#t: peter parker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tarjapearce · 6 months

Text

Crimson Crown (Pt. 5)

Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Special thanks to @pinkiemme for this amazing cover ❤️✨

WARNINGS: Mentions of poisoning, awkward flirting, privacy invasion, mentions of character's death. Unresolved sexual tension, Unrequited sexual tension.

Summary: As danger looms in the horizon, a new objective is set in mind.

A/N: Didn't feel that well, so poured myself into this thingy ~ Hope your like ✨

Prince Gabriel approached today, I must say, there was something odd about his apology. Not in the disingenuous way but rather a more sudden and brazen one. The kind of way that leaves you confused.

He apologized, yet I wouldn't like to encounter his drunken self ever again.

Miguel blinked to read the next paragraph.

Odd things keep happening. The king has requested my presence today, Unexpected as it was, he is awaiting for me. I won't deny I dread this little encounter, hopefully this meeting brings me a little peace.

Everything seems to be happening at such speed is quite absurd.

He flipped the page with a sigh.

I've met the king where he instructed. And once more he manages to surprise me in such way I am... aghast. I'm still debating if it's a good thing or more of his political side taking over.

He said I was no stranger. He acknowledged me! I know this might sound preposterous even, but I'm glad we can settle for something more than strangers that occasionally have lunch together.

His words convinced me that he cares deeply for his people. Never in my life I've met someone that shares my vision for my future kingdom. It pleases me deeply. He is wise and I'm glad I am able to have such visionary on my side.

Oh...

He blinked as his mouth gave a shaky and surprised breath. His heart stirred in a pleasant feeling. It was odd and that terrified him. His heart was trying to settle a beat according to an specific emotion, but all of them mutinied and sent his brain into a brief override.

"Are you done invading her privacy?"

Miguel glared at a mirthful Jessica.

"This is the only way I can get some direct information."

"About yourself?" Her brow quirked with a little deadpan.

"The kingdom."

"Oh yes, the kingdom, of course."

Miguel rolled his eyes with a shake of his head and resumed his reading.

I was awaken today by the clashing of swords. The king was practicing some sword fighting with his brother. And now I can understand why he is called The Red King, or The Dragon's Claws in Onerim.

That was definitely a new nickname.

He wielded a sword in each hand. His technique is unique, precise and so deadly if one would be a tyro in the arts of combat. Even though it was a practice he didn't held back.

I cannot describe the feeling he... stirred within me. May God forgive me for such volatile imagination.

His lips curved in a smirk.

"Flip the page."

Jessica's voice made his eyes snap up at her. She was away in her spot.

"You'll get extra patrol."

"Ohh, what did you read?"

"Si si, ya. Cállate, me interrumpes." (Shut up, you're interrupting me)

The power the king holds in his garden is... beyond me. How could he just accept things without looking into it? A bit reckless considering mostly of the plants he owes are either poisonous or quite medicinal. There is no in between.

Peter seemed concerned for the safety of the people that take care of the gardens, must admit his reaction was laughable.

But to my horror, tragedy attacked. There were many injured, but the king concerned me the most. I know his men are dear to him, but he shouldn't neglect himself. Not when he had a deep wound that could end up in a serious infection.

He allowed me to help him. He gave me a chance to prove him how worthy I could be. Hope my efforts didn't go unnoticed.

They didn't. How could he forget about your doting fingers working on him with such expertise, he barely felt any pain. He flipped the page.

Was I too straightforward when I said I admired him? He seemed uncomfortable even told me to see someone else as a role model. He's quite hard to read sometimes.

He's always frowning or scowling. Should I stop trying to approach? Even if we know our duties, I wouldn't want to be at odds with him.

But right now, my mind wanders to my father. He is ill, and I must visit him. Hopefully the king will understand.

Miguel exhaled. His shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his face. Once again the questions assaulted his mind, yet wandered towards your family.

So far they seemed good and they were keeping the promise. The economy kept thriving and so far none had complained of any trouble in the West Passage.

He put the diary back in it's place and left your room. The lovely smell of rich violets had been long gone. You had left a day ago. Nothing had changed except his inner turmoil regarding your safety.

Not that he didn't trust his men. Peter was more than efficient, Gwen was capable despite being young, just like Hobie. And Webslinger was more than seasoned. You'd be alright. You had to.

He left your room with Jessica tailing behind him.

"One day you'd have to tell her that you've been reading her diary."

"Probably she'd end up poisoning me."

"And you'd die a happy man."

Jessica chuckled as he was about to protest.

"Do you miss her already?"

His shoulders tensed and slicked his hair back.

"How is the east frontier gateway doing?"

"Holding up as it should"

He nodded, "Any complains?"

"Negative. The mutinies have been controlled and the leader has been arrested." Jessica rolled her shoulders to ease some tension, "It's the second mutiny regarding a rebellion we've encountered this month."

"Do you think it's a pattern?"

"It better not. Rebellions although used for higher causes, always bring second hand intentions. With enough fire and ignorant people, it can be dangerous."

His nose flared, frustration simmering in his heart.

"Sometimes I do wonder if I'm doing a good job as a king."

"You can't keep everyone happy, Miguel."

"I know. Still I'm doing everything I can yet it's never enough it seems."

"It won't be for those who aren't satisfied. You're a good ruler. And if this keeps happening, we'll handle it. Like we always do."

"Thanks."

"Besides, you have the Princess now. You said she shared your ideals, hold onto that."

"Might as well invite her for a hearing in a council."

"Don't listen to those old people, they are nothing but square thinkers."

"As long as their interests aren't threatened, the princess will be alright."

"We gotta see her temper as well. Oh! can you imagine her being like you? The scandal!"

"You're enjoying this too much."

"Of course I am. You're worried about something else that isn't the kingdom for once."

"She said we're acquaintances."

"Better than strangers or people that see eachother as something convenient. Does it bothers you being only that with her?"

"It's not that. Wouldn't want to be on her bad side either. You know I don't trust easily."

"You're still seeing if you can trust her?"

"Of course. That's why I read her diary. Her thoughts are truthful."

"Whatever works out for you, I guess. As long as you remain truthful."

----

Your carriage stopped in the outside of the castle. Your mother and Lucille already awaiting. Peter opened the door for you as you stepped out.

Lucille rushed to hug you.

"I've missed you so much!"

The queen joined in a heartfelt reunion. Peter and the rest followed you inside.

