stress that enough," gwen murmurs, looking into your eyes with deep affection. she nestles herself into your arms, embracing you tightly. "i can't imagine being with anyone else. i've never felt this way about anyone before. thank you for waiting for me, for putting up with me."

"i love you too, gwen. but you don't have to thank me for loving you. it's not a job; i love you because you're you," you reassure her, running your hands through her hair.

"i know, i know," gwen says, her voice quieter and softer. "sorry, i think i'm just emotionally drained. it's all starting to settle in." she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself. "but you're right. i'll work on finding a balance between gwen and spider-woman. and... thank you, for everything. i love you so much... you're so patient with me."

"we're going to get through this together, alright? you're not alone, i promise you. as long as i'm here, you'll never be alone," you declare to gwen.

"thank you, really..." she says in a quieter, softer voice. "i'm feeling kind of good about this now. i feel like everything will just work out, you know? like a weight is lifted off my shoulders." she smiles, her lips gently pressing against yours.

gwen's desire and longing for you intensify as she gazes into your eyes, her voice filled with a mix of passion and vulnerability. "i've missed you so much, and now that we're finally together, i want to make it up to you," she whispers, her hands still wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

you feel a surge of warmth and affection as you listen to her words. your love for gwen is unwavering, and you want to reassure her that she's not a bad girlfriend, despite her doubts. you place your hands gently on her chest, looking deeply into her eyes, and speak softly, "gwen, don't let this make you feel like you're a bad girlfriend. you aren't, and i mean that. everyone has their bad moments, but they pass. you've been a good girlfriend, the best i could've ever asked for."

curiosity fills your voice as you ask her how she wants to make it up to you. your eyes lock with hers, and you can sense the tenderness and desire in her gaze. the air crackles with anticipation, and you can feel the room narrowing down to just the two of you.

gwen doesn't respond with words. instead, she smiles and leans in closer, her lips almost brushing against yours. your heart flutters, and a wave of heat rushes through your body. the intensity in her eyes and the closeness between you both create an electrifying atmosphere.

your cheeks flush with warmth as you feel a mix of flustered emotions. you can't help but confess, "i mean every word of what i've told you, gwen. i could never love you any less."

without hesitation, gwen presses her body against yours, her hands against the wall, trapping you in her embrace. the tension between you builds, and your eyes remain locked as you wait for her next move.

"i love you too," she murmurs, her face reddening. her hands gently move to caress your cheeks, and your lips are tantalizingly close. gwen's breathing becomes heavier, and you can sense the rapid thumping of her heart. "so much."

she closes her eyes briefly, then opens them again, leaning in closer. gwen sighs, her lips meeting yours in a deep, passionate kiss. the sound of her slow-paced pants fills your ears, heightening the intensity of the moment. time seems to stand still as your lips finally connect, your love reaching its pinnacle. gwen holds you tightly, her body tense with desire, her face flushed with excitement. the taste of her lips leaves you feeling intoxicated, dizzy, and filled with overwhelming happiness.

this is for you. you deserve this, and so does she.

gwen wants to give you everything, and she pours her heart and soul into this kiss. her fingers intertwined with your hair, pulling you closer, wanting to be as close to you as possible.

a soft moan escapes your lips, mirroring the pleasure that gwen feels. her smile widens within the kiss, and she whimpers softly, completely lost in the moment. every sense is overwhelmed by your touch, and she can't imagine a world without your love. you are her everything.

reluctantly, gwen breaks the kiss, her eyes still locked on yours. her lips are flushed with the heat of the moment, and she bites them with a mix of desire and anticipation. her fingers continue to run through your hair, her touch filled with longing and a yearning to explore every part of you.

"i missed you," she whispers, her voice filled with longing and desperation as her heart races against yours. the sound of rain outside creates a serene backdrop, punctuated only by your labored breathing.

gently, you reach up and stroke the side of gwen's face with your hand, your touch a soothing balm against her worries. "i missed you too, gwen," you admit, your voice filled with sincerity. "i wish i had known how you were feeling, but i'm here now, and so are you."

gwen nods in response, her eyes reflecting a familiar self-critical nature that she often carries as both gwen stacy and spider-woman. she has spent so much time fighting and trying to save the world that she neglected her own needs and the needs of those closest to her. she has a tendency to push people away, always opting to face challenges alone.

"i didn't think you'd understand," she replies, her voice catching in her throat. "i've spent so much time running away, keeping everything to myself because i was so scared. it’s like everything is collapsing on me all of a sudden."

you offer a reassuring smile as gwen speaks, your touch providing her with a sense of comfort and relief. before you can respond, she continues, not pausing to let you interject.

"i wish i could be more open like you," she whispers, her words filled with determination. "i promise to change that, to be more honest. i want to be spider-woman and gwen, and i vow to never push you away because of it. you're mine, and i'm yours. you'll always be my number one. please don't ever forget that."

moved by her words, gwen leans in to kiss you once again, feeling the flutter of butterflies in her stomach as your lips meet. your love makes her feel safe, anchoring her and reminding her of who she truly is without the weight of spider-woman. with you, she is simply gwen stacy, and your love restores her sense of self.

"i wish i was a better girlfriend," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper, but close enough for you to hear.

"gwen," you whisper in return, searching for the words that will bring her comfort. "nobody expects perfection in a relationship. ups and downs are normal, and you've been going through so much on your own. don't be too hard on yourself. i love you, and i'm here for you."

her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and she buries her head into your shoulder, seeking solace in your embrace. her tears fall onto your arms, and she holds you tighter, finding solace and strength in your presence.

"you're right," she sighs, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and vulnerability. "i just don't want to disappoint you. but things are changing; i promise. i love you so much. you mean everything to me."

you can sense that gwen has more to say, her thoughts jumbled and unorganized. with a gentle touch, you brush her loose hairs behind her ear and encourage her to open up further.

"talk to me, gwen. that's why i'm here," you say, offering her a safe space to express herself.

gwen takes a deep breath, her voice trembling as she continues, "i've been pulling away from you for the past few months, neglecting our relationship. i was afraid of losing you or hurting you, so i distanced myself. i've been doubting myself, questioning if i can be spider-woman, your girlfriend, and still be gwen stacy. what if i fall short? what if…”

tears well up in gwen's eyes once again, she can’t even finish her thoughts. she doesn’t want to fall short but what if she does? just like all the other times? she clings to you, afraid of losing the connection you share.

"i never want to let go of you," she whispers, her voice filled with remorse. "i'm sorry for being such a mess."

as you listen attentively to gwen's words, a se se understanding and empathy wash over you. you realize that she needs your unwavering support, and your ready to provide that.

"did you act that way because you wanted me to break up with you first? or did you just not realize how distant you were being?" you asked, your voice filled with confusion and hurt. "it really hurt me. you avoided my texts and calls, and you stopped coming to see me as often. i didn't know what i did wrong. i didn't know if you lost feelings for me, found someone else, or what was going on."

gwen quickly shook her head, her eyes filled with concern. "no, no... never that," she replied, her voice urgent. "i would never want to make you feel bad. you did nothing wrong. i didn't lose feelings for you and i definitely didn’t find somebody else. it was just me, you know? i'm the problem."

you gently cupped her face and drew her closer, your touch offering comfort. "gwen, you're not a problem to me. but please, tell me, did you want me to break up with you?"

gwen took a moment, her breathing uneven as she tried to gather her thoughts. slowly, she nodded, her face flushing with embarrassment as she began to understand the impact of her actions.

"yeah, i wanted you to break up with me," she admitted, her words coming out hastily. "i pushed you away because i thought it would be best for both of us. please don't think i cheated on you, though. i would never do that to you," she explained, her gaze fixed on the floor.

gwen looked away, tears welling up in her eyes once again. "i just felt this immense pressure, and i couldn't keep fighting everything. but i also couldn't just give up. so i kept it all inside, pretending to be okay, hoping it would all be fine. i've seen what happens to people close to me, and i didn't want that for you. i held back so that you wouldn't have to witness spider-woman taking over. i should've explained what i was feeling instead of trying to protect you in my own misguided way."

her words became muddled as tears threatened to overcome her. the thought of you being hurt because of her actions was unbearable.

you nodded slowly, taking in gwen's perspective and the reasons behind her behavior. it was bittersweet to hear that she now understood the mistake she had made and the importance of open communication.

"so, when you realized i wasn't going to break up with you, you decided you needed to end it yourself?" you asked, studying her face intently.

"i... i guess you could say that," gwen replied, her body tensing up. she fell silent, unsure of what to say or do. the weight of her actions finally settling upon her.

"you deserved to be with someone better, someone less selfish, and someone who wasn't constantly busy saving the world. i wanted you to be happy and safe, so i thought..." gwen's voice trailed off, hoarse with shame at her inability to effectively communicate her feelings. "i thought letting you go would make that happen."

gwen swallowed back the lump in her throat, her words filled with a mixture of pain and regret. "i'm just so used to hiding everything from everyone, even you. i couldn't see a way out... i felt like no matter what decision i made, i would end up losing you. either physically or emotionally. it felt too dangerous to stay together, yet pushing you away would ruin us. i felt trapped, and i thought it would be best for both of us. i thought you would end up hating me. but you've been so... so good to me, and you've shown me patience when i needed it most."

you let out a deep sigh, your mind racing. how did you not notice the burden she had been carrying? you had been there for gwen on her difficult days, but somehow, you had missed the weight she bore alone every time she sought solace in you, every time she climbed through your window at night. gwen noticed the distant look in your eyes as you grappled with your own feelings.

"i'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with remorse. "you're so patient, so perfect... i don't want to lose you. it wasn't right for me to break up with you like that. you don't deserve that."

she desperately wanted to fix the situation, to make you feel okay again, but she felt lost, unsure of how to proceed.

"and you thought pushing me away would make me lose interest?" you responded, a hint of disbelief in your voice, considering the depth of your connection and the challenges you had overcome together. all the times gwen had comforted you with your issues or saved you from yourself. it was almost amusing to think you would ever lose interest in gwen. "i'm almost offended that you believed that would be enough to make me give up on you and what we have."

as you spoke, you could see gwen's world collapsing upon itself, her struggle to comprehend how you could still love her after she had pushed you away.

"yeah, i know it sounds ridiculous," she admitted, her voice tinged with self-realization. "i should have seen all this time how much you've been there for me, how important i am to you. but it was only when i pushed you away that i realized just how much i truly need you," she confessed, her vulnerability laid bare. "i wanted to spare both of us the pain and struggle of my double life. i was thinking of you, but i didn't consider your feelings at all. i thought by cutting myself out of your life, i could rid you of spider-woman and the complications that come with me. i wanted to protect you from myself, from the mess that engulfs my life. and that was so wrong of me."

gwen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "i thought you deserved better," she said in a quiet voice, her words heavy with regret. "i thought i would be this dark cloud over your life, constantly bringing you down. but i want our relationship to be better. i want to be better for you. i don't want to keep hurting you."

her hands slowly move up to your chest, fingers digging into your clothes as if wanting to feel you.

“but gwen-” you try to speak, you try to reassure her and comfort her, but she isn’t having none of it. “but nothing! i was trying to think of a way to let you go without hurting you. i thought... if i acted cold, distant, you would lose interest in me. you should have someone that doesn't stress you out and keep you awake at night just because of her issues."

she withdrew from your embrace, her movements tentative, as if trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

"this is why i feel like such a mess," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "i can't think clearly, i can't find the right words, and i'm so afraid... afraid of losing you, afraid of failing, afraid of failing you. i don't have all the answers because i'm scared. i'm truly sorry."

"you shouldn't have burdened yourself like this, gwen. you shouldn't have caused us both pain. we are stronger together, you know that," you reassured her, reaching out to hold her hand, offering a gentle squeeze. "you have been an incredible girlfriend to me. can't you see that? we all have our flaws, but you have always been there for me, caring for me, making me feel loved and truly myself. there is no one else i could ever desire."

with hesitation, you leaned in, rising up to her height and tenderly kissed her, conveying the depth of your sincerity and gratitude. it was a kiss that symbolized your unwavering commitment, showing her how much she meant to you and how fervently you desired her by your side.

those few words are just what gwen needed. all the doubt inside that plagued her mind were casted away as you kissed her, pressing your lips against hers. your words

a gasp escaped gwen's lips as she felt the tender connection, her arms instinctively wrapping around you, holding you tightly. the kiss was a balm to her soul, so exquisite and intoxicating that it made her question how she could have caused you so much pain. your words alone had the power to break down her defenses, and your kiss was a testament to the depth of your affection.

"i'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with remorse, as she clung to you. "i don't know what's wrong with me. i wanted to make you happy, but i kept running away. i feel so stupid. i wish i had just told you this sooner. can you forgive me?”

gwen's body presses against yours, her fingers interlacing with yours as she tries to calm herself down.

"i don't want to be spider-woman right now. i just want to be gwen stacy... your gwen stacy,” she said, staring you deeply in the eye as she leaned closer to you.

“gwen,” you said softly, “i already forgave you. i understand you and why you do the things you do and i’ll accept and love every part of it. spider and gwen, both of you are mine.”

she is utterly speechless, so much so that she wraps both her arms around you, hugging you tightly. a smile slowly spreads across her face as you speak, your words touching every part of her. it's funny how you managed to forgive her for everything. if only she was able to forgive herself. her cheeks light up red, smiling back at you. she felt so stupid, so dumb for pushing you out in the first place, and she's so relieved that you forgive her.

"really? even if i pushed you away and kept you from the love you deserved?" gwen asks, needing to hear the truth from you. "or when i was constantly thinking about spider-woman? when i was avoiding you, not giving you the emotional support you deserve?"

gwen sounded like a broken record, still taken aback at how you gave her so much time and understanding. if you could still love her after all of this, after she hurt you so many times, she couldn't tell you how much she felt she didn't deserve your love. just when she thought her relationship with you was ruined forever, gwen was finding a new reason to hold on to hope.

“you’re both of those people gwen, and i love you. no matter what, i’m gonna be there for you. i know you go through a lot, let me be by your side and make it better, okay? because i want to,” you reassured her.

"i love you," she whispers in a hushed tone. "i'm sorry for being distant, i'm sorry for hurting you every time i put my life as spider-woman before our relationship. but you're right, spider and gwen are one. they're both a part of me.. and i want you to love all parts of me.”

the feeling was euphoric. gwen knew that she could never repay you for forgiving her, nor could she even imagine what her life would be like without you in it. she hugs you tightly, not wanting to let go.

"i want to make it up to you. right here, right now," gwen whispered softly, her voice brushing against your ear as her hands found their place around your waist, gently pulling you closer to her.

"it's been too long since i've seen you," you admitted, your voice filled with yearning for gwen. it's been so long since you seen her and since you’ve been so close. you wanted to feel her touch, to be enveloped by her love.

"i know, i feel the same way," gwen whispers. "but, can i make it up to you regardless?"

there's a slight pause.

gwen moved a strand of hair aside, her breath shaky, and her eyes darting back and forth. her cheeks grow pinker, the butterflies in her stomach turning into something else entirely.

“don’t feel entitled to do any…thing,” you tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat and you began to lose track of what you were saying.

gwen was distracting, and the way she was looking at you wasn’t helping. as the room settled into a hushed stillness, the only sounds were the measured rhythm of her breaths and the intensity of her gaze, brimming excitement.

maybe it was the pent-up frustration of not being together for so long, maybe it was the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins in this moment, or maybe it was the realization of just how deeply gwen's love for you ran.

gwen smiles at your words. she knows you've missed her, and she's missed you too. the blonde leans in closer, her hand on the back of your neck.

"i want to show you how much i appreciate you being here for me. and how much i love you right now,” she speaks up amongst the silence.

this might be the first time you've seen gwen this vulnerable, this exposed. her voice is quiet and her eyes look away, but her body is moving closer. her fingertips make their way down to your lips, grazing them lightly. "let me show you.."

you inhale, your mind feeling dizzy. god, the effect she had on you. you don’t want gwen to be hard on herself, to make her feel like she needs to make it up to you when she is the one struggling. but you could tell gwen wanted this too, she wanted to kiss you. the magnetic pull of her body to yours, the way her lips began to part the closer she got to your mouth, the way the muscles in her arms flexed as she began to hold you tighter.

"then show me," you mustered every ounce of bravery within you, determined to deflect the shyness that tinged your being. gwen's fingertips continued to trace the outline of your plush lips, her gaze locked with yours, as you issued the plea. "show me, gwen."

without a moment's hesitation, gwen closed the distance between you, her hands gently drawing you closer by the waist. the suddenness of her actions caught you off guard as she pressed you against the wall, her lips meeting yours with an intensity that eclipsed anything you had ever experienced before. passion surged through every fiber of your being in that electrifying moment, leaving you breathless and consumed by the sheer force of her affection.

her lips found yours and that's all you needed.

a wave of absolute euphoria washed over you, erasing all the problems and concerns that had previously weighed on your minds. in this moment, there were no worries, just the two of you, lost in each other's embrace. gwen's fingers delicately threaded through your hair, pulling you closer to her. her kisses grew more intense, and her grip on your back tightened as her lips ventured along the path of your neck.

the room seemed to spin, as if the rest of the world had faded into insignificance compared to the intensity of the connection you shared. gwen held you tightly, her kisses a tender exploration of desire and longing. the heat of her lips against yours ignited a fire within, as she trailed her kisses upward, tracing the contours of your neck.

as the intoxicating moment unfolded, you noticed a change in gwen's breathing, a rhythm that became short and choppy.

her lips are back to your mouth, gently holding your neck and leaning you against the wall as she kisses you in place firmly.

as the intensity of the kiss escalated, your hands instinctively gripped gwen's triceps, seeking stability amidst the overwhelming sensations that engulfed your being. the sheer power of the connection made it feel as if your mind was melting, lost in a haze of desire. a soft moan escaped your lips, echoing against gwen's mouth, making her whimper in response to the vibration.

her body tensed, caught between wanting to slow down and give you a moment to breathe, yet unable to resist the overwhelming surge of emotions coursing through her. gwen's sense of self began to blur as your touch elicited a kaleidoscope of sensations within her. the palpable tension between you two hung in the air, thick with longing.

she continued kissing you, pulling you closer into the embrace of her body. your forms melded together, radiating heat that spread through your entire being. your heart pounded within your chest, its rhythm matching the quickening pace of your breaths. it felt as though nothing else in your lives had ever held such significance.

the world around you faded into insignificance, and all that mattered was the connection you shared, an escape from the hardships of life.

gwen pulls back from you ever-so-slightly to catch her breath. she still has her hands gripping into your hair, but now her eyes are locked on yours. "god... i love you, you know that?”

gwen's mind was starting to blank, the only thing that was on it was you. your eyes, your lips, your touch. she was getting lost in you.

"i love you, i love you, i love you," she whispers out, her voice catching on her breathe as your hands grip her tighter.

