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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 11 months

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spider society

pairing: miles morales x gn!spidey (platonic)

WC: 3.3K

warnings: cursing and slight spoilers!

summary: a new friend is welcomed but is quick to become foe.

A/N: SPOILER WARNING FOR ATSV!!!! i wrote this in a day and on little sleep, so that will explain if this is terrible. also barely proofread so apologies for any writing errors. i did the best i could for the scene based on memory and clips from tik tok.

masterlist

earth-42

the lobby was crowded. like always. spider people here, there, everywhere. floor to ceiling as they traversed to their different destinations whether that be another dimension to fix anomalies or just the food court to get some lunch.

your headphones covered your ears to keep the loud conversations at bay as you mind your business. nothing to do, just tapping finger to finger in random patterns as you observed everyone with your background music. with your eyes landing near the entrance of the building you saw gwen and hobie, along with someone you’d never met before but excited for the new face. literally new face.

“gwen! hobie!” you shouted after pushing the bulky headphones down to your neck before rushing towards them. they waved you close to them, gwen with a friendly smile and hobie with his watchful eyes but only filled with kindness.

you stopped before the three of them and gave the two of them quick hugs before they could make any objections. attention now on the new person. his was tall and lean and looked a few years younger than you. black kid with curly hair and wandering dark eyes.

“hi, i’m y/n l/n. or spidey or spider, if you want. but best to use my name since we’re all spiders.” mouth moving on its own. “sorry. just haven’t seen a new face or person in a little bit. no offense to the peter’s,” you leaned closer to his face and he leaned away slightly from the intrusion, “but there are too many of him. and a lot of them sound closely the same.”

“don’t let peter hear that.” gwen joke. she gave a quick nudge to her quiet friend. “this is miles morales.”

“h-hi. yeah, i’m miles. nice to meet you, this place is just… wow.” head turning in all directions to get the full scope.

“yeah, kinda crazy. but miguel worked hard to make all this happen for us. kinda nice to physically see you're not alone in the fight.”

“speaking of-“ gwen got cut off by miles glitching out and dropping to the floor in pain. you knelt with him and touched his shoulder. “he doesn’t have a watch?” frantic as you check his wrist for the bulky device but not finding it. gwen bit her lip but avoided eye contact and looked at someone behind you.

“here,” you heard the motherly voice of jessica drew, “day pass.” and saw how miles caught the flimsy band before slipping it on.

“why don’t we get some food?” trying to break the sudden tension jessica brought with her. but before anyone could agree or disagree with your idea, she spoke up. “actually the three…” her eyes lingered on you and the touch of your hand to miles’s shoulder, “the four of you need to see miguel. it’s urgent.”

you didn’t like that. you don’t like it whenever miguel calls for you and it’s not for a job. you tried making an excuse, “actually, i should get-“ “don’t lie your way out, y/n. just follow the rules.” jessica commanded.

she started to walk away, then gwen and hobie followed after her. “hey,” miles tried to make eye contact. you felt like shrinking into yourself. “don’t worry. i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

you knew it wasn’t but didn’t bother. a weary smile, “why don’t we stop by the food court?” fingers circling his wrist as you tugged him along. “miguel loves the empanadas and it wouldn’t hurt to keep him on the nice side.” miles happily agreed.

the walk to miguel’s ‘office’ was always dark and quiet. too quiet, the sound of just your breathing and footsteps sounding like blaring sirens that bounced off the walls. you hated the walk. instinctively you wore your headphones over your ears and played something, but at a low volume to still hear miles and hobie converse. gwen led your group, her back the only thing you saw as she didn’t bother with facing any of you. she felt closed off.

you eyed hobie as he nicked bits and pieces from walls, tables, and junk. you didn’t stop him like miles was trying, just watching with pure curiosity, wondering what he was up to. always doing something to rebel.

miles turned to you and you saw his mouth moving, but only faintly heard his words. pausing the music and moving the device back to your neck you asked him to repeat his sentence.

“so, how does one get recruited for this spider society?” he held the to-go box in both hands. his thumbs rubbing at the top in a nervous sort of gesture.

“i- i don’t think you’d like it very much.” not wanting miles to be stuck like the rest of you. “catching anomalies is very annoying. and very busy. wouldn’t you like to stay in your dimension? with your friends and family?” voice going soft and melancholy. fingers toying with the device at your wrist.

you didn’t notice how miles eyes softened from your tone or how gwen looked fully over her shoulder towards you, knowing the true meaning of your words. and hobie continued to knick bits.

“well…” miles tried to restart the conversation, “i mean. at least with the watch, i can visit my friends. i can hang out with you more.” a playful nudge to your arm pulled a smile. a new friend, you liked the thought.

“why not just make your own watch?” hobie commented. he broke something off a defective project and stuffed it into his vest pocket. “you look smart enough to build from scraps.” he kicked his thick boots at objects in his path.

“i wanna do this by the rules. by the books.” he shrugged his shoulders. face looking just a bit glum.

“are either of your parents' cops?” a simple question you posed.

he looked confused but still answered, “my dad. gonna be captain soon.” he smiled down at the ground. he must be very proud of his family.

now you nudge his shoulder, “well, i bet your dad is proud of you. knowing or not knowing. but sometimes, you shouldn’t play by the book.” a hushed whisper.

“aye, y/n!” hobie slapped his hands on your shoulders, “that’s what i like to hear! screw the system. do what you need to do, my guy.”

“guys!” gwen raised her voice, “please can we just-“ she trailed her sentence off with a tilt of her head. the four of you were getting closer.

“miles, just remember,” hobie leaned towards miles, “don’t join the establishment until you know what you’re fighting for.”

the hallway widened out and when you looked up, miguel had his back turned as he stood on his platform. miles looked to gwen and she held a hand up, “yeah. i know, but it’s his thing. so just…” and she trailed off again.

gwen and miles walked further into the light as you and hobie stayed near the dark. hobie situated himself along the wall, fingers playing with whatever he got his hands on. you leaned beside him with your arms crossed over your chest and hip cocked. just from this show alone, you know miles is in for a miguel tantrum.

“how’s it been?” eyes on hobie, “um… okay.” you picked at the nylon of your suit, “sometimes if i’m bored, i go to other places. they let me as long as i don’t cause trouble. sorry i haven’t visited recently.” a twist to your lips.

hobie waved you off, “ain’t a problem. pop by whenever. gwendys around most times.”

your heads turned when miguel raised his voice and threw the food box to the ground. you pushed away from the wall and walked closer to the light.

“what’d i do?” “miguel. it’s not his fault.” miles and gwen’s voices mixed. you heard a thwip and turned to see hobie stealing the free food.

“he’s screwed everything up! just like doctor strange and that little nerd from earth-1999999.” miguel pinched his nose bridge.

“i visited there once. interesting place.” miles seemed to be the only one intrigued by your story. “they have this group called the avengers.” eyes widening at the word.

“are they like a band?” miles cocked his head. “no earth’s mightiest-“

“who the hell cares!”

you flinched at the boom of miguel’s voice and slinked back into the dark shadows by hobie. automatically he threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you to his side.

“someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he muttered. you wanted to comment but felt if you even made a peep miguel would be on your ass. hobie, always the kind friend, noticed your silence and slipped your headphones back on. you didn’t need music at the moment just something to muffle the noise.

eyes watched how miguel and miles spoke. their bodies tense, miguel using his looming height advantage to have more authority. mile's lanky arms fling about and look from gwen to miguel. with your headphones, you couldn’t hear, but you saw how miles turned around and his face was graced with a smile as he ran to someone.

“oh great. humbling reality spider-man has joined.” hobie’s words muffled before you made your ears free again.

you saw peter parker, peter b parker, as he liked to be called. he and miles shared a hug and you started to look at the walls and ceilings.

“why do you have a baby carrier?” miles pointed at the carrier peter always wore.

“mayday!” you squeal when you see her crawling your way. the two of you were well acquainted since you’ll babysit for peter and mj on short notice. or whenever really, they were such a kind family.

the little bundle of joy yipped when you crouched to her level and pulled her to your chest. her tiny hands setting on your shoulders as her blue and green eyes darted over your face. a gloved hand smoothed some of her flyaways and wind-swept hair.

“you have a baby!” you heard miles. “i have a baby! yeah, it’s crazy kid.” peter sighed.

“how’s my favorite web crawler? huh? causing trouble for your dad?” cooing in a baby voice. pretending she could understand every word and would reply in detail about the chaos she brings. you pinched at her chubby cheeks.

“can we get back to business? serious business?” miguel always brings the mood down.

“you are the only serious spider person. we’re supposed to be funny. throwing quips as we punch bad guys.” peter grumbled and made a mocking tone of miguel. he looked about ready to send everyone away.

“lyla, do the thing.” the computer teased miguel for a moment before doing the thing he asked. she pulled up the web of life and destiny.

“it’s called something very scientific, but i like to just call it the spider web. short and simple.” a side comment to miles. “cool.”

“these are canon events. things that can’t change no matter what or the universe collapses.” getting bit by the spider. uncle ben dying or someone close to you. a captain saving a kid but getting killed in the process.

miguel showed different versions of spider-man in those different scenarios. he specifically showed the spiders mourning the death of captain stacy.

you pressed mayday’s head into your shoulder, not wanting her to see this. you turned to gwen and saw her poker face, but you could see the emotion swimming in her irises. she hadn’t been back to her dimension in a while, always crashing in different spots.

“miles,” you looked away as you bounced the child, “what you did back in pavitr’s reality, it broke canon. that’s what caused the black hole and hopefully, we can stop it. but it doesn’t always happen.”

you felt eyes on you. you didn’t like the sudden attention. but you were starting to get why jessica brought you here. why miguel pointed a finger at you to miles confusion. he wanted you to be on his side.

“y/n… do you want to tell miles what happened?” you ignored him. playing with mayday, knuckles caressing her rosy cheeks. “y/n… the kid needs to understand the importance.” you sighed and pressed a kiss to mayday’s temple.

“understand what?” miles walked closer to you. “y/n? what happened?”

you licked your lips. “my reality is gone. i… i got to love my gwen stacy. i didn’t lose any family or a captain who i was bickering friends with. i- i got to have it all. i ‘broke’ canon, but i don’t believe that crap.”

“y/n…” miguel had a warning tone.

“everything was wonderful. not once after each event happened a giant hole formed until one day it just did. it was just a normal day. gwen and i were having a date at this ice cream shop she loved, she looked so pretty. she always did. we were walking towards the met since she kept saying we needed to visit more.”

you raised mayday above you and flashed a toothy smile. she giggled and you pulled her close to rub noses. a sigh as you continue your story.

“it- it just happened out of nowhere. i can’t even place what the cause would have been. one minute it’s a normal day and then next a black hole a few blocks away which then changed into… reality being eaten away.”

you didn’t notice the tears falling until little hands touched your cheeks. mayday stared and baby babbled. a hand to your shoulder, peter giving a pitying look. you handed his daughter back to him and wiped your tears. done with talking, but miguel finished the story.

“they already had a watch and when i noticed what was happening and the rate it was destroying everything… i managed to pull them out in time. they are the last remnants of their home reality.”

it was quiet. no one was speaking and it still felt too loud.

“but… what’s this got to do with me?” happy that miles pulled the attention back to him.

