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#peter parker x reader humor
way2geeky · 1 year
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Spider!!! - Stark fam x Stark reader
(Idk what this is really it's just fluff)
Warnings - sibling banter
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*Third Person* 
Y/n walked into the bathroom minding her own business. When all of a sudden, a horrible unthinkable, terrifying thing happened. She pulled back the curtain and saw it. An eight-legged creature that was as big as her hand. A spider. A furry multiple eyed. Probably poisonous spider. That had a look of hatred in its many gross eyes. Y/n let out a shriek a glass breaking kind of shriek. The kind of shriek that will send birds flying away. She ran from the room. Dusting off her body obnoxiously as if the spider miraculously crawled on her. Like somehow, she is now targeted from the spider.  Quickly her siblings came running in all with a look of worry etched on their faces. "OH MY GOD!!" Her brother Peter ran toward her helping her dust off whatever she was dusting off. 
Her baby sister ran up to her with pure fear, "What's wrong Y/n" "Spider! Big spider! Peter go kill it." Peter backed away, "No!" "What, why not?" "Because it's a big spider what if it tries to eat me or something." "Eat You! Peter It's a Spider?" He through his hands in the air exasperated "I don't like spiders, their freaky." Morgan and I stopped our little fear fest to look at our brother. Peter looked a little embarrassed, I turned my head slowly to look at Morgan she had the same look on her face. "But your spiderman?" Morgan asked innocently, I nod agreeing with her, "Yeah, she has a point, Pete. I Mean it's literally your whole thing." He rubbed his neck anxiously; I mean he is Spiderman. "What happened to doing everything a spider can?" Morgan asked stepping forward and putting her hands on her hips. 
"Well, I didn't ask for the spider powers, I got bit?" Morgan perked up excitedly, "You got bit by a spider, and you got superpowers?" Peter and I looked at each other apprehensively, see Morgan has been going through a superpower phase. Since Peter and I are mutants, and our dad is Iron Man. As understandable it is we have to watch her with a super charged lab downstairs. Peter nodded nervously at the little five-year-old. "Cool." She said simply, Peter and I looked at each other satisfied with the response. "Look, all were saying is it's weird that you're afraid of spiders and your Spiderman that's all." "Well, you know what you have ice powers, why don't you just freeze it huh?" Actually, that's a good point. "Well because it will make the tub all freeze then I'll sleep and fall you want me to slip and fall." "You know that's not what I meant." "Well, I'm just saying - Wait where's Morgan?" "Morgan!" "You don't think that she would try and get bit, do you?" Peter's face dropped, "Oh my God." We both ran into the bathroom and the spider was squished and Morgan sat on the toilet seat holding her arm. "Morgan?" She looked up at us tears running down her cheeks. 
"You never said it would hurt!" She said running into my arms. "Honey, we never said get bit by a spider." She just cried into my arms. Burying her head into my chest. "Come on let's go get dad." I picked her up and we all walked down to the lab where Dad and Uncle Bruce was working. "Dad, Morgan got bit by a spider." "What how?" "Well, that's actually a funny story." I said smiling. He just glared at me; I sucked in a breath "It's Peters fault." I said giving him Morgan. Holding her tightly he said, "Get out of my lab." I nodded hurriedly "Good Idea." 
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orangeboulevard · 2 months
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Seven: Climb (Venom!Reader x AndrewGarfield!Spiderman)
Summary: Peter Parker should know that anything can go wrong will go wrong on his patrols.
Word Count: 578
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"I do not understand you!" A voice with an odd inflection and guttural tone bombarded Peter's ears.
"We can't just eat anyone, okay? Why is that so hard to understand?"
Peter noted a different voice, its sound was much kinder to Peter's intensified hearing but its actual words left him stupefied. Peter Parker, clad in his Spider-Man costume, had been absentmindedly scaling the side of a building on his patrol when he found himself eavesdropping on a very unusual conversation.
"You said 'bad people', he was clearly a bad person, he was stealing!" The first voice argued.
"Stealing baby wipes and diapers! We don't eat people like that." Peter had to keep himself from leaping from the wall, there were cannibals on that rooftop! Cannibalism is definitely on his list of no-nos.
"Human morals are too complicated to understand. My own race follows no such stupid rules, it is as your Darwin would say 'survival of the fittest'."
"That's why you're on Earth because you're definitely not the fittest-" This statement was met with an indignified roar that almost made Peter shit himself. "-And how do you even know about Darwin?... Have you been on the internet again!?"
"..."
"I told you no web surfing while I sleep!" "It is very boring! I cannot help myself!" "I can't believe you!"
Peter had heard enough damning evidence to bring these people in, the strange and sick cannibals that they were, so with a swift movement- he launched himself up and landed on the roof. Oddly, he only found one person instead of two. He tilted his head and almost jumped back in sheer fear as the person transformed into a dark towering beast.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
"Aw, is the little spider afraid? You should be. The tasty meal that you are."
"There will be no eating or snacking of any kind, thank you very much!" Peter squeaked out, feeling very much out of his depth with this new adversary. 