"My dear. You have... no idea how much I missed you."

The queen gave you a kiss on the forehead and a hug.

"How is father?"

"Stable. Come."

Peter stood behind you, paying a keen ear to the conversation.

"What happened?"

"A poisoning attempt."

Your hands covered your mouth and the queen squeezed your shoulders.

"And by none other than his beloved mistress. That wretched whore poisoned him once he refused her whims."

Your jaw tightened upon hearing the things that came out her mouth. Another reason to abhorre them. Not only they had meddled with your parent's marriage, but now one had tried to kill him.

Peter saw you tense, now having a wider perspective on why you were so upset regarding them. Understandably so.

"Tell me she is dead."

Peter blinked at your words.

"I assure you this ain't the first attempt she tries. Remember when he suddenly fell ill by an everlasting raving? The whore had diluted datura and henbane on his drink."

"As much as I'd love to handle her treatment personally, I shall go to see the king. Lucille, Peter please come with me."

Peter gave the rest a sign call to remain put as he followed. You were on your element, and it showed as you gave turns around the castle, like muscle memory.

Lucille separated to go to a lab-like room as you walked to the king's chambers.

Guards saluted you as you entered. Heart sinking at the sight. Your father laid on bed, pale due sickness, lips devoid of color, eyebags dark and sagging thanks to the little sleep.

"Oh no. no. Please leave!" You dad whined but you held his hand soothingly

"How could you ask such thing when you're fighting for your life?"

"Who is this man?"

"Commander Peter B. Parker. From Arachne."

"You've already gotten married?"

"No. Not yet."

You soaked a rag on the water next to him as the damage was assessed.

"From all the things you could've done, was to anger a woman that is power-hungry."

"Please, child-"

"You know how that... Sarina is."

"She's just angered, but she will come to me. I know so. This is just a quarrel -"

"Father."

Your voice was stern, laced with anger, yet you kept wiping his sweat.

"I'll have her executed for murder attempt."

The king groaned and sobbed.

"In my time, none went above me. And look how things have changed, ser!" Your dad looked at Peter, trying to get him to reason with you. He just gave an awkward smile.

"It's beyond me how can you keep defending such... woman after everything she has done to you. You might tolerate it. But I do not."

You stood and went to the little medical station that was left either by Lucille or another doctor. Hands ground some herbs as Lucille brought a pot of boiling water.

" You don't know her like I do."

"Oh, my apologies dear father, but anyone that attempt to kill me in the name of love must surely be a lovely person"

Peter just remained watching, until you called him while stirring a goblet with a steamy green concoction.

"Hold the king." You instructed as he blinked stupidly.

"Beg... your pardon, your majesty?"

"Please hold the king's hands. I will give him his medicine."

"If you dare to touch me, I will have-!"

"You barely can keep your own head up, father. Stop it."

Peter sighed and held the king's hands firmly. His skin cold, clammy and waxy. Your father whined like a child as you made him swallow the potion, green and thick drops of the brew rolled down his chin. His face contorted in a repulsed one at the strong and sour taste.

"Thanks, Peter."

The Commander stepped away and let you work. You seemed used to your father's antics at this point, and so was Lucille.

"Now, if you excuse me, I must talk to the queen."

"Your mother refuses to talk to me, child."

You rolled your eyes.

"Understandably so. You can't expect people that love you be happy for such repetitive behavior. Much less with someone that brings suffering. You're lucky if she doesn't makes you watch that woman's execution."

"Sarina has done nothing but to bring joy to my life!"

Sighing you shook your head.

"My God... why men must think with their groin?! How can you so blind, father? You've hurt my mother with your little childish affairs." You took a deep breath, "You're a king. An old one, mind you. Behave like one."

Your voice laced with anger. A warning tone.

-----

As day passed, Miguel poured himself into work. The reports of Rhino sure had decreased, the villain so far knew to keep a low profile, which was odd. It was against the rouge's nature to be so quiet and cunning, unless someone else was with him. And that meant trouble.

Sighing for the millionth time, Miguel plopped on his chair. One that had to be custom made for him, and then, slicked his hair back. Sometimes he wanted to pull his hair out due the strain he was constantly facing, and other times he really wanted to just punch something or someone.

He was sure that if that desperation would be a human or something tangible, he'd not only punch it, but would try to make it through the same suffering it was making him endure. His heart beat faster and he clutched at his chest. A few deep breaths was enough to ease his irregular beatings.

He closed his eyes and relaxed his body. His fingers rubbed on his aching eyes. He had been sleeping less and less, to the point of having random yet unwilling naps and waking up tired and sore.

His neck popped as his spine cracked back into place and grunted like a rusty machine. His mind tried to empty itself, gravitating towards your soft and warm fingers on his aching skin. It was the closest someone has ever been touching him in a non threatening way.

Your fingers felt like silk sliding down his upper body, A gentle caress from the wind, a soothing touch in aching bones. Balm to his bleeding body.

Soft caresses on his face and hair turned real, palpable even. Like if his thoughts were taking shape and were now massaging his scalp with such softness it made him groan. He was surely losing his mind, but the touch was so soothing and slumber inducing that he remained still, slowly melting into the caresses. They reminded of yours.

Had you returned already?

His nose was filled in with a scent he wished to have long forgotten eons ago. His eyes frowned as the too real dream now delivered fluttering kisses up and down his neck. His scent strong in myrrh and herbs.

"Hello there." The feminine voice snapped his eyes open and sigh.

"Leave."

"But you seemed to be enjoying it, Miggy."

Dana's voice purred into his ear which he quickly shook off with a disgruntled sigh.

"I said leave." He nearly growled and that made her stop, only to kneel before him, spreading his legs, her hands roaming over his clothed inner thighs.

"I've seen your new toy. Even though she is quite the looker, it makes me wonder. For how long you'll play until you break her?"

Miguel's eyes darted to her as she placed little kisses on his hands. He quickly removed them off her lips, annoyed, earning him a giggle.

" I know you. You like playing rough until your toys can no longer amuse you. But I'm still here, Miguel."

Her fingers roamed his injured arm gently, but even so, Miguel winced. Her touch felt soiling yours.

"Did she heal you, my love? How sweet of her to keep you in good shape for me." Her hand hovered over his groin but he quickly grabbed her by the wrist. "How long has it been since we had some pillow talk?"

"How brave of you to prowl when she is gone."

