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icannotpickanamewtf · 10 months

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The Day The Music Died (Part Two)

(PART ONE)

Possessive!Spot x femSpider!Reader & Possessive!Miguel x femSpider!Reader

Summary: Spot looks for you + you are not up for chatting. Things happen. Shit goes down.

Warnings: Cursing/Sexual themes. Angst. Dark!Spot. Maladaptive behavior.

From that day on, your very first customer, was guess who?

The fucking weirdo.

Every morning he’d come in and pull the same shit.

Saying to open the register, the he was going to rob you, that he was going to hurt you, blah blah blah.

You honestly could not find it funnier.

But he had a little complex about your teasing, so just to ensure the safety of the Parkers, you kept it down to a minimum.

Which wasn’t that helpful.

Part of you even looked forward to his little dramatic entry, he reminded you of a puppy.

It was a morning like any other, Peter in the back, Mr. Parker in his office, and you dealing with an inter dimensional supervillain that seemed hellbent on terrorizing you.

This time, you felt a bit more generous with others so you kept your snark under control a little. You loved the fall weather that broke out in New York during September. Especially that you could dress in comfy long-sleeved sweaters. Man-made heat was the fucking dream.

“Why can’t you just let me rob you!” Spot seemed to rely on whining a lot more nowadays.

“‘Cause that’s not as fun.” You always had a straight face and harsh tone, and you could tell that Spot had adapted to your absence of emotion.

“Please! Please, just let me rob you this once!”

You stayed silent as you looked at him in a daze. Spot’s confidence seemed to have increased as he got much <em>much</em> closer to you over the time he decided to target your little shop.

Now he towered over you as he leaned over the counter.

Was it bad that you kinda liked his height?

His weirdness was definitely rubbing off on you.

But it made you feel something at the very least.

“Coffee? Yes or No.”

You had never bothered to ask with his constant banter, but like you said earlier, you were feeling generous.

Spot seemed a bit flustered at your question and stuttered a bit before finally finding his words again.

“Oh–Oh! Yes! Absolutely yes! I used to love coffee, more than tea really…Well…the thing is…I–I guess I liked it with two creams and one sugar? Four shots of espresso. Whipped cream too.” He leaned over the display as you turned your back to him to make a coffee.

“Are you–Are you making me coffee?”

You only gave a soft noise before continuing on with your work. Soon enough, you held his exact order in your hand.

“Shut up, please.” You thrusted the coffee into his hand, letting him wrap his hands around your right hand that held his coffee.

Spots large palms engulfed yours completely, but for real. Like you literally could not see a bare centimeter of your hand underneath his.

He seemed to notice with how he lingered with both of his hands onto of yours. You could even say he seemed enraptured and pleased with this new found discovery.

“I can’t move my hand. Let go.” You were still as straightforward as always.

If he had a face, you would bet it would definitely be blushing.

“My bad! Sorry..uh…was thinking about–villain things.” He was totally lying.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Spot still seemed out of his element. “Hey…I don’t have any money I can’t–“

“I wasn’t expecting you to pay. Don’t.” You couldn’t care less. Really.

“Oh. Oh, thanks.” Spot relaxed and took a sip of his coffee,

or more like poured it into his face hole.

He made a moan to indicate how good it tasted.

That--was…uhm…a surprise.

Spot didn’t even realize the effect or what that noise sounded like and just kept telling you thank you between sips of coffee.

“Don’t drink too fast. You’ll get sick to your stomach.” You weren’t worried, but you didn’t want to have to deal with radioactive–or whatever the fuck he was made out of–throw up on the floor.

He nodded shyly as he slowed down to enjoy his coffee more.

“Seriously…thank you. This–This is the first time anyone has…” Spot trailed off as he whispered thanks <em>again.</em>

You knew what he was going to say, so you didn’t let him finish.

“Ok.” That was enough talking and being open for today.

“I’m sorry for trying to rob you all this time. Would you–Do you…Do you maybe want to–“

Nope. Nope, you were not going to do this. You were feeling generous and this is what you get. Of–fucking–course.

The bell chimed behind him, causing him to freeze mid sentence.

Thank god for that annoying door for once.

“Bye.”

“Well! Wait–I was thinking–“

You literally just stepped back and pretended to check on Peter in the kitchen. You did not want to deal with--with whatever this was.

When you peaked over to see if Spot was still there, you only saw the new customer examining the muffins that lined up behind the glass.

Walking back out, you looked at the countertop and saw a tiny folded up napkin. A note.

Nope. Nope.

You threw it out before you could think twice.

–––––––––

The next day, when you groggily woke up from your totally amazing sleep last night--

about three hours at best,

you immediately noticed the heatwave that dripped through your body followed by an unreasonable amount of exhaustion.

Oh, a breakdown and a cold.

Yay.

You groaned as you rolled off the safety of your bed and picked up your phone. You called Mr. Parker.

Mr. Parker said your name softly over the phone as you grunted out a brief hello and a quick explanation to why you weren’t coming into work, saying you were on your period.

These…lapses…always made you more snappy and sad. Way too sad to deal with customer service.