The huge creature scrambled towards him on all fours eliciting an unmanly shriek from the young man as he flung himself out of reach of it. It turned to follow him but before it could, it transformed back into the recognisable shape of a human. Peter let out a shaky breath as you held your hands up. 
"Sorry, sorry! Spider-Man, right? Aw, man. I'm a huge fan. Sucks we have to meet like this." Peter felt whiplash at the difference in the interactions, he couldn't respond with how perplexed and dumbfounded he was.
A serpentine black sludge erupted from your neck, it curled around to face you, and all of its razor-sharp white fangs were born, "I am hungry, I do not care about who Spider-Man is or your attraction to him!"
You splutter, face heating up, "What? No, I'm not- such slander! How preposterous!"
Peter ran a gloved hand down his face before leaping down to be face to face with you, "I'm sorry but what the hell is going on right now? What IS that? Do you have a sentient tapeworm?"
"TAPEWORM?"
"Sorry! Not a tapeworm, sorry!"
You cough and stuff your hands into your pockets, and you begin to ramble, "He's just an alien, picked him up a while ago, and he's just uhh carnivorous. Don't take me to the police, please, you're so sexy ahaha."
Peter tilted his head in confusion.
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the-underthinker · 1 year
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MASTERLIST
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Avengers
Series
- The Avengers are actually Crack Addicts.
Description: Quite Frankly, you’re all idiots. How you guys are able to save the world so many times is an anomaly even you don’t understand, but you try not to think too much about it when you’re having fun.
1 2 3 4 5 
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Steve Rogers
Series
- Home 
Description: Steve Rogers is attempting to find a new purpose in this new world. It isn’t until one day when he decides to finally embark on one last mission before hanging up the suit, that he encounters a few moments with someone who is in need of guidance—just like him.
1 2 3
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liliacamethyst · 9 months
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Web of Shadow and Light (Part III)
Sequel to Webs of Fate
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Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2 K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine
Part I Part II Part III
The Spider-HQ echo with an unsettling symphony - a child's piercing cries and the hushed whispers of concern from some of the multiverse's bravest Spider heroes. They stand clustered around the smallest yet most powerful disturbance they've ever encountered - a baby boy. His wails have been echoing through the HQ since Miguel left the room, leaving the baby and dozens of Spider-man behind. Each cry is a call for help that pulls at their hearts, demanding attention, challenging their patience.
After much deliberation and coaxing from the rest, Miguel gave his team an ultimatum - they have until dawn to find an alternative solution, before Gabriel has to be eliminated, before the universe collapses on itself. His voice was a cold whisper when he spoke, "Figure out another way by tomorrow morning, or..." Nobody dares to complete the sentence, not even Miguel, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. And with that Miguel was gone, and the baby immediately started wailing and hasn’t stopped since.
Now Gwen, with her brows knitted in worry, rocks the baby with desperate gentleness. Her blue eyes are bright with unshed tears, a look of sheer helplessness painting her usually confident face. Beside her Peter B. is attempting to cheer Gabriel up but his efforts as pointless as they are endearing. The usually funny and charming Peter B seems to be losing a battle of wits with a one-year-old. It would've been humorous, had the situation been any different.
The sight of the little baby boy weeping his heart out, oblivious to the chaos his presence is causing tugs at their hearts, binding them in a collective resolution - they must protect this child. The shadows and the light, entwined in this web they’ve all been thrown into. And the clock is ticking.
Hobie scoops up the little boy, cradling him close in an attempt to soothe his relentless tears. "See, the cow says muhhhhh," he coos. His tiny cries falter, curiosity momentarily replacing distress. He gazes at Hobie with wide eyes, intrigued by the cool looking man. "And the butterfly," Hobie pauses dramatically, "well, the butterfly don’t say nothin’." He continues his little game, while rocking the baby gently in his arms. "And the pig says-"
 Miles chimes in with an eager grin, "Oink, Oink."
"Nah, bruv," Hobie laughs. “The pig says, ‘You have the right to remain silent!’”
Gabriel’s face scrunches up, and the waterworks start again. Hobie chuckles, "Fair enough, little fella. Cops make me wanna cry too."
Meanwhile Jessica Drew, clad in her black and white Spider-Woman outfit, her dark locks cascading around her shoulders, is leaning against the doorframe, half entering the room, her eyebrows raised. "Well? I assume he didn’t stop crying?“
Beside her Peter B.  with his shaggy brown hair and five o’ clock beard just shakes his head. 
“This is nuts. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is working.“ Gwen states.
In the background, the cries of baby Gabriel cotinue, little fists flailing as he continued his tantrum. Jessica, arching an eyebrow, comments, “He’s still going at it?”
Hobie Brown, just gives her a quick nod. “Oh yeah, the kid has got a set of lungs.”
Suddenly, Pavitr Prabhakar, yelps as a makeshift toy, made out of wood and spiderwebs, hit him square in the forehead. "Ow! And one hell of arm throw."
Methodically, Jessica starts running through a mental checklist. “Diaper?”
Peter B. Parker nods. “Clean.”