“you are the first anomaly.” miguel voiced. “your spider bite wasn’t from your dimension, you already had a spider-man. and yet somehow… everything is fine.” he seemed pissed at the simple fact.

“miles in two days your dad is gonna become captain.” gwen spoke. her tone seeping in sorrow.

miles looked around. his face scrunched in confusion and growing anger. then he did another look at the images of different peters with captain stacy. his face was dropping.

“your- you're saying i just have to let my dad die? to- to avoid reality crashing? cause it’s a- a canon event?”

“yes,” miguel replied as if that didn’t sound crazy.

miles turned to gwen, “your dad. he’s a captain right?” she nodded. “you’re just, what? just gonna let him die?” her eyes fell to the floor.

“we have to do things to keep reality stable. it’s not always pretty, but it comes with the cost of being spider-man. you can’t have both.”

“i can! i know i can! i can be spider-man and miles!”

your senses went off just a bit and you took account of all the people starting to crowd the room. this felt wrong. it felt like a trap, and for once you're the bad guys. peter and gwen tried to calm miles down, he was understandably upset at everyone shouting orders at him. you wanted to pull miles away and hide the both of you from miguel and the others. this wasn’t right.

“this will hold you for a few days.” and miguel dropped one of his devices to the floor that changed to a red-screened cage.

“miles!” you rushed to the holoprojection and started to bang your fist along with miles. gwen and peter were bickering with miguel. and hobie popped up beside you with his palms facing miles with a knowing smile.

hobie pulled you away when you started to see the electricity start to spark. then suddenly there was a loud boom and explosion of air. everyone was swept off their feet. hobie was able to keep you upright.

miles stood free and looked at his palms as he panted. he quickly looked your way and you only could say, “run.” and he took off.

“no!” miguel roared.

he started to chase after him, but you shot a web to his feet to slow him down. his crazed eyes widened at your disobedience. “you have no idea what you’ve done.” he extended the red blades from his arms, cutting himself free and rushing out of the room with others following.

your chest was panting with fear and worry. you looked to hobie for help, but he stood in a portal and threw his watch away. “for the record i quit.” and he was gone in the blink of an eye.

you were the only one on miles’s side.

you shot web after web at different spider people. at their feet, wrist, faces, anything to slow them down and give miles enough time to form a plan and execute it. you tried to catch up to him, but a few people gave you a taste of your own medicine and fought you.

you were being held down by one of the many peter parker variants, “stay out of our way!” he shouted as he webbed you uptight. you struggled against the hold but it was no use. so you were left alone once the tower was emptied, you just hoped miles was okay.

you were sure how long you’ve been webbed up. your body started to get that prickly feeling when it wasn’t getting proper blood flow through the body. wiggling your body in the hold, hoping to loosen it, a voice called out.

“y/n?” eyes connected with miles who was hanging upside down on a web. one side of his suit was ripped, but he looked safe.

“oh thank goodness. i tried to catch up, but as you can see, i’ve been webbed.”

miles looked around. when he eyed you again he looked hesitant to free you, you understood. some of his friends that he’s known longer turned on him behind his back. but you knew he was a different case, miguel was just using this canon logic as a cover.

“go miles. i don’t want to keep you from getting home.” a reassuring smile to his tired eyes. but he didn’t leave, he started to pull at the webbing and helped you free.

“let’s go.” he led you to the go-home machine. he was able to go invisible as he worked the computers so you stayed on the ceiling in the dark shadows.

when the machine was up and running he hopped in and called your name. you looked to margo, spider byte, who was busy with lyla as the two tried to stop the stitching process. you dived in and stood beside him, the two of you getting anxious the longer it was taking.

“stop the machine!” miguel was charging forward. you knew margo shouted a comment back without hearing her.

the machine was getting closer, it was about eighty percent closed. you thought you were in the clear, but miguel sunk his blood-red claws into the threading and started to rip at it. you pushed miles behind you, “just let us go, miguel!”

“i can’t do that, y/n! why can’t you understand i’m doing this for everyone’s safety!” he growled. the threading was holding.

“because this canon shit is a lie! if miles wasn’t supposed to be spider-man, his reality would have broken a long time ago! you’re just trying to manipulate everyone!”

your body lifted into the air. it was time to leave. and just before you were gone, you did one more reckless thing. you tore the watch off your wrist and threw it to the ground making it shatter. you stared directly into miguel’s burning eyes.

“i quit.”

a/n2: i actually wrote a little more after this part, but it just didnt end off well. i wrote this from like the hours of 8pm to 6am (i did sleep a little in between dont worry)

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latenightreadingpdf · 13 days

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A Secret Unveiled - Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker, secretly Spider-Man, harbors feelings for his best friend Y/N, a passionate Spider-Man fan. As their friendship grows, Peter must decide whether to reveal his secret identity and hidden emotions.

The faint glow of the city lights illuminated the room, casting soft shadows over the study table where Peter Parker and Y/N sat. They had been friends since high school, and their bond had only grown stronger over the years. Y/N had always been a huge fan of Spider-Man, and she often wore her Spider-Man t-shirt with pride.

Peter had a secret, one that he had been keeping from Y/N for years. He was Spider-Man. He had developed feelings for Y/N during their high school years but had never found the courage to tell her the truth about his alter ego.

As they sat studying, Peter couldn't help but glance at Y/N's Spider-Man t-shirt. It was a simple design, the iconic red and blue spider symbol on a black background, but it meant the world to her.

"Hey, Y/N," Peter began hesitantly, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I couldn't help but notice your shirt. You're a Spider-Man fan?"

Y/N looked down at her shirt and smiled, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh, absolutely! I've always been a huge fan. Spider-Man is so cool, swinging through the city, saving people... I've even got a Spider-Man poster in my room!"

Peter's heart raced as he listened to Y/N's passionate words. He felt a mix of excitement and guilt, knowing that he was the very person she idolized.

"That's really cool," Peter managed to say, trying to hide his emotions. "I've heard he's a pretty amazing guy."

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, definitely! I wish I could meet him someday, thank him for all he does."

Peter swallowed hard, his mind racing. "You never know, Y/N. Maybe one day you'll get the chance."

The rest of the study session went by in a blur for Peter. He couldn't stop thinking about Y/N's love for Spider-Man and how she had no idea that he was the one behind the mask. As they said their goodbyes, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell her the truth, but fear held him back.

Days turned into weeks, and Peter found himself growing more and more infatuated with Y/N. Every time he saw her wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt or talking about her favorite superhero, his feelings for her intensified.

One evening, Peter swung by Y/N's apartment to return a book he had borrowed. As he entered the living room, he spotted Y/N wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt once again, this time paired with pajama bottoms.

"Hey, Peter!" Y/N greeted, her face lighting up with a smile. "Come on in. I was just about to watch a movie. Wanna join me?"

Peter felt his heart skip a beat at the invitation. "Sure, that sounds fun."

They settled on the couch, and Y/N hit play on the remote. As the movie began, Peter found himself watching Y/N more than the screen. Her laughter, her smiles, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement - he was completely captivated by her.

During a particularly intense action scene, Y/N turned to Peter with wide eyes. "Isn't this movie great, Peter?"

Peter chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. "Yeah, it's pretty good."

Y/N's gaze lingered on Peter for a moment longer than usual, her eyes searching his. "You okay, Peter? You seem a little...distracted."

Peter swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush. "I'm fine, just enjoying the movie."

As the night wore on, Peter knew that he couldn't keep his secret from Y/N any longer. He needed to tell her the truth, no matter how scared he was of her reaction.

A few days later, Peter mustered up the courage to invite Y/N over to his apartment under the guise of another study session. As they sat at the kitchen table, books and notes spread out before them, Peter's heart raced.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," Peter began, his voice shaking slightly.

Y/N looked up from her notes, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it, Peter? You're acting really strange."

Taking a deep breath, Peter decided to take a leap of faith. "I'm Spider-Man, Y/N."

Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. "You're joking, right?"

Peter shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, I'm serious. I've been Spider-Man since high school."

A long silence filled the room as Y/N processed what Peter had just revealed. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't believe you."

In response, Peter quickly stood up from the table and moved to the center of the room. With a swift motion, he revealed his web shooters from his backpack, shooting a web across the room.

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched. She felt a whirlwind of emotions - shock, confusion, and a strange sense of betrayal.

"You're really him," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Peter nodded, slowly approaching Y/N. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Y/N. I wanted to protect you, but I realize now that keeping this secret from you was a mistake."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe I've been friends with Spider-Man this whole time and didn't even know it."

Peter reached out, gently wiping away Y/N's tears. "I'm still the same person, Y/N. I'm still your friend, Peter."

Y/N nodded, her gaze softening. "I know, Peter. It's just going to take some time for me to process all of this."

In the days that followed, Y/N grew more comfortable with the truth about Peter's secret identity. She began to see Spider-Man as an extension of Peter, understanding that the hero she had admired for so long was, in fact, the same person she had grown to care for deeply.

As their friendship blossomed, Peter found himself falling even more in love with Y/N. He cherished their moments together, whether they were studying, watching movies, or simply enjoying each other's company.

One evening, as they sat on Y/N's balcony, watching the sunset, Peter decided that it was time to take a chance and confess his true feelings to Y/N.

"Y/N," Peter began, his voice trembling with nervousness. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, Peter?"

Taking a deep breath, Peter mustered up the courage to say the words he had been holding back for so long. "I've had feelings for you since high school, Y/N. I've tried to hide them, tried to push them aside, but I can't deny them any longer. I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. She had never expected Peter to confess his feelings so openly, and she felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and joy.

"Peter," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know what to say."

Peter looked down, his heart sinking. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, Y/N. I just needed to be honest with you, just like you were honest with me."

Y/N reached out, gently lifting Peter's chin so that their eyes met. "Peter, I... I have feelings for you too."

Peter looked into Y/N's eyes, his heart racing. "Really?"

"Yes," Y/N nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

A warm smile spread across Peter's face, relief washing over him. Without another word, he leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Y/N responded, wrapping her arms around him as they shared a meaningful and passionate moment.

From that moment on, Peter and Y/N's relationship blossomed into a beautiful romance. Despite the challenges they faced, both as individuals and as a couple, Peter and Y/N's love for each other only grew stronger. They learned to trust each other completely, knowing that they could face anything as long as they had each other by their side.

And so, as the sun set on another day in the city, Peter and Y/N sat together on the balcony, holding hands and looking forward to a future filled with love, understanding, and endless possibilities.

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int-writersmind · 4 months

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Songbird & Spider

Peter Parker x f!Reader

You're Peter Parker's neighbor, an aspiring songwriter who can't help but play your work-in progresses out loud, and Peter can't help but overhear.

Word Count: 1.3k

Fluff

The first thing Peter remembered about you was that song you played outside your window one early morning. You were sitting on the windowsill, one leg inside your apartment the other resting on the fire escape. Your eyes were closed as you strummed along to a jazzy little tune on your guitar, half singing the words, half mumbling along. Peter was coming home from a late night patrolling the city, he was going to go through his window since it was still so early, but settle for the roof so as to not disturb your singing.

The two of you almost stumble into one another when you exit your apartment and as he enters his, damn New York City apartments and its tight hallways.

“Late night?” You say.

Peter shrugs and says, “Early Morning?”

“Yeah, I picked up an opening shift.” You turn and lock your door, giving a quick goodbye. “See ya.”