“i know you love me,” you reply to her, your hands finding their way to gwen's neck as you caress her gently. “i love you just as much.”

gwen can't describe how she feels right now. finally, she feels free. she can be herself. all she wants is to be with you. she can't believe you're willing to forgive her, can't understand how you have all of this patience and understanding for her. in her eyes, you were too good, she questioned whether she truly deserved the love and compassion you showered upon her. she's not sure she deserves you. but you guys haven’t kissed in so long, and she can’t get enough of it.

"come here.." gwen whispers, pulling you back towards her for another kiss.

her kisses grew more fervent, her lips pressing deeply against yours with a hunger that matched the intensity of her desire. every fiber of her being came alive, sensations coursing through her body in a breathtaking symphony of pleasure. pure bliss surged through her veins, her head spinning with a heady rush.

your touch had an effect on gwen, weakening her knees and leaving her breath shaky and uneven. her face flushed with a rosy hue, reflecting the passion that consumed her. the stimulation she experienced was almost overwhelming, and she feels she might just explode.

though gwen attempted to regain control of her breathing, a part of her yearned for more. it felt as if she were caught in a whirlwind of pleasure, losing herself in the addicting embrace of your love. her hands tightened against the wall, their grip firm as they traversed down to your thighs, pulling you closer, bridging the gap between your bodies. the warmth radiating from your skin seemed to rival the sun itself, stoking the flames of desire within her.

gwen couldn't help but moan, her lips moving with increasing passion as she savored the warmth and taste of your mouth. despite her attempts to slow the frenzied pace, her tongue slipped out once more, driven by an insatiable craving for you. she explored down your neck with her tongue, trailing down to gently nibble along your collarbone, leaving a tantalizing trail of tingles in her wake.

"wow," you muttered, the sharp sensation of gwen's teeth grazing your skin eliciting a mix of surprise and pleasure. the sounds that escaped your lips were beyond your control, a testament to the powerful effect she had on you.

the sound of your whimper sent a jolt down gwen's spine. she possessed a commanding presence, a force to be reckoned with, and yet she found herself immobilized, unable to move as if held in place by an invisible tether. her hands instinctively found your hips, firmly pressing your body down onto her leg, as she stood, allowing you to find comfort leaning against the wall.

your entire being froze in response to the touch of gwen's leg, as if her very touch held the power of lightning, electrifying your senses. when you shuddered against her thigh, her grip on your hips tightened, her nails threatening to leave a temporary mark.

gwen was flustered, desperately attempting to assert control over the situation, but finding herself beat by the magnetic pull you exerted on her. every second that your gaze met hers, she felt an irresistible force tugging at her, drawing her closer to you as if guided by some unexplainable, otherworldly connection.

she looks up at you, her hair a mess around her face and flushed. "please, stop me…”

she spoke hushed, but her lips were glued onto yours. her body was glued to yours, her hands finding their way into your hair, her leg pressed against you, just everything about this moment was just perfect for her. you were making her lose her mind. she felt unworthy, like she didn’t deserve this after all she put you through.

“why would i do that?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, “gwen, why would i do that when i don’t want this to stop?”

it felt like your words were an invitation just for her.

she could feel herself getting worked up again, every ounce of her just wanted this moment to continue. her mind was clouded with emotion and desire, she was lost in you.

"i missed you too, y'know," you said, your voice tinged with nervousness as you fidgeted with gwen's hair, your touch betraying your own vulnerability in the face of her silence.

hearing those words from you, expressing your longing for her touch and everything she embodied, was like the sweet relief of water in a desert. the weight of your words hit her with the force of a hammer, nearly knocking her off balance. her body quivered with anticipation, and when your hand brushed through her hair, delicately tucking it behind her ear, sparks ignited from the point of contact, spreading warmth throughout her being. the desire to kiss you consumed her, and she wasn't sure if she could find the strength to stop, especially when you begged her not to.

"i'm so sorry... i just can't stop myself," she confessed once more, her voice laced with desperation. "if you don't tell me to stop, i don't know if i can."

overwhelmed by her emotions and love for you, gwen found herself at a crossroads, teetering on the edge of restraint. but your response was firm and unwavering, "don't." the single word held a world of meaning, a silent permission to continue, and it resonated deeply within her.

her body ignited like a blazing fire, her breaths quickening as each touch sent electric pulses through her veins. "you have no idea how much..." gwen's voice trailed off, unable to find the words to convey the intensity of her emotions. she pulled back slightly, positioning herself nose-to-nose with you, her gaze locked onto yours.

"then i won't, but please... tell me to keep going," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“just kiss me, gwen."

your voice, though quiet, reached gwen's ears with clarity and resolve. gripping your face with a fervent grasp, she held onto you as though her life depended on it. her kisses grew more fervent, her tongue dancing against yours, and her hands instinctively finding their way around your neck. she lost herself in the moment, overwhelmed to the point where words gave way to passionate moans, each one a testament to the intoxication of the experience.

gwen surrendered to the pleasure, no longer resisting the desire to have her leg entwined with yours. it felt perfect, the two of you merging together in this intoxicating union. pure bliss enveloped her as sensations heightened, her ears attuned to the sound of your breathing, her body quivering with the rush of emotions coursing through her. the need to hold back vanished, replaced by an insatiable hunger.

she pulled you closer, her grip firm as she pressed you down onto her leg, the friction against the floor sending waves of pleasure through her body. everything grew hotter and heavier, the weight of the moment intensifying. gwen let out a soft moan, briefly pulling away from the kiss to lock her gaze with yours. her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks flushed with desire, as she allowed herself to become lost in your eyes.

she was holding back, trying so hard to keep herself calm and slow everything down, but everything was becoming too much, too overwhelming for her to handle. she couldn’t shake this feeling though, it was like her spider senses were going off and she couldn’t tell what the vibrations in her mind were trying to tell her.

without conscious thought, gwen's hands found the rim of her hoodie, the one you were wearing. with a gentle movement, she lifted it off you and threw it onto your bed, revealing the vulnerability of your exposed waist. her touch was tender and loving as she embraced your waist, peppering your chest with fluttering kisses that elicited joyful giggles from your lips. a smile danced upon her own as she pressed against your skin, feeling like she was able to show you how much she appreciated you and wanted you, and how stupid she was to even think of letting you go.

“i’m home! made me bust in your room because you wasn’t answering me. what the hell were you doing?” your guardian asked, not furious but confused as to why you weren’t answering.

and you were just as confused. before you could even begin to panic, gwen was gone. you hastily picked up her hoodie from your bed and clutched it shyly against your chest, overwhelmed by a wave of embarrassment and a longing to retreat into hiding.

“you good? your face looks so…” your guardian examined your features. how heavy you were breathing, how heated you looked when the weatherman this morning said it was gonna be a cool day, and just how baffled you looked. "flushed?" you responded, mustering a feeble explanation. "yeah, the sweater, uh... made me a bit sweaty. so, i decided to take it off!”

you swore you could hear a faint giggle from outside, but you chose to ignore it.

“well, okay. stop actin’ like a weirdo and i’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” they said, turning around and shutting the door.

as the footsteps faded away, a familiar figure stealthily climbed back into your room through the window. "that was a close one," she quipped, and though you couldn't help but roll your eyes, a hint of a smile tugged at your lips.

"you're so corny. i hate you," you playfully declared, the hate part a jest born out of momentary frustration. the corny part, however, held some truth to it.

gwen laughed, charmed by your feigned pout. "love you too, but it seems like you have company, and i should get back to patrol," she stated, punctuating her words with a tender kiss on your lips as she held you close. "i'm sorry about the whole breakup thing, and i know i've said it before, but i still want to apologize. i'm committed to being better-for you, for me, and for us. i don't want to push people away when i should be pulling them closer, especially when i need them. you make my life as spider-woman so much easier than i ever realized, having someone to return to and lean on," she confessed with a genuine smile.

unable to resist, you rushed forward and enveloped her in a tight hug. she gasped in surprise but quickly reciprocated, teasingly lifting you off the ground before gently setting you down.

"will i see you later?" you inquired, hopeful anticipation shining in your eyes.

“of course you will,” she replied smugly, a smirk gracing her face. you couldn't help but giggle "i'ii swing by around 6, sound good?"

"absolutely," you confirmed, your radiant smile illuminating your features.

with a final smile, gwen leaned back into your window and gracefully disappeared into the night, swinging away. you waved goodbye from a distance, heart brimming with warmth and excitement for the future.

true to her word, gwen returned as promised around 6 o'clock. but more significant than her punctuality was her unwavering commitment to keeping her promise of being more open with you and making an effort. she showed you that she was willing to put in the work, to learn from her past mistakes, and to become the best version of herself -for you and for the relationship you shared.

A/N: i think i almost died typing all this. 10.5k words. im crying…

© 2023 primaviva

#gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy x you #ghost spider x reader #gwen stacy #gwen x reader #atsv gwen #ghost spider #astv x reader #spider gwen x reader #spider gwen #spiderman: atsv #spider woman #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x y/n #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #astv x y/n #astv x you #marvel x you #marvel x reader #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #astv fluff #astv fanfic #astv angst #astv x latina reader #spider man: across the spider verse

[daisies-daydreams]

hi hi!! i am in love with your plus size fanfics, here’s my request!!

i was thinking of a hobie x plus sized reader, where reader has a huge crush on hobie so reader invites him over to their house yknow just to hang out and then reader finally asks out hobie, anddd.. things go to the other direction.. (smut.)

Into You (Hobie Brown x F!Plus-Sized!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x F!Plus-Sized!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: Swearing, ”First Date” Awkwardness, Making Out, Mentions of Birth Control, Clit Play, Vaginal Fingering, Couch Sex, Unprotected P in V Sex (You Know the Drill), Cock Piercings (Prince Albert), Doggy Style, Praise Kink, Multiple Orgasms Word Count: 4.8k+

A/N: Hi there! Thank you so much for your kind words and sweet request! 🤗 I love writing the plus-sized! fics, they always fill me up with joy. I hope you enjoy!

Song Rec for This Fic: Sweater Weather by The Neighbourhood (muffled + slowed + reverb)

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

“Evenin’, love,” the man in front of you drawled. You blinked a few times and shook your head, your attention being drawn back to the dull corner store you worked in. The customer in front of you chuckled. Your cheeks warmed-it was Hobie, a man who stopped by every once in a while. He wore a tilted smile, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed into your own. “Where’d you go?” he asked with a slight smirk. You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Sorry. I kind of spaced out,” you laughed as you checked him out-you mean, checked out his items. Hobie hummed as he slotted his thumbs inside his jean pockets.

“Don’t blame you,” he said as he looked around. The store was dead at this hour, customers drifting in and out. You nodded before putting his items in a bag.

“Mhm,” you replied. You suddenly heard the announcer on the radio talk about a recent football match. Your eyes widened as an idea crossed your mind.

“Hey, um, Hobie?” you asked. The lean man hummed in reply. You bit your lip as you gripped his bag. “Would you…would you like to…” your voice trailed off as you met his gaze. His deep, chocolate brown eyes made you melt inside, your knees weak and stomach fluttering. Your throat tightened as he leaned forward and tilted his head.

“What’s on your mind, (Y/N)?” he asked. You nearly squealed at the sound of your name falling from his lips. Your mind raced a thousand miles per hour as you gulped.

“I-I was wondering, and no pressure, but...would you like to come over to my place to watch the game tomorrow?” you breathed as you looked down at your worn shoes. You felt like shrinking into yourself as seconds of silence felt like hours.

“Sure, got nothin’ goin’ on tomorrow,” Hobie drawled with a small shrug.

“Really?!” you beamed as you nearly jumped. You paused and cleared your throat. “I mean, great, sounds good,” you said with a firm nod. Hobie laughed as he took his bag.

"Thanks. Is it alright if I show around seven?” he asked. Your head felt so dizzy as your eyes were transfixed on his plush lips.

“Y-Yeah, that’d be great,” you said in a dazed voice. Hobie grinned.

“Sounds good. So, where do you-“

“Could the two of you please wrap this up?” an impatient customer huffed behind him. Hobie’s brows furrowed as he frowned.

“Just a second, we’re talkin’ about somethin' important here,” he replied matter-of-factly. You snatched a pen and scribbled down your address on his receipt. He blinked at how fast you handed it to him.

“Here you go,” you smiled. Hobie returned your expression as he slid his and over yours. Your cheeks burned as he took the receipt from you, his warm fingers gliding across your knuckles.

“Thanks, love,” he purred. You swore his voice dropped several octaves before he turned on his heel. “See ya tomorrow!” Hobie waved before slipping out.

The next day you scrambled around your small flat, cleaning every inch of it until it was almost time for Hobie to arrive. You pulled out some pizza rolls from the oven when a few knocks at the door rang through the tiny space. You gasped and nearly burnt yourself as you slammed the tray onto the stove. You peeked at your reflection in the microwave door, fixing up your hair and smoothing down your clothes.

“Coming!” you called before rushing over to the door. Your heart stopped when you swung it open. Hobie stood there with a pack of beer. He was clad in dark, ripped blue jeans and a dark leather jacket. You nearly fell forward when you sniffed his cologne, your mind already growing a bit hazy.

“‘Ello,” he grinned. You were speechless for a few seconds, your body stiff as a statue as you parted your lips. “You alright?” Hobie asked with a wry grin. You shook your head.

“Y-Yeah! Please, come in,” you said as you stepped out of the way and motioned into your humble abode. Hobie flashed you a grin as he stepped inside. He whistled as you closed the door behind him.

“Nice flat you got here,” he hummed. You blushed.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you flapped your hand. You eyed the pack of beer.

“Figured it’d be rude of me to show up without bringin’ you somethin’,” Hobie lilted. You smiled as you took the pack and set it on the counter.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to,” you flushed and shuffled in place. Hobie chuckled.

“It’s no problem, love,” he hummed. You swallowed when you saw how close Hobie was standing in front of you, his tall, wiry frame leaning over your shorter form. You cleared your throat.

“I made pizza rolls, and the game’s already on,” you explained as you motioned towards the kitchen and living room. Hobie smiled and nodded.

“Great, though you might want to grab those rolls first,” he said as he put his jacket up.

“Why?” you asked. He grinned.

“‘Cause I’ll probably eat them all,” Hobie hummed. You laughed.

“I’ll keep a close eye on them, then,” you giggled. He gave a toothy grin as he scooped several rolls onto a plate.

“What?” Hobie asked with a crooked smile. You stiffened when you realized you were staring at his bum.

“Nothing,” you waved. He raised a brow.

“You can tell me,” he winked. You shook your head.

“Well, it’s just…how can you eat this much and still be so skinny?!” you exasperated. Hobie laughed.

“In my genes, I suppose,” he shrugged before popping one into his mouth. “My older sis's the same way,” he added.

"Do you live with her?" you asked. Hobie shook his head.

"Nah, just live by myself in a canal boat," he hummed before taking another bite. Your eyes lit up.

"Really? That's so cool!" you beamed. Hobie grinned as he swallowed.

"Yeah, you're welcome to come by any time you'd like," he offered with a smooth voice. You smiled so widely your cheeks began to hurt.

"O-Okay! Thank you!" you chirped.

"'Course," he replied. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the muffled sound of the game playing from your living room drifted into the kitchen. You bit the inside of your cheek as tension bubbled inside your chest.

"How about we go and watch the game?" you suggested. He nodded before picking up he pack of beer and following you to the couch. You plopped yourself down, eyes flicking over to Hobie. You gripped your hands together when you saw him spread his legs a little. You mentally slapped yourself as a filthy thought crossed your mind.

“In other news, Spider-Man made yet another surprise appearance just outside of Parliament last night,” a female new anchor stated. Both of you looked at each other before Hobie tilted his hips up.

“My bad,” he laughed as he pulled the remote out from under him. You giggled.

“You’re fine,” you said.

“Spider-Man is a menace!” a male news reporter angrily barked from behind a massive desk. You glanced over to see the aforementioned masked vigilante flipping off the camera (or at least you assumed that's what he was doing behind the censor bar). “He has no respect or regard for authority, a wild animal running through the streets like a-“

The channel suddenly changed back to the game. You turned to Hobie, his expression now hard as stone as he held the remote in his hand.

“Can’t stand that wanker’s voice,” he muttered in a tense voice. Your throat tightened as you stared between his hand and the TV. Hobie sighed before resting it on the coffee table. The two of you kept your eyes on the screen for a while.

“He’s not so bad,” you voiced. Hobie raised a brow. “Spider-Man, I mean,” you clarified. His face softened.

“You think so?” he asked with a small grin. You nodded.

“I-I do,” you smiled as the tips of your ears burned at his gentle smile. You glanced around both of your shoulders before leaning in. Hobie tilted his head towards you. "The news can say all they want, but I think he's doing all of us right by taking on those V.E.N.O.M. bastards," you whispered as you cupped your hand against his ear. Hobie straightened his posture a little, a genuine smile crossing his features.

"I'm glad you see him that way," he said. The man next to you paused. "You're not just sayin' that 'cause he's cute, right?" Hobie wiggled his brows. Your breath hitched.

"Well...nobody knows what he looks like behind the mask," you muttered as your cheeks warmed. Hobie chuckled. The loud, screeching sound of one of the whistles blowing drew your attention back to the TV. You gasped as a fight broke out on the field, men pushing each other and screaming.

"Not much of a fan of football, if I'm bein' honest," Hobie suddenly piped up. You turned your head as you bit into one of the pizza rolls.

"Really?" you asked. He nodded as he drummed his fingers against the arm of your couch. You sucked in a sharp breath, your heartrate growing more irregular as you felt the words stick to your tongue. "T-Then why'd you come over?" you asked. Hobie glanced over, the corners of his mouth turned up as he stared at you with a half-lidded gaze.

"I think we both know, love," he said. Your eyes widened a little as you squeezed your hands.

“H-Hobie,” you murmured. He hummed, his brown eyes now lingering on your lips. You took a deep breath as you curled your hands around the bottom of your sweater. “I-I was wondering if maybe you and I could…you know…” your voice trailed off as you played with your top. Hobie slung an arm over the back of the couch. You gasped when he cupped his other hand beneath your chin and tilted your head up.

“(Y/N)…are you askin' me out on a date?” he grinned ear to ear. It felt like your soul shot out of your body as your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. Was it really that obvious?! “I mean, yeah,” Hobie said nonchalantly. Your whole body felt like it was being consumed by a raging fire. Did you just say that out loud?! You swallowed thickly.

“I-I…yeah,” you said with a small sense of defeat in your voice. Hobie hummed before smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as he leaned forward, his lips nearly brushing over yours.

“You’re so sweet,” he said in a husky whisper. You parted your lips as your chest rose and fell.

“S-So is that a yes?” you asked. Hobie chuckled before nodding, his warm hands coating you like sunlight as he leaned even closer.