“Food?” Jessica glances at Miles who holds a baby food jar and a bent spoon.
Miles, in his black and red suit, shrugs. “Kept smacking the spoon out my hand.”
“Nap?” Jessica's questions further.
The entire room answer in unison, clearly frustrated “Literally the first thing we tried.”
Pavitr smirkes at them. “Jinx.” But his joke is short-lived as Gabriels screams become even louder.
Gwen, then takes charge, “Ok, we have to do something,” her eyes flicking around the room with determination. She points to Jess, “You have to talk to Miguel. You’ve been around him the longest, maybe you can get through to him.”
Jess looks hesitant but nods.
“And Peter,” Gwen turns to Peter B who’s still juggling items in his hands, to entertain the baby and stop his crying. “Get Mayday’s toys. Maybe the baby’s just bored.”
Peter gives a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”
“And Pav, Hobie,” Gwen instructs, her voice steady. “You need to rally the other Spider-people. We need everyone on board to protect this little guy.”
“Margo, you’re with me, girl. We are  paying our old friend Lyla a little  surprise visit. Something’s a little fishy with her.” Margo nods eagerly. 
As everyone scatters into action, Miles stands there, looking slightly lost and raising his hands. "Hey, guys, you forgot about me! What am I supposed to do? How can I help?" he calls out to the rapidly moving group.
Pav whirls around and points at Miles, "You, take care of the little guy, newbie," he says, as Hobie thrusts the still crying baby into Miles' arms.
"Great," Miles grumbles, balancing Gabriel on his hip and looking down at the squirming bundle of tears.
 He starts to bounce up and down gently, trying to imitate what he's seen in movies. The baby continues to cry, unfazed by Miles' efforts.
“Alright buddy, let’s figure this out together. I can swing through New York, so how hard can babysitting be?” Miles whispers to the baby.
Hours drag on and Gabriel's relentless cries continue to echo through the HQ. Despite his earnest attempts, Miles, armed with only his spider powers and limited babysitting experience, is unsuccessful in calming the baby. He’s tried everything he can think of – makinf funny faces, telling funny stories in a soothing tone, gently swinging him back and forth with his web-slinging skills, and even humming a little tune (it was Humble by Kendrick Lamar, but the thought counts, right?). At one point, he even tried to entertain the baby by creating animals out of webbing, but that didn’t work either. The baby is relentless, and his cries only seem to get louder. 
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In the meantime in Miguel’s office, the echoing cries penetrate through the walls. Migel is sitting behind his desk looking at some documents, while Jess stands in front of him.
“Please, Miguel, it’s a baby boy. How did you imagine doing this, huh?” Jess exclaims, her voice rising. “Did you plan to build some sort of machine to just vaporize him? Or did you think of strangling him with your own bare hands? I know you’re not a monster.” But Miguel's face remains stoic, his eyes never leaving the papers on his desk.
“And look,” Jess continues, pointing vaguely in the direction of where the baby’s cries are coming from, “this baby is already older, and nothing has collapsed yet. The universe is still here.”
“I can’t risk any more lives, Jess,”Miguel responds coldly, finally looking up at her.
“But what if there is another way? We haven’t even tried everything. We have brilliant minds here. Let’s...let’s figure something out that doesn’t involve.. that,” Jess pleads, her voice softening.
Miguel looks at her for a long moment but his expression remains unreadable. The cries of the baby continue to fill the air.
Jess then turns her gaze towards Lyla, , who is stationed nearby, her holographic interface flickering with data. “Lyla, what are the kid’s powers? Run a genetics test, a DNA test. We need something to work with.” 
Lyla’s synthetic voice answers in an eerily calm tone, "I have already processed the genetic information, Jessica. Thanks very much, genius. As per my findings, the child’s power attributes remain undefined. In regards to the DNA test..."
Lyla hesitates just a fraction of a second, but enough for Miguel to notice. It's an unexpected response from an AI that's programmed to be efficient and direct. A strange tingle rises within him but he pushes it aside, refocusing on the matter at hand.
“is inconclusive.” Jess squints at Lyla. “Inconclusive? What do you mean? Is he an anomaly or not?”
“He’s an anomaly, certainly. However, the DNA analysis is...complicated,” Lyla maintains her composed tone. “Complicated how?” Jess presses on. “Just...unfamiliar and intermingled genetic markers,” Lyla responds vaguely. “The child is an enigma.”
"Miguel, please" she continues, turning back to Miguel, clearly frustrated with Lyla's vague responses that are not helping her case. Her tone is still serious, "this isn't some variation of a monster, this is a baby."
For a moment, Miguel’s gaze flickers, his usual icy aura briefly wavering. "It doesn't matter," he finally grunts, closing his eyes as if to physically shut out the argument. Jessica's voice turns unexpectedly brittle. "I didn't join the Society to kill innocent kids."
Miguel clenches his jaw hard. "We do what we have to do for the greater good. No exceptions." Jessica takes a deep breath, her next words coming out almost in a whisper. "What if there was my Gerald or a version of your-" she begins, but is quickly cut off.
