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astroboots · 10 months

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Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

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You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer.

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire.

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood".

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time.

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book.

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait.

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies.

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman.

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter.

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it.

This note didn’t work.

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry…

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you!

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook.

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot.

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you.

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note.

It doesn’t look like he came.

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen.

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video!

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews.

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had.

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression.

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around.

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go.

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly.

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through.

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow.

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill.

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now.

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek?

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why.

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen.

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness.

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it.

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast.

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth.

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do.

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail.

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest.

You want to see him again.

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people.

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail.

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by.

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #oscar isaac #spider man: across the spider verse #marvel #miguel ohara x reader #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

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m0chisenpai · 10 months

Text

P.Y.T ( Pretty Young Thing)

Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

42!Miles Morales x black!reader

Warning(s): nothing too crazy. just a bit of cursing

Honestly it’s giving Poppy and Branch

You stuck out like a sore thumb in Miles’ life. A bright pink, bedazzled thumb. He’ll never forget the first moment he saw you, well saw you again. He was out after school with some of the boys, and he saw you with your girls. You two crossed paths once or twice in middle school before you transferred for a bit to one of those downtown academies.

He recalls how you were the oreo that could answer any chem question without flinching at the sheer amount of conversion and what not involved.

You didn’t bag an eye or flinch at the harsh comments, the nickname that made Miles grind his teeth. How’s it your fault you were top three in the science department?

Yet here you were, your hands covered your glossy pink lips that spilled with a laugh that Miles wanted to hear more of. Your nails gleamed with bright charms and some cartoon characters and your other hand tossed a loose bang from your face.

You changed but he still saw the bright pink braces girl with various cartoon charms dangling from her purple kanken.

You all headed into the bodega and he and his boys followed in behind you. One of them said he needed to hit your friends up about something and it was coincidence because the two of you were reintroduced.

Miles found it endearing how despite your loud and boisterous behavior when the two of you got introduced, here you stood quiet as a mouse looking anywhere but at Miles.

You held a pack of candy in one hand and a bottle of water in the other while your groups spoke behind you as you stepped up to pay. But Miles caught your frustration as you dug into your purse.

“I got you” he stepped in and tapped his phone before you could protest.

“Thanks Miles I’m so sorry, next time it’s on me” you give him a smile as you slide the back into the book of your arm.

And it's then when he realizes how much he's missed you since middle school.

“Nah it’s all good you know I got you” his eyes watch as you fidget with your nails and he can’t help but smirk and gently bump you. “Why you acting shy? Used to hear you all the time in the halls.”

You gawk up at him and smack him in the arm. And he notes how your hand lingers a bit. It’s all the confirmation he needs.

“Morales how dare you! You look annoyed I didn’t want to bother you.. and who said you could get so tall.” You crossed your arms.

“I don’t think you could bother me.” And the way you look up at him is enough to know he’s got you wrapped around his finger just as you do him.

“And no one told you to stink your growth with all that coffee.”

“Hey!”

Before you part ways Miles gets your new number and makes sure to save his into your phone.

You slowly find yourself bleeding back into Miles’ life. Short texts get longer. You’re sending hearts within four months, and Mama Rio knows your special knock when you enter the apartment to wait for Miles. She feeds you when you stay the long nights and Mr.Morales doesn’t want you going home for your safety.

When he comes home from his shifts he would stop you before you were heading out and tells you that you might as well stay the night. He was the same gentle giant you remember from back in middle school and he welcomes you into his home with open arms just as he did before.

He’s always quick to give your pops and mom and text when you do stay the night and they’re more than appreciative.

Miles bought a blanket just for you when you slept over on the couch. It’s fleece, pink and covered in a my melody pattern. He even provides a silk pillow in a matching shade cause he knows you won't sleep with a mix matched set. He pulls it up and tucks it in when he sees you fast asleep coming in from a job, and fixes your bonnet before it slips off.

You go from Y/N in his phone to Mi Tesoro.

You’re leaving lip gloss and lashes on his desk and taking jackets of his with you. He’s walking you to the bus and won’t leave till he sees you on it safely and watches your location till you’re in the house.

You begin to show back up in his sketches but he won’t show you. His sketchbook is intimate and when he does slowly show you his pieces your heart swells up.