"I am generous to spare her a bad time, by seeing me coming out of your chambers. Isn't that nice of me?"

"¿A poco si?" (Are you?) His face went blank

"Oh, Miguel. You mockery has turned soft. Just like you. I wonder if it's by that little witch influence."

"Witch?"

"I'd be careful around her. She knows too much." She sat on his lap.

He quirked an eyebrow without amusement. Stoic as ever.

"Follow your own advices, querida."

Dana widened her eyes slightly as she seized him with an undignified stare.

"You wouldn't allow her to do so such thing."

He shrugged and pushed her off his body gently, a cue for her to move but completely missed it.

"Who knows? I might feel bored and in dire need of amusement one day if you keep testing my patience. I said leave."

Dana stood with anger as he growled.

"We are on the verge of war and you suddenly start being all moronic and stupid over a pair of pretty eyes. She has been washing your brain! "

"The prettiest I've seen, indeed." He taunted.

"You are mine. And I do not share. Much less with a witch! For all I know she could've already poisoned your drinks!"

Miguel gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes and approached her.

"Is that so?" Her lips smirked as she bit her lips. Miguel took her by the chin.

"You don't like sharing?"

Dana shook her head and gasped as Miguel cornered her to wall, hand still gripping her chin. A grip that turned borderline painful as he kept squeezing.

"Tell me, dear Dana." The octave lower tone he pronounced dear made her gulp, "Do you see a ring on your finger?"

"She doesn't have one either."

"Yet. The difference between you and her is that she will. You won't." He spat. His smile long gone as he scrutinized her face. "We share a vision. You and I? A bed many months ago."

Dana growled but yelped as Miguel patted her cheek a bit too roughly.

"You don't love her" She taunted with a smirk, trying to swallow the painful stabs his words provoked her.

"What makes you think I love you instead?"

Something dern slithered in Dana's eyes.

"I am not in the mood for your stupid games and hysterics. Not now, not today, nor ever. Entiendes? Stay away from her and my affairs." (Understand?)

Dana stole a kiss, leaving a little wound in his lips in the process, a desperate way to mark him. Miguel snarled and took her by her arm then shoved her out of his chambers, slamming the door in her face. Rejecting her completely.

Little did Miguel know on taking Jessica's warning words at heart.

A scorned woman holds such wrath even you must learn to be wary of.

Dana left, her thinking gears turning and moving. Miguel would learn, whether he liked it or not. He was hers. She licked his blood off her tongue.

-----

"I apologize you had to witness that. My father... Is like a child once he gets bedridden.

"Do not fret over it, your highness. I've seen and done worse than that."

You chuckled as you walked through the gardens, checking on your roses and herbs.

"I always forget to ask you, ser Peter... Has the king been always this serious?"

"Even as a kid, yeah. His father trained us together."

Nodding your fetched a basket and then asked for boiling water to one of the nearby servants.

"Was he as ruthless and bloodthirsty as people say?"

"Ruthless, yes. He is when it comes to protect the kingdom and people he holds dear."

"But?"

"There is no buts, Princess. It is as it is."

"He loved the slaughter then?"

"Not to that point, but he wouldn't hesitate in ending someone's life if it was a threat. As little as it seemed to be."

You nodded and pulled two black roses along some berries to then put it on a kettle.

"What has changed?"

"He got tired of the bloodshed. And so Arachne. So we strive for the peace, wars leave nothing but destruction and broken families in their wake. "

"But?"

"We won't hesitate to wield our swords again if we are called for duty."

Nodding, you poured a cup for yourself and another for Peter.

"Sit." You instructed as you added honey to your tea, "We grow these for our women. In Theleria, fertility rites are quite sacred."

Peter eyed the simmering flower, the hot blend slowly turning into a subtle red-ish hue.

"But for men, it's just another drink for energy boosting" You smiled, "Thelerians are avid tea drinkers."

"Not my business to prey in, but... You're to kill that woman?"

"The Queen is. Can't pry away that from my mother. My people found out she is mingled with King Fisk's men. And thanks to her influence on my father, my kingdom just lost a couple more lands to him."

The tea's flavor blooming so sweetly in your mouth. A stark contrast in the sourness of your words.

"I don't like mistresses for that exact motive. Sure, love can be displayed with them, since royals get together to secure territory, legacies and the like, nothing more nothing less."

A sigh.

"I truly wouldn't want for the king of Arachne to fall under the same curse we have."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Some of our past kings have had a fair share of mistresses. And all of them have had a favorite that for some reason, turn out to be calamities."

Another sip of your tea, "I'm aware that such position influences greatly in a king's judgement. Sadly our past kings thought with their groin." Your eyes stared off at your drink, "And little by little they engaged in wars that costed our kingdom greatly."

"King Miguel is wise enough to not fall under such things."

"Not to underestimate his reasoning, but these women are cunning. You don't see them coming until is too late."

"Princess. I promise you, it's not the case with the king. Please, don't waver your faith in him."

"I will trust your word, ser."

Peter nodded with a solemn nod.

"How... -"

"Will the Queen dispose of her?"

Shrugging you finished your tea

"That is up to her. One would think that my mother would enjoy this, be satisfied even, but little do people know is that she is in pain."

"Pain?"

"Indeed. She never managed to get my father's love entirely, as it was an arranged marriage as well. And after my brother's passing it turned worst. My father's behavior I mean."

Peter sipped his now warm tea, for his surprise it was mellow and sweet tasting.

"He shut himself off from everyone. My mother specially. But with that woman, he seemed a different man. Even I was a fool to believe their supposed romance."

You ate a little candied flower before speaking again, trying to sweeten your mouth after the acrid words.

"It's not easy for her to get rid of my father's source of... twisted joy. But her treason to this kingdom weighs more than a heartache."

"If you were in this position-"

"I am, somehow, ser. And I hope I never meet them."

Peter's lips pursed and nodded

"Would you proceed like your mother?"

"No. I'd step away. There is no business for me to do in that situation. Can't get in between two people that seek eachother."

"I see"

"Why?"

"Just thinking. What if it's a one sided thing?"

"I'd need you to be more specific on that, ser."

"What if the king doesn't partake anymore in such activities, but the other... part, seeks him?"

"Still. Why would he keep them around to begin with, if he has no intention of such activities?"

You sighed once more, "It's more complicated than that, ser. I know that King Miguel has had concubines or mistresses before. But it's confusing."

"Confusing?"