"DON’T. Don't even go there, Jessica" Miguel growls, his hand forming into a tight fist. "And why the hell is it still crying?"
Jessica's gaze softens slightly. "That child, that little boy, probably misses his parents. Parents who are going through hell right now, searching for their baby." Miguel's fist tightens further, a spark of something, maybe regret, guilt,  flashing in his eyes. Jessica presses on trying one last time to convince him. "He was found in 586, right? Maybe we can reconnect with Su-" 
"No," Miguel interrupts sharply, his voice a final command. “Until tomorrow morning, Jess,” he finally says in a low voice, putting an end to Jess’ outburst. “That’s all. You can leave now.” 
There’s a heavy silence, where the only sound is Gabriel’s distant crying.
Jessica looks at Miguel, her gaze piercing. "Think about what you’re doing, Miguel," she whispers and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.
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In the heart of the HQ, Margo sifts through the labyrinth of Lyla's concealed data. She uncovers a file that captures her attention – the baby's DNA results. "There you are," she mutters to herself, an air of triumph in her voice. As she opens the file, her eyes widen in disbelief, "Oh no…“
"What is it, Margo?" Gwen asks making her way over to Margo.
Margo's voice trembles slightly. "So, while looking through the hidden data, I found the baby's... there was a parental match."
Gwen's heart skips a beat. “I knew something was was off with Lyla. Of course she knows more. Well, who are the little guy's parents?"
Margo hesitates, then blurts out, "Miguel and Sunny."
Gwen stops dead in her tracks, her mind reeling. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
"The baby's mother is Sunny, and the father is Miguel," Margo reiterates, her voice steady.
Gwen eyes widen. "But... are you sure? I know Sunny's baby. I was there when baby Gabriel was born!“
"Yes, I'm sure. There were two parental matches for the baby in the spider DNA logs:Sun Spider and Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time you saw the baby, Gwen? Babies change quickly at that age." Margo confirms. 
"Miguel and Sunny? That's not possible... how have we never noticed that there's something going on between those two?" Gwen's mind whirls with confusion.
"Oh, I noticed," Margo's voice holds a hint of smugness, "The way he was sneaking into her room at night? And the way he looked at her every time she set foot in a room, like a lovesick puppy. It was adorable. Wait, nobody else noticed?"
Gwen splutters, taken aback, "What? No, I... well, he's all 'we need to sacrifice ourselves to protect the multiverse. No more traveling for fun'" she imitates Miguel's voice with a teasing lilt, then she adds, "And Sunnys is literally the personification of a warm embrace."
Gwen's mind whirls but she continues, “ Woah, okay lets focus on the important part. I mean, I knew something was wrong with Lyla, but why... why would she do that?"  
"There's more, Gwen," Margo says, her voice shaking slightly. "I found another thing in her data. It's... it's about how she's processing information."
Gwen frowns, "What do you mean?"
Margo takes a deep breath before explaining, "In simple terms, Lyla's been teaching herself new things. She's changing, growing beyond her original programming. Her code is self-evolving."
"And the data about the baby?" Gwen asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Margo sighs, "She's been... twisting it, making the baby seem more dangerous than it actually is."
Gwen's mind reels with this new information, the world around her seeming to tilt. "But why?" she finally manages to ask. "Why would Lyla do this?"
"I don't know, Gwen," Margo admits. "But we need to find out and warn Miguel. And soon."
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Meanwhile in Miguels office, the wailing becomes louder, almost as if piercing through the walls, trying to reach something, or someone. Miguel's face betrays his discomfort, as if the cries are tugging at his walls around his heart. There's a weight on his chest, something unidentifiable that makes it hard to breathe.
Suddenly Lyla’s holographic interface hums. She begins to show the outline various strategies for eliminating the child. Her voice, analtytic but almost cheerful, fills the room. “So, we could create a temporal displacement field, effectively erasing the child from existence. Or perhaps expose him to a slow-acting molecular destabilizer..." 
 "Based on the trial," she continues unfazed by Miguel’s lack of response. "the device should work as intended, wiping out any of its DNA and trace. Be like the anomaly never existed." There's a hint of satisfaction in her words.
Miguel, until now staring blankly at the wall, finally turns towards Lyla, his complexion pale and his eyes wide.
His insides twist painfully, the mere idea of bringing harm to this innocent child becoming now unbearable.
“Stop,” Miguel chokes out.
“Apologies, Miguel. We must consider all options for preserving the multiverse. You out of all people should know that,”Lyla retorts.
But something within Miguel snaps. His ice-cold distant facade crumbles. Rising abruptly, his chair clatters loudly onto the floor.
Without saying another word, he strides out of his office. “Miguel? Are you listening? Where are you going?” Lyla calls after him, but her words are unanswered in the empty room.
Walking down the hallway, Miguel slows down as he passes the room where the infant's cries come from. He pauses when he hears Miles' pleas inside.
“Little dude, if you stop crying promise I’ll get you some cool kicks. Maybe some baby Jordans? Please, please just stop crying,” Miles pleads, his voice sounding desperate and utterly exhausted.