Peter watches you as you hurry down the stairs.

Later that day, after a few hours of sleep, Peter decides to take to the skies of the city as Spider-Man, just swinging by and keeping an eye on things. Unknowingly he passed by the little diner you worked at in the morning. He only knew since he ran into you one day when coming back home, you in your bright diner outfit you tried to hide with your jacket. He couldn’t help but hang back for a minute, seeing you inside. Watching you attend some tables, a smile on your face as you held a serving tray with multiple plates. You had a natural aura that made people drawn to you. You liked the attention, but not in a self-centered kind of way, but in the way that showed that you were meant to be a performer.

Another day, when Peter was catching up with his dirty dishes, he heard you from the other side of the apartment’s thin walls. You were stomping your way, mostly likely back from a long shift, since the sun was currently going down. Peter couldn’t help but open his window as he had a feeling that’s where he’ll find you.

And there you were, still in uniform, sitting on the fire escape, guitar in hand, book off to the side. “Trying to catch a sneak peek?” You say, eyes still closed.

Busted for his peering, Peter just nervously glances around before just resolving to the situation and steadying himself on the fire escape. “Just getting some air.”

“Hmm, sure” You smile at him, peeking with one eye before going back to strumming. “Had an idea on the way back from work, I didn't want to forget.”

“I’ll leave if you want, you know, if you want to be alone.” Peter stumbles out.

“What kind of performer would I be if I shooed off an audience,” You stop playing for a moment to write something in your notebook.”Even an audience of one.”

“Now I feel kind of special.”

You smile back at him, before readjusting your guitar and clearing your throat. “Can I play you something?”

“Uh…I’d be honored”

You nod before you strum the guitar, playing a few chords that reminded Peter of a jazzy type of beat. When the words came, your voice was low, rich and just a tad husky, dragging some notes to the melody of the song.

Peter was starting to get into the music when suddenly you stopped short. “That’s all I got so far, I’m sure the rest will come. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime.”

You check your watch, silently cursing to yourself before turning back to Peter, “Anytime huh? Well I play at the club around the corner from here most nights. Maybe I’ll see ya.”

You go back inside your apartment, leaving Peter alone with an open invitation and his thoughts.

Peter did visit the club, kinda, except from the outside and not as Peter Parker. It was about a week later, he came around after a run in with the Shocker left him itching for something less jolt-y. But there you were inside the club, he made your voice out from the open windows and door. He recognized some of the songs that you played, many jazzy interpretations of modern pop songs. Unknowingly, he had stayed for your whole set as he watched you walk out of the club's door by yourself, guitar case strapped to your back.

He kept an eye on you, promising himself that he’ll only see you home. He swung from building to building, making sure you didn’t leave his sights. There were a couple of run-ins that he thought might escalate into something, like bumping into the shoulder of a partially grumpy passerby or a group of shady individuals that gave you a second glance. But none of that phased you, you weren’t delusion or even naive. You were confident and that confidence radiated off of you that signaled to others that you weren’t just anybody to mess with.

As soon as you made it to the apartment building, Peter decided that you were safe enough to not have some spandex wearing hero watching over you, even if that was a gross oversimplification of the materials of his suit.

It was until a few hours later, with the sun starting to pierce the sky, Peter decided to return back home. He landed on the far side of the apartment’s roof, on the other side of the door that led to the actual apartments themselves. As he was changing back into more Peter appropriate clothing when he noticed a familiar tune. The same tune he heard that early, rainy morning, the same tune as the day you caught him listening. He peered around, trying his best to not to alert you of his presence, leaning against the outside door to hear the song to completion.

The song was a mix between something jazzy and something folky, for lack of better words. It seemed to be a story of a stranger who has strange hours and does strange activities. The stranger helped those who needed it without asking for anything in return. The stranger was known to all but no one knew the stranger, not truly it seemed. It ended on a mystery, with you no longer singing and just carrying on the instrumental from the verses.

“Just as good as last time.” You say out loud.

Peter was perplexed, “How did you-”

“I’m a musician,” You simply state. “I have great ears. And you’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

You turn around, still continuing to play, as Peter asks, “So, who’s the Stranger in the song?”

“Hmm,” You think it over, “A neighbor of mine.”

“Do I know them?”

“I think the two of you are well acquainted.”

“Really?” Peter tries to rack his mind, who could this neighbor be?

“This neighbor of ours…it is actually quite famous. Locally famous, but I think news travels far.”

“Huh…I think I’m stumped.” You turn around in a lazy circle, slowing down your playing, but not stopping. “This neighbor likes to frequent the roof but sometimes, when he thinks everyone's asleep or no one’s watching, likes to go through windows.”

Peter tries, and fails, to hide his stunned look. “Ummm, I–”

“The apartment has dreadfully thin walls,” You walk closer to Peter, dipping your head close to his, “And our fire escapes are awfully close to each other. But don't worry stranger, your secret is safe with me.”

You give the guitar one sharp little strum before moving it away from your body. You lean against the edge of the roof, glancing over at the city surrounding you.

“So will this stranger make any more appearances in your songs?

“I say so,” You grin, “He’s much too interesting, but I would prefer to get to know him a little more.”

“Do you?” Peter moves in close to you, placing his hands on the edge of the roof, staring at you as you bring your attention back to him.

“Why don’t you come back to my apartment so I can play you some more songs, over a couple of drinks?”

Thanks for reading, comment if you like, it would be greatly appreciated and look out for Part 1 of my Christmas Peter Parker x Reader series starting this Sunday! Bye

masterlist

#peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shot #spider man #spider-man fluff #spiderman fluff #spider man fluff #peter parker

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novelizt · 8 months

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NO EXPLANATION, JUST COMFORT ☁︎ PETER PARKER

GENRE ➺ comfort fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ you need a hug

His playful "what are you doing here?" sounds like it could be written in cursive. His entire being could, too.

You're too shaken to take it all in. Simply wanting to slide past his window and land in his arms, as always.

His arm lock around you, holding you to him as the springs in his bed shriek, adjusting to the weight of both of you. You're pretty sure his notebook falls, but he holds you tighter, squeezing you as if to tell you to leave it there, it's okay. So, you do.

Your ear rests on his shirt, hearing the faint pounding of his heart. You feel his breath on your hair and a faint kiss to your temple.

He stays quiet, fully understanding why you stayed silent as well. Palms draw circles into your back, lulling your aching soul into tranquility one stroke at a time.

You'll explain it to him later. For now, hugs were enough.

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spider man x reader #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #peter parker fluff #spider-man fluff #spiderman fluff

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astrobub · 2 years

Text

I’ll Always Wait for You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (also some Cindy x Peter)

Warnings: Some slight angst, a lil bit of co-dependency (it’s very slight of you read into it but not heavily described)

A/N: wrote this on the train and immediately posted on my phone so this is not proofed and I’m sorry for any typos. just something short and brief I did. Also the formatting of weird because I posted on my phone so I’m super sorry for that :(

It feels weird to see Peter with someone else.

For as long as you could remember it had always been Peter and Y/n. You had known each other practically since diapers seeing as May and your mom were close.

And in all those years of getting to know each other’s crooks and crannies you had never pictured Peter with a girlfriend. Had never imagined him looking at someone else when you were there.

It felt wretched to watch him fall in love with some girl the two of you hardly knew but you couldn’t say why.

Cindy was a lovely girl. She was smart, pretty, and kind, all the basic adjectives that people look for in partners. Cindy was strong willed and had a way of making everyone in the room agree with her. It was never in a malicious way but rather a sense of right and wrong.

Y/n couldn’t understand why she didn’t like Cindy. Why did you feel that Peter would be better suited off with someone else?

It was one of those days where Cindy was crashing the pair's lunch and Peter was all preoccupied with Cindy and her new hairdo.

You could feel your eyes squinting at the pair with jealousy ? No, why would you be jealous? You certainly didn’t want a boyfriend. At least you didn’t think so. Now thinking about it you had never really thought about having a significant other. You had Peter, what else was there to think about?

That night after your midnight call with Peter you stayed up and came up with a mental list of what you want in a partner.

They would have to be smart of course. How else would they be able to understand the complex conversations Peter and you had? Obviously understanding because you were aware of the complications of having a boy best friend. You wouldn’t stand for any internalized misogyny taken outwardly on you. Caring is a big one. Like the one time Peter helped a mean lady cross the street who afterwards hit him with her cane. He still smiled and wished her well and Y/n thinks she’d just about fall in love with anyone who was that kind.

While coming up with this mental list Y/n paused on the thoughts. You thought about how you could fall in love with any person who was like Peter essentially.

Holy shit you were in love with Peter.

Now this revelation ruined your night and the following morning because you had to avoid Peter.

How are you meant to confront your best friend who had a girlfriend that you’re in love with him?

Simple you don’t.

Peter tracks you down at the end of the day and immediately corners you. At that moment you think you may explode. He has this look on his face full of adoration, love, and worriedness. Like you’re the most important person in the world. But you’re not. Cindy is. And so this harsh reality brings you back down to earth where life is cruel. You push past him saying nothing is wrong and that you have to get home. At this he grabs your arm turning you to face him and you melt. He has a pained look on his face as if your truth can stop him from his internal mourning.

You soften and fall into his touch as if you two were in a silent limbo. As you put your hand to his face he closes his eyes and leans into your warmth.

You look at him with so much love and he would never know. It pains you to think he isn’t yours to love. With that you whisper,

“I’m sorry….I love you”

and lean up a bit to kiss him on his cheek. His eyes flutter open and he is on the verge of tears. A few have fallen past your eyes and you smile. A pained broken smile but a smile nonetheless. He takes a gulp and right as he is about to speak when you hear Cindy calling his name out.

She’s his and he’s hers. Your smile tightens and you leave his grasp as he reaches out for you once more you leave the building and Peter thinks he may die. He’s lost you and isn’t sure anything other than you can console his grief.

The following weeks are uncomfortable. Peter is still with Cindy and while you knew the pair wouldn’t break up because of your silly feelings, a part of you hoped, dreamed he would be yours again.

You no longer sit with the pair but every once and a while look up from your current spot to feel eyes on you. Peter has a distant look while Cindy talks to him. Unaware their relationship has completely shifted. He glances at her and does a nod to indicate he is listening to her. You know his mind is elsewhere and you can’t help but feel guilty for ruining your friendship as well as his relationship.

Although you two haven’t spoken in over a month you feel just as in love with him as the day you realized. In a pathetic way you think you could love him forever with the same intensity.

The following week Peter shows up unannounced. Your mom is glad to see him and asks how May is. His response is brief before begging to know if you’re home.

When he comes into your room he is met with your tear stained face and his lip quivers. He knows he is the cause of your pain and he wants to rip his own heart out and beg you to accept it to stop your tears. Neither of you speak. Staring at each other with such intensity and so much emotion there aren’t words to put to it. He speaks first with a simple,

“We broke up.”

Your first reaction is to wrap your arms around him and sooth his back. You feel him crying into your shoulder and you allow him to go through his sadness. He cries for what feels like hours but in reality was only the length of a sitcom run. When he looks up at you from your chest with red puffy eyes he leans up and catches your lips in his own.

You feel escatic he’s finally yours. As you both pour years of loss into the kiss you pull away gasping. You don’t want him like this. You don’t want to be his rebound. You want him at his best first before you can accept his worst.