“Yes,” he breathed. "But if I'm bein' honest, I thought we were already on one,” Hobie smirked.

Before you could even think to stop, you rushed forward and closed the gap between the two of you. Hobie was unflinchingly calm as your mouths met. You were so hesitant at first, just barely pushing your lips against his. The couch creaked beneath you as you slowly but surely leaned in more, your hands falling against his sharp shoulders. Your mouths danced together in a heated, passionate kiss. Shivers ran through you as the cold metal of his lip piercing brushed against your bottom lip. You pulled back for air, your mind fuzzy as you gazed into his engorged pupils.

“That was…incredible,” you breathed. Hobie cracked a grin as he tucked some hair behind your ear.

“I could show you somethin’ even better,” he rumbled into your ear. You gasped and squeezed his shoulders, your core fluttering at the thought of him spreading you wide open. “That alright, love?” Hobie asked. You quickly nodded your head, drawing another deep chuckle from him. “You wanna do it here or somewhere else?” he piqued. You bit your lip and squeezed your thick thighs together.

“U-Um, here would be fine,” you breathed. He hummed.

“You sure?” he asked. You nodded as you dipped your head into the crook of his shoulder.

“Please, Hobie. I-I need you,” you pleaded as you rocked your hips forward. He sucked in a sharp breath as his hands fell to your love handles.

“I’ve got you, doll,” he drawled. You heard the sound of the game switch off before his lips were dancing over your neck. You whined as he puckered his mouth over your pulse, the suction drawing a soft moan from between your lips. The tension in your core only grew as he trailed his kisses down to the space where your neck and clavicle met. “Do you want to keep goin’?” he asked softly. You gulped as his hands gently kneaded the supple flesh of your waist, his hot breath coating over your exposed skin.

“Y-Yes,” you breathed as your body trembled beneath his touch. A deep rumble rose from his chest as he slid his fingers over the button of your jeans. You bit your lip as you felt his hand rub over your puffy belly.

“You’re so gorgeous, you know that?” he lilted as if reading your mind. You shoved your face further into his shoulder.

“H-Hobie,” you stuttered. You squeaked when he undid your button.

“It’s true. Wasn’t sure how I managed to not be a stammerin’ idiot first time I saw you,” he murmured. Your heart skipped a beat as he grabbed your zipper and pulled down, the sound echoing on repeat inside your mind. “You were wearin’ that cute plaid skirt with the white top,” he breathed as he brushed his fingers over your panties. You keened as he curled his middle digit against your clothed clit, rubbing small circles around the sensitive bud. “Your hair was messy, but I loved that about you. Like you didn’t give a fuck about what others thought about how you looked,” he breathed as he dipped his hand a little lower.

“I-I just ran out of hairspray that day,” you squeaked. Hobie paused.

“Or you ran out of hairspray that day,” he repeated with a shrug. You giggled and peeked up from his shoulder. The warmth in his eyes made your heart swell as you leaned back.

“Hobie…” your voice trailed off as you rubbed your hands over his chest. The man kept still as you traced your fingers down his lanky frame, eventually pausing over his studded belt. Your mind raced when you saw a prominent bulge twitch beneath his ripped jeans. You gasped when he planted a lingering kiss against your cheek.

“Tell me what you want, sweet girl,” he murmured as he kept applying pressure over your covered sex. You shuddered.

“I-I want you to finger me…please,” you moaned. Hobie cooed before slipping his hand beneath your pink underwear. A soft cry escaped you as he slid his fingers up and down your juicy slit, the pads of his digits playing with your puffy folds.

“Mmm, love those pretty little sounds you’re makin’,” Hobie said lowly. Your clit throbbed as he smoothed his thumb over the sensitive flesh. Your mouths found each other again as you slowly sank into the couch cushions. Hobie hovered on top of you, his deft fingers spreading your slick labia apart as he playing with your clit. You panted when he leaned back before smashing his lips against yours, this kiss more sloppy and heated as he barely slid one of his fingers inside your needy entrance.

“Mmph!” you keened into his mouth as he deliciously teased your gummy walls with his long digit.

“You like that, lovie?” he whispered as he slowly pumped his finger in and out of your pulsing hole. You nodded, your breath stuttering as he curled his finger deep inside your cunt, gently stroking over your g-spot.

“Y-Yes,” you gulped as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Hobie sighed as he kissed along your jaw. Pleasure trickled to every part of your tingling body as he continued to massage your bundle of nerves while thrusting his index finger inside your dripping, squelching sex.

Your eyes shot open when he added another digit, spreading your cunt wide open with a mind-numbing stretch. Hobie groaned as he scissored his fingers in your pulsing cunt, the tips of his long digits nearly reaching your cervix. Your eyes became glossy as he rubbed around your clit with quick, tender circles.

“Fuck, Hobie,” you cried as you threw your head back. Your wet pussy gripped his fingers as he thrusted them deeper with each stroke. You shivered as he kissed down the other side of your neck, decorating your skin with fresh, raw hickeys.

“Can’t wait to feel this perfect pussy grip around my cock,” he rasped into your ear. Your walls clenched around his slender digits as you moaned. “Yeah, that’s a good girl,” Hobie murmured while moving his thumb back and forth against your clit. Your eyes rolled back as he slid a third finger inside your tight hole, his digits spreading your weeping pussy wide open.

“O-Oh my God,” you gasped with wide eyes. You gripped the back of his shirt, your thighs shaking at the feeling of fullness inside you. Your head spun as you felt your walls start to flutter around his three fingers. Each stroke was faster than the last, the burn of the stretch quickly melting into pure, spine-tingling pleasure.

“Gettin’ close, baby girl?” he drawled as he circled your clit in time with his thrusts. You nodded as you clawed at his back, spine arching as much as it could.

“Yes!” you cried as you tossed your head to the side. Hobie growled as he sucked hard against your neck, his fingers going into overdrive as he pumped them even harder. Your body jiggled as your breathing grew more ragged, warmth washing over you as the large knot suddenly snapped.

“Hobie!” you screamed as your hips snapped forward. Your vision turned completely white as your muscles clamped down on his fingers, your body shaking with bliss as you babbled nonsensically. “Holy fuck, H-Hobie!” you mewled as you felt all the air get sucked out of your lungs.

He continued to push his fingers inside you, his other hand brushing over your hair as he whispered praises into your ear. It felt like an eternity before you finally drifted down from your high, your body shaking as you basked in the afterglow of your euphoria. You slowly opened your eyes to see him looking down at you with a soft, hazy gaze.

"How're you feelin'?" he asked. Your breathing began to calm as you continued to stare into each others eyes.

"G-Good, really good," you panted. Hobie grinned.

"Good," he said as he pecked your cheek. You whimpered when he slipped away, only to feel spit pool in your mouth as he pulled his pants and boxers down. You moaned quietly as his cock sprang free and slapped against his shirt, precum smearing over the dark fabric. You propped yourself up on your forearms as you watched him glide his slick-covered hand over his shaft. Chills ran down your spine when you caught a glimpse of a small, round piercing shining beneath the dim light of your lamp.

"You good to keep goin'?" Hobie muttered as he slid his thumb across his juicy slit. You nodded as you clenched your thighs.

"Y-Yeah, just gimme a second," you breathed as you pushed yourself up. You pulled your shirt over your head, your breasts bouncing down and jiggling as you tossed it aside. Hobie groaned as he shuffled over, his hand latched onto the clasp of your bra.

"Let me help you with that," he husked. Your breath hitched as you nodded, turning your back a little for him. Hobie hummed as he unclasped your bra, the piece falling into your lap as your nipples hardened against the chilly air. "Fuck," he cursed under his breath as he slid his hand down your back, his calloused fingers caressing over a few of your plump rolls. You sighed and arched your spine as goosebumps broke out across your exposed skin. Soon your all's clothes were spread out across the floor. Your pussy clenched as you watched him starting to open a small, square packet with his teeth.

"It's okay, I'm on the pill," you said. Hobie paused.

"You sure?" he asked. You nodded and opened your right leg a little more.

"I'm sure, Hobie," you murmured softly. The man above you grinned as he tossed the packet aside before lining his cock to your entrance. You groaned as he smeared his tip over the rim of your tight entrance, collecting your slick juices. He sighed above you as he rested a hand on you hip. "You comfortable with me takin' you like this?" Hobie husked against your ear. Your bones turned to jelly as you thought of him thrusting his cock into you, his hands kneading your asscheeks wide open as you moaned his name.

"A-Actually, could you fuck me from...behind?" you squeaked and dipped your head into his shoulder again. Hobie chuckled softly before he slid both of his hands to your hips.

"Fuck yes," he rasped. You flipped yourself onto your stomach, your breast and belly pressed against the couch as he rubbed his rough, calloused palms over the globes of your round bum. "Christ, you have such a perfect arse," Hobie growled as he squeezed your supple flesh. You gasped and gripped the pillow in front of you as the burning tip of his dick kissed your hole. A low, guttural growl slipped from Hobie's lips as he slowly sank inside, stretching your entrance wide open on his thick length.

"Ah!" you mewled as you felt the ball of his piercing caress your walls, the round surface a foreign yet delicious feeling.

"Feelin' okay?" Hobie puffed, his brows furrowed in concentration. You nodded, your breathing ragged as your walls fluttered around his throbbing cock. Warmth flooded your core with each inch he sank into you, his decorated cockhead sending pulses of pleasure through your body. Both of you shivered when he finally sheathed his whole member inside you, his plump balls resting against your engorged clit. "Doin' such a good job, baby. Takin' my cock so well," he murmured as he smoothed his hands over your love handles. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his piercing rub against your cervix.

"Hobie, please," you choked as you rubbed your ass against his abs. He hummed as he gripped your waist.

"I got you, lovie," he reassured you as he slowly slid his cock half-way out. You moaned when he pushed it back in, his long, veiny shaft dragging along your slick walls. "Oh, fuck," he grunted as he rocked his hips at a steady pace. You moaned as you felt yourself being spread open with every thrust, your walls hugging and drenching his shaft with your arousal.

Your fingers dug into the pillow as you felt his balls tap against your bundle of nerves, your core sparking with pure bliss. The room was flipped with the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin, your pants and moans filtering through the air.

"Feelin' so good, tight little pussy wrapped around me so perfect-fuck," Hobie rasped as his nails dug into your sides. You cried out when he brushed over your g-spot, stars bursting across your vision as your legs shook. Hobie grunted as he started to pick up the pace, your cheeks clapping against his lower stomach as he thrusted into your weeping cunt.

"Mmm," you mewled as you bounced your ass a little higher, his testicles now slapping wetly against your puffy nub.

"You like it when I hit it from behind?" Hobie snarled. You nodded as the muscles in your lower belly starting to wind into a tight knot once more.

"Y-Yes," you slurred, tossing your head to the side as your whole body shifted with every push of his hips. Hobie grunted, his voice thick and heavy with lust as he pounded into your needy hole. You gasped when you felt him lay a few quick, light slaps against your left cheek.

"God, love how this pretty arse bounces...how your whole perfect body just moves while I fuck you," he moaned. You felt your voice get trapped in your throat as you stiffened.

"H-Hobieee," you rasped as your jaw went slack. Hobie hissed between gritted teeth as your cunt convulsed around his cock, sucking him in deeper as he shallowly thrusted into you.

"Yeah that's it-soak my cock, sweet girl," he breathed as he held your asscheeks apart. Your hole puckered around his girth as you shivered, your hips shifting back on their own as Hobie fucked you through your second climax. Your white cream oozed and bubbled onto his dick and dripped down your thighs. You whimpered as your muscles contracted for the last time. You gasped when Hobie pushed himself all the way inside.

"Almost there, love. Could you hang on for just a bit longer?" he drawled. You peeked behind your shoulder and blushed when you saw his hips flush against your rear.

"Y-Yeah," you sighed. You screamed and clawed at the pillow as he pistoned his cock deep inside your cunt. Hot tears of pleasure spilling past the corners of your eyes as tendrils of overstimulation reached into every corner of your trembling form. You felt his cock twitch inside you as he panted, his thrusts growing more sloppy as he parted your gummy walls over and over again. You gasped when his hot breath fell over your shoulder, his body splayed over yours as he nibbled on your flesh.

"Fuck, g-gonna cum," Hobie growled.

"Yes, yes, yes!" you cried out.

Hobie moaned against your shoulder as he snapped his hips forward one last time, his body stiffening above you. You keened as you felt his dick throb and pulse, his thick, heady cum soaking your walls. Your face twisted with pleasure as you felt him fill you to the brim, drops of his spend dripping out of your wet sex as he kept his cock snug against your cervix. You felt like every nerve ending inside you consumed with euphoria, your mind clouded with intoxicating rapture. Hobie puffed against your skin before kissing the wet spot on your shoulder, his hands smoothing up and down your sides.

"So, so good, baby girl," he praised, his softening cock twitching a little. You caught your breath and licked your lips.

"You...you were amazing," you panted. Hobie grinned as he kissed your shoulder again, letting his warm lips linger for just a bit longer this time. Your eyelids suddenly grew very heavy, your bones reduced to jelly as you shivered. Hobie cooed as he rubbed your love handles.

"Get some rest, love," he murmured, the last thing you remembered before drifting into a deep slumber.

••••

You woke up the next morning to the smell of eggs frying in the pan. You cracked your eyes open, your body the most relaxed it's ever been as you turned on your side. Your eyes softened when you saw Hobie standing at your stove. He turned when he heard the couch creak.

"Mornin'," he drawled.

"Good morning," you yawned and stretched your arms above your head. You glanced down and gave a puzzled look at the blanket draped over your naked form.

"You looked cold after I got up to make some eggs," Hobie said, his back turned to you (seriously, was he psychic or something?). You blushed and searched around for your panties and sweater.

"Thank you," you said sheepishly as you pulled your underwear over your thick thighs.

"Welcome," Hobie replied as he flipped the burner off on your stove. You tugged your sweater over your head, the soft fabric soothing over your goose-bump ridden skin as you padded over to your small kitchen table. The sun was just hanging over the skyline of London as you slid into one of your chairs.

"Here you go," he winked as he slid the eggs onto the plate in front of you. You smiled.

"You're so sweet, Hobie," you flushed. Hobie paused, his body stiffening as he waved his hand.

"Nah, just figured you'd be hungry after last night," he shrugged as he scratched the side of his face. You raised a brow and hummed "mhm". Hobie smirked and rolled his eyes before padding over to the sink. You frowned as he rinsed out the pan.

"You're not gonna eat?" you asked. Hobie shook his head.

"Need to head to work in a bit," he sighed. Your heart sank as you stared down at your plate.

"Oh," you murmured while poking at your food. You heard his heavy boots approach you before he placed a hand over yours. You glanced up.

"I should be free tomorrow night if you're game," he smiled. Your eyes lit up as you shifted in your chair.

"I'd love that," you grinned ear to ear.

____

Thank you for reading! 💖

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[mmhcs]

Child of Divorce

Warnings: Angst with a (bitter)sweet ending. Mentions of divorce and anxiety.

Hey, are you okay?

Can we talk?

I'm sorry.

You stared at the string of text messages, trying to decide what to do next. One moment, your fingers were moving, crafting out an explanation that could rival a Shakespearean monologue, and the next you were deleting it.

How did you two even end up in this position? You hated fights. You hated arguing. Every time you were placed in a confrontational situation your heart grew heavy and sluggish and your armpits stung with the premonition of sweat. It was why you stopped going to Speech and Debate halfway through sophomore year.

Well, that and because you found it to be too logical and time-consuming. But still: how did you end up in a fight with Miles?

You didn't get angry often but when you did you went all out. It was like a balloon finally popping after poking it with a needle for the thousandth time; you exploded in a frenzy of rash words, raw emotion, most notably anger.

Again, you hated being angry. Just the word took you back to the nights in which you would hear your parents arguing over Lord knows what. It was like the more you tried to block them out, the louder their argument got. And just when you thought it was over, they would start up again, louder and angrier than before.

The quietness after the divorce was unnerving to say the least. As stressful as it was living in a household where a WWE match was just one dirty dish away, it didn't compare to living in the opposite environment.

Nowadays, the house was quiet. You and your mother barely saw each other. Sometimes you startle awake at the presence of footsteps, only to remember that you, in fact, did not live alone.

"Love isn't the fairytale the movies show you," is what your mother said within the first week of the divorce. That was almost two years ago, but it sticks to the forefront of your mind for a variety of reasons.

Number one being that it's the last time you really heard your mother's voice. Nowadays, you only heard her muffled sighs as she headed in and out the house, and the occasional yell for a grocery list.

Secondly, because what if she's right?

They say mother knows best, after all.

And it wasn't just your parents' marriage that had been tumultuous.

Nobody in your family seemed happy in their relationships. You had aunts and uncles that pulled up to family functions arguing. They would try their best to avoid each other during events, standing on opposite ends of the room as if they didn't share a damn house together. The only reprieve were the few aunties and uncles in between who had sworn allegiance to the "single life", which essentially meant dating apps, flirty text messages, and a never-ending rotation of lovers. But even then, you could see the unhappiness on their faces. Feel the loneliness in their spirit.

That's why you hated fighting and arguing. Before Miles, you used to avoid romance and commitment like the plague, too. But something about him made you crumble in that resolve...

At first, you thought that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. You ignored the jeers and jokes from your relatives, pushed your mother's grim words to the back of your head.

And now look what happened.

You liked Miles (more than you'd care to admit), yes, but you should've known.

Of course you would get into a relationship with a guy who constantly flakes. A guy who, despite his intentions, still leaves you to wonder where the hell he is. A guy whose text messages become sloppy and incoherent halfway through your conversations until they just stop coming altogether.

Unluckiness in love; it was a generational curse.

You sighed deeply, your fingers moving across the keyboard for umpteenth time.

Miles--

You stopped typing as you heard your bedroom door open with so much force that it slammed against the wall.

"Miles?"

Your heart stammered at the sight of him.

Despite the force, he stood at threshold of your bedroom silently, his chest heaving with anxiety. He fucked up once. He wasn't going to do it again and take a step further without your permission.

"I'm sorry," was all he said after a beat of silence. You two stared at each other, your eyes searching within his and vice versa.

When you looked into his eyes, you found fear. Sorrow. Determination. Warmth. Love.

You could only imagine what he saw in yours.

Lack of sleep. Fear. Confusion. Disbelief. Distress.

"Miles--"

"I'm sorry." He quickly apologized again for cutting you off and then continued, "Wait, no. Sorry. Hey. Hi. How are you?"

You had told Miles a little about your family's history with relationships. He knew of your parents' divorce and the anxiety that their marriage had planted within you.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his insistence on greeting.

"It's been...yeah,"

It killed Miles to see you like this. It was like something was pressing down on his heart. He was Spiderman and yet he'd made you feel like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be the other way around. He was supposed to make you happy. Make you smile.