After a moment hesitation, Miguel pushes open the door and steps into the room. His gaze, sterner than ever, as he takes in the scene: Miles looking near defeat, his energy spent trying to soothe the wailing child, his spider suit rumpled and hair disheveled.
"Enough," Miguel comms sharply.
Miles looks up from where he's been pacing with the baby, his eyes wide like he's just been caught stealing cookies from a jar. “You,” Miguel points at Miles, who is holding the still-crying baby. His voice booms with authority. “Put him down”
Miles, slightly dumbfounded, obeys and carefully lays the child down on his makeshift bed. “I need you to return to Earth 586. Get some of his belongings - toys, blankets, anything you can find," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"But Miguel--" Miles startsbut gets cut off immediately.
"Now," he says, his red eyes flashing dangerously. Miles opens the portal hastily and disspears to your universe.
The crying has subsided to whimpers, and Miguel finds himself kneeling next to the little one, who reaches out for him. As if on autopilot, Miguel’s hands scoop him up abruptly from the bed.
"Quiet, niño. "Miguel growls at him with a  low and threatening tone. "I could just... do it right now." His irritation gets the better of him, and he bares his fangs at the little one. This sight shocks Gabriel into silence for a moment, his big, teary eyes widening at the sight. 
But then, to Miguel's surprise, the baby breaks into a fit of giggles, the sound infectious and joyous.
Gabriel suddenly mimics Miguel, baring his own little teeth – two tiny milk teeth and the beginnings of baby fangs peeking from his gums, causing Miguel to stiffen in shock.
Caught off guard Miguel's hold slips and Gabriel lands back on the web-shaped bed with a bounce. The baby's laughter ends abruptly and is replaced once more with tears and cries.
Still in shock, Miguel stumbles back a step, but Gabriel's cries soon pull him back into the present. With a sigh, he picks up the little boy yet again andGabriel immediately snuggles into the crook of Miguel’s neck, his tiny arms winding tightly around his throat.  Miguel swallows hard, unsure of what to do next. 
Then, almost instinctively, he starts to hum a tune he thought he'd long forgotten. "Tú eres mi sol de la mañana, el sol que brilla..." His voice is barely audible, the words shaky. Gabriel's little body relaxes against him, a content sigh escaping his lips followed by a quiet yawn. He nuzzles closer to Miguel, his tiny breaths falling into sync with the rhythm of the song. "...alegra todo, mi corazón," Miguel coninues softly, his mind flooding with memories. He sees a bright, lively girl with the same curious eyes as the boy in his arms. 
"Daddy," Gabriella asks, her large eyes bright with curiosity as she looks up at him, "why do you call me your morning sun? I'm not yellow."
Miguel chuckles at her innocence, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He cradles her against his chest, looking into those eyes so full of wonder. "No, mija" he replies, his voice soft with affection "you're not yellow but you are my sunshine."
"But why?" She wrinkles her little nose, her childish curiosity making Miguel's heart fill up with love.
"Because, mijita," he begins, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, "just like the sun, you light up my world. You chase away the darkness with your laughter and your love. You are warmth, you are joy, and just like the morning sun, you are a new beginning, a promise of a brighter day." 
Gabriella blinks up at him, her lips curving into a small, and she hides her smile in the crook of his neck. "I like that, Papi," she whispers, "Sing the song again, please?"
“brilla, conmigo, brilla que brilla, alegrandome esta cancion. Tu eres mi sol de la manana…“
Eyes closed, Miguel draws Gabriel unconsciously closer, his heart full, and for the first time he’s feeling a sense of contentment he hasn't experienced in years. 
The moment is shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared, pulling him abruptly out of his peaceful trance.
Peter B is standing in the doorway, arms loaded with various dolls. "Wow, he's finally asleep," he remarks, looking between Miguel and the now sleeping Gabriel with a relieved smile. "I was starting to think that was impossible." 
Without responding, or even sparing a glance in Peter's direction, Miguel turns away from the door and heads to the bed. He gently places the sleeping toddler down, pulling a small blanket over him. Once he's confident that Gabriel is settled, Miguel quietly leaves the room, his demeanor as frosty and aloof as ever, making no acknowledgment of Peter's presence. 
Peter B is quick on his feet, rushing after Miguel. "I brought him toys from Mayday," he blurts out. "She won't miss them. She's not too good at sharing, but I guess she won’t mind in this case."
Miguel continues his stride, not giving Peter so much as a backward glance. "Que maravilla," he mutters under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring the dismissal, Peter B. reaches out and places a hand on Miguel's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Miguel raises an eyebrow and glances back at him half-heartedly, clearly not interested in a conversation.
Peter takes a moment, his gaze intensifying. "Hey, boss," he begins, his voice shaky yet determined. "We can't let anything happen to this boy, right?" 
At Peter's words, Miguel closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.
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Back on Earth 586, you're in the throes of a meltdown. Your little boy, Gabriel, is nowhere to be found. You've scoured the whole city of Nea Yorkey, every nook and cranny you can think of, but there's no trace of him anywhere. Desperation gnaws at your insides, and fury bubbles up, hot and fierce. Your mind is in turmoil, swirling with anger and fear, clouding your ability to think straight. One thing is crystal clear though: whoever dared to touch your child will pay dearly for their actions.