You tell him this of course and his puppy dog eyes come out faster than you’d like. He begs and grovels at your feet saying you’re all I want.

And while this is everything you want to hear it is not how you want to hear it.

“Peter I love you. I love you so much the past month was agony to be away from you but I can’t be your second choice. I won’t be. I deserve better than that and you know it,” and while you choke on your breath after speaking your truth he grabs your face in his large palms and forces you to look at him in his eyes. They show so much adoration for you and you feel as if you may take your words back but you know you must stay strong. Love mustn’t allow you to change your morals.

“I love you Y/n and I’ll wait as long as you need but I need you to know I only have eyes for you. I’ve only loved you and I only will. I’m your 100% and the reason why I came over here was because I had to let you know. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. The day you kissed me changed my life forever and opened up a new emotion I’d never felt before. When you left I wanted to die. I couldn’t stand the thought of you hurting and I’m sorry it took me to long to end this with her I just hadn’t properly come to my feelings yet but I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you because I love you,” and the way he speaks brings warmth and tightness to your chest. You kiss him once more and part with your forehead resting on his.

“Thank you for waiting for me.”

#Peter Parker imagine #Peter Parker fluff #Peter Parker angst #Peter Parker x reader #Peter Parker fanfic #Peter Parker fan fiction #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #Spider-Man imagine #Spider-Man fluff #Spider-Man x reader #Spider-Man angst #spider man fanfiction

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electrosuite · 2 years

Text

it just takes time

warnings: injuries, blood, guns,

word count: 821

masterlist

It all happened so quickly.

You’d decided to follow Peter as he chased a mugger he’d been tracking down for weeks through a non-busy street. He’d stabbed, shot, or beat countless people in an attempt to rob them, and he was considered wanted by the police.

He knew the danger, but he’d never cared about that. It was his job — putting himself in dangerous positions to protect innocent people. And he was happy to do it.

He seemed to not notice the gun in the mugger’s hands, but you did, from about fifty feet away. It pointed straight at Peter, the man’s finger squeezing the trigger.

You’d heard that time had a tendency to slow down in stressful situations, and this was no exception. It was as if the bullet was moving in half-speed, and you screamed for him to watch out.

But your voice was inaudible over the gunshot, followed by Peter falling from his web and hitting the ground hard. You sprinted across the street and followed him into an alley, where he collapsed against the side of a building behind a dumpster.

“Peter,” you said, immediately kneeling down and looking at his bleeding wound. He tore his mask off his head and threw it on the ground.

“No,” he said, out of breath and in pain. “You shouldn’t be here.” He groaned loudly in pain as you pulled his hands away from the hole in his torso.

You gulped and winced at the sight. You put pressure on it, almost making him scream out in pain. A bit of blood gushed over your hands and dripped down your arm into one of your sleeves. He winced and swore to himself at the sudden touch.

“I’m sorry.”

He swallowed loudly and shook his head. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“I’ll heal on my own.”

“Peter-”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll heal. It just takes time.”

“A wound this serious will take days.”

He shook his head again. “No, it’ll be fine tomorrow. I’ve been shot before.”

“Peter, the bullet is still in you.”

“Please, just... Let me get him.”

“No.” You spoke sternly, something neither of you were used to. “He’s running to hide.”

“That’s exactly why I need to get him. Who knows the next opportunity I’ll have.”

“Let me get the bullet out and wait until you heal and you can chase him to your heart’s content. Please, Peter, I...”

You cut yourself off, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. He glanced up at you through his eyelashes and furrowed his brows a bit.

“You what?”

You took a deep, shaky breath. “I can’t... lose you. I just can’t. So please, let me take you home and get the bullet out, let this heal, and then you can go back to the crime-fighting. Please.”

He sighed and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I will.”

You sniffled the sudden snot in your nose. “Thank you.”

—

Tending to Peter’s wounds in your bed was nothing new. Whether it was his face, his arms, his legs, his stomach, it didn’t matter. You’d sewn up quite a few cuts, bandaged more busted eyebrows, and applied more ice packs to swollen cheekbones than most people, and at this point you were fairly confident you could be a nurse if you wanted to. You had skills when it came to keeping blood contained and off your sheets, although you’d had to throw some out a couple of times.

But this was the first time you’d used your tweezers to dig a bullet from his stomach. He was biting down on one of your shirts and balling his fists so hard that his nails had broken the skin, adding more injuries that needed to heal. Anything he could do to prevent screaming and giving away his identity to your parents.

Once you were done and set the bloody needle and extra thread in your trashcan, you cleaned up the area with a warm, wet cloth before washing your hands to rid them of his blood. Once you were finished, he was so exhausted that he fell asleep with his head at the foot of your bed, his feet in between the two pillows.

You couldn’t help but watch him sleep, gently pushing his hair back and out of his face.

You loved him so much, but you couldn’t ignore how much he worried you. He was ballsy, and nothing scared him. He’d taken on the biggest, baddest people in New York City, including ones who’d come close to hurting you.

And he did it for no recognition. Nobody knew who was under that mask, but that was exactly how he wanted it. You were quite literally the only person who knew the true identity of the hero known as Spider-Man.

But you were okay with that. It was kind of exciting keeping a secret like that.

Even if it meant you were the one always patching him up.

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prismatica-the-strange · 1 year

Text

Gimme Your Hand and I'll Give You Mine

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive banter

Synopsis: A cute date night

Pairings: The Amazing Stella Lovette

Song: Ballerina by Jeremy Shada

"There's my girl," Peter grins, pulling off his mask and climbing in the window, "Do I smell that alfredo sauce I love?"

"Maybe," Stelle smiles back at him.

"I went to the museum so I could walk you home, but you weren't there," He comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Yeah, a kid threw up during a show and it got everywhere," she sighs, "Maintenance spent hours cleaning it up and all the shows were canceled so I got the afternoon off."

"And you thought, instead of taking some much-needed time for yourself," he presses his face into her neck, lightly nipping at her skin, "You were gonna come home and make me my favorite food?"

"I think Spider-man deserves a nice home-cooked meal every once and a while," she turns to face him.

"You are, the absolute sweetest, you know that?" He kisses her, "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Something saint-like in a past life, I'm sure," she teases, hand holding the back of his neck.

"I love you," his voice is earnest and full of adoration, "I really, really do."

He grips her hips and presses her against the counter, kissing her hard and leaning his weight on her.

"Petey!" She giggles, kissing him back.

"What?" He laughs against her lips, "What am I doing?"

"You're- Pete!" She squeals when he pulls her against his chest, arms tightly wrapped around her shoulders.

"I'm not doing anything!" He sways them a few times.

She suddenly goes stiff in his arms, "Peter!"

"What?" He asks in genuine concern, pulling away slightly to see her face. Then he smells it, the bitter, choking, smell of smoke and his eyes snap up to the stove.

She turns from him and rushes over, sliding a cover onto the now-burning cheese sauce, and taking it off the burner. She lets out a relieved laugh as she turns off the stove, "Well, so much for homemade Italian."

"Shit I-... I'm sorry Stella," He looks genuinely apologetic.

She just sighs, "It's fine... I think we have some chicken tenders in the freezer we can throw in the oven."

"Hey," he holds her shoulders, "No way am I letting you suffer frozen chicken strips."

"Nope!" He lets go and starts for the door, grabbing a coat, "I'm bringing you out for dinner."

"Petey."

"I won't take no for an answer, Stelle-Bell," He insists as he reaches for his keys.

"Peter!" She laughs and grabs his wrist. He turns to look at her, confused. She steps close to him, and in a quiet voice like they weren't alone in their apartment, "Maybe you wanna change out of your suit first?"

He goes rigid. His face goes bright red when he looks down and sees that he's still in his Spider suit, "Right... I should-"

"Yeah, probably."

She pulls him into a brief kiss when he passes her to get to the bedroom.

"Mmm, You should too," He hums trying to pull her with him.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," He nips at her bottom lip, "Should wear that cute dress I like."

"Should I now?" She teases and he nods, "And which dress is that, exactly?"

"Whichever one you decide to wear," He breathes against her ear, "Or uh... whichever is easiest to take off you later. Wh- hey!"

He laughs when she shoves him away, the word 'Pervert' falling from her lips.

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

Peter freezes mid-button when Stelle steps into view.

"Oh," He chuckles, "Oh no. You- you can't wear that. It's completely off the table."

"What?" She looks down at her outfit, "What's wrong with it?"

"Are you kidding me?" He tilts her chin up to meet his grin. Next to him in his worn-out button-up, she looks like a punk-rock goddess. He's not quite sure how he was lucky enough to even be in her presence, "Look at you! How am I supposed to pay attention to anything else when you look like that?"

The way his eyes constantly drag their way across her body throughout dinner truly emphasizes his words.

"You're blushing," He teases over dessert. She is, she has been since she noticed his stare.

"You look like you wanna eat me alive."

He chuckles darkly, but doesn't say anything.

"Don't be creepy, Parker!"

"Hey! You said it, not me!"

"It was hyperbolic!"

"Only if you let i-" He laughs when she throws her napkin at him.

"You keep his up, and you're gonna end up getting hit."

"Aw, baby, you'd never."

"I might," She smirks, "You're being absolutely ridiculous."

"I can't help it when you look like that."

"Like what?" She leans toward him.

"As beautiful as you ever been."

She groans and slumps back in her chair, face turning a dark pink, "You can't say things like that."

"But you're so cute when you blush!"

After they finish eating, they start walking home, hands intertwined. He says something stupid to make her laugh, and it makes him fumble his steps.

She gets a few strides ahead of him before he tugs her back, arm raising to twirl her once, then pulling her into an intense kiss.

He only pulls back an inch or two when he breaks the kiss, his hands cupping her face, keeping her close.

"I love you," he breathes, making her smile, "I love you so much, you know that?"

She grabs the back of his neck, leaning in to press her lips back to his.

"I might have some idea."

Another kiss and he hums happily, "Good because I do-"

Someone on the sidewalk shoves past them, making her fall against his chest.

His arms wrap around her, both of them laughing softly. He bumps their noses together, eyes full of stars and adoration. The very air around them tingling.

"I think we should go home," He suggests quietly, his lips tantalizingly close again, brushing against hers with every word, "And maybe I can show you how much."

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #the amazing Spider-man #the amazing stella lovette #prisma self ships #prisma writes #tasm!Peter Parker fluff #Fluff #Spider-man fluff #self ship writing

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bict · 1 year

Text

Spider-Man’s Winter Wonderland

A/N: I’ve been working on this one for a little while, and I hope you all enjoy it! I also made some fun little dividers lol. This is based on a little post I made a while ago.

Warnings: none

Winter in New York can be beautiful. With the bright lights of billboards stark against the dark night sky, and the holiday decorations in all the storefronts, and, most importantly, a layer of snow pulling together the winter wonderland scene, it really could be beautiful. Okay, maybe it would only be, like, an hour before the snow turns to sludge and the streets are filled with New Yorkers even more annoyed than usual, but still. It can be nice.

Not this winter, though. Gray skies dominated the city throughout December, and the only snowflake in sight was the big light-up display dangling from Stark Tower. A sharp wind slapped the faces of commuters on the street, and the holiday displays felt almost mocking when set against the sad, gray sidewalks of the city.