"I'm not one to be authoritarian, and I know it's tradition for you and the rest of the continent. But in my kingdom, mistresses are... heavily frowned upon."

"May I ask why?"

"We value, respect and cherish those whom we decide to share our lives with. Adding someone else in the picture would not only make our partner feel unworthy."

You wet your lips after much talking, "But rejected even, a clear 'I do not need you nor want you'. My father was the fourth king in following such wretched customs."

"Do you feel disrespected, your highness?" Peter tried carefully, and your eyes casted down.

"I'd be a liar if I say I don't, even though prince Gabriel apologized. But customs are customs, I suppose."

Peter could only sigh, disheartened. Naturally he'd had to inform back to Miguel, however your words had opened a new perspective to him. He could now understand why you were so upset about how everything displayed.

Still, the drunk habits of prince Gabriel weren't appreciated.

"Wander the city, have some fun while you're here. I am to remain whitin the castle anyways. Must prepare my father's medical dosage and then I'll have some tea with Lucille."

You stood and left, cutting him short before he could reply.

-----

In the end, the execution of Sarina was a quick beheading, once the king had enough color on his cheeks, you were set to go. With a heavy heart you said your goodbyes to Lucille and your mother, who you had shared the past events.

"If he keeps causing you pain, return. We'll find a better solution. I will not tolerate you to end up like me."

She had said, comforting you at her best. Gwen, Hobie and Webslinger had toured the city with the help of Lucille. They carried some souvenirs back at work. You on the other hand, had been keeping your attention at your needlework all your way back to Arachne.

It took you two days to arrive, three and a half to stay and another one and half day to arrive. A whole week.

The scenery had changed, the might and grandeur welcomed you with open arms once more. Calling you, demanding your presence at the castle as red eyes settled on the window, watching from the horizon at the door, expecting; preying.

His eyes lit up with keen interest as your carriage stopped within the porch. Peter helped you out, Gwen and Hobie followed you as Webslinger returned to his post.

Peter arrived minutes later, a turgid expression painted in his face. Miguel didn't know if to feel worried or even more distressed.

"Report."

"Hello to you too, pal. Glad to see your sour face again."

Miguel exhaled deeply, begging for patience to heavens.

"Hello, please report."

"What happened to your lip?"

Miguel's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.

"Then I am not speaking."

"Ah que la chin-... Mira, Parker no estoy para juegos." (Fuckin sh... Look, I'm not in the mood.)

"Neither am I. So you better speak up. What happened?"

"Dana happened. Alright? Now fucking speak."

"You absolute cheater"

Miguel's eyes widened in anger at his words.

"Whatch your fucking tone, Parker."

"I give two flying ducks who you are right now. You slept with your mistress again? While the princess was gone?"

"Funny for you to think I have the time for that. I didn't. She barged in my chambers, told her to fuck off and she bit me instead."

It was Peter's turn for his eyes to widen as Miguel spat his words angrily, nearly seething.

"You should definitely put that rabid dog down. Why do you keep her around if you aren't engaging?"

"Because..." Miguel sighed, " Because I know what that...pinche zorra is capable of." (Fucking whore)

"Kill her then."

"No."

Peter deadpanned, "You've killed for less. You've killed other mistresses before!"

"No. Still, is not easy to get rid of someone like her. You think I don't want her out of this place?"

Peter sighed and removed his gauntlets.

"Everyone warned you about her."

"You act as if you weren't young and stupid."

"I told you, Jessica told you, even your mother that didn't like anyone warned you about her."

"I was nineteen! I had just been crowned."

"And now you see the consequences of spoiling a pet too much."

Sighing, both friend's fumes dissipated, Peter face grew somber as Miguel pinched the bridge of her nose.

"She feels disrespected."

"Who?"

"My hen."

Miguel quirked an eyebrow to him, confused.

"The princess! She explained a bit of her customs and yeah, it makes sense for her to be upset about Gabriel calling her a concubine."

"She's still upset about it?"

"Rightfully so."

Peter explained the conversation he had with you. The king's health, the motive of said illness, the execution; Lucille and your customs. As Peter spoke Miguel's face changed into many emotions. Confusion, anger, discomfit and a hint of sadness.

"That's pretty much about it."

Miguel chewed at the insides of his cheek and gave an exhausted groan.

"No puedo más. I... No puedo."

Miguel wanted to rip his hair out, or scream until his voice was raw. Instead he stood.

"I'll be right back. Tell Jessica to bring in a new dose."

The king left his office, he'd receive the reports later, his steps guided him to your chambers. he entered albeit unannounced.

"My goodness!" You squealed and quickly secured the robe that laid loosely on your shoulders and legs, around your body. Cheeks flaring.

Miguel turned around to give you some privacy while picking his palm with his nails.

"My apologies, Princesa."

Smooth and supple skin was engraved into his mind. He cleared his throat.

"It's... It's fine. Didn't expect your visit. I am dressed."

A shame.

A little part of his brain screamed as he glared at none in particular for such thought. He turned around and you were fumbling with some things inside a little wooden box.

Your face lit up, when pulling out a piece of fabric with an intricate embroidery design. It was Arachne's and Theleria's emblem, woven together in the richest threads colors he had imported.

You stepped closer and offered it to him.

"A gift for you. I cannot express my gratitude enough for allowing me to see my family again, my lord."

"You did this?"

The fabric felt soft on his calloused ones, he was marveled. He'd never had enough time to indulge his own desires and hobbies as they were long gone forgotten and replaced by countless hours of work.

"In my spare time. Been planning on making this for quite a while. And now that I've finally finished it, it's yours."

You placed the thing on his hand and smiled

"Do you like it?"

"I do" He smiled gently, "Thanks. You're quite skilled in this."

"Thank you, ser."

A pregnant pause fell upon you both. Eyes squinting at the broken flesh of his bottom lip. Your fingers examinated it gently. It was a bold move considering you had only touched him once before, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Are you alright?"

A sudden adrenaline rush came to him. His mouth went dry at the sudden proximity you had created between the both. You couldn't help it, the healer in you always took over whenever seeing a wound.

"I injured myself." He lied and his mouth felt dirty, his heart gave a doleful beat as you frowned in concern.

"If stressed, lavender will relax you. Would you like me to prepare some for you?"

"It's alright. Just a stupid injury."

"I differ, but this one isn't that bad."

"Is the king better?" He quickly segued between topics and nodded with a smile at his question.