"Baby, I am so sorry. I didn't listen to you when I should have and instead I was--"

In the time that he'd been speaking, you'd rose from you bed and started walking over to him. He'd watched you the entire time but was caught off guard when you wrapped your arms around him and rested your head in his chest.

"I missed you." you said.

"I missed you, too," Miles returned your hug, wrapping his arms around you. "And I'm sorry."

"And I'm sorry, too," you sighed into his chest. "But can we talk about it later? I just...I'm just a little anxious right now."

Miles started to rub circles on your back. "Yeah, of course." he said, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Anything you want."

#astv x black reader #astv x gn!reader #astv x reader #astv x y/n #astv x you #earth1610 miles morales x gn reader #earth1610 miles morales x reader #itsv x reader #itsv x y/n #itsv x you #miles morales x you #music #miles morales x male reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales headcanons #miles x reader #astv x male reader #astv #spiderman astv #atsv #spiderman across the verse #across the spiderverse #spiderman #into the spider verse #istv #miles x y/n #x reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #earth1610 miles morales x black!reader

[blueysobssesions]

Jealous Pavitr >.< ☕ - Just Fluff 🧃 - Not PROOFREAD!!

-When Pavitr gets jealous... It's cute. I'm not kidding, his arms crossed on his chest, pouts, rolling his eyes and giving you the silent treatment. It's like watching a little kid throw a tantrum, but you can't help but find it endearing. 

He even got jealous when you were cuddle up with his spider-man plushie instead of him><

"Are you seriously getting jealous over a plushie?" you chuckled, "N-no! That's childish" he stammered, his cheeks turning a shade of red. "I'm not jealous!" he protested, "I just want to be the one all cuddled up!" he whined. You rolled your eyes playfully, he suddenly snatched the plushie, "HEY" you exclaimed, reaching out to grab it back. But before you could, he pulled you into his arms and held both you and the plushie tightly, a mischievous grin on his face. "Now, sush" he whispered, you couldn't help but laugh as you snuggled into his embrace.

Now, what if its a person? 

He'll give you the silent treatment hehe

He gets annoyed when everytime you say their name

Let's say it's his best friend Hobie <3

"Hey, Pav? Do you want to come with me? I'm going to visit Hobie's concert!" you asked him excitedly, you were expecting a yes, but only silence. "Pav???" you ask him again, no answer. His back was facing you, and his arms were crossed across his chest. You look at him with a confused face, wierd... Usually, him giving a silent treatment means... oh. You giggled, "Oh, Pav..." walking towards his bed, you embraced him behind his back, your face on his shoulder  "Did I not pay attention to you that much...?" you whispered softly, you looked into his eyes, but he dodge it. Sighing, you climb on his bed and sat infront of him, he wasn't looking at you, instead he was more focused looking at his window. "C'mon... It's not the time to get jealous-" "I'm not!" he interrupted you, "Oh really? Usually you give me that silent treatment whenever your jealous" now it was your turn to cross your arms across your chest. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to respond. After a moment of silence, he finally turned his gaze towards you and let out a deep sigh. "Okay, maybe I am a little jealous," he admitted reluctantly. "When you and Hobie met... It's like you two hangout everytime! I couldn't help It okay...?" your expression softened, and smiled. "Love... Hobie saved me from a bus almost crushing me! Of course I need to repay him back by going you his concert..." his shoulders slumped when you called him 'Love'. He sighed, "I guess I overreacted. It's just that seeing you two together so often made me feel left out," he confessed, you smiled. Your hand reaching to touch his face, his eyes softened at the contact, finally, he looked at you. You satrted kissing his face all over, making him chuckle, "I kiss love kiss you kiss" you kissed his face in every word you spelled out. "I love you, too" he said softly. "Now, come with me and watch the concert, please?" "Alright," he replied, a small smile forming on his lips. "Let's go watch the concert together." 

©️ BLuEy

#blueyheartzposts #spiderverse #astv #spiderverse x reader #astv x reader #spiderverse x y/n #astv x y/n #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x y/n #pavitr spiderverse #pravitr x reader #pavitr x y/n #pavitr prabhakar x reader fluff #spiderverse fluff #fluff

[inlovewithpandora]

- Motherless Child -

Pairing: Earth!1610 Miles [18] x fem!reader [18] (ft. Mama Rio)

Request: [ 🥀 anon ] Miles1610! X reader who’s home life is horrible, readers dad was killed and mom gets drunk and has men over all the time who abuse reader but their mother doesn’t care at all, she’s almost just emotionless || miles wakes up at the middle of the night to tapping on the window, revealing the reader who has bruises she’s obviously trying to cover with his hoodie she took and is saying she’s over just because she wanted to be here, his mom gets home late from work and hears them talking about what happened because he obviously found out, she walks in, mad that he has someone over without asking, and sees reader crying and realizes what its about because she’s mama rio and noticed readers abnormal behavior (flinching, wearing long sleeves and hoodies to hide bruises) and tells her that she’s welcome to come over any time while comforting her with miles.

Synopsis: When having a rough time with your mom you go to your boyfriend’s house to find a sense of peace and comfort you can never find in your own home.

Content/Warnings: implied black reader (but can imagine any way you want), Aged!up Miles, Angst + hurt w/ comfort, alcoholic and slightly abusive mom, mentions of bruises, mentions of physical abuse, sleep deprived reader, emotional reader, crying, Miles being there for reader, Mama Rio being a motherly figure

❖ - if you are uncomfortable with some/any of the content above please DNI!!

Author’s Note: Rose thank you for sending in this request! I hope you enjoy and that it meets your expectations! This was a really good request and I enjoyed writing it even though it tugged on my heart strings. Let me know what you think by sending an anonymous ask or comment if you feel comfortable!

❖ - if enough ppl are interested I’m willing to make a part two so lmk!

Word Count: 1.7K

Glossary: Querida - Darling || buenas noches amor - Good night love || mija - my daughter || n/n = nickname

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules before requesting! || Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated❤️!

Links: Navigation || Atsv Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

You're sleeping peacefully in your room, trying to drown out the problems of your horrific home life. Your mom was in the living room entertaining one of her many men she has over. Whenever they came, you tried your best to stay out of their way because they always found a way to lay their filthy hands on you. The worst part is that your mom would watch them manhandle you, creating a range of bruises on your brown skin and she wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Your mom used to show you motherly affection, but after your dad was killed, that part of her died right along with him. She began to heavily drink to drown her pain and sorrows and whenever she needed the warmth of a man she always had someone to call. At first, you didn’t think your mom knew about what they did to you, until one day you saw her standing in your doorway as one of her many men had a harsh grip on bicep. She would watch the tears cascade down your face, your eyes boring at her, silently begging her to make it stop, but she didn’t listen. Instead she would just walk into the kitchen, ready to indulge in her fifth alcoholic beverage for the night.

She always had the ability to make you feel like a Motherless child, even though she was living in the same house as you.

As you doze off, you hear the sound of someone barging into your room. You open your eyes and see your mother towering over you. “Get up and come clean this house. It’s a mess and I have more company coming over.” She says as she takes a swig of the alcoholic substance in her cup.

“Mom, can I sleep, please? I haven’t been able to get any sleep lately.” Your mom has been having you doing all types of errands this week and it’s gotten to the point where it’s beginning to take a toll on your physical health. As you begin to explain your feelings, all it does is anger her. In her eyes you're being defiant and to her it’s only one way to deal with a misbehaving child.

She pulls your cover back and yanks you out of the bed. Once your feet are planted on the floor, she begins to yell at you. “Don’t you ever talk back to me! I am your mother. Whatever I tell you to do, you do it!”

“Mom, I promise I wasn’t trying to talk back I was just-” When you feel a harsh slap come across your cheek, your words immediately gets lodged in your throat. The sting on your face is unbearable, as the pain spreads through your face, your mother’s words are no longer registering. All you want to do is get out of this house, to escape the life you’ve been dealt even if it was for a few minutes.

All you want is a sense of love and peace and you know one person that always makes you feel that way. When your mother leaves your room, you grabbed Miles' hoodie –that you took from his closet the last time you were over his house– and put it on so he wouldn’t be alarmed by your bruises. You carefully climb out your window and walk to Miles’ house, in hopes that he would help your night go better than it has so far.

—

When the sound of tapping hits Miles ears, he rises from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. When he looks around his room, he doesn’t see anything until his eyes focus on the dark silhouette standing outside his window. He stands up and gets closer to the window and that’s when he realizes it’s you.

“y/n?” He whispers to himself wondering what you're doing outside at the wee hours of the night.

He opens the window and puts out his hand so he can help you inside. “Baby, are you okay? What are you doing here?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just wanted to come see you.” As you talk to Miles, he notices how you have on a hoodie when it’s currently humid in Brooklyn. He assumes you just threw it on to come see him, so he decides to offer you a change of clothes.

“Here, you can wear one of my shirts, so you can take that hot hoodie off.” When he tries to pull down the hood and uncover your face, you flitch, pulling yourself away from him, which is something you’ve never done before. When you turn your face to the side, he sees a dark spot from where your mom slapped you. Seeing that mark plus your actions reveales to him that something bad must’ve happened.

“y/n, I know something happened, I can tell. I don’t wanna force you, but can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Hearing his concerned tone and the worry etched into his face makes you decide to let it all out, to tell and show him everything. After seeing the mark you knew he grew curious and would want answers and with him being your boyfriend, the person your suppose to confide in, you felt like he deserved the truth.

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” You take a deep breath and begin to spill out everything you’ve been bottling up inside.

—

After a long shift, Rio finally comes home. She quietly walks around the apartment, so she doesn’t wake up Miles. As she tiptoes past his room, she hears two voices, his and yours. She grows upset because she’s told him numerous times to not have people over without asking and especially at this ungodly hour.

When she puts her hand out to turn his doorknob, she hears you explain to Miles everything that’s been happening in your life. As a mother, it breaks her heart to hear that those horrible things are happening to you, but what angers her the most is to hear that your mother approves of it. She didn’t know any of these things were happening at home and neither did Miles, this is their first time hearing this information.

When Rio finally decides to walk inside, she sees you crying while showing Miles the bruises that adorned your arms and other parts of your body. And when you notice her walking in, you frantically pull your sleeves and hoodie down and wipe your tears. “I-I’m sorry Mrs. Morales, I shouldn’t have come especially with it being so late. I’ll go back home.” You stand up and start walking to Miles' window and he tries to convince you to stay, but you’re adamant about leaving because you don't want to disrespect Rio’s rules.

Miles looks at his mom, silently asking her to try to make you stay because he doesn’t want you to go back home to that toxic, abusive environment and neither did she.

“Querida, wait don’t go.” Rio’s voice makes you turn around. “y/n, I heard what you told Miles, about what happens at home and I want you to know that me, Miles, and Jeff are here for you. You don’t have to go home tonight if you don’t want to and you can even stay here with us if you like.”

“Stay here? You mean permanently, like I don’t have to live with my mom anymore?” You’ve always dreamed of moving out and living a normal life, but it has been only a dream. Now that you have a real opportunity to move out, you don't know how to respond.

“Yes, permanently. We have a guest room we rarely use, so it can be yours.” Rio doesn’t mind inviting you into her home because she knows you are a sweet, kind, and good-hearted person. After the things she heard you’ve gone through and seeing the bruises with her own eyes, she knows that she can’t let you go back your mom.

A smile couldn’t help but curl onto your lips when you hear Rio’s offer. To know that you finally have an opportunity to free yourself from your mom overwhelmes you with happiness. “Thank you Mrs. Morales, you don’t know how much this means to me.” More tears begin to flow down your face, making Rio pull you in for a hug. When you feel her arms wrapped around your body, you feel an emotion you haven’t felt in a long time: motherly love.

It’s heavily radiating from her and it makes you feel safe, that no one else could put you in harm's way. When you pull back from Rio she places one hand on your shoulder and uses the other one to push your hair out of your face and tuck it gently behind your ear. “You’re always welcome here, mija, remember that.” Rio flashes you a reassuring smile before looking over to her son. “You and y/n can stay up a little longer and then I want you both to rest, okay?” Miles nods softly and with that Rio leaves the room and closes the door.

“Are you okay, n/n?” He asks as both of you sit down on his bed.

“I’m okay now, you and your mom helped me feel better.” You tell him as you rest your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. They truly uplifted your spirits from the sunken place they were in before.

“I’m glad we could help. All I want to do is help you and make sure you’re okay. Your my first priority, always.” He slowly and gently grabs your hand so it wouldn’t startle you and then he places a soft kiss on your it, physically showing you that he is there for you. The feeling of his lips on your skin makes a fuzzy sensation flow through your body; a pleasurable sensation he always makes you feel anytime you are around him.

For the rest of the night, both of you talk until you start growing tired. You and Miles lay back onto his bed and snuggle up against each other, happily engulfing the other into your embrace.

“Buenas noches, amor.” He kisses your forehead softly and tightens his grip around your torso to make you feel safe, which you deeply appreciated. He wants you to always feel safe, comfortable, and protected around him and you’ve never stopped feeling that way, especially in this moment with the night you’ve endured.

Now being able to say that you have the opportunity to leave your home and live somewhere surrounded by love, support and affection is definitely going to help you get the rest you’ve been craving. You nuzzle your head into his chest, and murmur your last words before you let sleep take over.

“Good night, Miles.”

I hope you enjoyed❤️!

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Editor - @justmemyselfandthemoon

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©️inlovewithpandora ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

#❖ — 🕸️: 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑴𝒀 𝑱𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑨𝑵’𝑺?.! #❖ — 🕷️: 𝑰𝑻’𝑺 𝑨 𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑨𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑹 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑴.! #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #miles morales #rio morales #miles x reader #earth 1610 miles x black!reader #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles #earth 1610 miles x reader #earth 1610 miles angst #atsv x reader #spiderman astv #astv miles #astv x reader #atsv x black reader #astv x fem!reader #astv x y/n #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #miles x you #miles x fem!reader #miles morales x you

[kairiscorner]

OK THIS JUST CAME TO MIND

imagine pav x grumpy reader

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

"come onnnnn, just curve your lips, then bam, you're drop dead gorgeous!" pav says as he curves your lips with the ends of his pointer fingers, smiling for demonstration as he does or because of how funny you seem when he's trying to teach you how to smile.

the moment he lets go of your lips, your smile doesn't last another second. you're back to frowning, being, what pav loves to call you: a grump. he groaned. "ugh, it's like you don't have a bone of fun and happiness in you! no wonder spider man's fed up with your attitude..." he mutters to himself.

you put your hands on your hips and furrow your eyebrows at him. "what did you say, prabhakar?" you asked in a stern tone, a tone that was as cold as a blizzard. it was tense, pav shivered when you asked him the question.

he smiled nervously and laughed. "ah, um... no, nothing, nothing." he said as he fidgeted with his fingers, then ran a hand through his wavy hair. "i'm just concerned for you, y'know. maybe in a year or two, you won't wanna be this, like... this cesspool of grumpiness. i've seen you smile before, i mean, uh... i've heard you're capable of real fun. and i want to see that version of you." he said with a more genuine smile, and with a tone that was nothing but sincerity but into sound.

you looked at pav with a puzzled look, you raised your eyebrows, your eyes widened a little as you listened to him. but you refused to put down your angry demeanor and crossed arms over your chest. "if this is some elaborate plan in getting me to act childish, well guess what, it's backfired. miserably." you say with emphasis on 'miserably'.

pav looked at you with a saddened eyes. "it's not, though!" he retorted, trying to convince you with all his might. "i've seen you smile before, i swear it! i'd never lie, even towards you! you have such bright eyes when you smile, such beautiful teeth that i can't help but stare at, and don't get me started on your lips! the way they curve when... you're having time of your life, i've--" pav cuts himself off to look at you, red in the face and widened eyes.

"...i really like you." he confesses, looking away from you, a little ashamed of himself that he was trying to force you to smile all because he wanted to see it again. he liked you, no, he loved you, all this time.

you felt a warmth creep up your cheeks, it enveloped around your face, and soon, you were blushing.

"i'm sorry, okay? i just... i love seeing you smile, i love seeing you enjoy yourself, i want to make you so, so happy, you have no idea–" he trails off as you cup his face in one hand and look at him with furrowed eyebrows yet again.

"do you mean it?" you ask him, your tone still stern. pav wasn't really scared nor happy you were acknowledging his answer, more so on confused. "um... yeah." he admitted, looking into your eyes. "i'd never, ever want to lie to you." he added, to which you sighed.

"good. because i'd hate it if such a sweet, pretty boy wanted to play with my heart." you said in a calmer tone, squeezing his cheeks together.

pav looked at you, blushing, and in disbelief–there, right in front of him, was the love of his life; he knew you were prickly, a little too prickly for some, but he loved all your rough edges just as much as he loved your smoother sides.

there, you smiled in front of him, sincerely–for the first time.

and pav could feel his heart about to leap out of his chest.

boy, did he love you.

"what's it gonna take for me to get you to smile like that all the time?" he asked you teasingly. "a whole lot of patience. and maybe, just, maybe... your annoying ass bothering me with all your love." you teased him back.

he's always up for teasing his favorite cesspool of grumpiness.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #pavitr fluff #pavitr prabhakar #atsv pavitr #spiderverse pavitr #pav my beloved #pavitr x you #pavitr x reader #atsv imagines #atsv fluff #atsv x you #atsv x reader #astv x y/n #atsv fanfiction #spiderman across the spiderverse

[l0starl]

# Sleeping over late w Gwen Stacy

I have never done anything for Gwen sooo 💁🏾‍♀️ but this is not Astv Gwen, I mostly had comic book Gwen in mind

Christmas masterlist

You and Gwen were inseparable, whether she’s busy being spider woman or band practice. You’ve seen her play the drums but it’s even more spectacular when you know the true meaning behind it, it really is a magical moment!

So today, she’ll be teaching you how to play the drums, i mean you’ve been interested before! All you do is grab a few sticks are start banging till you find your rhythm…right?

“So, here goes nothing” You muttered to yourself as you sat in front of the drums.

You grabbed the drum sticks and started tapping on the base of the drums to find a beat, which clearly you were having trouble finding.

“Here let me help!” Gwen spoke taking one of the drums sticks. “To find a rhythm you gotta feel it, like music or something like that”

You nodded taking the drumstick back, you inhaled and exhaled while tapping the drum quickly finding a rhythm-like melody.

You kept a steady beat, muttering to yourself “1,2,3,1,2,3” Over and over again as you picked up the pace.

“Hey I think I’m getting it!” You smiled as you kept steady with the rhythm, as you ended it off with a gentle beat, coming to a abrupt stop.

“Well I’d say your a pretty fast learner” Gwen grinned

“Well, how about I teach you something new?”