As Peter walked to school, he found himself in a bona fide winter slump, just like the rest of the city. I mean, it’s really not fair; you get the sucky cold weather and the gray skies and absolutely no snow to make up for it. Not one single snow day off from school, or even a measly delay. Peter couldn’t help but lament the crappy deal this winter had brought as he finished the walk to school, toes numb inside his boots. Honestly, it should be a crime for such a wonderful season to suck so much.

Wait a second.

A crime.

Peter happens to know someone that could take on a crime of this sort.

Okay, maybe Spider-Man can’t control the weather (Peter had definitely tried to convince Thor to help out, but that hadn’t panned out), but he could fix one thing: aesthetics. Jameson had been complaining for months about all the webs Spider-Man left around the city; maybe he could put them to good use?

So Peter got to thinking. Throughout history class he scribbled notes and plans in the margins of his notes, and he may have gotten into a little bit of trouble in English class for zoning out while thinking about schematics. Whatever. There are more important things at hand.

When school finally let out, Peter raced home. He had a few hours to alter his web shooters before night fell and his plan could unfold.

Night fell in New York City, and Spider-Man (Snow-Man? Winter-Man?) sprung into action. The alterations were ultimately simple: one web shooter remained unaltered, allowing Peter to swing through the streets as usual (and also making sure he could take on any criminals he might come across, since he’s technically still Spider-Man). The other web shooter had been modified to shoot out individual bursts of webbing that would expand into a snowflake shape and stick to the side of buildings. So, as Peter left his Queens apartment and made his way through the borough, he quickly got to work plastering giant snowflake webs on anything he could reach. Brick walls, storefronts, billboards, everything was plastered with a somewhat excessive amount of “snow.”

(Of course, the web fluid Peter used would dissolve clean the next time it rained, which would probably only be a few days away, so he didn’t need to worry about making a mess. He didn’t want to cause any damage, after all. Peter knows Jameson doesn’t need another reason to hate Spider-Man).

After only a few hours, Queens was a winter wonderland. Spider-Man slipped back into his apartment, finding a mug of lukewarm cocoa on the kitchen counter, left for him by May before she went to bed. That night Peter struggled to fall asleep for all his excitement. He felt like a child again, giddy for the coming morning. And it finally started to feel like winter.

Peter woke up to texts from Ned, of course. The other boy had first sent a photo of the view out his bedroom window, showing the snowflake webs that adorned the street outside his apartment. Then, the news links started coming. “Spider-Man’s Act of Winter Wonder,” one site heralded; “A Holiday Gift; Thank You Spider-Man!” another proclaimed.

Peter opened Instagram to find dozens of posts from his classmates showing the altered cityscape. And, in an act of holiday spirit, the superintendent had given the students a school opening delay. Peter nestled into his warm bed, and suddenly the cold outside didn’t feel so sharp; it felt like joy again.

When he finally rolled out of bed half an hour later, Peter found May at the kitchen counter with two mugs of hot chocolate and a pleased smile. She gave him a kiss on the forehead and got to work making pancakes for the both of them. After a lazy breakfast, Peter finally got ready for school, and as he pulled on his warmest sweater, he couldn’t help the smile on his face.

With one last wave to May, Peter finally laced up his winter boots and stepped out into the streets of Queens. Walking to school would take longer than the bus, but it would also give him an opportunity to take in the scenery. The webs had been a success; each sprawled across its intended surface, plastering the borough in unique snowflake formations that stretched in massive displays overhead. Tony always told Peter to stop and take pride in his work, and when the results were this beautiful that was easy advice to follow. But the real satisfaction came when Peter lowered his eyes from the building walls to take in the faces around him.

The first thing Peter saw were smiles. People tend to characterize New Yorkers as gruff and hardened, and while Peter would say this was definitely inaccurate, there were still some unspoken rules of New York: keep your head down, avoid eye contact unless necessary, and walk quickly. But every rule was being broken today. Upturned faces took in the new decorations, with small smiles tugging on chapped lips. Queens slowed down; people lingered on corners to take pictures, and commuters walked at a slowed pace, close to leisurely for New York standards. Most unusual, though, were the small looks and smiles exchanged between strangers. They shared glances like they were each sharing a fun secret, a holiday gift imbuing exchanges with a sense of innocent excitement.

Peter spent most of his commute watching faces. The nods he saw shared among strangers, the small smiles pinned on normally gruff faces, and finally the beaming grin on Ned’s face when he arrived at school: that is what winter, and Spider-Man, is all about.

#spider-man #MCU #MCU Spiderman #peter parker #fluff #peter parker fluff #winter vibes #bict writing #my writing #mcu fanfic #mcu fluff #spider-man fluff

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giulscomix · 8 months

Text

Give this man some happiness, I beg you ❤️💙

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aisaisaiss · 10 months

Text

MIGUEL whos wrapped around your pretty little finger.

he adores you, he would do anything for you. he loves you. and you knew it, he was smitten with you. no matter how sarcastic or how hard he was on the outside he would always break down those walls for you. his princesa, even if he thought he wasn’t obvious with it he was. the spider society could tell, everyone could tell.

“you’d better hope his wife comes and saves your asses” jessica said, sighing deeply. miles and gwen had fucked up big time, and there was practically no hope other than you coming to their rescue. “mhm you’d better start praying cus’ if she doesn't well uh, just hope you see tomorrow” peter whispered. “do you know what the hell you did?! do you know how much you jeopardized our mission?!” miguel seethed, irritably. "you." he turned and pointed his finger in miles's face. " i may have let you in our mission but that doesn't mean you can disobey orders." he seethed, his eyebrows furrowed. miles's could only hope and pray that she would show up.

"miguel? amor, i brought you lunch!" a bubbly voice snapped the group out of their train of thought. a sweet looking woman stood at the door, dressed in casual clothes. "what's going on?" she sighed looking at the group and miguel. "oh nothing don't worry" miguel said, awkwardly. "come here, i want to see you. i know that you just went on a mission lemme check you out" she said motioning him to come over to him. as he walked towards her, she mouthed to the group "go". and with that they scrambled off.

@AISAISAIS 2023, DO NOT STEAL OR REPOST.

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse x reader #miguel ohara x reader fluff #miguel o'hara #spider man: across the spider verse

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cyberjam · 10 months

Text

ATSV HEADCANON: they have a crush on you . . . ☆

warnings - none really, super fluffy and adorable :), semi-proof read so i apologize for grammatical errors if there are any! no use of name or y/n, gender-neutral reader!

word count - 2.1k

main masterlist <3

☆ . . . miles morales

I imagine you two already being well-acquainted friends with each other once he realized his feelings for you. For quite some time he had a crush on gwen but now his heart strings are pulling him towards you, so he's struggling when it comes to addressing his feelings.

If you're in the same room as Miles, he will stare. Any conversation that he was having before is long forgotten and all that's on his mind is you.

Miles doesn't need to study, he's one of the top students in school. But he continues to go on study dates with you because he likes being in your presence and sharing his headphones with you while eating yummy pastries.

He has an entire journal dedicated to you. Said journal includes: small journal entries of his day with you, little quotes of the funny/cute things you've said that stuck with him throughout the day, candid drawings of you that he created whenever you two hung out, cute sketches of you and him stargazing or slow-dancing together (and other secret drawings of him saving you as spider-man and cradling your body in his big strong arms but we won't get into that...)

Miles really can't get enough of you. He laughs extra loud at your jokes even if they aren't funny, his heartbeat quickens at the mention of your name, he'll offer you his jacket even if you don't need it, he always smiles when something reminds him of you, he'll share his headphones with you and shyly ask if you and him can make a "study playlist" (he listens to it at night while drawing you), and overall is just madly in love with you.

He wants to be with you more than anything, he's just struggling to find the right time to ask you. <3

"Hey, don't touch that! It's- No! It's not a diary, it's just...secret."

☆ . . . gwen stacy

She's pretty awkward herself. You were assigned to be partners for a project that would play a big part in your final grade, she came off slightly cold and seemed to be annoyed at your presence which made your relationship start off rocky. In reality she was just stressed, juggling her spider duties, getting kicked out of her house, and then school on top of that, it was just a lot. But when you made the effort to plan things and work around her busy schedule (that you didn't really know anything about) she started to become grateful for you.

Your parents welcomed her kindly each time she came over to study and whenever she would leave she was happy with a full belly and a sore face from smiling and laughing with you all night. The project was supposed to be done by the end of the semester but you and gwen were able to finish it the first month you got it. That didn't stop her bi-weekly visits, that then turned weekly, until she was suddenly walking home with you everyday, from and to school.

She likes to compare hands, shoes, and height just to see the difference in sizes. On walks back from school she'll give you a piggyback ride if you ask nicely. She also likes laying her head in your lap, if you run your fingers through her hair she'd be fast-asleep within 5 minutes.

You and her tend to share your oversized clothes together, You always wash her jackets/sweaters after you wear them, which she absolutely loves. She's fallen asleep curled up in your hoodie, inhaling the scent and listening to whatever song you rambled about the previous morning on repeat until she finally asks you to just make her a playlist. Hobie definitely knows about you, only because she slipped up by saying too much.

She enjoys staying over your house during rainy days. She tends to tense up whenever you're watching tv together on your bed and your head falls on her shoulder. During missions in other spider-verses gwen has taken little souvenirs from different worlds and given them to you, she always does it in a nonchalant way as if she wasn't grinning ear to ear on her way back, excited to see how you'd react.

You don't have sleepovers often but when you do they always seem more intimate than your usual hangouts. When you wake up and see gwen flustered on the other side of the bed you never understand why, not knowing that when you were fast asleep she woke up cuddled into you, nuzzling her body into yours.

"I-uhm. I-uh just had a weird dream. Nothing to worry about, heh.."

☆ . . . pavitr prabhakar

It's very obvious he has a crush on you, it might as well be written on his forehead. He follows you around like a lost puppy. He's constantly offering to carry your books, opening doors for you, paying for your snacks, and even giving you hand massages when you've been writing an essay for too long. He's just completely whipped for you and you're not even dating (yet).

You were a transfer student and he was assigned to show you around Mumbai. He found himself getting giddy at your cute reactions to the different sights he took you to. He adored how you were filled with so much curiosity and wonder, the awestruck look in your eyes when you saw the pretty lights at night and just how genuinely excited you seemed to stay and explore Mumbai. Since then, he's been glued to your side.

He's such a gentleman, you can tell he was raised right. Whenever you're talking his full attention is on you, nobody else matters in this moment but you. He'll even get a bit upset if someone cuts you off, ignoring whatever they're saying and urging you to continue. His legs feel wobbly around you, he gets dizzy at the sight of you, and he feels like he's floating whenever you smile at him.

There have been multiple occasions where you've caught him staring at you, depending on how he feels that day he'll either smirk and gently wave or quickly turn away with a blush on his face. He gushes about you to Hobie and Miles all of the time. They know so much about you and they've never even met you.

A true romantic. He buys you a singular flower one week out of the day, always explaining the meaning and where they originate from. (all of them are a variation of romance/love)

He tends to lean into you whenever you speak. More than one person has pointed out that you both tend to mirror each other's actions. He's feigning for your touch more than anything, a simple brush of your shoulders and he's full on putty in your hands.