"He is. My mother and Lucille took a great care of him. I just added the finishing touches to his health."

"What about the Queen?"

"Oh? She is alright. Thanks for asking."

"Do you miss them?"

"Dearly. But my duties remain here. They will be fine."

"I'm glad you made it back. Unscathed I mean."

"Thank you."

Again, he cleared his throat at the uncomfortable silence.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, your highness?"

"I'd like to introduce you to the council soon, we'll have a meeting someday this week. I'd like for you to attend."

"Oh? Sounds like I should prepare myself."

"You'll do just fine."

"Even though I am scared, I will be there. I'll take it as another chance to learn from your kingdom."

Your eagerness about something new always made his eyes soften.

"I will let you rest, Princesa."

He took your hand and kissed the back of your palm. Your cheeks burned again.

"Have a good night."

"You too, my lord."

As Miguel left, his hands caressed and scrutinized the fabric. Your dedication shown in the pristine weave. A red skull spider like symbol surrounded by a wreath of roses.

A symbol of your future union. And now it was all his. He was glad you were home unscathed, that you saw your family and friends. But Peter's words had caused such effect on him that humbled him right away.

He wasn't aware of your customs, never really took the time to take a look on it. Which costed him a big time of his trust. He had disrespected you without knowing, and it was all up to him to fix it properly.

The thought of Dana touching him made him feel greatly repulsed. Touches that he once got lost in, were now selfish yanks and pulls that suffocated and irked him. Contrary to yours, that not only healed, but treated him with respect.

You didn't pressured him into things. You understood his motives, and how his time was used. But still, after reading your diary, he knew he also had to make an effort to keep you included and not sought after just when the conditions demanded your presence.

Exhaustion finally took a grip on him, he just removed his armoring and clothes, too quanked to even remove his shoes, limbs too heavy to keep moving. The bed under him creaked by his weight and for once in a long while, Miguel followed Jessica's advice and went to sleep early. No bad dreams nor ill heartbeats hunted him.

-------

Taglist:

@tayleighuh @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @nxrdamp @a--dedicated--fangirl @rin0r1na @queenofroses22 @sofi786 @murnsondock @okayiamkassandra @kimmis-stuff @ceoofmiguel @meeom @handsomeprettytoes @ladymoztaza @chiikasevennn @mxtokko @gabrielarose29 @oooof-ifellforyou @minalovesyoubabes @kikisstrawberrie @know-that-its-delicate @aikoiya @st0r-fruit @ittybxttykxttytxtty @local-mr-frog @liidiaaag @berlinswifey @eepybunny0805 @vonev @cheerrioeoz @solesurvivorjen @zaunsin @ange-grayson @peachsteven @kdrosebme @geraskier-thots @rjasmin2021 @yehet-moi-ohorat

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #royal au #king miguel #Crimson Crown #dana d'angelo #jessica drew #peter b parker #t writes✨

503 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 4 months

Text

Iridiscent (Pt. 4)

Pirate AU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNING: Angst, mentions of violence, graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, political implications, character origins, character backgrounds, introduction of character, Greek mythology mentions.

Summary: The aftermath of a mermaid encounter brings an unexpected ally.

A/N: Pirate Miggy is back ❤️

Mermaids, sea witches, sirens, sea monsters. The latter was the most accurate name for what your mere existence rendered. And now, men eater.

Existing since way before humans understood the concept of civilizations, silent watchers of eons of evolution, yet unfortunate by the simple fact of being.

The permanence of the kin itself was a result of a fateful domino effect the God of the dead had unleashed by being invaded and bewitched by a mortal feeling. Love.

His whim had turned into obsession and this somehow morphed into love. A feeling so strong that made him kidnap the Spring goddess for himself, tired of the miserable companion solitude was in the underworld. And that was the moment everything changed.

The nymphs in charge of their queen's safety were turned into winged beings, as a punishment from none other than Demeter. Her wrath over them, ruthless and merciless as they were forced to look everywhere for their vanishing queen to no avail.

Some of the nymphs had escaped the aftermath to a recluse island, abandoning all purpose of finding Persephone, to follow the whims of their hearts in lieu. Singing and music.

But even so, Demeter's fury had no match, vengeful and blinded by anger she looked for the rebel ones to kill them, but these hid in the sea. Eventually, the feathers hardened, turning into scales. These etched and covered their legs. Securing them in a colorful long tail.

Bird's talons turned into beautiful and deadly hands, that once a prey was caught there was nothing it could do but to accept it's fate. Death.

Damned be Hades and his stupid obsession. Damned be Demeter and her blinding rage, and damned be the men that polluted the earth above with their existing and constant evolving.

Men. The real wretched creatures. The executioners of everything they decided unworthy of living. Stupid beings that played God in a self imposed role in life's hierarchy.

Creatures that had hunted and killed your kin for ages, forcing to separate and face new dangers at every turn in the endless ocean. Humans, a little too praising title considering their acts and actions were everything but, had forced you to hide in the deepest waters and forbidden lands not many were brave enough to venture in.

A couple of centuries were more than enough for you to have a glimpse of their nature. Destructive, dangerous and merciless. They sullied and tarnished everything unfortunate enough to go under their hands.

They killed everything unknown or deemed too frightening for their existence and had no mercy while at it. The bloodier the better. A disgusting yet necessary example of behavior you had to follow in order to survive.

Humans had shaped your temper. Heart rejoicing at every sunken ship the sea swallowed. Even their flesh had lost the sizzle to be enjoyable enough, making your feeding habits more inclined towards other creatures within the sea.

You didn't eat men because you hated them. You ate them because their hatred had poisoned enough the seas, leaving you without resources, pushing you to consume them. And your refusal had made your body weak, it had been years since your body felt properly satisfied.

You collapsed.

How many days had passed, certainly was unknown. Time under the sea was measured by how long it took for a reef to go completely white, how often the ships let their nets in a single spot. Sometimes you remained on land, sea too dangerous to venture alone.

But none of that mattered anymore. Inanition wasn't exclusive of humans, the last thing in your mind was to curse Hades and the men.

But death escaped and picked you and others alike within a net. Pushing some survival instinct back in you as the net wriggled and broke. Injecting the right amount of life to hand you a buffet in a wooden platter. Gathering your bearings after the little commotion in your head, was quickly overlooked when the attention focused on the scene unfolding.