You're frantically trying to find a way to contact anyone from the Spider Society, while simultaneously considering every possible avenue to traverse the multiverse yourself. Alchemax - the multinational conglomerate known for its cutting-edge research and technological advancements - seems to be your only hope. As you're about to make your way there, a sound from Gabriel's room stops you in your tracks.
Your Spider senses, already on high alert due to the unexpected circumstances, seem to kick into overdrive. Every instinct within you screams that something is about to happen. Your heart pounds in your chest like a wild drum as you slowly approach the room.
Meanwhile, in Gabriel's room, Miles is having his own share of troubles. In his haste, he stumbles over a toy car that starts making an assortment of noises and brightly lit animations. "Ah, this stupid toy!" he curses under his breath.
A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he wonders aloud, "Wait, does he need a blanket?" Just as he's about to reach for a small bunny stuffed animal that lay discarded on the floor, an intense blast of sonic energy sweeps across the room.
Caught by surprise, Miles finds himself flung across the room, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Before he can even let out a gasp, a spider web shoots out, pinning him securely against the wall. There he hangs, suspended, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he attempts to comprehend what just happened. Well its safe to say he didn’t saw that coming.
Miles, still stuck against the wall, manages to blurt out, "Who are you?"
"Who am I?" you echo, incredulity lacing your tone. "You break into my son's room and ask me whoI am?"
Your mind races as Miles stammers, "Wait, your son's room? Wait, are you...are you a Spider-person aswell?"
Ignoring his question, you stride towards him, an aura of threat radiating off you. "Stop talking!" you command, "I ask the questions!" In your hand, a ball of solar energy forms, crackling with power and casting a glow across the room.
"Why are you here? Where is my son?" The words are more of a growl than a question, the motherly instincts in you sending waves of danger rippling across the room. "Your son is okay, please don't hurt me!" Miles pleads with a shaky fear laced voice.
Squirmy and visibly frightened, Miles stammers out his confession, "We-we took him...it was our mission... He's an anomaly...we needed to get him out of this universe, send him to his own, so it wouldn’t collapse and interfere with the multiverse...but he doesn't have one, and I'm so sorry..."
His voice dwindles to a murmur, words tumbling over one another in his haste. Amidst his ramblings, your icy inquiry slices through like a blade, "Who instructed you?"
A sharp wince contorts his face, betraying his fear. "Our boss..." he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "Miguel... Miguel O'Hara."
The energy in your hand dissipates, leaving only shock in its place. It's almost too much to take in - the idea that Miguel, your Miguel, could have done something like this. "He's okay, we... we didn't know he was the son of a Spider-woman. I'm Miles Morales, by the way." he introduces himself, attempting to inject some normalcy into the situation.
"I'm Spider-Sun," you respond automatically, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.
"Wait … you?" Miles' eyes widen in recognition. "You're Sunny?" When you give a numb nod in response, he continues, "You look more like 'Stormy' if you ask me." Your gaze snaps to Miles, the intensity of your death glare immediately silencing his attempt at humour. "Sorry, sorry," he stammers, raising his hands in surrender. "I just...I've heard Gwen and Peter talk about you."
"They never stop talking about you," Miles continues, trying to regain his composure. "They always say you have such a radiant personality and how much they miss you. They take care of your son, don’t worry. Hes safe for now.” 
"What do you mean he's safe 'for now'?" you cut him off abruptly, your voice cold and hard. Miles gulps nervously before responding.
"Eh...we have until morning to find a solution for this...anomaly," he stammers. You interrupt him, seething with a fury that makes him cringe. "My son's name is Gabriel. He is not an 'anomaly'," you spit out the words like they are poison, hating the way they make your sweet little boy sound like some kind of mistake.
"Eh, yes, for Gabriel," Miles corrects hastily, "because, eh... if we don't find an alternative, they need to, eh...eliminate..." He trails off, speaking so quickly and softly that you almost don't catch his last word.
"ELIMINATE?????" You scream and for a split second, Miles is sure he sees your eyes blaze with a terrifying, luminating light. 
"We can stop them. We can talk to them and say it's your son," Miles says quickly, desperately hoping to calm you.
"I don't talk. Bring me to my son," you demand. Without wasting another moment, you order him to open the portal. "Y-yes, right away, Sunn... eh, Mrs. Sun, eh... Ma'am," he stammers, visibly trembling under your steely gaze.
 It takes him two shaky attempts before he manages to successfully open the portal, his hands still unsteady from the encounter.
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Back at the headquarters, Peter chases after Miguel into his office. "Boss, all I'm saying is, what if Lyla is wrong?"
Miguel is pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The weight of the situation is quickly becoming too overwhelming and he feels himself teetering dangerously close to his breaking point.
Just at that moment, Gwen, Pav, Margo and Hobie burst into the office, their faces set withdetermination. "Miguel, there’s something you need to know.  Please hear us out. Margo and I, we found something.Lyla is - ," Gwen starts but Miguel is quick to silence her with a raised hand.