He won't outright confront you when he figures out you like him, instead he'll invite you on a nightly walk. Taking you up to a rooftop with a gorgeous view, and gently resting his jacket on your shoulders. You'll sit for a while enjoying the scenery before he turns to you and says...

"a person as beautiful as yourself shouldn't wander this world alone.."

☆ . . . hobie brown

What a nightmare. He is constantly teasing and flirting with you. Always doubling over in laughter when he sees you get all flustered and the words you so badly wanna spew at him get stuck in your throat.

I imagine you both to be spider-people, you're a little more stuck-up than he is which is why he likes to tease you so much. Little by little your reactions fueled something deeper in him. He no-longer found himself flirting with you because he liked seeing how aggravated he could get you but because that was his way of approaching you and saying all of the things he wanted to while being able to play it off as a joke.

Besides teasing you relentlessly, he can be really caring and attentive to you when he wants to be. If you're in the medic he'll stop by pretty often to make sure you're okay. The only reason you found out is because you woke up to him fast asleep next to your bedside, feet propped on your bed and his vest laid across his torso like a blanket.

He'll eat the foods on your plate that you don't like. If you fall asleep he'll lay his vest onto your body and even move your position if it looks uncomfortable. If he senses danger before you he'll move you of the way as fast as he possibly can, but if he's not close enough he'll give you a heads up before anyone else. He tends to stare at you sometimes, always smiling gently to himself.

When you two get closer as friends he'll play any song on his guitar if you ask him nicely. He'll even give you lessons if you really want them. Carefully throwing his guitar over your torso, he brings his much larger hands to yours. You can feel his chest against your back, and the waves of his warm breath on your neck as he teaches you how to play. He'll also let you wear his jacket, saying it looks better on you than him. He might let you keep it, only in exchange for one of your jackets. (he sleeps with your jacket on, it makes him feel close to you.)

Hobie often checks up on you during missions, sometimes saying teasing phrases to get you riled up but mostly to make sure you're holding up okay. "you alright there, peaches? you took quite the hit."

Once he finds out you like him, he eases up on the teasing, but he doesn't refrain from dropping subtle hints of his knowingness that you like him. He's just waiting for you to finally say something.

"Yknow, if i ain't know any better i'd say you were doing this 'cause you like me."

☆ . . . miguel o' hara

You worked beside him in Alchemax, the two of you were assigned as partners. At first he didn't care much for you, simply telling you to stay out of his way and that he didn't need any help, but after Lyla practically forced him to be a cordial lab partner and work with you, he started to take a liking towards you. Sadly, it took months for him to tolerate you and even longer for him to like you.

Although he was quite stuck-up and practically seemed on edge most of the time, you were able to break through those confined walls and have a comfortable-playful work relationship with him. Every-time you made a joke or a light quip about his attitude he'd always respond with sarcasm, still not being able to hide the tiny smile that graced his face at your foolish acts.

He always runs his projects by you before submitting them. (and then lyla to triple check) He'll stop by and pick up empanadas from his favorite store, always boasting about how it's the best in Nueva York and you'll never taste anything better. Eventually he brings in a hefty share of empanadas that you two share over lunch time, your conversation flowing naturally without the teasing but with a fluffier feeling flowing through the air.

He pretends to be annoyed when he catches you over-working but he's genuinely worried for you. Always shaking his head in a disapproving way when he finds you fast asleep on your desk, papers scattered, and drool falling past your lips. Quietly scolding you in spanish before throwing his lab coat over your shoulders and organizing your papers neatly.

He tends to act unbothered when you do something that shows you care for him but in reality it makes his heart stutter and his stomach feel all loopy. He hates it because it makes him feel like a middle-schooler when they get their first crush but another part of him absolutely adores it and his main motivation to get up to go to work in the morning is you, although he'll never admit it.

If a co-worker is ever rude to you he will be the first to defend you, not hesitating to get in their face with a nasty scowl painting his features. On Friday's he made it his personal mission to walk you home, you two slowly walk side-by-side, quietly laughing to yourselves as you reminisce on lab accidents and old memories. There's a slight gleam in his eyes when you make it to your apartment door. He turns to you almost hesitantly, before stepping closer to you. He whispers a question, so quiet and soft you almost wouldn't be able to hear it.

"Can I kiss you?"

omg i hope you guys liked it! requests are still open btw and thank you for reading! <3

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #pavitr x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv gwen #gwen x reader #hobie brown x reader #atsv headcanons #spiderverse imagine #across the spider verse x reader #spiderman atsv imagines #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse headcanons #pavitr prabhakar x reader #miles morales headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader

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int-writersmind · 4 months

Text

I Hate Christmas, Peter Parker! {Part 1}

Peter Parker x f!Reader

It’s simple: You don’t see what the big fuss is all about surrounding Christmas, but Peter Parker thinks that this is unacceptable and puts you through step one of a multiple step list to make you fall in love with the holiday.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: I decided to put a Christmas song suggestion for immersion, not b/c I'm currently in love with Laufey right now...

“You what?!” exclaimed Peter, quite loudly.

“Jesus, calm down,” You lean forward, just slightly, over the table, careful to not tip your mug of half decent hot coffee. “All I said was that I don’t really like Christmas that much, that’s all.”

“You Grinch! You Scrooge!” Peter throws his hands up in an over exaggerated motion, he looked like an oversized toddler. Peter puts on a slight pout as he leaned against the wall, feet outwards, looking over the rest of the coffee shop. “I-I mean, you live in New York City, this place practically invented contemporary Christmas!”

“Now that’s an exaggerated statement.”

“I know that,” Peter turns back to you, folding his hands on top of the table. “But there’s a reason why so many Christmas movies are set here, why so many Christmas events are here. It’s because Christmas is just better in NYC!”

“More like Christmas is more annoying in NYC.” You gently pat Peter’s hand before downing the rest of your drink. “Peter, babe, honey, I’ve lived here my whole life don’t you think I don’t know all this?”

“Yeah, babe-honey, so have I. It’s why I love the holidays.”

“And that's why I hate the holidays!”

You thought Peter would grow bored of your Christmas conversation on your way out the coffee shop and down the street, but he only continued his long rant. It was the first day of December and with the new month came the sudden spark of festive, holiday flare, much to your chagrin. The addition of a new holiday drink at your favorite coffee shop had sparked the conversation in the first place. Peter had ordered it and once you decline the same, suddenly came the sudden barrage of questions.

The two of you held hands as you continued down the long city sidewalk, Peter using his other hand to gesture wildly about Christmas. You decide that enough is enough and pull Peter off to the side, dodging tourists with tons of shopping bags. You reach out for Peter’s other hand, bringing it down with the other, squeezing ever so gently. “Listen, Peter, I appreciate how passionate you are about Christmas, the holidays and what-not, but there’s nothing you can say to convince me to suddenly fall in love with this time of year. This feeling has been there for years.”

Peter looks into your eyes and for a minute it seems as if his attention is elsewhere until he jolts in surprise, eyes widening to match. “I’ve got it!”

You can’t help but roll your head back in defeat. “Oh no…”

“Maybe you're right,” Peter squeezes your hands, bringing your attention back to him. “Maybe there isn’t anything I can say to you to convince you that Christmastime is the best time of year, but I can do things instead.”

“Oh Peter! You naughty little reindeer..” You tease.

“I don’t mean that!” Peter quickly kisses your grinning face, “That could be on the list only after–”

“After?!”

“Only after you complete my list of activities that will definitely, 100 percent make you fall in love with Christmas and everything that comes with it.”

“Oh, you have a list?” You cock one eyebrow up.

“Hypothetical list, it’s being finalized.” Peter pulls you in close, his hands resting on the small of your back, your hands resting on his chest. “But I think I know what to do first. Do you have a Christmas tree? Decorations?”

“Tree, yes, my roommate left one before she left. Decorations…no, I’m sure my cousin has some extra, I’ll stop by after work today.”

“Ok, I’ll meet you at your place later tonight?”

“Yeah, and–,” You move in closer to Peter, eyes shut, lips millimeters away from each other. “Your little list is not gonna change my mind.” You kiss him gently, one hand resting on his cheek before pulling away, Peter slightly chasing you back. “See you tonight.”

“I can already tell i’m gonna hate this” You hold up a shiny red, classic looking ornament by the wire, looking at it as if it was dead fish caught on a hook.

“What?! You have the easy job!” Peter calls back as he clicks the last piece of your ex roommate’s Christmas tree together.

It was night now, Daylight Savings causing the city to look later than it actually was. The two of you had stayed committed to this little game of Peter’s. After calling your cousin about picking up some spare decor (which she eagerly shoved into your arms), and lugging the oversized box on the train back to your place, Peter showed up with a determined expression and a carton of egg-nog.

You take out the other ornaments from their box, inspecting each one, before setting it off to the side. Peter saunters over and plops on the floor next to you, going through the rest of the box to find more decorations for the tree. “This feels tedious.” you say, looking at all the stuff you laid before you.

“Oh c’mon, this will be great.” Peter says as he untangles some garland.

“That’s what you said about the egg-nog.”

“Yes, yes I did say that, but to be perfectly honest, I’ve never tried egg-nog until today so…that’s on me.”

You smile at him as you take the final ornament from the box in hand, a golden ball that had swirls molded into the plastic. “Ok let’s decorate this stupid tree.”

Half an hour in, with tolerable Christmas music playing in the background, the tree was finally starting to come along. You and Peter stood on either side of the tree, hooking various ornaments on branches. As the last ornament looped on, Peter went over to the box to pick up the garland he detangled earlier as you stood back and admired the tree.

“See, beautiful.” Peter said coming up from behind you.

“What, me? Of course.”

Peter just rolls his eyes as he hands you one end of the garland, you each start to place it around the tree, passing the end from one hand to the other. “Doesn’t this remind you of being a little kid, putting up all your favorite ornaments?”

You just shrug your shoulders, “The older I got I just dreaded putting up the tree. It’s started out fine of course. But then someone puts the wrong ornament somewhere, or one side of the tree lights are not working, a favorite ornament gets broken…boom arguments. Mom, Dad, pissed at one another, little ole me just trying get the hell out of dodge.”

Peter gets the end of the garland, securing it at the bottom of the tree. “Sounds like…an experience.”

You just smile at him as he comes to stand next to you. The two of you look at the tree, its soft, golden white lights, the shiny, almost sparking ball ornaments on each branch. “No, no, it’s ok, my parents love each other, but they're just…really good at arguing with one another. I, personally, don't care for it, so I try my best to avoid it.” You reach for Peter’s hand, interlocking your fingers with his. “After my dad accidently broke one of my favorite ornaments and got into a fit with Mom, I just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. Swore off decorating Christmas trees.” You lean your head on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s funny, I wasn’t even that mad that it broke…”

“What was it?” Peter rests his head on yours.

“Some old time-y phone box, something silly I saw at a Christmas pop-up when I was like 6-7 years old.”

The two of you just stand there in the silence for a moment.

“Pick a new one.”

You move your head off Peter’s shoulder, turning to look at him, “What?”

“Pick a new favorite ornament.” Peter answers, “You don’t have to keep it forever, but it can just be your favorite for this year.”

“Hmm, fine.”

Your eyes skim over the tree, you land on the red ornament before jumping to the golden one, before your eyes find something much more garnish. A little ceramic coffee cup, what better to remind you of how you ended up here. Decorating a tree for the first time in years with your boyfriend who’s hellbent on getting you to like the holiday again.