You always were done up, but on the days when you weren’t Miles still swore you were beautiful. With lashes and without. With a full face or bare. Nails on and off. You were his whole world.

Miles knew about the dudes you used to mess with. He was smart when he could apply himself and he knew that while the relationships ended in good terms and there was no bad blood you settled. And he wasn’t going to build your relationship with him off of settling.

No, you deserved the world and therefore he was going to give it. Because you have him the same treatment in return with zero hesitation.

So when he’s planning to ask you to be his girl. He goes all out.

After school, as always, he asks if you can come by tonight. You agree but today he wants to go up on the roof and you quickly agree. But when you go up it’s different. It’s illuminated and the trail of candles lead you to your usual spot near the edge. But it’s set up with a blanket and atop it are a bouquet of roses and the large strawberry hello kitty you were raving on the phone about last week.

“I’m not the best with words or my emotions. But I know that I couldn’t let this feeling est me anymore. So I had to draw it.” Miles nods his head and you look up at the brick wall and gasp at the sight of…you. But it’s more ethereal, you want to ask Miles how he did such a beautiful portrait but he’s guiding you to look back at him with misty eyes.

“Be mine, please? My girl, my baby.”

And your hand covers your mouth like the first time but your nodding quickly and throw your arms around him and tuck yourself under his jaw.

“Miles you're lucky I used my good setting spray!” you smack his chest as he pulls you into his chest and guides your lips to his in a gentle peck.

“Sorry love I couldn’t help” he smirks down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that” you pout and push softly against him. And he tilts his hand to look down at you.

“Like what hm? How am I looking at you?” And you rolls your eyes and pull him to plant another kiss to his lips.

Tonight he doesn’t chide you about the residue your gloss leaves behind. He’ll wear it with pride. Tonight and the next days to come.

He wonders if they’ll always be like this. He hopes they are.

Because moments like this are always fleeting.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales imagine #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth42!miles x reader #42!milesmorales x reader

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miguel-ohara-wifey · 9 months

Text

Spiderverse men when they catch you masterbating

Headcanons

Rating: 18+

Peter B Parker

-Peter’s always been a competent lover, although he’s had his doubts about his performance before. It wasn’t anything you two couldn’t work through. All things considered your sex life is quite vanilla.

-You’ve made attempts at kinks in the past but neither of you were feeling it at the time. You two just settled on your physical relationship wouldn’t be anything remarkable.

-That was ended one day when Peter came to your place early from Spider-Maning. He entered into the apartment not immediately making his presence known. He then heard your muffled moans and groans, and the intelligible shouting of a movie playing somewhere. Innocently presuming something must be wrong.

-He shoved his vision through a tiny crack in your doorway. Seeing your comforters pulled just above your hips, with one hand wiggling underneath as the other strangled your mouth shut.

-Adjusting his view, Peter spotted a man in the porno on the tv in your room. Covering a woman’s mouth, as he had her bent over a table. Teasing “Yeah you want them to hear us huh?”, as he started roughly planting himself inside of her. Taunting how loud she’s being, how he denies her the thrill of the being spotted like this. And based off of you simulating the man’s actions. You were fully into it.

-Peter should probably stop watching, but it was far too educational not to. He’s been searching for how to enrich your sex lives. But either nothing clicked or you simply were too embarrassed.

-Soon his own length started an ache as he watched you so excited to being silenced by a a grip on your mouth. To be bent over a table in front of clear windows, easily noticeable by passerby’s. He knew exactly how to make you feel even better now, be pleasured the way you deserve. He figured now was the time to make himself known.

-He bangs his fist against the wood of the door twice, signaling his entrance into the room. As you heard his voice bounce off the walls of your place. You rushed to the remote, pressing the button which reduces the scene of the porno to black. Shooting a look at him wide eyed trying to play off what, even if he didn’t see, what he definitely already heard.

-He grins with an obvious erection in his pants, pushing the door completely open. Taunting how this is why you go to the video store so often. The heat of embarrassment dwarfs the heat of arousal your body held just moments ago.

-Moments after he climbs into bed with you, trailing his left fingers along the left side of your jawline. Planting a quick kiss on your mouth.

“Let’s go to the dining room honey…got a surprise for you.”

Miguel O’Hara

-Miguel and you have always been adventurous, he’s down to try anything with you twice. Bondage, gaging, roleplay, spanking, biting, clawing, etc. He’s all for whatever keeps him in charge and makes you pleased.