Just as Miguel is about to speak, the lights flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the room. Hobie looks around nervously. "Is that eh...normal?"
Peter quirks an eyebrow. "Did you forget to pay the electricity bill?" 
The lights flicker even more violently, plunging the room into a dance of shadow and light.
With a violent burst, the door is flung open, and a brilliant surge of light blinds everyone. You stand in the doorway, an ethereal aura glowing around you.
"O'Hara!" Your voice thunders through the room, heavy with wrath and revenge. As Miguel turns around to face the source of the sound, a massive, lightning-tinged sonar blast slams directly into his chest. He's pushed backward, knocked off balance before he can brace himself for the attack. He tries to recoverr, to shift into defense mode but he doesn't get the chance. You're relentless, a solar goddess in human form, hurtling blast after blast at him. Miguel has no time to regain his stance, each attack landing with more force than the last. 
Gwen makes to step forward, her instincts screaming at her to intervene, but Peter grabs her arm, pulling her back. "That's Sunny," he says, his voice a mixture of awe and concern. Hobie's eyes widen comically. He cocks his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Our Sunny, eh? Blimey, I never knew she had it in her. That rebellious firecracker," he mutters, a distinct note of admiration creeping into his typically laid-back British drawl.
Miles bursts into the room, breathless and disheveled. He stumbles towards Gwen, his voice hurried and concerned, "I tried to stop her, but she was...she was furious. Woahhh, I've never seen Miguel get beaten like this before."
And he wasn't exaggerating. Miguel was fighting back, his fangs bared, his claws out and ready but he was no match for your rage-fueled attacks. You were right up in his face, delivering punch after punch at a brutal pace
"Where's my son, O’Hara? What have you done to him?" you demand, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
At your words, Miguel's movements falter. His defense wavers, and he barely manages to gasp out, "Your son?" He doesn't dodge your next blow, doesn't attempt to shield himself or strike back. Instead, he allows you to continue.
Miguel is shocked. His reflexes kick in as he sees the next punch coming and he grabs your wrist, halting your next powerful punch aimed for his face. He locks eyes with you, his gaze holding an emotion you've never seen in him before. Is it fear? No, it's much deeper, more profound.
As he stares at you, your luminescent eyes gradually lose their fiery intensity, shifting back to their human form.
"I... I didn't know," Miguel stammers, his voice a trembling whisper. "Lo – lo siento. I – I didn’t know.”
His breaths are ragged, and you can see a war waging inside him.
"But...how?How didn’t I know?" His voice is choked, your wrist still securely in his grip. “Your son?” Miguel continues,his voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours and all he sees is raw, untamed anger with an aching pain that pierces his soul.
“Yes, MY son!” your voice echoes through the room like a whip. “Did you think that you could just take him from me? That I wouldn't come for him?”
Miguel’s grip on your wrist loosens as he stumbles back. His heart feels like it’s about to explode as realization dawns on him. The dark curls, the small fangs the baby had bared at him –pieces of a puzzle start falling into place. His own blood runs cold.
“Where is he, Miguel? Where’s myGabriel?” your voice breaks as you say the name, and it feels like another punch to Miguel's gut.
“Gabr...” Miguel chokes. “No... no...”
His voice is barely audible, the air knocked out of him by the significance of the name. His knees buckle, and he falls on the floor. "NO."
“You, who I thought would protect any child, wanted to eliminate my – our – flesh and blood!” Tears, full of anger and hurt, stream down your face, but your voice doesn't waver one bit. 
Miguel, still on the floor, looks up at you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear on my life, on Gabriella’s memory. I-I wanted to do the right thing. I- I never, -Lo siento.” 
There’s a moment of tense silence as you look down at the shattered man before you,the love of your life, the father of your child, who almost made the most horrifying, unforgivable mistake.
Just then, from another room, the faint sound of a baby's cries pierce through the heavy atmosphere. You abruptly yank your wrist out of his grasp and towards the door to leave.
Your heart clenches as you break into a run, following the pitiful cries. You don’t look back.
Miguel remains on his knees. He doenst follow you, he doesn’t dare to move, anchored by the crushing weight of what he's done, as the sounds of Gabriel's cries fade into the background.
"Gabriel," he whispers, the name escaping his lips like a vow. A promise of redemption. And with that single word, Miguel knows he'll move heaven and earth to protect his child.
Part 4 "Webs of Redemption"
Hello, you wonderful souls! I want to say a big thank you for your patience and kind words about this series. I really appreciate each of your sweet comments and messages – they mean so much to me. Thank you all for the insightful ideas and suggestions you contributed for part 3. I've incorporated as many of your concepts as I could because they're simply brilliant. I'm eager to hear more of your thoughts, criticisms, and proposals for part 4. I also want to give a special thanks to Jess, @wolfjessedragon . Her inspiration and amazing ideas were the driving force behind Part 3, and I couldn't have written it without her! love you guys, keep being awesome!