A ship full of men, that stared in wonder and fear. One of them stood out from the rest. It reminded you of Hercules. His physique unique, just as his eyes. A fine specimen and surely a delicious one. Their language was unknown, but it became clear the moment you kissed the fool before your apparent naive form. Absorbing his knowledge and a little more in that simple gesture. Which was little.

But enough to understand what the men said and whispered around you.

Foul and salty smelling, with a faint tinge of wine. He tasted sour and ashy, but edible enough to sate your rampant huger. You wanted to go for the herculean man in shackles, his scent rich in leather, voice like a soft and firm caress in the back of one's head. His cinnamon toned skin made your mouth water.

You were about to move for him, but Elliot, the idiot infront and your hunger kept you in place. You knew your initial prey would fight and would waste the little reserve of strength you had left. He was no fool.

As moronic as the man on your way was, he'd save his purpose. The prey was subdued, flesh and bones devoured; bland and tasteless, but well welcomed within your body. Revitalizing energies and restocking the strength you had been lacking for a time.

Expected as it was, they attacked, all by the command of the shackled man, that had dared to injure you with a bullet. But you were too frenzied and hungry to care. Your meal hung in your maws, as you fought to get it off the ship.

Your Hercules watched in horror from afar, and never in your life had you felt more realized and satisfied to provoke such disturbing reaction in a man.

You could almost taste the fear behind his raged and shaky breathing, his shock in every powerful beat his heart did, the denial in his eyes as they widened the more your teeth sank into the corpse. It fueled you. And also ignited with new strength the already flickering purpose of your existence.

Destroy as many of them as possible.

You went under the ship, away from their archaical defense to eat and consume your food. Humans weren't definitely on the top, for a moment the hunter became the prey and didn't survive to brag about his new kill.

Skin and flesh was torn, consumed with such hunger it had you full and completely sated like never before, within matter of minutes. Elliot Jackdaw no longer existed, but served as a reminder that your kin prevailed and endured.

But also, had unleashed a new domino effect you weren't aware of.

The man in shackles, your forsaken greek god, was thrown at the sea. Your territory. You saw him move, fight against the current; trying to free himself from the heavy cuffs that weighed him down and reach back to the ship. And then nothing.

He became still and it made you frown. Where that bravado had gone? The smirk that was about to emerge in your lips faded as soon as a red cloud oozed and swallowed his head.

His scent was too rich and alluring, stagnant almost. Sickly sweet for your senses and he wasn't moving.

If you recalled, he was called a captain. What was a captain doing out of his ship drowning in the sea? Your lip twitched in scowl.

The lack of loyalty among his kindred was another reason to hate them. He wasn't the first nor the last you had saved in these conditions. Mostly women or little children that were expelled without much reasons other than being a burden.

As much as you cursed your heart for not turning its back to these sort of injustices, and your need to have a tiny taste of him, you hauled him up shore. Light as a feather in water, but heavy as lead on land. The heavy iron around his wrist didn't help, so you destroyed it, inflicting little cuts around his flesh in the process.

Ancient eyes scrutinized his form. Sharp cheekbones that could only match a sword. Strong features that screamed fighter in every direction you looked. A jagged and nasty cut on a side of his head, some strands obscuring his face, you removed them and some bloodied debris from his wound, inspecting it.

Not a too deep cut, the contusion of his head against the moving ship had been rough. A single cut in the upper right cheekbone, clothes clung to him like a second skin. His pockets however were too tempting to be left alone.

Sand and water on them, along a shiny pearl that had you staring and sniffing at the trinket for a close inspection, that didn't pay attention to the locket nesting deeper inside. The pearl was true, so you took it as it quickly etched to your skin, under the ribcage as a decor motif of the raggy top you used to cover your chest.

He'd surely serve as one of Aphrodite's lovers. His forearms laced in tiny and fading scars, that also loitered his solid and somewhat hairy chest. A man through and through. A natural enemy of yours, yet you had saved him.

Probably, he would hunt you too, like the scarce quantity of men you had pulled out of danger. The pearl was a token for saving his life.

You could kill him, filling your tabs with another number, but it wouldn't be honorable. Even if you were a different species, you refused to let some of their habits to rub on you. You opposed greatly to be like them, and so with a look that would suppose to be a final one back at him, you dipped back into the sea.

----

He was on land. Alive, heart beating along every single erratic breath. The sea waves washed over his hips, not cold neither lukewarm. Just the ideal temperature for the humid weather

I'm alive.

His mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. One moment he was in the sea, to then hurl himself back up and puke all the salty water his body had unwillingly ingested.

Miguel was dizzy, but alive. Beaten up, but still breathing. Pissed and ever ready to get his treasure back. But he had to recover some energies first.

Sighing and rising slowly, he turned around to kneel in the moist sand. Tiny grains of it etched to his moist skin, they were rough, altering his sensorial touch for a second. Feet finally got the strength to stand up, careful to not let the nauseas get to his head entirely. Skin burned, but he could bear the discomfort, what Miguel truly needed was a big gulp of water.

He remembered the sun being high on the sky, blazing with all it's glory and witnessing his crew marooning him for good. And now it was night. Somehow thankful that he didn't have to deal with the weather's inclemencies. Step by wobbly step he approached to the thickets and palms rooted in the soil, dressing up modestly the land he walked on.

As another wave of nauseas hit while his head pounded, Miguel stopped to rest in a nearby palm. Calloused hand cupping and covering his mouth to prevent the bile and vomit to spill out once more. Dehydrated as he was, Miguel also understood the dangers of drinking too much salty water.

If dehydration didn't kill him, puking too much without having any other resources on reach would. But none of his survival could be done with the unbridled headache that hammered in his head. A side of it was caked in dry blood, like some strands of his already matted and full of sand hair.

With careful steps he ventured in deeper into the jungle, looking for a spot to spent the night away from land's troubles. The island wasn't familiar for him, he didn't even know if it was big enough to harbor sustainable life, or if ships would pass nearby. With a gasp and a frantic move, he palmed his pockets.

Mierda, no! No

Panic rose upon not feeling the pearl, the sudden motion made his steps stutter as he puked, unable to hold it in anymore. But once he was done and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, he searched into them.

Por favor

The pearl was gone, that was for sure, but relief washed over him upon feeling the fine golden chain of the locket. Hand clasped on it while he brought it to his chest and sighed.

He nearly gave up.