-Never was that more apparent when he was drifting between sleep and wakefulness at 2 am. After a long day of working, he decided to check into bed alongside you. With the icy comforters and sheets enveloping him beside you, as his back faced you. His mind was cradled between trying to sleep and being awake. Blissfully on his way to slumber.

-Until he heard you huffing and sighing with next to no intervals in between. Pressing and depressing air from your lungs by sheer force, also as if you’re forgetting too due to something else.

-Then he feels your legs kicking in place under the cover of your shared blanket. Your muscles surely strained by the self imposed, in place exercise. You were clearly horny, and like someone with a headache trying to put a cold rag on there head. When headache medicine isn’t available. You don’t have Miguel’s dick to satiate it. So your fingers suffice.

-Miguel shots his grip towards your wrist, the one permitting pressure to be applied through your vagina. Before you can try to turn around, Miguel’s already on top of you. He’s pinned both your wrists at your sides, you huff previously excited breath across his cheeks. As he’s hovering above you, he inquires in Spanish what made you think that pussy belongs to you.

-You play into the role of the brat which Miguel can’t get enough of, his black boxers already tightening at your needy whining. You attempt to push and shove your way out of his grip. But he just tightens it, almost threatening to crush your dainty wrists compared to his almost Herculean strength.

-Despite the lightless room which boxed you two in, you can see his shit eating grin. Miguel adores when he bosses you around, he feels best when he’s in control. And such an attitude registers amazingly in the bed room. Sure his looks help, but goddamn does he know how to make being submissive feel even better.

-He erases the distance between his lips and your right ear, speaking in plain English. For you to ask nicely for him to fuck you. You don’t want the foreplay to end.

-So you resolve to keep squirming, feeling the wetness already spilled from your pussy to your pants rubbing against his bare thighs. As you tried to kick free. But his body weight itself is the cage, there’s no way to push him off.

-But the fact you tried makes his smile grow, as he whispers again with a chuckle at the start.

“Time to teach you a lesson about touching yourself without my permission Bebita…”

Hobie Brown

-Hobies never been the type to be insecure about your sex lives. Sure his career as a rockstar, his activism, and his usual spidermaning has pulled him away from you more times than he would’ve liked. But all and all it hasn’t damaged your relationship. Doesn’t help you get awfully lonely when he has to embark on a serious mission or concert without you.

-It’s you who gets insecure for the both of you in all honesty. How an accomplished rockstar, superhero, and champion of the people would pick you? After years of dating you’ve yet to deduce how in the sea of supermodels, celebrities, and fellow rockstars who’ve thrown themselves at Hobie. He pushed them all aside and pulled you out, choosing to stay with you. You can’t understand, sometimes it frustrates you.

-Manifesting when he was away again, and you tried to swirl your fingers at your g spot as he was gone. You imagined it was his fingers, expect thinner and shorter. And he’d actually be good at it. Sure you do your best to come by your own hands if hobie was unavailable. But you’re largely unsuccessful, and porn made by men isn’t entirely helpful. You try and try, your growing anger at yourself hits a breaking point.

-Growling like a pissed off puppy on the couch, grabbing a pillow beside you and throwing it at the window. Hobie got hit instead right as he came through, it smacked right on his palm as his spidey sense warned him moments before you threw it.

-You stood up and ran towards him, once he stood on the floor of your home days earlier than he said he’d be back. You hugged him, he chuckled patting your back. He asked if you missed him, you laugh off how of course you didn’t.

-He then spots the used vibrator on the floor, you had forgotten about it. Only when his eyes drew upward next to the couch. Did the memory set itself back into your skull. Before the embarrassment could hit you, like seconds before shock settles in after a punch in the gut.

-Hobie asks almost innocently if you know how, cause he can tell that vibrators looks barely used. And considering how easily you got up to hug him. Your body isn’t pleased at all. You solemnly admit to him, not able to look him in the eyes.

-He grins, taking your hand and heading to bed. Inquiring how he must be away too much for you to not know how to do this. You two have certainly had sex, fantastic sex. But it’s been so long since then, and the fact you’ve never learned how to get yourself off on your own.

-Hobie now feels obligated to teach you how, considering his life will only get busier. And for now you two will have to be apart for longer than he wishes. He’ll certainly help you through it in every way possible.