“Oh really, like what?”

“You’ll see!”

#christmas wonderland ୨୧ #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy x you #atsv gwen #ghost spider #ghost spider x reader #spider gwen #spider gwen x reader #gwen x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman: atsv #astv x reader #astv x y/n #astv fanfic #astv #marvel #mcu x reader #marvel x you #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spider woman #across the spiderverse x reader #astv fluff #itsv x reader #mcu imagine #astv x you #marvel x reader

[nixyl]

Earth 1610 miles morales x reader headcanons

First of all he's very sweet to u

Always looking forward to see you at school everyday

Always loves listening to music with you even if your music taste is different

His mom very concerned the first time she meet you but eventually warm up to you

You guys study together

Sleep overs but the door has to be wide open

Stay up together all night on the phone together

You guys play video games together

#atsv headcanons #reader insert #miles molares #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles fluff #earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth1610milesmorales headcanons #astv miles #miles x reader #astv headcannons #astv x reader #astv x y/n

[chishiyae]

— OUT WITH A BANG ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] e42! miles morales, e1610!miles morales, spider noir, and hobie brown

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ summer is coming to an end, which means carnivals are making their final rounds before closing for good. so, what better way to round off the summer than to take your lover to one?

a/n. — this is literally just me coping with the fact summer is ending (+ i ran out of motivation for hobie guys i’m so sorry)

E42!MILES, will never be that boyfriend who spends a lot of money (whether he has it or not) on carnival games. let alone spend an hour trying to win you a stuffed animal. if he doesn't win whatever you want in the first two tries, he'll just ask the stand worker if he can buy it from them. now, as ridiculous as it may sound, given the amount of money he offers on the spot, the workers sometimes just give in. rather having free money than a stuffed animal. you hate the fact that he bribes his way of getting it. you could’ve gone to build a bear if you wanted him to buy you a stuffed animal. but you didn't want that; you brought him to the carnival for a reason. for bonding time. and playing games together was apart of that. but did you intend to tell him? no. because it’d look like you’re forcing it, so you stated that bribery wouldn’t work (until it did). and if that were to happen, because miles can't let things go, a conversation can go something like this:

“told you i’d get it, princesa,” miles brags. he’s walking alongside you, a smirk on his face as he watches you holding your stuffed bear.

you just shake your head, choosing not to say anything to him. that way, you avoid giving him any form of satisfaction. the satisfaction of anything. even kissing if it came down to it.

he nudges your arm, and you just glare at him. he put up his hands in defense, saying, "my bad.”

you sigh, “c’mon, we need to go to the ticket booth.”

miles just snorts, resting a hand on your shoulder.

other than that, he really only comes for the food. he loves funnel cakes, and he'd carry your stuff while you went from ride to ride or game to game while he ate and watched.

not that he doesn't go on rides; it just depends on how he feels. he has unhealthy urges to feel the drop of his stomach on some days, but not on others. if you ask him enough times on a day when he doesn't want to go, he'll give in, but will give you the option of him going on that or the ferris wheel. he's not doing both.

E1610!MILES, spends half of his time at the carnival focused on the goldfish you won. making sure that it’s not knocked over or pushed around too much. it's better to go home at that point. because the longer you stay, he'll just rant about the fish needing a tank and wanting to get it out of the bag.

prior to the fish, he'd been really excited to go with you to the carnival. you two definitely planned this a week in advance so that he could make sure that his time was free, so he's been thinking about it nonstop for the past week.

after he waves goodbye to his parents, your hand is instantly grabbed and you two run to the rides together (him dragging you), and the rest is history.

i say that because the next hour ends in throw up. miles goes on every ride possible, so it's not just a small amount of vomit in his throat that he can swallow. it's a lot more than that. not exactly a pleasant memory, especially given the stares he received when he had his head hanging over a trash can. but it's all good, at least you two got to relax for a minute before getting up to play carnival games. a break is always helpful.

or maybe you should’ve stayed put and relaxed a little longer. maybe you wouldn't have ended up at the fish prize game that way. miles seemed to be more interested with the fish than with you…

SPIDERNOIR, is confused — but acts collected. the. entire. time. he might not show it, but he’s confused.

for starters, this would be the first time he'd ever been to a carnival that wasn't all live music and exotic animals; after all, it isn't the 1930s. he'd be sent to modern times (your dimension), where most games are rigged and rides need a little more attention and caution than is given.

he was wary of the rides once you explained how they operated. not only because of how they looked, but also because of a few incidences you told him about (you really should've left that part out). so he tried everything to keep you from getting on one. when you walked? he'd put his hand around your shoulder so that whenever he spotted a ride, he could walk the other way, dragging you along with him. he’s just trying to keep you safe. if you love carnival rides, you'd notice his actions and end up going on a ride against his will. after all, you didn't buy those tickets for nothing. he'd hold your stuff and wait for you just by the iron bars, eyes tracking your every move. when you get off, his hand is back over your shoulder, and he decides that under any circumstances, he isn't letting go.

instead, you'd spend the rest of your time at carnival games. somewhere that peter feels he can protect you. but you don't mind, not with him playing darts against you. he'd let you win only to watch you smile and brag about it, because if he didn't, he'd win, and that's not much of a prize, now is it?

gift giving is one of his love languages, and you can guarantee he’ll get you one here. he tries to win everything you want, and even after he's won you a couple of bears, he brings you flowers from the ground as something extra to give you. yeah. i’d call it a romantic act. it's like something out of a movie.

HOBIE, is in love with the rush of riding rollercoasters. that being said, he drags you on all the rides, and it's best not to ask questions because he'll just say, "the rides ain’t even scary, they ain’t got scary ones here." or “i’ll be righ’ by ya side, love.” when it comes down to it, if you really don't want to go on one, he won't make you. however, he will go on them by himself while you watch. then, when he gets off, he'll tell you all about his thoughts and feelings during the ride. you merely roll your eyes when he suggest you should've gone.

because it's packed, a hand is on your waist the entire time you two are walking, and he’s positioned behind you. if he thinks you're walking too fast, he'll pull your belt loops to get you closer. he's does it to keep you from being lost in the crowd, but he can't stop himself from lingering his fingers over the waistband of your jeans.

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

#「𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒」 #so many writings to be posted .. to be written .. and so many ideas #definitely not proofread #earth 42 miles morales × reader #miles morales x reader #spider noir x reader #hobie brown x reader #astv x reader #miles morales x y/n #hobie brown x y/n #spider noir x y/n #earth 42 miles morales #astv x y/n #astv x you

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

#miles morales #42 miles morales #42 miles morales x reader #astv x you #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #astv miles #astv x reader #astv x y/n #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 prowler #earth 42 miles morales x female reader #earth 42 miles fluff #astv #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #miles morales prowler #miles morales x y/n #prowler miles #miles morales 1610 #d

[allysunny]

Hi! I saw that your Miguel requests were open so I was wondering if it was possible to do a mig x f!reader where the reader is a civilian who's a photographer? She's always catching Miguel in action as Spiderman, not so much action shots but more movement inclined artwork. She goes to alchemax to take a professional portrait of their head biologist, Miguel, unaware that he's her not so friendly neighborhood spiderman and he's aware of her work.

Picture Perfect | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: None, i would say! Reader is a photographer and Miguel is kinda grumpy, but that's about it!

A/N: Aaaa my first request! I'm so excited! I actually finished a book about a photographer the other day, so it was super interesting to write this. Unfortunately, I don't know much about photography itself. I have a camera, but I'm no pro! Nevertheless, I tried to do my best! I hope this is to your liking!!

I'm also trying something new with my themes haha, goodbye to that big red header in between paragraphs! </3

To say Spiderman was majestic was an understatement.

The way he swinged around the city, effortlessly spinning and turning and moving as if he was one with the air – it was breathtaking. Not only did he seem amazing at what he did, he always seemed to look great doing it.

And it was a cold, hard truth that the camera loved him.

Particularly, yours.

Being Nueva York’s most famous photographer hadn’t been an easy feat to achieve. Your job had consisted of carrying cameras and tripods and objects for many years until you finally managed to publish your own work; work that had gotten you recognised and plastered in every big magazine’s cover.

Now, instead of begging and pleading for work, the work came to you. Your rep would text you and call you at the weirdest hours, claiming to have found your next great gig.

But no matter how amazing, how well-paying, how dynamic these gigs were, nothing truly compared to photographing Spiderman in action. You had some amazing shots of him – fighting villains, saving your city, and some of him just being.

Those were your most prized possessions, the shots of him overlooking the city, as if monitoring it from above. He was Nueva York’s guardian angel, and your photos captured it perfectly.

One day, you’d been photographing a famous singer who requested your services (and your services only) at the top of the highest building in Nueva York. Once you were done, the singer thanked you profusely, everyone packed, and you were left alone to overlook the place you called home.

And that’s when you saw him.

You weren’t sure if it was just a coincidence. But from all the buildings Spiderman could’ve landed on to watch Nueva York, he had landed on top of the one in front of you.

It felt almost rude to stare. He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and as much as your conscience tried to bite at you, telling you it was rude to just take his picture without asking for permission, the other part of your brain that yelled This is your job! won, and you found yourself bringing your beloved camera to your face.

Right when you were about to snap a picture, he turned to you.

Shivers ran down your spine.

I’m screwed, you thought, repeatedly. I’m screwed. I’m screwed. I’m screwed.

You waited for any kind of reaction from his part but got none.

Surely, he must see me. He’s Spiderman. He has to know I’m here.

Oh.

Maybe he did.

Maybe he was doing it on purpose.

Was this his way of giving you consent?

You brought the camera to your face once again and waited. He kept staring at you, and then simply turned away from you, gazing at the city.

A wave of excitement rushed through your bones, lighting the tips of your fingers ablaze.

You smiled and took his picture.

And another.

And another.

Those shots had earned you the cover of the Bugle Diario’s newest edition, and even an interview on the news, where two smiling anchors questioned you about your passion for photography, and the amazing images of Spiderman.

Sometimes you wondered why no one else seemed to get pictures like yours. Other photographers had tried, but their shots were void of passion, were bland. The masked hero would be too blurry, or perhaps facing the other way. There were times when you even humoured the possibility of him doing it on purpose – turning his face away because he refused to be photographed by someone other than you.

It gave you butterflies, this silly little thought of yours. Needless to say, though, whenever you found yourself considering it, you’d chastise yourself over it immediately. Why would he even do that? He’s a super-hero. He has no time to pick a favourite photographer. I’m just lucky, is all. And yet, you wished it was something more than just luck.

“Have you opened them yet?” Your rep asked excitedly over the phone.

The new shots of Spiderman had just arrived. You’d taken them last week, and the prints had just arrived. Excited was an understatement. You were dying to see how these looked.

“’m doing it now, give me a sec,” You responded, voice laced in enthusiasm. With a pair of scissors, you were able to make quick work of the cardboard box and dug into the contents inside.

And what you saw took your breath away.

Your (quite possibly) best work so far.

The first shot was of Spiderman on his back, body completely bent as he threw a web at (seemingly) your camera’s direction. You could see it clearly – the shape of his body, twisted in the middle of the air, the light that illuminated his figure, even the material of his webs were easy to make out if you looked closely enough. It was dynamic, the way his body contorted easily to aid him in whatever task he did. To the average person, it might even be painful, but it seemed such a natural thing for him to do, a natural pose for him to be in. A remarkable pose for a remarkable superhero.

“Holy shit…” You mumbled, to what your rep could only laugh in amusement.

“Keep going!” She encouraged, “You haven’t even seen the best one yet!”

So you kept looking through the picture, each better than the last one.

There was one of him with his back turned to you, body contorted as he webbed a building. His broad back was visible, as well as his muscular arms. You particularly remember almost getting hit by a flying car when you tried to snap that picture – it had been very well worth it. The building behind him provided the best background, since it allowed the viewer to realise how far up he was.

“[Y/N], this is great stuff. Have you seen them all?”

“No, just give me a second!” Just like your rep, you were unable to contain your enthusiasm. Each picture had so much personality to it, so much care and effort. This was not only your job,  but also your passion, and it clearly showed.

“You need to see the last one, it’s amazing. Remember that day when – “ The disembodied voice on the other line kept talking, but you weren’t listening anymore. You’d reached the very last picture, and your breath had been stolen.

Spiderman stood right in front of you, hanging upside down by a web. His legs were crossed, his figure somewhat relaxed as he looked down. It seemed almost… playful. It had been snowing that day – small clusters of snowflakes fell around his figure, its pale colour contrasting against the deep blue and violent red of his suit. The sun threatened to peek out from behind his arm, creating a magnificent scene.

The otherwise chaotic moment seemed to be frozen, as Spiderman elegantly crossed his legs at the ankles, balancing casually in mid-air. The details of his suit were easy to spot, thanks to the fantastic lighting and the proximity of the photo. With this shot, you had managed to capture the essence of a hero caught between earth and sky, somewhat relaxed, but also ready to jump into action at any given moment.

Your rep must’ve noticed your silence because her voice got, somehow, even higher.

“You’ve seen it, haven’t you? It’s glorious, I tell you! Honey, this is your best work so far, congratulations. How you manage to get these sorts of pictures is beyond me, you have a gift.”

A gift. It wasn’t the first time you were told you had a natural talent, a gift for photography, but for the first time in ages, you were able to accept the compliment with no complaints.

“This… this is…” Words did not seem enough to express the wonder you felt towards the glorious work in front of you.

“Want some even better news?” You eagerly giggled a “uh-uh” and let the woman on the phone do the talking, “The Bugle Diario is doing a segment on Alchemax. You know, the company. They’re focusing specifically on the head biologist, a man called Miguel O’Hara. Apparently, he’s had some breakthrough discovery on DNA studies – you know me, I’m not very inclined towards science, but the point is, they want you to take his portrait!”

Alchemax was a big company. Hell, it was probably the biggest company in the city. You couldn’t quite figure out how this news were even better than the prints you’d just received, but were happy, nevertheless. A gig was a gig was a gig, and you liked portraits. Sure, this Miguel man might not be as interesting a subject as Spiderman, but it was Alchemax! It was still the opportunity of a lifetime, and there was no way you’d miss it.

“Count me in!”

Alchemax was huge.

Not only did the outside building appear enormous from the outside, but it also seemed to expand and grow once you walked inside.

All sorts of employees cover the building from head to toe – men clad in professional suits, women wearing white lab coats and safety glasses, teenagers carrying stacks of papers and boxes everywhere. You didn’t expect the megacorporation to be so… mega.

A kind receptionist took you to the floor where you were supposed to meet Miguel O’Hara, and while you two waited in the elevator, was sure to tell you how much she admired your work. You smiled and thanked her politely, before you arrived at your floor and waited.

The woman asked you to wait for a few seconds while she fetched the man you were supposed to photograph, and you did so, taking the space around you in.

It was… dark, to say the least.

Not to say that was a bad thing – you’d taken pictures at night, with barely any light other than the moon’s, but some indoor illumination would be nice. People in white coats ran around the floor, shouting words you understood, but couldn’t string in a sentence together. Talks about molecules, DNA, photosynthesis, splicing? filled the whole area, and you admired how focused every scientist seemed to be.

There were machines you could only imagine the purpose of everywhere, some large and scary, some so small, the workers carried them in their hands. Vials of strange, coloured liquids filled glass cabinets, which were occasionally opened and closed right away by working scientists. It smelled of sterilisation and focus. This was where the magic happened, you thought.

“Excuse me?” Suddenly, a rich, deep voice pulled you from your thoughts. You turned around, and holy shit –

“Are you [Y/N]? I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

You stared at Miguel for what seemed like an eternity.

Were biologists supposed to be this handsome?

He was positively charming.

He could best be described as big. Very big. This man was tall – incredibly so – with large shoulders and muscular arms nearly hidden by the lab coat he has on, but you can’t help noticing. You could tell by his piercing gaze and sculpted frame that his presence commanded attention. In fact, everyone around you stopped to stare at man for a few seconds, before hurriedly returning to their tasks. He must be a strict boss.

He narrowed his eyes (were they red?) and crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyeing you up and down with a look you couldn’t decipher, but had your cheeks and ears heat up just by its intensity. And yet, you were unable to form a coherent sentence, still staring at this man, whose cheekbones were so sharp, you were afraid they’d cut you anything they touched. Upon a closer inspection, you realised that the planes of his face looked extremely tired. When was the last time he’d slept?

By the state of the floor and the workers in it, you figured long, long ago.

“Is that how you do it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Do what?” You managed to blurt out, holding onto your equipment tightly.

“Take pictures. Is that how you do it? With your eyes?”

If it was supposed to be a joke, you didn’t get it. From the way he said it, you figured it was more of a sarcastic statement. Of course. You were standing in the middle of his laboratory, shamelessly eyeing him up and down and wasting his time.

“N-No. My apologies, I…” You struggled to find the right words. They never came, so you shook your head and tried offering him your politest smile. “Yes, I’m [Y/N]. I’m here to take your portrait.”

Miguel eyed you up and down once again. You looked away, flustered. Could his gaze be any more intimidating?

“Is that all your equipment? Are you alone?” He asked you.

“Yeah, this is it.” You weren’t carrying much, just your usual stuff. A tripod, some lenses, a small reflector, and a light stand. Your beloved camera was inside it’s back, safely secured around your neck. Other photographers lectured you on not using nearly enough equipment as they would, but you prided yourself on your ability to use natural light and shadows to your advantage without a lot of instruments. “Are you busy? I mean, I was told to come now, but…”

“No, it’s fine. Where do you want me?”

Preferably on my bed, on top of me, while I hold onto those large shoulders and –

You chastised yourself for even having such thoughts. Not even the male models and actors that were photographed by you elicited such a response.

Control yourself.

“Oh, um… Do you have a lab of your own? I would like to take your picture in your element if you know what I mean.” Was the reply you gave him instead of the nasty thoughts you had conjured.

The scientist nodded and urged you to follow him.

You walked by his employees, all focused on experimenting with liquids, materials, concoctions you’d never seen before in your life.

With just a few words, Miguel had cleared what you assumed was the lab he worked on. Just like the rest of the floor, it was shrouded in in shadows. You wondered how anyone managed to work in here. Rows of instruments stood sentinel; their surfaces being bathed by the small amounts of natural flasks.

Things like vials and flasks decorated with labels of multiple colours stood on top of shelves, a reminder of the countless experiments this man and his team had conducted. He wasn’t Alchemax’s head biologist for no reason.

While you figured out the best place for him to sit, Miguel eyed you curiously.

You.

He knew you, of course.

You were the pretty photographer he’d seen capturing his fights and patrols and endeavours around Nueva York. He’d seen you risk your health countless of times, putting your own safety at risk just for a picture of him.

Miguel had to say he was flattered.