Heart pounding in his ears along his head, and only when he opened the locket, the tears flowed. Calloused fingers full of sandy grains probed the valuable mineral, feeling the dents of the shell shape he knew by heart at this point. Eyes drowning and his voice muffled into a silent and wrathful sob as he inhaled the trinket.

Perdóname, Gabi. (Forgive me)

A faint tickle of fresh home bread, coconut oil that he used to fry the fish, and the eucalyptus ointment that was always next to him brought back the bittersweet memories that flooded his mind about the last years he had with Gabriella. She adored when he cooked, and always smelled his fingers after using the oil.

It reminds me of you, Papa.

She loved freshly baked bread. But hated the smell of the eucalyptus ointment the doctor left her.

The only memento he now had of his beloved and long gone daughter. The only thing that mattered the most for him.

How dared them betraying him when he had been everything but fair and good?

How dared them into taking his ship and some important things he had hid inside? But most importantly, how dared life to show him that mermaids were real when the reason he believed in them in the first place was no longer with him?

Who was he supposed to tell that he saw a mermaid?

A karma for turning into a pirate, maybe. All his mind was able to remember was the way the creature looked at him, a clear assessment of her power. Fear invaded every fiber of his being, making him too stunned to actually think or act until he saw the creature devouring Elliot.

Another reason for him to respect the sea. Now that he had a glimpse of what laid underneath, Miguel wondered what other things crawled in it's depths. But he would think about it all tomorrow.

His eyes drooped in exhaustion. Thinking consumed the last bit of his energy reserves. Despite the thirst clawing at his throat with a vice grip, the headache and weariness were greater. Even though a thicket wasn't the right choice to spend the night, he hadn't the time nor the energies to be picky. He just collapsed once more and hoped whoever above to live another day.

----

The sunlight was slippery enough to leak through the dense foliage and reach patches of the humid and moss textured land, as well parts of his weathered face. With a wince he rolled to his side, avoiding the aurifeous and warm touch from the ever blazing sun. Head clear from it's pain, and thoughts in order, like it should be.

With a sigh he rose and stretched, popping joints back in their place. Discomfort remaining in his head and wrists, that upon further examination he deducted the cuts in them were fresh, and undoubtedly someone had saved him from a certain death. Who, he didn't know but was grateful for the mysterious savior to let his revenge start.

With a rested yet hungry body, and a fresh head to think, he rolled his shoulders back and took a look around. Surveying his environment to decide which way to go. No weapons, no resources but packed with skills that were honed precisely for these sort of situations.

He still remembered the first time Mundaca had left him in an island with a single knife to fend for himself, since Miguel refused to accompany him in a slave hunting trip. At first he thought that Mundaca had left him for good or out of spite, but Fermín had only taught him a valuable surviving lesson. This time however, he didn't have that knife and would rely only on his hands, brain and brawns.

Naturally, Miguel headed for the north, palm trees left behind, instead acai palms, rubber trees and soursops begun gathering in the place. The scent of wet soil and rotting wood was pungent in the air, oddly, he liked it. Macaws and other birds cackled and cawed as he pushed deeper along some distant rustling.

The overgrown roots twisted and tangled here and there, weaving a walkable path free of them to his right, His eyes darted to the tail of a cobra slithering away from him, minding it's business.

The copious squaking of the birds was a good white noise along the crunching of his wet boots. His throat was beyond arid, that even spit couldn't form in it if he wished; stomach rumbled violently, begging him for some food. Breathings paused but deep.

Hours stretched for what seemed forever, he didn't know if he was walking in circles, the island was definitely not small. He had found some fruit trees along the way, but the things were so our of reach, that attempting to climb for them was a risk. He'd knew the wait would worth it.

Ears however perked at the gunshot given in the distance. Eyes widened, both in surprise and excitement at the thought that civilization was within. Cause that meant, food and water. And also weapons. And what a better way to confirm it than a booming gunshot that spooked away the nearby fawn.

With careful steps, he followed the echo, making the least of noise possible. As much as it thrilled to have a bite, he also understood the implications of such things. Armored men, guarded bodegas, overpowered foremen and probably slaves.

Time flew by, but his spirits lifted upon spotting the first red uniforms in a distance. Two of them. He approached closer to take a better look.

The soldiers had a rifle each, a belt full of ammo and firing at what were now dead slaves as shooting dummies. To his right, Miguel saw a few tents and supplies. Food and water tossed in a nearby bench, a fire was alight, serving as a cooking source for the pot placed above. His eyes however fell upon a machete. Probably belonging to one of the dead men tied up in the wooden posts.

After all, working tools had to be in perfect conditions, leaving no room for slacking off.

Miguel forayed slowly, moving within the foliage until he reached for the machete, with paced breathings he awaited for another shot to rumble to pull the weapon within his reach. The metallic drag was drowned. He couldn't eat until the men were disposed off.

Now that he was armored, a distraction was needed. The branches used for the iron's pot makeshift support were weak, the stew inside boiled. Miguel pushed the tip of the machete on the pot's edge, a little clink connected as the pot was pushed forward, but it barely tumbled it. He awaited for another gunshot to echo to push the pot entirely on the ground.

The lard immediately sent sparks on the floor as smoke surrounded the area. The noisy thud of the pot alarmed one of the guards that didn't waste time into blaming his companion for the shitty structure and how they'd have to go fishing again to get food done.

A little too late the guard noticed the fiery red eyes that glowered at him. Before he could even say something the sharp blade of the machete sliced through this throat in a firm thrust, all the guard could do was a gurgle, perturbed, before plummeting on the floor, staining the blade with a warm crimson as Miguel pulled it out of the body. Flesh sizzling at the contact of the hot coals and wood.

He took a rock that filled in his palm and aimed it for the head of the remaining guard, the other soldier yelped as he fell on the ground, the rock hitting his head with a lurid crack. Miguel lurched for him to end his misery by impaling the weapon in his back. Right in the middle. It was quick, deathly and effective.

Miguel panted but waited in case another guard was around, but none approached, just the wing flapping of a macaw somewhere. With the machete in hand he approached to the tent and wasted no time in gobbling down the water in a container, quenching his thirst, not really caring for the droplets that rolled down his neck.

His hands then wiped his face as he scrubbed the caked blood and sand away, then scarfed down the leftovers left in a plate and devoured anything within reach that was cooked or preserved, Adia probably would scold him for eating like an animal, despite being starving.