“Don’ worry love…I’ll help you out real nice.”

Spider-Man Noir

-Noir’s extremely attentive, almost overbearing in some ways. But you two were usually on the same page in regards to that. One day you come down with a flu, the worst one you’ve experienced in your life. You need to take off time from work cause your body’s functionally unable to do anything besides the bare necessities of life.

-You insisted to Noir you don’t need to be watched and can take care of yourself. His habit of overcompensating gets the better of him, and regardless stays with you for a few days on end.

-Doing your dishes for you, cooking for you (with your supervision naturally), and pressing you to stay in bed. Sure the cold was bad but you hate depending on others. Sure noir taught you how to trust and rely on other people. Cause if he can excel anywhere it’s helping people.

-However with your cutting headache, blistering coughs, and your nose being choked by snot. Your patience for his insecurity is thin. You bubble it up not to take it out on him. He’s just trying to help, but goddamn a few moments of privacy would be nice.

-You had to achieve such while protecting his feelings, you know how he’s spent a lot of his life alone. Weather out of unfortunate life circumstances or self-infliction. So the few people he has in his life, it’s hard for him to notice when he’s being clingy.

-Your plan now is to hide the tomato soup cans he bought you. And kindly ask him to get some more from the store. He promises he’ll be right back with the soups. As you then print off a list from your pencil to a paper. Telling him while he’s there might as well get everything else you need. He’s more than willing.

-Once he’s gone, you can finally satiate your horniness. Of course you two haven’t had sex since you’ve gotten sick. You didn’t want to pass around the cold, the last thing Spider-Man needs is to get sick. But you have a hot rod magazine under your bed just in these scenarios.

-Sure they’ll do in absence of your one and only, with your favorite page propped up on your pillow. The naked beautifully toned man staring back at you. As your fingers mined through the space between the walls of your vagina. On your back, with your eyes pushed as far back to keep your vision on the pornography.

-You take your time, having ensured on the list you got him stuff at the back of the store. Which will take him ages and the lines will surely add up in the time it takes.

-Noir bursts in halfway through, seeing everything. Your position, the magazine. Realizing with his detective skills, that you lied to get him to leave the house. You sit up and try to explain away. However, he takes it in stride how he was being overbearing. He sits on the edge of the bed as you get up to sit beside him. How you’re sorry you didn’t just say anything directly, and he promises to trust your word when he’s not needed.

“Thanks darlin, I know I can be…a lot…”

#18+#spiderverse #spiderverse hcs #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara #Peter B Parker #Hobie Brown #Soiderman noir #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #hobie brown x reader #Peter b Parker x reader #spiderpunk #Spider-Man 2099 #Spider-Man #Spider-Man noir x reader #hcs

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voltronisanobsession · 10 months

Text

miguel finding his kid again

I wanted this to be short but I couldn’t help writing so much :/ I just ended it quickly LMAO💀💀

SPIDERVERSE CONCEPT CUZ IVE BEEN OBSESSED

OK SO!! I’ve seen a LOT of headcanons and concepts about Miguel finding his kid in a different universe and just being super protective of them, whether they’re a spider or a normal civilian. But I have a different take on it.

Imagine Miguel and his crew of spider people hunting down this new anomaly that’s been jumping between different universes, always managing to narrowly escape them. Miguel is super frustrated because not one of them is able to capture this villain? Person? Ugh he doesn’t have enough time to care with all the mayhem they’re causing.

This new anomaly, aka Reader, happened to gain these freak new abilities after the events in ITSV that allows them to tear a hole in any universe and travel through it. Of course they have no idea which universe their new powers will take them to so it’s always a 50/50 chance with it.

But the real problem that makes reader a ‘threat’ to the spider society is when they stay too long in a universe, things start slowly glitching out and causing destruction to the world. They’re just too strong that it breaks the balance of any universe they stay in. Kind of like tipping the scale sort of deal!

Which is why homeboy Miguel wants Reader detained asap before they cause a whole universe to collapse on itself. But like! It’s not the readers fault really!! They just don’t know how to control their powers and having a bunch of adults viciously chase them around really does something to a kid (looking at you Miles💀)

But constantly running away from superheroes while wearing a mask does begin painting them in a villain light💔

So imagine Reader gets cornered at last by Miguel, Jess, and some other spiders.