And not to mention your work always came out great. In fact, he had some of your best pictures safely tucked inside an envelop on his bedroom nightstand. A silent reminder that no matter where he went, you were sure to follow. And he liked it when you followed him.

That night when he was looking over his city and caught you staring, his enhanced vision had allowed him to get a proper look at you. At the natural sparkle of your eyes and how they widened when you two locked gazes. At the plush skin of your lips that parted when he looked at you. He could see you clearly, your gentle figure and graceful movements. So he looked away, allowing you to take his portrait.

It was the best thing he’d ever done.

“I think this would be a nice spot.” You told him, pointing to a nearby bench. “Would you please sit here?”

He happily obliged, sitting down and facing you. You looked even more beautiful up close, brows furrowing ever-so-softly in confusion as you worked your way around him, probably to figure how to best accommodate his hulking figure.

“Do you mind…?” You gave him a careful looking, pointing towards the vials and flasks and instruments cluttering the bench.

“Not at all. Just don’t break anything.”

He didn’t mean to sound as menacing he did – but Miguel was a professional, and he knew you would understand how to be careful around his objects. After all, your profession also demanded it.

You nodded and carefully got to work.

You took him in.

He was still massive, even when sitting down.

Careful as to not break anything, you sorted the objects around, arranging them in the best way possible as not to hide Miguel.

“So, tell me., Miguel,” Conversation was the easiest way to put your subjects at ease. Usually, conversation about their craft. “Did you always know you wanted to be a scientist?”

“Is this what you to do get your clients to relax?” Miguel inquired in a rather challenging tone.

“Yes.” You refused to look up, intent on making the ambient look as natural as possible without drawing the attention away from your subject. Once you were satisfied with the result, you removed your camera from its bag and pointed it at Miguel. “This is just a test shot.” And snapped a picture with the flash on.

He seemed to flinch at the bright light, and made a sound closest to a hiss, covering his face with his hands.

“Mierda – can’t you turn that off?” He grumbled.

“Sure. Can I turn on the light?”

“Absolutely not.”

You stared at him in confusion. So, he didn’t want you to turn the lights on, but you also weren’t allowed to use your camera’s flash? Who did this guy think he was?

“I’m sensitive to light – please, don’t point that at me.” This time when he spoke, his voice was softer, almost as if he regretted hissing at you – which in truth, he did.

“I can’t use my flash and I can’t turn on the lights. Am I supposed to photograph you in total darkness?

“You’re the photographer. Figure it out.”

There was a hint of what you thought was a smirk creeping up on his lips, and what you surely imagined to be a very long canine poking out, but you brushed it away as just the light (or the lack of thereof) playing tricks on you.

But he was right, you were the photographer.

You walked over to the window and closed the blinds until the natural light was almost gone.

You were a professional, and a damn good one at that, and you wouldn’t let something as basic as darkness ruin your shoot. Low light photography was a thing. You looked around, scanning your surroundings.

Miguel watched you as you walked around the lab, tinkering with vials, observing the light the windows provided, setting up the tripod in a billion different places. He had to say, he was impressed. You were every bit as competent as you appeared. The beauty was just a bonus.

“Am I giving you too much trouble?” He asked, somewhat concerned. He worried this whole shenanigan was going to give you too much work, but on the other hand, he’d seen you in action. Watched as you dodged stones and ran through cars to get the perfect photo, observed as you contorted yourself into the weirdest poses just to make your photos more dynamic. Miguel knew you could do this, he had witnessed it first hand over and over again.

“Not really, no. I like a challenge.” He grinned smugly at your response. You cross your arms, investigating the room once more. Surely a biologist’s lab had to be more interesting that that, right?

That’s when it came into view.

A huge machine, something straight out of a science fiction movie, as tall as the ceiling. You didn’t know how to describe it – there were cables all around it and a screen surrounded by keys. Definitely the kind of machine you would never approach, in fear of messing it up. Although it was turned off, the lights on its side were glowing bright red and blue, granting the lab a peculiar atmosphere.

What in the world could this possibly do?

“That’s a DNA splicing machine.” Miguel told you, almost as if reading your thoughts.

“Is this part of your research?” You were fascinated by the machine before you. How come you hadn’t noticed when you first walked in? It was creepy, surreal, but also mysterious and intriguing. All traits you could also assign to the man in the room with you.

He nodded and walked up to it, giving the structure a few pats.

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you much about it. It’s Alchemax protocol. But it is part of my research, and I’m extremely proud of it.”

It was the first time Miguel had opened up about his job, and you decided to pry a bit more. You had an overall idea of what you wanted to do, now all you needed was a subject as ease, willing to relax.

“Don’t worry, I understand. It must be rewarding to know your work has helped so many people.” You smile and nudge him towards the machine. “Wait here.”

Miguel did as you were told, standing next to the enormous machine as you made your way to each window and closed the binders completely. What were you up to now? He decided to keep speaking anyway. This was your job, and you were doing your best. If he couldn’t talk to you as Spiderman, the least he could do was help you out right now. And the way to do that was to talk.

“Indeed. My research has advanced the realms of science and medicine in a truly remarkable way. I am quite proud of the progress I have made.” Miguel leaned into his machine absentmindedly, its red and blue glow illuminating his figure.

How ironic.

“And while I feel a great satisfaction in my work, I’ve also made some rather grave errors in the past.” Miguel doesn’t know why he’s telling you this. He doesn’t know you; he knows there’s a pretty woman who takes his pictures, but that’s about it. Should he be confiding in you? Would you even care?

“Errors?” You returned to his side, setting up your tripod a few feet away from him and toying with its angles. This man was huge – how were you going to fit him inside the frame of your camera?

“When I first started out at Alchemax, I was young and inexperienced. I graduated from Alchemax’s School for Gifted Youngsters and had big aspirations.” He took a big sigh, shaking his head. His dark locks fell in front of his forehead, and he was just about to adjust them, when you took a step towards him and caught his wrist just before he did.

“Don’t – just let me try something.” Miguel considered this, and mumbled a soft “alright” before you adjusted his hair slightly, tugging a rebellious strand right in front of his eyes. There wasn’t much light already, so hiding his face wasn’t ideal – but you had something in mind. “Surely, those aspirations paid out.” You decided to continue talking. It wasn’t even to get him to relax anymore, you were invested in his story, and wondered what could possibly haunt this mountain of a man.

“Only after a few years. Once I started working here, it wasn’t long before I found myself in over my head. I bit more than I could chew, and it caused me problems.” Miguel crossed his arms once more and stared into the distance. There was something laced in his gaze. Longing? Hurt? Regret?

“I’m sure you learned from them.” You angled your camera towards his face again. You’d been snapping pictures of him this whole time, though you weren’t quite sure if he had noticed it. Your camera was very silent, a feature that came in handy when you did not want to be disturbed or interrupted. Or when you did not want a scene to be ruined. “Look at me,” You mumbled, and he faced you again.

You snapped another picture.

“Still. It’s hard to live with the knowledge that you’ve done something so terrible.” You wondered what could possibly be so terrible for him to speak of it like this. One thing at the time.

“C’mere,” Miguel felt your hand on his arm, and he was suddenly being coaxed into a different position. You tilted his head towards the glass, his whole face now covered in red and blue light, forcing him to look away. It looked magnificent up close, beautiful yet harsh eyes looking at you, its irises of a colour you hadn’t figured out yet.

Your gaze trailed down over from his eyes to his strong nose and rested on his full lips. You wondered how they would feel on you – Focus! You came here to work, so work. Do not fantasize about your photo subject.

But it was so hard.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel was having the exact same thoughts.

He wondered how you’d feel on his arms. Would you cling to him? He wondered how you’d look under him, caged under his arms and legs. Now that he wasn’t in imminent danger, Miguel allowed himself to look at you all he wanted.

Was it just you, or was the room hotter?

Quickly, you scurried away, returning to your camera.

“I’m sure all of the good things you’ve done in the name of science have made up for those past mistakes.” You tell him, snapping a few more shots. He looked majestic. The camera certainly loved him; no matter the angle, he always looked good.

“You think so?” Miguel fixated his gaze on yours once again, and precisely on that moment, you snapped a picture.

Oh.

Oh.

You looked at your camera’s screen and smiled.

Now this was a photograph worthy of a cover.

You looked at the man in front of you, smile still gracing your lips.

“I do.”

You examined the pictures you’d taken. They all looked great – save for that very last photo.

That one looked incredible. Magnificent.

“I think we’re done here!” You chirped, turning it off and putting it away.

Miguel raised an eyebrow.

“Already?”

“Mhm! I got it. Believe me, these look incredible.” He kept staring at you while you packed your things, unsure of what to say. He was aware he might have come across as rude or cold, but that’s just who he was. And truth be told, he was enjoying this. The company. Your company. Being able to finally share his burdens – even if for a few seconds, and not entirely. It was nice.

He followed you, suddenly appearing nervous.

“So, I usually send my subjects a copy of their prints. I know the Bugle’s my client, but I think you’re entitled to a few copies, don’t you?” There was that dazzling smile once again. Fuck. Miguel ought to make you smile more often – you’re a vision.

“I do,” he said, before shrugging. “You know… You could give me those in person.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, his words eliciting a mix of shock, surprise, and eagerness within you.

“In person?”

“In person. Maybe over some coffee?” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. What if you said no? Miguel didn’t know you. What if you had a boyfriend? What if you weren’t interested in men? What if he had just made a big fool of himself?

He expected anything. For you to laugh, to walk away, to slap him.

He didn’t expect you to turn away from him, a flustered look adorning your features.

This was the part where you let him down slowly, where you told him you didn’t date your subjects, where –

“Coffee sounds great. I would love some coffee.” And then you quickly retrieved something from your bag – was that a piece of paper? Bending over a nearby bench, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it before handing it to him. “That’s my number. Not my rep’s – mine. You can… You can call me if you want to.”

Miguel smiled for the first time in the entire afternoon. And if his chiselled, stoic face was gorgeous, you had no way to describe his smile. It looked so natural, like it suited him. Like he should be always smiling. “I will.” He spoke gently.

A few weeks later, Miguel opened the door to his house to find a big envelope box addressed to him.

After taking it inside and swiftly opening it with his talons, he was met with a pastel coloured post-it that read “Thought you deserved the first edition” and a doddle of a small heart for a signature.

Carefully placing the note on his table, he removed the contents from the envelope.

It was an edition of the Bugle Diario, with his photo plastered on the cover. Specifically, the last one you took, the one you’d gushed about over a cup of coffee and a small cake.

The Mind of the Master: In-depth Interview with Alchemax’s Head Biologist Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel smiled.

His favourite photographer had done it once again.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I really did try my best! :) I'm not quite sure how I feel about this layout, but I like experimenting!

Have an amazing day everyone! <3

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara #atsv x reader #atsv x you #across the spiderverse #astv x y/n #astv fanfic #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel atsv #miguel spiderverse

[primaviva]

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: gwen couldn't sleep, her thoughts of you keeping her up all night. despite the snowy weather, you woke up from your sleep, exhausted and annoyed by notification that kept repeating on your phone. your expression drops when you see a text from gwen. “can i come over?”

WARNINGS: small angst, established relationship, mention of relationship problems, just fluff !!

a vibration from under your pillow is what woke you up to the chaos going on beyond your room. it has to be notification from your phone.

the snowstorm raged outside, its fury evident in the howling winds and the relentless cascade of snowflakes. as you rubbed your eyes to make sense of the blurry scenery, you watched as your block transformed into a winter wonderland, blanketed in a pristine layer of white. but instead of finding solace in the ethereal beauty of the season, you felt an undeniable restlessness that was practically gnawing at your soul. it just wasn’t the vibe it usually was. the type of feeling you’d get scrolling on pinterest and finding a picture of a window at night with stormy weather that exuded this cozy aura to it that held this perfect sense of home and ease. the type of feeling when you go to your winter playlist and play all the slow songs that just key you rock and sway while the rain outside was one fat water drop away from causing a power outage and having to wait several hours for con edison to restore it. con ed ain’t shit anyway.

the point is that yeah, these moments still and some ‘flaws’ like the aftermath of the bad weather and storms, but it brought a sense of peace. happiness, even.

to you, this moment should have been peaceful, little escape from reality, like waking up in the middle of a rainstorm and watching the rain drip down your window while you enjoy a quiet night of binging youtube videos. but for whatever reason, peace seemed impossible. everything about this moment felt wrong. something that should have been soothing and familiar was now strange and unnerving.

as the snowflakes gracefully twirled in the frigid air, your thoughts turned to gwen. the vibrant connection between you both now felt dimmed, entangled in a web of misunderstandings and unspoken words, leaving you adrift in uncertainty. the storm, relentless in its intensity, mirrored the emotions swirling within you. a mix of rage, destruction, and a sense of loss consumed you, propelling you aimlessly forward, seeking something to anchor yourself to. all these emotions were directed towards her.

lately, it seemed as though gwen had become absorbed in her own world. it wasn't just about her being spiderwoman anymore; it was everything about her that pulled her in different directions, inadvertently distancing herself from you. you guessed that the spark you had gradually lost its vitality, and what once felt so alive turned into bittersweet memories of her being replayed in your mind. disappointment lingered in the thoughts of her you had, the remnants of what could’ve been. what still can be.

it’s not like she didn’t try to be more present, it’s just that she simplified it so much that it seemed she didn’t take into account how you would feel. if she was late to a date because of her responsibilities? fine. but to not be able to swallow your pride and take accountability that you couldn’t make it on time and leave your loved one waiting in the cold? nah, not fine at all.

she never wanted to acknowledge her own flaws, instead choosing to blame them for her own wrongdoings. it was a confusing mess you couldn’t wrap your head around. you understood that she had a lot going on in her life, and it could be stressful for her. still, you didn't want her to simply say that she was there and expect everything to be fine. you didn't want her to compensate for her absences with thoughtless gifts.

you wanted action, heart, and risk. you needed her to say she’d just try and be real with you, not just for the sake of the relationship but because you both deserved it.

wrapped in a soft, cozy blanket, you felt the warmth against your body as the temperature gradually dropped in your room due to the light snowfall outside. you knew it was late without even checking the time. if you fall asleep and wake up later you’re bound to be met with an hour that’s after 12:00 am. it happens every time.

“ay, i need to get a grip on my sleep schedule before my eyes get more sunk than the titanic,” you muttered to yourself, voice groggy as you start to wake up.

it hits you as to why you woke up in the first place, your phone. you always slept with it under your bed, fearing that your crazy and overbearing guardian would try checking it at night. you wouldn't dare stop them, but at least you could lessen the chances because they can’t find it or come up with reasons why they shouldn't go through your messages. you let out a deep sigh as you sit yourself up and reach for your phone under the pillow. the screen illuminated, revealing the shocking hour of 3:00 am.

“oooh witching hour,” you mocked, but couldn't help but feel surprised at how late it was.

however, your brows quickly furrowed as you noticed a text notification from five minutes ago. it was gwen. with a tinge of reluctance on whether or not you should answer or get some sleep, you unlocked your phone and opened the message, your curiosity getting the better of you.

my gwen 🤍 : can i come over? i need to see you and i’m not sure it can wait sent at 2:55

gwen? at this hour? you squinted your eyes at the blue light as confusion swept over you at the unexpected request. you were tired. not just because you woke up in the middle of the night but because you were too exhausted to deal with this relationship bullshit right now. it seemed no matter what, nothing ever changed between the two of you. but for whatever it was worth, you responded with something quick and simple.

you : yeah ofc

you : windows open for you sent at 3:02

you put your phone on your bedside table before throwing myself back onto the pillow, patiently awaiting gwen's arrival. her tone sounded so urgent but also a little needy. desperate, almost. it made you wonder why she needed to see you at this time. what could’ve possibly drove her to this?

“hope she gets here good with all that damn snow,” you whispered to yourself while you laid your blanket back on.

raising your head, you perked up at the sound of knocking against the glass. sure enough, gwen gracefully jumps through your window and crawls inside. she was definitely annoyed about something, but it wasn't clear what or who caused it and how. in the moonlight, her blonde hair and blue eyes seemed to shimmer. her cheeks were flushed, and you noticed her slightly shivering.

as she landed on the floor, her shoes left small droplets of water and continued to drip from her jacket. she was dressed in a black turtleneck, a leather jacket, jeans, and pink converse sneakers. seeing her at her full height, gwen looked down at you with weary eyes.

"gwen," you called out, taking a few steps toward her. “everything good? i mean, what’s up with you?”

you got a little anxious as your mind raced with every possible reason as to why she came to see you. especially since she got all dressed and swung over here, not even in her suit. it was dark out and the streets were empty but it still felt risky, too risky.

closing the distance between you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling the tall girl down to your height for a hug. your breath caught at the stark contrast in body temperature as the warmth radiating from your body met her chilled skin and wet clothes, which had caught small snowflakes. you felt her cautiously nuzzle her face into the crook of your neck, and a sheepish smile formed against your skin, as the warmth you offered started to bring some heat back to gwen's body.

gwen looked down at you, her eyes still glowing against the snowy backdrop. she slowly put her hands on your shoulders and pulled away quickly to stare into your eyes. her cheeks were still all pink and frigid, and she still shivered with every breath.

"you sure? it's three in the morning and you just crawled through my window lookin’ like a hot unhinged mess,” you teased. "it seemed urgent tho. you even came all the way here without your suit, gwen. that shits risky even for you," you added.

your whole body tingled as her chilly hands wrapped around your waist, drawing you in for a hug. god, she looked absolutely breathtaking in this moment. so effortlessly alluring, so damn attractive, and clearly too into you for her own good. the way her eyes lazily met yours, and her short hair accentuated by the edgy shaved undercut made her glow, made your heart race with excitement.

she was quiet, still looking at you. gwen seemed to be thinking over your words. something was definitely on her mind. she finally took a deep breath, and you could see her exhale a white mist. gwen sighed, turning her head away slightly as if she finally made the decision she was debating over.

biting her lip, she mustered the courage to speak, her voice a little shaky. "okay, i admit it's a bit risky, but i just... really, really wanted to see you." her gaze returned to meet yours, her eyes searching for understanding. "i'm here now, so can't i just stay for a little while?"

her tone shifted playfully, yet her grip on your hands remained firm. there was still a lingering sense of disconnection in the air, as if an undisclosed barrier stood between you both. gwen's presence alone was just straight up weird, and it was apparent that her mind was somewhere else. whatever it was, it seemed like she wanted to talk about it. your eyes drifted towards her slightly wet jacket. there was something hidden under it. something large, a bit bulky.