So, you would prefer to keep your sanity and lock up inside.

Mr. Parker was more than understanding and you could hear him shouting for Peter to man the counter for the day while he offered to work in the kitchen.

You ended the call before he could even say goodbye and flopped back into your bed. You forgot all about Spot when your head hit the pillow and the soft fabric of your silk pajama top chilled your scalding heat.

—————-

Spot walked into Collin’s Coffee. This time, he was going to ask her. Nothing could stop him. Hell, he was a supervillain.

What if she was secretly horrified with how he looked and just didn’t tell him?

No! She was obviously fine with that. She didn’t even flinch when he attempted to rob her for the first time a few months ago.

Should he be concerned about that?

Too late, since he was already turning the familiar knob to enter the whimsical shop. Spot had to duck in order to fit through the door due to his height. His distorted size was one of his big stand-out features.

Your hand beneath his, covered by the pale expanse of his skin. Clutched around a coffee made for him. He could feel your small knuckles and rough callouses from being burnt from coffee machines. They were soft, natural. They felt perfect in his.

Spot looked up and almost immediately threw out his same old greeting. Expecting to see your dead-faced glare.

Your lips looked soft, plump. He wondered what it would feel like to touch them. What it would feel like to have them on him. You always were honest and spoke to the point. What did you look like flustered? Would you shake under him? Would you hold him? Would you--

You weren’t there.

Some kid with brown hair stood in your spot, eyes wide and jaw unhinged as he stared at Spot.

What?

“Who are you?–“

“What are you?–“ They both said at the same time.

It was the echoing silence that followed that left pinpricks in his skin(?). Where were you?

“Where is she?” Spot asked after a few moments of awkward staring.

“Are you talking about–“

Spot was starting to panic. Who was this kid? Where were you?

“Yes. Where is she.” Static started to seep into his voice and boom throughout the tiny coffee shop.

“Woah! She’s–She’s at home!” The boy clutched the counter as waves of energy swamped him.

“Write down her address, please.” Did that sound creepy? Maybe…but Spot needed to know that you were okay.

You were the only normal, constant, thing in his life left. This was completely reasonable.

“What? No! You–“ The boy, or his name tag said Peter, began to object.

”Now. Address.” Spot started to leer over Peter, intimidating him with the pure strength he held behind his voice.

Peter hastily scribbled down your house number and handed it over with shaky palms. Spot just took it from him and used a portal to travel to the door of your apartment.

Hopefully you were alright.

He could take care of you if you weren’t.

This was him caring after his…well…his….

You never told him what you guys were.

Friend?

Yeah. Friends. Like a partner in crime.

———————

A few knocks racked your wooden door, causing you to wake up for the second time that day.

You were not in the mood to walk the whole six feet to the front door. So you didn’t.

“–Hello? I’m coming in!”

Was that…was that Spot?

Before you could even stop him, a black dot appeared in front of your bed and out came Spot.

“Oh! There you are! You weren’t at work so I–“

Your pajamas consisted of a baby blue silk short-sleeved Macy’s pajama top and skimpy white lace panties that were decorated with Lillies of the valley.

You weren’t even wearing a fucking bra.

“Spot. I’m on my period. Relax and shut up. Leave.” You were too exhausted to even question how he knew your address.

“But do you need anything? I could–“

“I am half naked.”

This seemed to snap Spot out of his 'nanny mode' and into his 'flustered grown man mode.' But he didn’t even have the audacity to pretend to look away.

“Oh! Oh…my bad, sorry. Yep--very sorry.” After looking at you for a bit too long of a time after you admitted your current state, he turned his whole body away from you.

“Get out of my house. Bye.” Sure, it was a little meaner than you intended, but you genuinely were starting to get a headache.

“No.”

“What?” You were stunned.

What did he just say?

Spot the blushing virgin,

Spot the failed robber,

the same Spot that wrung his hands together when you tease him said–

no?

“I said no.”

Huh. So he grew some balls. But just not at the right fucking time.

“Did you not hear me. I said get the fuck out.” You allowed yourself to be a little more mean. You were starting to get annoyed.

“You're annoying me. Leave.”

“No. You are sick. I can take care of you. Just–“ Spot tried to reason with you, even approaching the bed that you laid on.

“Come near me and I’ll sock you in the face.” You were done being nice. You hated being 'sick.'

You especially hated it when others saw you 'sick.'

You were vulnerable when you were 'sick.'

Spot wasn't having it. “Just let me help. I can get you some soup–like chicken noodle or something?”

Shut up.

“I’m vegetarian.”

Please just leave me alone.

“Then vegetable soup! I can steal some soup from the–“

Shut up.

“Don’t.”

Shut. The fuck. Up.

“It’ll be super easy, I can just teleport–“

“Shut up. Please.” You were so confused. Why was he so adamant on this?

“Just go home.” You flipped so you no longer faced him and closed your eyes. Ignoring the problem always made it go away.

It was silent.

Fucking finally.

But weirdly enough, when the echo of silence fell over your room like a weighted blanket, it felt like a stone landed in your gut.

You felt…guilty.

Taglist: @arachnagirl--spidergirl

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