“Guys, I promise it’s not what it looks like. I’m just a normal person, I’m practically harmless!” They say as they bump against the building behind them, watching in horror as it begins to glitch at the contact they made.

Despite the teens voice sounding familiar, Miguel brushes it off and scoffs.

“Ha, harmless. Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

Reader has no idea what the spider society is gonna do to them so they can only glitch a hole in the building behind them and run away in fear. Miguel is absolutely fed up with them and just dashes after Reader, chasing them up buildings as they glitch around. He knows he’s running out of time since this usually only happens when they’re getting ready to open a portal.

He would manage to get a hold of their hoodies sleeve before they go tumbling down to the ground, mask yanked off to properly breath in some air. Reader opens a portal, trying to stand up and stumbling a bit, looking back to Miguel.

Just as he’s about to run towards them and tackle them to the ground, his breath gets caught in his throat, heart suddenly beating erratically.

He recognizes their hair, the shape of their face, sees the fear in their eyes. He literally cannot move. Miguel is frozen at his spot, body trembling at the sight of you. His child. His dead child.

“y/n?” His voice would almost be a whisper, but reader hears. They can only stare in shock at the sound of their name, slowly backing up.

“How do you know my name?”

This dude would get some major flash backs, from his old life, to when he caused a universe’s destruction. Everything he swore to protect, to love, he failed. He failed reader twice, so it’s understandable that Miguel might be a little afraid of you.

He would not move an inch even after readers gone, Jess having to snap him back to reality. Miguel was not ready to get a smack to the face with seeing Reader again after all this time and pain.

This is what I wanted to talk about originally. After seeing his kid again, instead of growing desperate to create a new relationship with them, he’s just afraid. He’s scared of a repeat after what happened before. Miguel wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of reader, they remind him too much of what he’s lost.

I think he would step down in being about of the chase for Reader, he can’t go after them after finding out their his child. Well, in a different universe, their his child. He’s too afraid to face them again. Too afraid of the memories they bring.

It’s only when they accidentally glitch into his office that he’s forced to come face with them again. And when he does, he tries his best to get away from them💀💀💀 like bro is webbing away, powering up his platform and getting lifted up into the air away from them.

Which would totally be fine with Reader hadn’t they been chased down by this man for a couple of weeks. Why isn’t he trying to attack them? What’s the sudden mood change? Is he afraid of what they could do?

They can only clumsily climb their way up to him while asking him questions.

“Um, I know we got off the wrong foot but- urgh! Almost slipped haha! Anyways like I was saying! What’s your name? Oh and why are you trying to get away from me?”

They would be right in front of Miguel, a few feet away from where they’re hanging and he would just turn around, back facing them while they grunt in annoyance.

“You stopped going with your little gang. I know I’ve been zapping all over the place but was it something I did? Hey are you ok??”

Miguel’s body would move as he tries to stifle his quiet sobs at the sound of your voice. Oh god did he miss you. But he can’t get close to reader again. Not after what happened last time.

“I think I have tissue somewhere in my poCKEETTT-!” Miguel’s immediately webbing reader towards him as they slip off the pipe they were standing on, making a free fall

He lets out a shaky breath at the sight of you alright in his arms again. He can’t control his urges as he hugs reader tightly, letting soft apologies fall from his lips.

All this is happening and reader is just so dumbfounded. They could only awkwardly pat his arm and accept his apologies. You didn’t know he was THAT sorry for chasing you around universes.

“I missed you so much. I never wanted that to happen to you, mi corazon. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about man but thanks I guess?”

He’s sniffling as he releases you, eyebrows furrowed as he holds you by the shoulders. It’s only when he realizes reader has no idea who he is that his heart sinks.

“My dad died when I was young. Like toddler young. I never got to know him.”

You don’t know how to feel when Miguel reveals that he was your father, not the same dad from your universe, but a different variant.

This begins the weird growing relationship between the two of them. Miguel tries his best to put distance between them while Reader is just super eager to know more about him! His favorite foods, how he created this spider society, what happened to the different variant of you that clearly has him shaken up!

It would take a bit of time before Miguel slowly lets down his guard again. Allowing reader into his heart again for the third time.

#atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x reader #platonic spiderverse #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x reader #platonic Miguel O’Hara #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderverse miguel #spiderverse concept #miguel atsv #atsv x you

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