"of course, you can stay, it's just…”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t coming to you.

you haven't seen gwen in a while. you felt so detached from her life. you heard nothing about her dad, her life, just anything. gwen always says that she's good, just fine. but every time you both talk now, it feels artificial, like small talk you do in group work with a classmate to get some social points.

the last time you truly connected on a deep emotional level was during that intense screaming match you had with her. she had been so consumed by her work as spiderwoman that she stopped talking and even seeing you for a while. it’s not like she meant to do it but you felt neglected. how else were you supposed to feel? in an attempt to apologize, she gave you flowers, and you let them wilt and die. it was symbolic almost, like a statement to her that you didn't want to be bought off with materialistic things. gwen was more than pissed at the time, thinking you were just acting petty and catching an attitude just to spite her. but you didn’t care. you didn't want her to compensate, all you truly wanted was her. you weren't interested in the clichés of romance movies with roses, love poems, and extravagantly corny displays. what mattered most in your eyes was a real, meaningful bond between the two of you.

since then, it felt as if you two had been on a break. but in the ‘freedom’ of not seeing her as often as you’d liked, it just made you realize how much you missed gwen in her absence. you missed her in every sense of the word. you missed her anger, her pain, her happiness, her love, and just the full spectrum of her being. wishing on you both just felt like false hope, and you just wanted to go back to before whatever started this rift and prevent it. maybe then your relationship wouldn't be so stagnant.

"nevermind. yes, you can stay. i don't know what i was gonna say... i'm sorry,” you hastily interjected.

gwen slowly nods as you speak. you didn’t know it for sure, but she really did miss you. she missed having these intimate moments with you. she missed you touching her and saying her name. she missed the time you spent with her before she was the woman behind the mask, open and vulnerable for you.

"i uh actually want to show you something," she mumbles and takes a step back to reveal something poking out her jacket's pocket.

"you have something for me? actually?" you asked, in shock.

though it sounded nice, you’re not sure that's what you wanted from her. you didn't want gifts, or apologies, you wanted action. you want her to tell me that she'll love you even better than before the fights and she wants to be with you. but you know gwen, and you know that's a big ask. she's not the most vocal about her feelings, that's just how she is.

you peered curiously at her, eyes drifting towards her hands as she reached inside and grabbed the hidden object in her hand before offering it to you. it was a small gift wrapped in a pink ribbon. without breaking eye contact, she hands it over.

"yeah, but it's nothing important- it is a little important! but um… it's just simple but it means something to me," she says, her eyes now leaving yours. her voice sounds more genuine now. maybe she realized there was no need to be so secretive around you.

"not important? if it's not important, why did you risk your whole identity just to pull up at my window in the middle of the night?” you questioned, voice stern.

even now, gwen still felt so closed off. she had her guard up, and it's not like you couldn't shame her for not being open, but why? why was acting this way? was she that scared to be vulnerable?

looking at the box, you were surprised that gwen did all of this. it seemed so organized and thought out. you didn't anticipate her ability to tie a ribbon so skillfully or make the box look so adorably appealing. you took the gift in my hand, before delicately loosening the ribbon and gingerly lifting the lid.

you couldn't imagine why gwen would do all of this. her eyes dart between your face and the box, anxious to see your reaction.

the box was smaller than what it looked like from afar. as you took off the top cover of the gift, inside revealed itself to be a heart-shaped locket. its exterior frame was fashioned silver while its interior was luxuriously lined with pink silk.

with a soft smile, gwen points at the picture inside of it.

"it's...it's us!" you exclaimed, realizing the significance of the image. tenderly, you lifted the locket from the box, placing the container gently on your bed. running your thumb across the smooth silver surface, you savored the tactile sensation beneath your skin.

as you gazed deeper into the photo, your eyes welled up with an overwhelming emotion. it was a snapshot of a cherished memory the night of your first date with gwen. you both had ventured to a cozy pizza place and leisurely wandered through the neighboring stores. among them was a music shack adorned with vinyl records and musical instruments. you vividly recalled how you were captivated by an album from your favorite band, and gwen, in a beautiful gesture, had purchased it for you on the spot. the memory continued to play in your mind, the walk back home, with gwen carrying all the bags, and the tender, innocent kiss you placed on her cheek. gwen had always possessed an enchanting charm that endured even to this day.

"i love it, gwen!" you exclaimed, looking up at her with a tender smile, while delicately wiping away a tear that traced down your cheek.

gwen let out a sigh of relief, her smile softening. "really? you do? i'm glad you like it," she whispered, her voice quivering slightly as she reached out and gently clasped your hand.

she didn't know what you'd think of the gift. part of you felt a little strange, even though this type of gift wasn’t odd it was just weird to you how much the locket touched your heart. maybe it's the meaning of it, a memory of a time when things between you and gwen flourished.

gwen's gaze shifted to the locket, and she was transported back to that magical night as if it had occurred just yesterday. every detail remained etched in her memory— the captivating scent of your hair, the warmth of your smile, how beautiful you looked.

"i remember when we walked home that night,” she murmured, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

gwen takes a step closer. it seems like she wants to say something, but she chooses to stay quiet. she still looked wet and chilly, but your eyes were drawn to her lips and she leaned just close enough that you could kiss her if you so desired.

you found yourself fixated on her lips, the allure and temptation becoming almost irresistible. the desire to feel the warmth of her mouth against yours, to experience the tenderness and intimacy it promised, was overwhelming.

but then your eyes shifted up to gwen's tired gaze. her eyes looked sunken and dark, like she hadn't been getting any sleep. you could tell she was losing sleep over you, over your relationship. she stayed up, wondering how to make things better. that's why she gave you that locket, as a way to hold onto the good times and try to fix the mess she had created between you.

the memories haunted gwen, particularly the occasion when her duties as spiderwoman had caused her to arrive late to your birthday celebration. she saw you talking and laughing with everyone else while she sat in the corner, feeling unworthy of your attention. she said sorry, but her apologies were laced with excuses. she'll never forget the look of anger on your face when you expressed how your friends had questioned her absence, making them doubt your relationship with her even more.

but there were also those moments that made her heart soar. like that september night when she broke down and told you everything, her secrets, her regrets, and you held her tight. or the times when you were just together, enjoying the beauty of nature, and she couldn't take her eyes off you, especially when you laughed at her jokes. being with you, your company, your comfort, it made her realize that she was undeniably in love with you.

"gwen," you called out, breaking free from your reverie. "you look exhausted. why did you really come here? i know there's more you want to say, and i won't push you, but please... talk to me for once.”

gwen's eyes widen as you call her out. she looks down at you, almost in a pleading way.

gwen's soft voice crackles a little as she speaks. “i just,” she whispers, her eyes darting to the floor. her face is flushed and her chest begins to rise and fall at a rapid pace. your words seemed to help bring her out of the fog in her thoughts. "i've just been feeling so stressed lately and i just really miss you. i just want things to go back to the way they were between us, you know? i want us to have another one of the good moments. but i feel like things are falling apart.”

you can see tears welling up in her eyes.

"gwen, talk to me," you pleaded, putting the locket down.

you just wanted her to swallow her pride and fears. no, i needed her to. you needed her to just apologize, be real and open with you, not just compensate for the guilt she feels or how she wants to make you feel better.

it was december. and as the scene unfolded with the snow and rain coming through, so did the darkness and the cold of your relationship. all you gave her was love and open arms, but it seemed all gwen gave back was goodbyes.

with a tender touch, you grasped her shoulders, gazing up at her while your own demeanor softened. "please talk, gwen."

gwen closed her eyes. she took a few deep breaths to help calm her nerves and clear her head, but that didn't help much. as she looked into your soft eyes, gwen sighed. she wanted to talk to you so badly. tell you all the things she felt about you, and tell you why she was so scared to tell you all these things. the cold breeze that blew through the window was starting to make her shiver, but she still held eye contact with you as she spoke.

"i'm just struggling so much,” gwen confessed, her voice shaky. “i feel your disappointment in me all the time. i miss the old us sometimes, when things were just so easy. i know i've been working so hard as spiderwoman, and i don't regret it… but i just want you. i want to be with you so badly and feel like i keep messing up no matter what i do.”

her gaze slowly drifted away, fixating on the ground as her fingers clutched her sleeves in an attempt to ward off the encroaching chill. the freezing cold began seeping into her veins, numbing her hands and leaving a tingling sensation.

"gwen," you mumble, taken aback by her honesty. "but why? why feel compelled to do this all now?"

to gwen, it felt like wishful thinking or a dream that gives you relief and a sense of joy as you fall deeper into sleep. it would be a dream to save this relationship. but in gwen's eyes, it feels so far and out of her reach, like everything was too late.

gwen wanted you, but she struggled. and if she could just go back, have another chance and attempt to be the perfect lover, she'd love you right.

she looked down sadly and thought about how to respond without messing up. “i don’t know,” gwen sighed as she put a hand over her mouth in frustration before continuing, “i just don't want to lose you. i want a do over. and i want you to know how much i still love you. i have so many regrets about how i've treated you in the past.”

gwen put her hands over her face, letting out a deep breath. "please, just give me another chance,” she begged.

gwen was a mess, you could tell by the way she was acting. her mind hazy, her thoughts unsure, and it seemed the only clear thing in her mind was you. all she could think of was you. she says she doesn't know why she came here so late, but that can't be true. what compels someone to leave their home in this weather and at this time. you couldn't accept that.

now, she pleads for another chance, as if the relationship has already slipped through your fingers. yes, she's hurt you in the past but it's not like she intended to. it doesn't make it right at all, but she sounds so sorrowful.

but there was a glimmer of hope because all this time, this is what you needed from her. for her to just promise herself to you, say she'll be better, say she'll try her best, say she'll love you right. you didn't want broken promises that she knows she can't always fulfill, you just wanted her to try. the effort that shows she cares for you to try and be better.

"this kept you up at night? reminiscing about another chance with me while i'm right in front of you? gwen, i've been here! i'm still your girlfriend. you can't just wish to go back to how things were and fix everything. you also can't try to replicate the past in hopes the present will feel just as perfect. that isn't realistic!"

you were frustrated more than you were angry. no matter what you always felt like gwen was so far away from your wants and needs.

"i know! but... i can't stand how things are right now," she responds with a soft but frustrated tone.

gwen looked down sadly, hands trembling as you raised your voice and spoke to her so bluntly. she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. her voice starts to break with every word. she knew you were right— her thinking wasn't realistic. she was so caught up in herself and her regrets that she didn't realize how she was hurting you too. as much as she wanted, gwen couldn't change the past. she couldn't change the present if she just sat still and felt sorry for herself. she also couldn't create a perfect relationship.

"all we do anymore is fight... you just have no idea how much i miss you.” she admitted, voice trembling. “i miss all the hugs and the kisses and the time we used to spend together.” gwen adverted her gaze, overwhelmed by shame. “i hate who i've become. i hate that this is my life now. what happened to me?”

her statement turned more into a question. she couldn’t believe she let this happen, how she let the suit and her own problems take over your relationship.

"so, what are you gonna do about it?" you questioned, your voice carrying a stern tone.

you yearned for gwen to challenge herself. while she used to let her guard down in the past, now you only caught glimpses of what lay behind closed doors. that's just what's happening right now. she isn't telling you much, nor is she speaking much with the small information she gives. it's just a peak behind the gate to her life. you wished she would finally confide in you, or else it would all mean nothing. just like the roses, just like every other time.

gwen looks back at you with a little bit of a stunned look. as the snow comes down hard, she thinks about how you're waiting for her to say the 'magic' words. the words that will fix all your relationship's problems and make this all go away. but she was gripped by fear, unable to voice her true feelings. she gently bit her lip, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill.

"i'm going to make it right,” she declared, taking a hesitant step closer to you, tears welling in her eyes. she had to say something else. she didn't say she'd try, like she did last time.

her voice still trembled, her eyes glistening from the tears she was still trying to hold back. if you said this to her even a month ago, she would have gotten mad at you for implying that she hadn't been good enough for you, even if it was true. but right now, gwen was determined to be better.

she was scared, but she clung to hope.

“i'm going to love you right," gwen affirmed, her voice quivering. "i swear."

your breath hitched as she closed the distance, your bodies brushing against each other. you couldn't believe it, your mind was spinning. it was like she was a whole new person. gwen had swallowed her pride, her fears, her frustrations and dedicated herself to you.

"h-how?" you managed to choke out, still taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.

she wanted to pull out all the stops. there was a part of her that was scared of making big promises, but she couldn't think straight as you kept staring at her, anticipating what she was going to say. she was nervous about the consequences of making such promises and how much they would weigh on her, but to her, it was worth it. you made it worth it.

"i'm going to tell you the truth. i'm going to tell you how i feel, i'm going to spend more time with you and i promise, no more secrets. even when i don't have time i'll at least call you to tell you why. i'm never going to just leave you sitting in the dark ever again. i've been hurting you for so long. it's time to change that,” she promised.

it felt different, the way she wanted you to understand exactly how serious she was about this.

"i'm going to be yours.”

there was no trace of fear in her eyes, no inclination to retreat from the intimacy and close herself off once more. she stood before you, open and honest. for the first time in a long while, you truly saw her. you saw gwen.

your face heated up as you heard the words ‘be yours’ leave her lips. you felt myself get giddy again, like a little kid. this was the gwen you always knew. the gwen that was a charmer, who was able to fluster you with her raw thoughts of how beautiful you were or the simplest of wordings like calling you hers.

it felt like she was being honest, truthful. you start to tear up at her words.

“gwen,” you mumbled, your voice trembling as you rubbed your eyes.

gwen smiled as she wiped the tears away on your face. she was lost in you, for everything that you were, for everything that you still were in her heart.

"shhh, don't cry, babe. i love you, you know that, right? i love you, and i just want to be more honest with you," she spoke softly, her words a soothing balm to your heart.

it was difficult to maintain eye contact with gwen as she lovingly brushed away your tears, but you mustered the strength to gaze into her mesmerizing watercolor eyes. she had become so committed, so brave.

is that why she came, she just couldn't hold it in anymore? just the mere knowledge that your relationship was like this, she didn't have the strength to fight off waiting till the next day or whenever she planned to do this?

"i love you too, gwen... so much," you sobbed, your voice filled with sincerity.

gwen was rendered speechless for a few moments. the snow continued to fall outside, gently obscuring the windows. the world seemed hushed, still, as if you both were the only two people around.

“i’m here, all yours," she whispered, her breath mingling with yours, her eyes darting between your lips and your gaze.

before you knew it, she leaned in for a kiss. at first it was a soft kiss, but then gwen slowly parted her lips gently and let her tongue wander. her teeth met with yours and she moaned softly, kissing me with all the passion she had been holding in these months.

this kiss was everything she wanted you to know.

it was like a dream. every kiss from before was just a shadow of this moment. gwen kissed you like there was no tomorrow. like she was trying to make up for every moment gone unsaid and unshared. she just kept on kissing you, holding your neck and your hair in her hands. when she finally pulled away, her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled with a light you hadn't seen in far too long.

gwen's heart skipped a beat. she felt butterflies in her stomach as she kissed you like this. you felt so new but so familiar at the same time. she pulled away from the kiss and let herself exhale. she couldn't believe how happy she felt in this moment. gwen was yours. and you were hers.

you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her, wanting to feel her warm embrace. just hearing her say she's here for you was so comforting. and her saying that she was all yours made your cheeks heat up. it was so reassuring.

nestling against her taller frame, tears painted wet streaks on her black turtleneck as you found solace in her comforting presence. her hands found their way around your waist, and you could feel the warmth of her touch as you pressed against her. with a soft smile, you pulled back slightly, gazing into her eyes.

"can you put it on me? the locket," you asked.

gwen's warm smile radiated affection as she gently wiped away the remaining tears. with a soft chuckle, she took the locket from your hand. "of course."

her hands settled on your waist, and she slowly spun you around until your back was pressed against her chest. the distinct click of the locket's clasp reached your ears as she held it above your head, delicately encircling your neck. a shiver cascaded down your spine as her cool breath ghosted against your neck, emphasizing the closeness between you. her fingers brushed the nape of your neck as she deftly fastened the hooks of the locket.

"there you go," she whispered, turning you around to face her, her hand gently resting on your back.

your hand delicately cradled the locket, holding it close to your chest as you admired its beauty. a soft chuckle escaped your lips, your eyes sparkling with delight.

"it's beautiful," you murmured, your voice filled with awe and genuine appreciation.

that was what gwen missed. the moments where she felt like she fell in love with you all over again. the sound of your laughter, the lines that formed around your eyes when you smiled, and the happy yet exhausted look on your face right now that made you look even more adorable in gwen's eyes.

gwen's heart started racing as you started to laugh and smile. this was one of the moments she missed most. she didn't want to lose you, and right now, she could finally feel all the old gwen— like feelings wash over her again. now that you're both here, things finally feel right. gwen smiled as she watched you, content with the moment you were both in. for a split second, it felt as if time had stood still. after being apart for so long, she finally got to experience the version of you that had captured her heart. you looked so happy, so relaxed, so yourself. you were just being you, just like she remembered.

"and you're beautiful," gwen replied, a playful smirk on her face as she gazed at you.

blushing under her gaze, you mumbled a quiet thank you, your fingers idly playing with the chain of the locket.

a comfortable silence enveloped the room until the sudden heavy downpour of rain drummed forcefully against the window. the storm outside intensified, with the snowfall marrying the wind and rain in a furious dance. startled by the abrupt sound, you flinched in wen's arms, and she instinctively caught you, holding you closer.

glancing at the time, you realized it was already 4:00 am. she had been here for over an hour already. we both lost track of the time so much so that the storm outside had started to get worse.

gwen looked outside of the window and noticed the storm. her eyes widened as she thought about what her dad would think if he caught her sneaking out like this.

"i should probably be heading back now... it's getting late. sorry, i just... lost track of time, i guess," she confessed, clearing her throat.

looking back at you, her expression soft. she hated that she had to leave you right now, but she knew she needed to get home soon.

you nodded, understanding the situation, and pulled her into a hug. gratitude filled your voice as you spoke.

"thanks gwen, for y'know coming in the middle of the night like this. even if you didn't plan on it, it means a lot to me. i know you meant what you said, and everytime i think of december i'm gonna go back to this memory. i don't want us to be perfect, because everything is flawed, but isn't that what makes stuff..beautiful? interesting? maybe it's just my exhaustion talking… but thank you." you expressed sincerely, offering her a tender smile.

gwen's eyes were already tearing up yet again, she was feeling all the emotions she was fighting back again, just to keep her calm and focused. now that you both were alone and they've been honest with each other again, she just feels so overwhelmed by happiness.

"i won't forget this night either. it was good to finally talk with you again, and i hope this is the beginning of us being like this again," she replied, her smile radiant. "you should probably go get some sleep. it's so late, and you need a full day's rest if you want to keep up with me, remember?"

her lighthearted joke elicited a laugh from you, and you nodded in agreement.