Your fingers wrap on the ornament, lifting it off its branch, “How about this?”

“Prefect.” Peter says as you hold up the ornament in hand, the light glinting off the piece. Peter tosses something in the air upwards, shooting some webs to stick it to the ceiling. You put the ornament back in its original spot before looking at Peter. “Oh, wow what’s that?”

You look up, mistletoe dangling crookedly. “You know those things are poisonous right?"

“To eat, not to kiss under,” Peter pulls you in close by the waist, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. “Plus it’s fake.”

Your own eyes glance at Peter’s mouth before looking back at his eyes, “Just because I didn’t run away from decorating a tree, you think you deserve a kiss?” You smirk, a hand going to the back of his neck.

“Oh come here you little Grinch.” With a soft hand on your cheek, Peter pulls you in for a kiss. Those lips, which you became so familiar with, soft and warm, sweetened by the eggnog, engulf yours. His tongue entering yours, playing with yours like it did so many times before. This action was so common, kissing each other was almost like second nature, but sometimes–like moments like this, it almost felt like kissing for the first time, but better. Kissing someone you could really trust, someone who really cared about. It was gushy and corny and everything else that people made fun of, but it was so worth it.

The two of you break off the kiss, foreheads resting on one another.

“So, step one of your list completed?” You ask.

“Nah.”

Your head shoots upwards, looking at Peter with a confused look, to which he chuckles at.

“We still have the rest of the apartment to decorate.”

You groan, falling limp in Peter’s arm. It was all for show of course, but you had to commit to the bit, letting all your weight on to Peter’s one arm. You knew not matter what, he wouldn’t drop you. “God I hate you.”

Hello there! Thanks for reading Part 1 of this multi-part X-mas fic that was definitely not inspired by me at all hahaha... Anyway, I'll post on Sundays to get this series done by Christmas but no promise, but expect weekly uploads at the very least. Also this is meant to be mostly Fluff but if you Naughty Reindeers want some Spice/Smut I'll think about it 😉. Alright bye Void!

{Read Part 2}

#peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x you #christmas fic #christmas fanfic #spider man fluff #spider-man fluff #spider-man fic #spiderman fic #spider man fic #spiderman fluff #christmas spider-man

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intoxicated-chan · 11 months

Note

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don’t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #angst #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spider man x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman x y/n #spider man across the spider verse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse #spider man x y/n #spider man x you #spiderman x reader

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cheralith · 10 months

Text

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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ichorai · 11 months

Text

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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scoobysnakz · 5 months

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||* Maybe it's because he's safe and keeps you warm in times or need. Or maybe it's because he has those unruly salt and pepper hair and worry lines. Either way, you want him and maybe he wants you.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

pt2

||* dilf!miguel, vaginal fingering, praise kink, eye contact, perv!miguel, college-age reader, lap sitting, slight hair pulling, one shot, Daddy issues, Dom/sub, smut written by a virgin, not proof read

You're young. And oblivious. So painfully oblivious.

At first, Miguel had just assumed it was a defence mechanism. Don’t give them a reaction and they’ll leave you alone. But the more you smile at the guys flirting with you, the more you lean into their non-platonic hugs, the more certain he becomes that you’re just unaware.

And- in all honesty- he's jealous. He doesn't want to feel the shame that weighs down on his shoulders each time your expression softens at his praise. He doesn't want to feel guilt for watching your hips sway as you walk away. He doesn't want to be like them but he craves the audacity to leer at you in broad daylight.

Maybe it's his morals or maybe it's because he's a coward.

Either way, you’re young and oblivious. And deep down, he loves it.

It's worse in HQ, these men are meant to have morals, good morals, and yet they treat you like a fuckdoll to the eyes.

Your perfect, untouched, college body just for them to perv at.

And Miguel hates it. He hates how he has to ignore your pretty eyes staring up at him as he talks, how he has to scold every Spiderman for being a pervert, and he hates how he's just as bad.

Maybe if you weren't so bubbly sweet he wouldn't have to spend each night palming himself to the thought of your perky body, every shower spurting his hot cum on the misty glass and every moment alone with his office with the doors locked and hand muffling his moans.

“Migs?” that nickname, that only you can use, that only you dared to think of.

He turns to face you, a lazy smile drawn across his painfully perfect lips. “Princessa?” And you immediately try to hide the blush that threatens to bloom on your cheeks.

You hold out your hands, a tray holding a ‘spidey spectacular’ on top. In reality, it's nothing spectacular- a beef burger with barbecue sauce, large fries and a medium drink.

“Got you some lunch,” you grin.

He hops down from his podium, cringing at how your body tenses at the loud thud. “Why?” his tone is harsh, cold, forced.

He knows why. You care, you check in on him when no one else does, you randomly ask him if he's drinking more water than coffee that day, if he actually went to sleep the night previous- unknowing to the thoughts of you that kept him up.

“You haven't eaten today,” you stick your arms out, a playful smile on your face and he doesn't ask how you know. You just do, “and you can't capture those nettlesome anomalies on an empty stomach!”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Nettlesome?”

You laugh, a soft one that makes his core ache with need. “My literature professor has permanently engrained fancy words into my brain.” your shocking professor. Probably some perv who keeps you behind to help you with your tests and oggles at your perfectly shaped ass when you bend over to pick up a pen.

And a painful reminder that as mature as you may be, you’re still young. 18 years too young.

He takes the burger from the tray, gaze lingering on the second as he tries to decide if it's for him or not.

“I’m eating with you,” you answer his question without him asking.

“No, princessa.”

You huff at him, soft, rounded lips falling into a pout. It's a habit you've made- bringing him lunch and sitting with him to make sure he's actually eating the food you've bought no matter how hard he protests.

“Fine. I won't eat with you, I'll just sit and stare and probably piss you off,” you smile smugly at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, turning away from you and throwing the paper from the burger in the bin.

You hum in response, not even caring for his grouchy attitude because it doesn't bother you. Because you're young, and you don't understand how men work yet.

He pulls himself up to his podium, glowing red webs dangling from the large metal disk where you soon follow.

Maybe you don't know, or maybe you don't care. But he can smell you, the rush of dopamine when he turns his back and you can see his trapezius shining deliciously in his dimly lit room.

You pull yourself close to him, hand resting just between his thigh and yours. So soft and delicate and he wants to ruin the innocence within them. Wants to see your dainty fingers wrapped around his cock, wants to see how you use those digits inside of yourself while- hopefully- thinking of him.

“How’s school?” he feels like an awkward uncle at an even more awkward Christmas party. Is this what it's come to? Him having to ask about your college life because that's your main focus because you’re young… er.

A small scoff escapes you, and you immediately cover up with a cough.

“I’m not seven,” you tease, hand held out to shove him but you immediately withdraw it which makes him frown.

“You look it.” it's your turn to frown.

You blink up at him, wondering if he knows how you crave these sweet moments between the two of you. You hate how dependent you've become on him, how you can't get through the day without thinking of him and using his health as an excuse to come see him.

“You’re an ass,” you fold your arms across your chest, nose scrunching in feigned irritation.

Miguel clicks his tongue at you, head cocking to the side in disapproval. “Language, princessa.”

You mutter a feeble “sorry”, a forced waver to your voice that makes him chuckle lightly.

You turn your head to face him, his dark, almost curls illuminated by the neon orange of his numerous monitors. His eyes meet yours, deep maroon paralysing you in place, peeking fangs slowing your breathing, chiselled features pinking your cheeks.

And you smile. A sickly sweet, beautifully innocent smile. Any other person would look away, grow red with shame, and maybe say something embarrassing. But you? You just smile.

Because you're painfully naive.

“Really?” you turn your head to face him, neck craned back so he gets a perfect view of your soft skin. “Do I look seven?”

Of course, you don't look seven. You look twenty, which you are. But you're mature and not in a creepy way. No one else would think twice about seeing if he's okay, and no adult would have their panties organised by colour like you do either.

The sound of his chewing eventually fills the bleak room. You can see him looking straight ahead through your peripheral.

“No.”

“A man of few words,” you grin.

“A girl of far too many.”

You aren't a girl. You’re a woman. You don't spend time chasing boys, you enjoy literature, and you have your whole life planned out. Kids don't do the things you do. Kids don't want a life with a decent man, with him.

“School’s boring,” you cut through the silence, voice soft, quiet, shy.

Relief washes over him like the first rainfall in the Sahara. He swallows- quickly, and brings his attention back to you- not that it ever really left you.

“It shouldn't be, you're smart, princessa, and if your professors are doing their job you should be engaged with their subjects,” he hates that he sounds so parental and demanding when he speaks to you but it's like a default setting. He expects the best from you because he knows you can achieve it.

You scoff and this time you don't bother hiding it at all. “Thanks,” you mutter dryly, “I’ll keep being smart and then school will be more exciting.”

He grimaces at your dull tone. He's used to your sparkly side, the smiles and the giggles and now you're acting your age, all attitude and sarcasm.

“That’s not what I meant,” he groans, his voice harsher than before.

“What did you mean then, Miguel?” you press on.

“I meant that you're smart enough to entertain yourself, unlike other people.”

And in its own strange way, his ‘complisult’ makes you smile. He sees who you are, that you aren't some immature child.

It feels nice not being viewed as a child for once. A slow, steady warmth travels through you. He's being nice to you, not a rare occurrence but uncommon enough to mean something.

Slowly, you edge your hand closer to his, fingers gently nudging against his own. You pause for a moment, knowing you’re pushing it and waiting for his reaction but when he doesn't pull away you give his hand a squeeze.

“Thanks,” your gentle voice making his cock harden beneath his suit, “in its own way, that was sweet.”

And you grin at him again. Soft lips beaming up at his plain expression as he tries not to think about how badly he needs some relief.

Against his better judgment, he squeezes your hand back. And the soft, nervous, almost squeak that escapes you makes it all worthwhile.

“It’s true. When I went to your universe,” not to jack off while you shower, “I saw your study notes. You work hard, princessa, and it's good, admirable,” hot.

All your life you be craved words so sweet. Someone to tell you that all those years of dedication to being the best and coming second is too, better than good. Someone to tell you that when they saw your study notes they didn't see you as dumb you have to revise but studious enough to want the best.

You don't even think twice about him being in your universe, just putting it down to an anomaly or another perfectly innocent reason.

He can smell it again, that dopamine rush. You pull yourself closer to him, taunting him unknowingly and let your head rest on his shoulder.

You do this often, allow yourself to lean against him, intertwine your fingers with his, plant endearing kisses to his stubbly cheeks when he helps you out. And you do it so secretly that it's almost sexual but the innocence you perform these acts with makes it feel painfully platonic.

All he can do is ride out this moment of pure torment. Cock stiff and thighs burning.

Deep down he knows he shouldn't be like this, savouring your innocence that he can so easily capture on cameras he can use later. You're so pure, sacred almost, that it feels wrong to even have his arms wrapped around your waist.

“Migs?�� that nickname that only you get to use because if he gets to call you princessa its only fair.

Your hand slips off of his and moves to rest on his thigh. “Migs?” you say a little louder this time. He hums dully.

“Princessa?”

Sometimes you wonder if he knows how wet his voice makes you. The low rumble that passes through his chest, the silky smooth movements of his lips, the slight tinge of an accent that makes your cunt flutter.