Once he was satisfied and his strength back, he looked for other weapons he could use. As much as the machete proved a worthy aid, it was long and it made noise. The opposite of what he needed.

The Red Eyed Demon searched into the soldier's pockets, a couple of coins, bullets and gold teeth that seemed freshly pulled out of the bodies in the back. He took the bullets and left the rest, he also found a short ranged pistol, a combat knife and a rope.

Also, to his luck, some fresh clothes. As much as he was set into his vengeance he wouldn't waste the chance into being comfortable while at it. His boots were soiled full of sand and saline water, he changed them, like his pants. The shirt was the only thing he kept since none of the men actually wore his size.

Ridiculous as it was, one of the soldiers had abnormally larger feet. But were perfect for him. Pants still a bit too short but he'd had them any other day instead of walking around feeling uncomfortable and itchy by the salt etched to his skin and clothes.

He ventured deeper only to find a familiar scene before him. A state. Hacienda Valverde read in the overly embellished metal structure that held the sign.

----

So far, Miguel had done a good job in keeping himself hid, the least of attention he attracted, the more successful his escape plan would be. So far he had counted around fifteen soldiers in the property. Five of them scattered through the plantations, making sure the workforce didn't dally in their duties.

He ventured over the trees, avoiding unnecessary trouble, to then land nearly quietly in a mountain of hay. His breathings stopped at every time an unsuspected guard passed by him. Heart pounded in his ears when his steps brought him closer and closer to danger

The rest of the guards were scattered through the property, watching over the stables, the main storage room, inside the hacienda and of course, watching over the supply.

He had snuck in the warehouse, to his surprise the cells were empty, he went through each of them to see if anything worthy had been left behind, but the sound of the lock being picked made him hide behind a couple of haystacks.

"Stop, Stop!" A groan came from a wriggling man, "I told you the truth! Let me go!"

Miguel couldn't see who was the prisoner, peeking out would be too risky, but the lack of accent, gave him a hint. An American.

The man grunted as he kicked, managed to land a punch or two to the guards that only twisted his shackled hands backwards. This made the man whine and curse, blind hot pain shot in his ribcage as another soldier hit him with the base of his rifle.

"Shut your fucking gob!" With a rough shove, the fighting man was thrown into the cell, the enclosure's door stilled with a loud creak as the main door was slammed shut.

The only noises the pirate could hear was the pained grunts that only increased when the prisoner tried to pick himself up from the floor, and the shaky huffing that turned into whiny whimpers when he managed to recover some air.

The day was set to surprise him, cause in his life he had seen a white man being thrown in a slave cell. Until now.

The man was tall, lean muscle in his body, a five o'clock stubble in his narrow cheeks and blue eyes. Hair hapzardly peeking ontop of his head.

"Fuck..." He groaned but recoiled in his cell even further upon seeing the shade of red glinting at him behind the haystacks. Pain screamed in every breathing he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to get himself free.

"H-Hey"

The man's eyes widened as soon as Miguel came into full view. He had to crane his head upwards to meet his eyes and gulped as soon as he realized the color in the behemoth of a man. Breaths shallow but less erratic than before now that he knew he had company.

"Please. Help me out of here, pal"

He was definitely American.

"And why would I do that?"

Miguel’s bushy brow quirked while taking another look through the warehouse, searching for alternative escape routes.

"Cause my wife just gave birth and I wanna meet my little girl."

A red stare seized the blue one. His unwavering, but the man's rivalled against it. Miguel broke contact as his hands fisted briefly. The prisoner's chest heaved whole he rubbed the area he was hit on.

Lucky bastard

"I was supposed to arrive last week but I was taken from the ship."

"Why?"

Miguel looked through the haystacks and other corners he didn't have the chance to search thoroughly.

"That's what I'd like to know!" The man sat against the lateral bars and winced defeated, watching at the moving man.

"I was a merchant, on a trip to improve a little familiar business I have, but Nueva York isn't precisely friendly with the working class." He paused to take some air the hit had taken away, "So I came back. And that's where the english trapped me." His forehead rested ontop of his scrapped and bloodied knuckles. The spark that gave him a beating and his imprisonment.

"The English are press ganging civilians at sea."

Miguel's lip twitched in a scowl upon hearing the news. Of course they would, Americans and English were too deep in political wars that could barely stand eachother. But in the sea, the English were the masters and none was there to stop them. More like he wasn't there to sink as many of them as possible.

Yet.

"How old is your daughter?"

The pirate asked above his shoulder and this made the gaoler to look up.

"Three weeks old. According to my wife's last letter."

Miguel's shoulder slumped, and he turned to look at the man. A little hesitation passed over his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he saw an old acquaintance of him. Hope. Red eyes rolled annoyed, as if regretting the sudden decision he was about to make.

"Do you know how to use a weapon?"

The question surely threw the man off, but still managed to reply

"Y-Yeah. Not fond of them, but yeah."

"Fight?"

"Not a complete useless if that's what you're hinting at."

Miguel chuckled and approached closer to the cell, examining the lock while the detainee put on his pair of boots.

"Gimme a wire and I'll get myself out of here."

Miguel instead took a nearby shovel to destroy the lock in a couple of hits. The metal piece clanking on the floor as it fell.

"O-Or you could do that. Yeah."

The man stood on his feet and stretched before offering his hand to him, Miguel just stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in a firm shake. Peter hid a wince at the sheer display of strength and that he had grabbed his injured hand.

"Peter B. Parker. Merchant and lock master."

"Miguel O'Hara. Pirate."

Peter could only blink stupidly at him.

"Let's go."

But followed him without much thought.

-----

Taglist:

@nerdykat @munixumai @raiirai @sarapaprikas-blog @deputy-videogamer @rizahawkeye1380 @littlenyx @marit332 @iz-iplier @mad-hatter-rici @viriexo @obi-mom-kenobi @allysunny @lishdfish @not-ur-average-fangirl @freehentai @darksidecorner @winteringfalls @ellasarich @eustashh @nyxismoon @murnsondock @pluviophilis @oooof-ifellforyou @plusultrayokai @teacoffeeflavored @ctizu1 @dickfartcheesy @s0lm1n @vonev @iwumrndbm @azuredragonstrike @Iyykeyyy @arrozyfrijoles23 @frompeach @ghostlyworld @liamdasimp @straw-berry-ghoul

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #astv miguel #gabi o'hara #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader #x reader #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara fanfiction #pirate au #mermaid au

266 notes · View notes