"yeah, i'm pretty sleepy. and you should start heading back before your dad realizes you're missing," you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

"mhm, yeah, i should probably be heading back now. my dad's going to kill me if he finds out i'm out here alone this late... i'm glad we talked, though. i really am," she spoke, her voice filled with sincerity.

she shot you a small smile before walking toward your window, pausing to look back at you. "sorry for the wet floor- i guess i just couldn't wait. haha... i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

you chuckled at how nervous she became as you changed the topic of conversation.

"tomorrow," you repeated, observing the snowflakes swirling down. the beauty of the snow was marred by its inconvenience. you watched as gwen adjusted her leather jacket before leaping out of your window.

as she departed, you couldn't resist savoring her presence for one last moment.

"wait, gwen," you whispered urgently, careful not to wake the entire house.

gwen turned back, peering up from the bottom of your window ledge, holding onto it for support. hurrying over, you leaned down and looked at her.

gwen appeared slightly confused as she gazed up at you. she hadn't expected you to call out her name.

"what is it, babe? is everything okay?" she asked in a hushed voice. the wind and rain were loud, making it difficult to hear each other unless you were close.

you could see the concern on her face, realizing she didn't want to leave. she cherished this time with you and was starting to fear parting ways.

"i... um..." words failed you, unable to articulate what you wanted to express to her. you poked your head through the window, greeted by the cold outside and snowflakes delicately landing on your skin and hair. closing your eyes briefly, you leaned down and kissed her, a soft and tender peck, all too brief.

gwen was both curious about your intentions and taken aback by the unexpected kiss. her entire body warmed as she quickly reciprocated, her cheeks flushing as she gazed up at you, rendered speechless.

"get home safe," you said, pulling back, your lips barely inches apart. even in a quiet tone, gwen could hear your words as you looked at her shyly.

"i will, don't worry. get some sleep, alright?" she reassured you, then turned and started descending the ledge.

with those parting words, she smiled and glanced back at you before leaping off, disappearing into the snowy night.

nodding in response to her words, you returned her smile with a small one of your own.

as she vanished into the darkness veiled by the falling snow, you made your way to bed, switched off the lights, and drifted off to sleep.

gwen blushed as she saw you waving to her. she smiled softly and waved back before turning away and continuing to swing towards her house. her heart fluttered, and a yawn escaped her as she soared through the air. it was late, and the snowfall intensified with each passing moment. the thought of her father discovering she was out this late worried her, but it was all worth it. grinning, she swung through the storm.

arriving at her house, gwen opened her window and climbed back into her room. the cold air brushed against her skin, and she let out a contented sigh. sitting on her bed, she reflected quietly. she was exhausted, yet the thought of you made her feel alive.

"i'll love her right," she whispered to herself.

for a few more seconds, the snow continued to fall outside, until finally, all was quiet once more.

A/N: starting off the speak now series………..omg

© 2023 primaviva

#🪽— angel’s series #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy #ghost spider x reader #gwen x reader #astv x reader #atsv gwen #ghost spider #astv x y/n #astv x you #astv fanfic #spider gwen #spider gwen x reader #spiderverse x y/n #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #gwen spiderverse #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #marvel x you #across the universe #across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #astv imagines #astv angst #astv fluff #astv fic

[daisies-daydreams]

Office Hours - Chapter 4 (Professor!Miguel O’Hara x F!College Student!Reader)

Pairing: Professor!Miguel O’hara x F!College Student!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Clit Play, Unprotected P in V Sex (you know the drill), Stomach Bulge, Missionary, Semi-Doggy Style, Creampies, Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Swearing Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: Chapter 4's finally here! I’m hoping to release the next few chapters on a weekly basis. I hope you enjoy this spicy chapter.🔥Side Note/Disclaimer: I'm not good at speaking Spanish. If I got anything wrong, please (respectfully) correct me. Thank you and happy reading!

Just a heads up: the next chapter will include HEAVY angst.

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Ch. 3 <- -> Ch. 5

You watched Miguel flit around the room, his hands and mouth moving yet no sound coming out. Miles nudged your shoulder again. 

“You good?” he mouthed. You gave a small shrug before turning back to look at the board, a hand placed on your cheek as your professor droned on. Before you knew it students were beginning to pack up. You blinked a few times before sliding your laptop into your bag. 

“(Y/N), if you could stay behind for a few minutes please,” Miguel called from the front of the room. You glanced up, only to dip your head lower as you shuffled towards him. Miles gave you a small, sympathetic smile before heading out. 

“See you later for game night?” he asked. You nodded before turning your back. Miguel stood in front of you like a brick wall, his tall body casting a shadow over yours. You peeked over your shoulder to see the room completely empty. You squeaked when you turned back around, Miguel’s strong hands squeezing your upper arms. 

“I’m sorry I left so quickly the other night,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. You opened your mouth a little as you felt his warm breath caress your face, heat pooling inside your core as he traced his fingers along your arms. 

“I-It’s okay,” you stammered. Miguel clicked his tongue. 

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t being fair to you," Miguel paused and swallowed thickly. "Let me make it up somehow...please?” he whispered as he caressed your sides. The tips of your ears burned as you placed your hands on his chest and squeezed your thighs together. You glanced behind you again before tugging on his tie. A small gasp left him as he stumbled forward, his lips crashing against yours. You moaned softly as he placed his hands on your hips, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. 

“We could get caught, you know. The doors wide open,” he warned despite the smirk on his face. You shifted your thighs a little more noticeably as you gripped his tie. 

“Then let’s go somewhere a bit more private,” you whispered. 

•••

Miguel slammed his office door before pushing you against the wall. You sighed as he wrapped his hands over yours, his tongue eagerly exploring every inch of your wet mouth. Your body burned with arousal as you felt a wet patch grow in your panties. You panted when Miguel pulled back, his plump lower lip brushing over yours. He gazed into your eyes as he let his hands rest on your waist. 

“Want to taste this pretty pussy so bad,” Miguel husked as he slid the tips of his fingers past your jeans. You gasped when he tapped against your clit through your panties, each movement sending a flicker of arousal across your damp heat. “Would you let me, bebé? Let me devour your sweet cunt?” he groaned as he drew tight circles around your puffy bud [baby]. You nodded as you gripped his dark gray shirt. 

“Yes,” you moaned. Miguel suddenly pulled his fingers back just enough so they rested over your mound. 

“En Español,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust [In Spanish]. You gulped. 

“Sí…Papi,” you moaned even louder as you arched your back [Yes…Daddy]. Miguel bared his teeth before stepping back. 

“Muy bien,” he murmured [Very good]. “Now, be a good muñeca and bend over the desk for me,” Miguel rasped [doll]. You shuffled over to his large, wooden desk. You glanced over your shoulder and flashed him a seductive grin as you swayed your hips side to side. You heard his breath hitch as you let your jeans fall to the floor.

Miguel narrowed his eyes as he lumbered behind you, his lips drawn in a tight line as you positioned yourself against his desk, your forearms resting against the cold, wooden surface. You licked your lips as you slid your panties over the curve of your ass. He groaned when your wet, sticky folds were on full display for him as they fell to your feet.

“Hermosa,” he breathed before sinking down to his knees [Beautiful]. You clenched your walls around nothing as he spread your ass cheeks apart. He sucked in a sharp breath. “God, you're fucking soaked,” Miguel breathed. You shivered as you felt his breath fall over your folds, your clit throbbing and aching for attention. You heard him lick his lips as he kneaded your cheeks in his calloused palms. 

“Are you-“ 

You rolled your head back when Miguel suddenly shoved his face into your dripping cunt. You moaned and rubbed your bum against his face as he teased your tight entrance with a quick flick of his tongue. He inhaled deeply before opening his mouth, his lips wrapped around the rim of your slick hole. Your legs trembled as Miguel alternated between lapping at your wet, puckering entrance and suckling over your puffy folds. 

“Oooh my God, Miguel,” you keened as you buried your face in your forearms. He kneaded your supple cheeks in his wide palms as he flattened his tongue over your sex, painting long, wet strokes up and down your slit. His chin rubbed against your swollen bud as he curled his lips over your hole. 

“Eres tan jodidamente deliciosa,” Miguel groaned, his hot breath fanning over your folds before he dove back in [You’re so fucking delicious]. You keened and tightened your thighs as he prodded at the seam of your hole with the tip of his soft tongue. Your breath stuttered as Miguel slowly pushed his wet muscle inside, spreading your walls apart before curling his tongue inside your pussy. 

“Fuck,” you choked as searing tears welled in your eyes. Miguel moaned, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through your core as he massaged your gummy walls with his thick tongue. You gasped when he wrapped one hand around your leg and rested a finger over your clit. Several curses fell from your lips as he drew slow, sloppy circles around your puffy bundle of nerves. 

“M-Miguel,” you slurred as he thrusted his tongue inside you even faster. His one hand squeezed your bum as he continued to circle your clit with the other. You moaned each time you felt him puff against your cunt, his low groans shaking you to the core. “F-Fuck Miguel, ‘m gonna-“ you muffled your yelp when he pinched your bud and pulled back, a string of spit and arousal connecting his puffy lips to your drenched sex. 

“Not yet, conejita,” he purred as he rubbed your hip [bunny]. You whined and clenched your thighs as he kept his finger on your clit and lips just barely above your labia. 

“Por favor, Papi,” you keened and wiggled your hips [Please, Daddy]. You felt him smirk before he pressed his lips over your slit once more. You swallowed as Miguel kissed your cunt, letting his mouth linger over your wet folds before he gently moved his head side to side. You moaned and rocked your hips back as you felt him roll his tongue out and slather your sex with his warm spit. 

“A-Ah,” you mewled with each slow tilt of his head and swipe of his soft tongue. You felt your lower muscles tighten again as you gripped the desk, your toes curling as he steadily stroked your clit. Heat bubbled deep inside your fluttering walls as your eyes rolled back. You flared your nostrils when Miguel pulled back again with a slick “pop”. 

“Miguel, please,” you whined as you desperately ground your cunt over his face. Miguel cooed and patted the globe of your ass before shoving his whole tongue inside. You screamed into your hand as he circled your clit, the slurping sounds he made beyond lewd as he devoured your delectable pussy. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” you moaned before your body suddenly stiffened. Your jaw went slack as white clouded your vision. Your body trembling with bliss as your muscles contracted around his tongue. You murmured his name like a broken record as you pushed your hips back, your slick drenching his lower face and dripping down his neck. 

You gasped and your last contraction rolled through you, your mind numb with pleasure as you felt him scoop out your cream with his tongue and audibly swallow. You panted and caught your breath as Miguel leaned his head back and licked his lips.

"Thank you for the meal, Mami," he murmured [Mommy]. You kept your forehead on the desk as you caught your breath, your body coated in a sheen of sweat. Miguel grunted as he stood up on his feet, his hands still glued to your body as he readjusted himself. You squealed when he began to lazily rub your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut as he circled your sensitive bud, your pussy squelching softly with every miniscule stroke.

"You want my cock, conejita?” he muttered in your ear. Heat rushed through your core as you squealed.

“P-please Miguel, I need you so bad," you moaned with a shiver. You mewled when you felt his hands leave your warm body. A lump formed in your throat when you heard him unzip his pants.

"Are you ready?" he husked as he pressed the head of his cock against your sloppy entrance. You sighed as he rubbed his tip over your slick folds.

"Yes," you moaned. Miguel steadied one of his hands over your waist as he let his cock linger over your entrance. He hissed between gritted teeth as he slowly pushed himself inside your tight hole. You keened as a wave of arousal instantly washed over you, his thick member spreading your pussy wide open with every inch. 

“S-So soft and warm,” he puffed against your ear as his cock throbbed. You stood on your tiptoes as he kept his dick half-way inside your pussy before steadily pulling back.

Both of you panted as Miguel slowly rocked his hips, his thick, veiny length dragging along your walls. Tears of pleasure spilled over your sleeves as you heard the soft ‘plaps’ behind you each time he rolled his hips forward. You moaned as he sank a little deeper with each thrust.

“Oh, muñeca,” Miguel groaned as he squeezed your hip. The desk creaked as he drove his cock against your cervix, your throat growing tight as you felt his heavy balls brush against your puffy clit. You mewled and buried your face in your arms as Miguel grabbed both of your hips, his thrusts growing more hungry and eager.

“Fuck!” you cried as your pussy gripped his shaft. Miguel groaned as he pumped his cock forward, each drag pulling you closer to the edge. 

“Getting close again?” the tall man purred, your ass bouncing against his hips as he pounded into your plush cunny. You nodded and suppressed the urge to scream his name in pure ecstasy. Your eyes snapped open when you felt his cock slip out. His cheeks were flush with pink as he stared down at you with engorged pupils.

"Want to see your pretty face when you cum around my cock, Mami," he husked, his eyes lit with carnal desire. You gasped and scraped your nails over his desk.

"Y-Yes!" you squealed. You moaned when you were flipped around, Miguel's strong hands still on your hips as he pulled you onto the large desk. You shivered as your back became flush against the wooden surface, your cunt still oozing with arousal. You bit your lips as you spread your legs apart. Miguel rested a hand on your knee as he guided the tip of his cock back to your entrance.

Your eyes stayed locked on his dick as he pushed himself inside you in one fluid motion. You covered your mouth as he snapped his hips forward, a prominent bulge poking out of your lower tummy. Both of you were a moaning mess as Miguel pounded his girthy cock into your tight heat, a wet mess forming all over his trimmed pubes and the inside of your thighs. Sparks flew through your cunt as he pressed his hand over the bulge, putting pressure as he continued to thrust.

“Feel me there, cariño? Feel my cock buried deep inside you?” he groaned as the desk shook with every thrust [honey]. Your head fell back at his words, eyebrows scrunched together as your thighs trembled. 

“Yes, Papi,” you keened as you grasped at his thick wrists. Miguel released a shaky breath as his cock twitched inside you. 

“Mierda,” he rasped as your walls fluttered around his length [Shit]. It was only a few more strokes of his cock before you dropped off the edge. You moaned and looked straight into his eyes as you came a second time, your hips rolling as your body lit up with bliss. Miguel’s face tightened as he gripped your hips, the desk shaking so much you thought it was about to break. 

“Where do you want me?” he panted, his thrusts growing more sloppy as he pistoned himself deep inside your core. Your chest rose and fell as you swallowed thickly.

“I-Inside, I’m on the pill!” you squealed as he brushed against your g-spot. The man above you furrowed his brows as he heaved. 

“C-Car-Cariño,” he groaned. Electricity pulsed through your body when he sheathed his cock to the hilt with a deep growl. You gasped and dug your nails into his wrists as you felt something hot flood your canal, his cock throbbing incessantly as he groaned above you. 

“Miguel,” you mewled as his cum overwhelmed your tight hole. The man above you remained stiff as he filled you with his thick, milky-white seed. Miguel slowly relaxed before he opened his eyes. His broad chest heaved as he caught his breath, his cum dripping out of your cunt and onto the shiny surface of his desk. His eyes suddenly grew soft before a noticeable gloss formed over them. You furrowed your brows. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. Miguel’s frown deepened as he slowly nodded. 

“I'm...fine,” he breathed. You parted your lips and brushed your hands over his. 

“Do you want to talk-“ 

“No,” he answered curtly as his eyes widened. You closed your mouth as your heart pounded in your ears. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be short with you,” Miguel said as he averted your gaze.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. The man above you sighed. 

“Do you need any water?” he quickly changed the subject he grabbed a few tissues from the box that fell on its side. You blinked before your heart warmed as he wiped at your folds, his movements slow and gentle as he cleaned you.

“Water would be great,” you said with a sheepish grin. Miguel nodded before wiping off his slick cock and padding over to the mini fridge. Your fingers glided over each other as he handed you a small bottle. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you beamed. He nodded, his face still wrought with a tinge of misery as he pulled your pants and panties back on. You held onto the water as you slid back onto the floor. You gasped as you stumbled forward, your legs shaking like a newborn deer's. Miguel was quick to catch you, his strong chest flush with your back as he kept his large arms wrapped around your waist. You blushed.

“Thank you,” you murmured. Miguel nodded. Silence filled the room before his cell began to ring. He glanced over at his phone, his nostrils flaring as he frowned.

“I’m sorry, I need to take this,” Miguel sighed. You gave him a sympathetic smile. 

“You’re okay,” you said despite your heart sinking into your stomach. Miguel gave you a solemn grin before he picked up his phone the same time you grabbed your bag. 

“¿Qué deseas?” he huffed into the phone [What do you want?]. You frowned as you glanced over your shoulder, Miguel pacing back and forth as he scrunched his nose in annoyance. “Te dije que no puedo venir este año,” Miguel seethed as you grabbed the door knob [I told you I can’t come this year]. You gave a polite wave before slipping out the door.

“¡Así que deja de preguntar!” he suddenly yelled [So stop asking!]. You flinched at his sudden harsh tone as you quickly closed the door behind you.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you turned on your heel and briskly walked towards the exit. Your face tightened with a pensive expression as your mind raced.

Just what was going on with Miguel? 

————

Thank you for reading! 💖

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[mmhcs]

Miles Morales x Reader On Their Period

Because I am not living la vida loca right now

He panics.

Not because it's your period and he feels uncomfortable or disgusted; he panics because he feels that he has no idea how to help you.

The first time he sees you, holding your stomach or doubled over in pain he just stands there, frozen and unsure of what to do.

It gets to the point where he's so in his head that it comes off as a little rude because, sir, why are you just standing there? Please, do something. Say something. The longer you stare, the more I think that you're put off by this.

After a while, Miles comes to his senses and rushes over to you, asking you if you're okay, if you need help, if there's anything that he can do to help.

He'd stay with you, doing anything he can to make himself useful (i.e. his hand on your stomach, cuddles, back rubs, massages).

When he goes home, he goes straight to Rio. Though, because it's Miles, he comes to her blurting out words and asking for help in a nervous rant rather than a coherent narrative.

Rio gives him tips and tricks, tells him that the best thing that he can do is pay attention to you. She also gives him some medicine for cramp relief.

The next day, Miles comes to you, cramp relief in hand, and everything that his mother told stored up.

He encourages you take two pills (if you want to) and then he puts you on bedrest.

If you suffer from temperature flashes, best believe he's right there with a blanket (no matter how hot is) and he's ready to have the A/C on for you at a moment's notice.

I cannot stress this enough: His hand stays on your stomach. If you use a heating pad, yes, he'll relent but other than that, you have your own personal Afro-Latino heating pad.

Miles most definitely gets you irritated. But it's not on purpose, though; he just has a stupid (but well-meaning) mouth sometimes most times.

"Are you sure you should be doing that? While you're on your period and everything?" "Man, those cramps must suck. Couldn't be me." "Yeah, but look on the brightside of all this! Your body works so hard every month-" "I don't know how you do this?"

At the end of the day, Miles just tries his best to be useful and make you comfortable. He gives you extra attention and tries his best to give you whatever you want.

When you tell him that your period is over, he rejoices alongside you.

"That's it until next month." "Next month? Next month!"

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