You let your thumb travel over the ridges of his fingers, smooth over the peaks of his knuckles.

His hand is so big compared to yours, something that the two of you haven't ignored.

He wonders how the rest of you feels, past the tight lycra of your suit as it covers your wrists, against the fresh cotton of his bedsheets, flush against his chest.

The dull humming of the monitors accompanied by your heavy breathing and the subtle whirring of the random machinery warms up the silence between the two of you.

You shift yourself to face him, pretty lips pursed and brow furrowed.

Maybe it's because he's so safe right now. Or maybe it's because you failed your paper and his praise is all you need. But he looks painfully handsome.

Broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. Soft lips parted in hunger. The sea of deep sepias and carmines that is his eyes.

Miguel has always been there for you. Well, maybe not always, but often enough. Your roommates being assholes? You can sleep at HQ. Suit ripped? He’ll make you a new one.

And in this moment, you can't see past that. He may be older, grey strands peppering his umber locks and worry lines framing his features, but that doesn't matter.

So you lean up close to him, faces inches apart. Just to smell him, just to see him, just to be near him, just to feel him.

He flinches at first, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. His gaze runs up and down your figure, trying to figure out what you're doing, your innocent expression leaving far too much up for interpretation.

For a moment the two of you just stare at each other, arousal burning white-hot in your core and bodies thrumming with desire.

A calloused hand moves to cup your cheek and pull you closer. Miguel lets out a low sigh, hot breath tickling your face and making your nose scrunch in a way that can only be described as perfect.

Your breathing slows and your heart hammers. He's so close, soft lips just within reach.

“Can I?” his voice is almost a croak, a desperate plea.

He can't tear his eyes away from your quivering lips. He wants to feel them against his own, taste you, have your mouth in his possession.

You don't get time to finish your feeble “please” before he's pressing his lips against yours.

It's soft at first, the two of you gradually warming to the sensation of each other. But when you let out a soft sigh something inside him switches. All morals and guilt go completely out the window and his senses are filled with you.

His tongue probes hungrily at your lips, seeking access to the warmth of your mouth and you happily agree. His hands slide down to your hips, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh crudely hidden beneath your suit.

“Need you,” you groan, hands gripping his chest with desperation. He silences you with another kiss, tongue immediately attacking yours, too impolite, too hard, too impatient to wait for your sanction.

He's blinded by lust, a desire that's been building up inside him for too long. His arm snakes to the small of your back, protruding talons catching on the material of your suit. He pulls you into his lap and you nearly gasp at the sensation of his erection brushing against your clothed cunt.

You lean back slightly so you can look at him, chest rising and falling with each pant. “Say something,” you pout, his mutism making your head swarm with confusion, “let me hear your voice.”

The neediness of your tone makes him smile, a boyish, cheeky one that makes your stomach flutter.

“What do you want me to say?” he questions, fingers tracing up and down the bridge of your spine.

“Just… talk me through it,” you pause, cunt fluttering and thighs tensing, “it’s my first time,” you admit quietly. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. It's something you've never admitted, viewing virginity as a burden more than the blessing men do.

“Who said I'm gonna fuck you?”

Oh.

You purse your lips, your smile faltering and skin prickling with embarrassment as you fidget on his lap. His cock strains against his suit, hips threatening to buck up when you unintentionally grind against him.

You look down and a smirk forms on your face. You press the heel of your palm against his erection, eyes widening with arousal at the whine that escapes him. “This did.”

You swear that for a moment you can see a glint of red in his eyes, much darker, meaner, than his usual cool mahogany.

“Don't,” he grunts, hand gripping your wrist.

The excited grin on your face brings him back. He can't do this to you. He can't take your innocence, be the one to steal what makes you so pure. He's done things he's ashamed of, killed, lied, hated. He isn't deserving of the sweet bliss that’s you.

Your lips fall into a disappointed pout. Have you done something wrong? Maybe you’ve been too eager?

“I… I'm sorry?” you pose your apology as a question, unsure of what's actually going on. You’re inexperienced but this… this isn't normal.

“No, mierda, no, princesa,” and his hands back on your cheek, thumb tracing over the curve of your vermillion. “No digas lo siento.” your brow furrows in confusion but he doesn't elaborate.

He wants to ruin you, corrupt your pretty pussy with his hot cum and watch it seep out in think dribbles before he can stuff it back in with his fingers. But he can't.

That sweet innocence in your eyes, lashes fluttering with arousal from a simple kiss. He can't do this to you.

“Look at me,” he commands and on instinct, your eyes meet his.

“Good Girl,” he croons.

“I'm confused, Migs,” you push his hand off your cheek softly, head cocked to the side, “you’re confusing me.”

He brings a hand to your cunt and he cups it, the heel of his palm digging into your cunt. “Let me do this instead, hmm?” you nod in agreement, head too fuzzy with the strange mixture of arousal and bewilderment to even process the jolt of pleasure that shot down your spine.

The sound of ripping draws your attention down to your arousal-slick folds but he clicks his tongue. “Eyes on me, chica,” his tone is slightly harsher now but his eyes are still warm.

You don't know what he's doing. If he's coming or going. If he's teasing you or allowing this to go further.

“Mi-” he presses his index finger to your lips, not that he needed more than his intense gaze to silence you.

“You said this is your first time?” you nod again.

“No one else has touched you?” his fingers part the tear in your suit, your damp panties on show for him.

“No one.”

His thumb starts to slowly circle your cotton-clothed clit eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“Do you want me to touch you, princessa?”

Your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs but he doesn't flinch. A sharp talon nips at your weeping bud and you nearly cry. It sends a jolt of pain fused with sickly sweet pleasure coursing through your veins. “Asked you a question didn't I?”

You nod your head again, not knowing how to answer.

“Use your words.”

Your cunt is dribbling its juices all down your thighs- and he can smell it. His mouth is practically drooling at the scent it your arousal. He's trying so hard not to rip your suit all the way and split you open with his cock. But you're gentle, soft, sweet, delicate. So he has to be as well.

Taking a shaky, deep breath, you nod your head again, “I want you to touch me, Miguel.”

“Muy bein, princessa,” his thumb slips under the waistband of your panties and comes to rest on your clit but he doesn't stimulate you. Just leaves it resting on the hardened nub.

You whine at the lack of friction, hips trying to grind against his hand but his free hand holds you down.

“Migs, please,” you know you sound pathetically needy but you don't care. The man you've been lusting after since he first recruited you has his hand in your pants.

“Then keep looking at me,” he instructs, “wanna see your pretty face. Can you do that for me?” he grins at the twitching in your cunt caused by his words. That's all the confirmation he needs.

His thumb begins its slow pattern around the hood of your clit while his other hand rests on your waist, keeping you planted firmly on his lap. And maybe so you can feel how big he is.

His hands are surprisingly gentle. You've seen him kill before, seen the plethora of blood he can draw from someone with one fell swoop. Yet he's always been so careful with you, right now being no exception. Maybe that's what’s drawn you to him, the idea of him viewing you as something so sacred that he can't bring himself to damage your fragile body.

The tedious speed he's using is purposefully slow. He wants to draw this out for as long as possible, keep you a squirming mess on his lap, your sweet nectar running down to his thighs. But you want more; you’re too shy to ask for it but you want it.

You press your lips to his again, tongue slipping into his mouth almost sloppily. He's taken aback at first by your sudden burst of confidence but he doesn't protest. The hand that was resting in your hip moves to the back of your head to press you deeper into the kiss.

You whine hungrily and he rewards you with a faster pace. Your thighs clench around him, not actually expecting your plan to work. Your eyes flutter for a moment but he grips your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

“Princessa, I'll stop,” his warning is heed enough.

Your mind’s a foggy blur of arousal and pure bliss. He keeps toying with your clit, slowing down when your gaze falters but speeding up and rewarding you if you've kept eye contact.

“Please, I'll be good, so good for you,” you mewl, craving his kind words of praise again.

“Will you? Will you let me see those pretty lips of yours smile so sweetly for me while I make you feel good?” you nod your head excessively, mumbled “yes I will”’s and “good for you”’s spilling from your lips.

The hot coil of pleasure tightens with each flick of his distal. More and more sweet moans spew from your loose hanging mouth which are just music to his ears. Your leaky hole clenches around nothingness but you're too shy to ask for more. Miguel’s thumb is good enough but what you really crave is that hard cock that's pushing up against your stomach.

Soft, sticky clicking sounds mellow in the warmth of the rooms atmosphere, arousal blending in smoothly along with the scent of your nearing climax. He can sense it, your hips stuttering and your nails digging into the meat of his chest. But he can't let you go just yet.

“Hold it for me,” its a command, not a request.

You bite your lower lip, eyes nearly watering as you try you hardest to hold back. Your poor cunt throne needily while it continues to pump hot juices all over his hand. “I-I don't know how,” you blubber, thighs trembling and hands twitching.

Your body runs white hot with pleasure while your mind teeters on the edge of climax.

“I know you can, be a good girl, princessa,” he pressed earnestly, two-toned lips falling into that signature smirk.

You let your head come to rest in the crook of his neck. He flinches at the warmth of your breath and grabs the back of your hair roughly. You whine at the sharp tug but don't protest further.

“Fuck did I tell you ‘bout looking away?” his voice is almost harsh but you don't care. Your whole body is tingling with so much euphoria, blood pumping hot with pleasure, that you don't even care about his talon catching on your clit.

You’re so close to cumming, to reaching that paradise he's dangling in front of you like a carrot on a stick. “Let me, I-i can't, Migs.”

He frowns.

Once you're done that's it. He has to let you go, push off his lap and keep you at arm's length. But he can't bring himself to do that, get rid of your warmth and tiny frame.

“Migs? Please, let me…” you cut yourself with a silent moan.

Your mouth falls slack, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed. Warmth washes over you, trickling down your spine like honey from a jar. And for a moment you think you've gone deaf because Miguel’s lips are moving but you can't figure out what he's saying.

Your arousal spills from your cunt and all the way down his hands in a warm, blanketing trinket of your pleasure.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment but lets you ride out your high with his thumb remaining on your pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe, voice cracking in a way that only makes his cock harden.

“Mmmm, did my princessa enjoy herself?” you look up at him, eyes glazed over with lust.

Your orgasm took enough energy for you to be exhausted now. You can barely lift your head let alone reply to him. When you try to smile your eyes just roll back slightly, your lashes fluttering and your nose scrunching.

You’ve come before, plenty of times, but this feels different. This time it feels all warm and gooey like it's going to stick to you forever. Maybe it's because it's Miguel’s fingers instead of your own toying with your cunt or maybe it's because you got to hold onto him. Either way, you've just cum all over his hands and can't form a proper sentence now.

Miguel smiles down at you, revelling in your blissed-out expression. Knowing that he's drawn this pleasure from you makes his insides churn.

“Pretty Girl,” he coos, hand smoothing your spine, “so pretty for me, hmm? Cumming just from me playing with her pretty pussy.” as if to prove a point, he spreads your sticky folds open with his thumb two middle fingers, a soft gooey sound catching your attention.

“Wonder if your cunt is just as pretty?” be slides a harsh finger inside with a grunt, eliciting a sharp gasp from you, “want me to fuck your tight hole, princessa?”

And you nod. Too fucked out, too tired, too needy, too in love with him without either of you knowing it yet, to push him away.

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