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fangswbenefits · 10 months
Text
Revelations
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel asked you to keep a secret, so naturally everyone is about to find out.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
No warnings! Just a humorous drunk!reader drabble :)
“How much did she have to drink?”
“Maybe three beers?”
“Oh, she’s out of it.”
“How so?”
“She’s been tellin’ everyone she has a boyfriend.”
Jessica Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “Who?”
Hobie merely shrugged.
You threw them a death glare before trying to negotiate with Peter Parker for another bottle, but all to no avail.
“Please! Give me another one,” you whined, sitting down with a thump on the chair oposite to his. “I’m not drunk!”
“How many fingers am I holding up, then?”
You shove his hand away. “Seven… don’t be silly!”
He banged his hand on the table. “See? You have zero tolerance.”
“You have seven fingers on that hand, Jerry!”
“Who’s Jerry?”
You gasped loudly at the sight of Gwen sitting to your right. “When did you get here?”
“What? I was here the whole time.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Gwen, take a good look at her,” he mustered a serious voice. “You don’t want this to happen when you grow up.”
You leant back in your seat with a sigh of frustration. “I want Miguel.”
“Miguel�� O’Hara?”
“Gwen, she’s drunk,” you heard Peter whispering.
“Hey! What did we miss?”
Miles and Pavitr nade their way through the busy crowd of fellow spiders, each holding a glass of apple juice.
“Took you some time!” Peter beamed with a wife smile, scooting to the side so they could join the group at the table. “Nice job, kids. The mission was a success.”
“Miguel seemed unimpressed,” Miles grumbled into the heel of his hand.
Peter hid a bottle away before you could snatch it from him, earning a grunt. “I’m sure he’s delighted!”
“Yeah? That’s his delighted face? Looked like someone had just threatened to break canon.”
Pavitr patted his back. “That’s just his regular face, Miles.”
“But he’s really hot…” you said dreamily with an ear-to-ear smile, leaning into Hobie’s shoulder.
Multiple pairs of eyes blinked at you.
Pavitr spoke first. “Miguel?”
Both Miles and Gwen were looking at you like you’d grown a third arm.
“Maybe we should get him here?” You heard Jess saying from behind you. “And you,” her hands gripped both your shoulders to straighten you up in your seat. “You need to sober up.”
You stuck out your tongue as the other spider-woman brought her travel watch to eye-level.
“Lyla, I’m guessing Miguel doesn’t want to come, but—”
The AI cut Jess off with a cheeky smile. “He’s on his way, actually.”
“Miguel is coming?” Peter beamed, unable to contain his excitement.
“Great!” You clapped your hands a couple of times, eager to see him.
Hobie took a sip of his drink. “Bet he’s gonna ruin the vibe.”
Miles nodded right away.
You were about to protest when a chorus of greetings from diverse spiders echoed throughout the bar.
“Evening, boss.”
“Miguel! Great to see you here tonight.”
“Howdy, boss.”
“Meow!”
He was here and once he came into your field of vision — albeit slightly blurred — you felt your heart flutter.
“Look who decided to come out of his cave,” Jess said, her lips quirking up into a smile.
“Miguel!” Peter punched his bicep playfully.
You were waving your hands enthusiastically at him. “Hiiiiii!”
But Miguel wasn’t amused.
His eyes roamed across the table.
“Who brought the beer?”
Everyone immediately pointed at Peter — you included — who was already smiling sheepishly while raising both hands in defense.
“Miguel, we’re just celebrating a successful mission and—”
“Peter, how many times must I tell you not to bring that stuff here?”
“She only had a couple of beers,” Peter replied. “It’s not that strong. I don’t thin—”
“That’s your problem! You never think,” he replied, jabbing a finger at bim.
You giggled. Miguel looked extra hot when he was pissed off. Poor Peter, though.
“Up you go,” Hobie said, hoisting you from your seat, trying his best to keep your balance. “Mind your feet.”
“Wait where are we going?”
“You need to get some fresh air,” he said, helping your arm around his neck for support. “Mr. Grumpy here is about to ruin the mood, I reckon.”
You didn’t want to leave, but figured Hobie was right. He was always right.
“Where are you going?” You heard a voice call out once you’d turned your back.
You twirled on your feet nearly tripping and knocking Hobie down in the process.
“Wait… why are there two of you?” You hiccuped.
Both Miguels arched an eyebrow simultaneously. Impeccable synchronisation. “Two of… what?”
You reached out with your hand to touch one of them but it met with nothing but air.
Huh?
“We were goin’ out for some air.”
You shook your head and the two spider-man 2099 had finally merged into one.
You fluttered your eyelashes dramatically at him. “The just one last beer… pleeeeease…”
“I really can’t do that.”
“But you can do me!” you blurted out with a wink.
Miguel pursed his lips.
Chaos immediately erupted from the bar table, causing some of the spiders nearby to shift their attention to the commotion.
“Language! There’s kids here!” Peter said, trying to cover Gwen’s ears.
“We are not kids!”
Jessica clicked her tongue. “No more drinks for you, young lady.”
“—you are still kids at heart!” Peter was now dealing three very grumpy young spiders.
Hobie, however, saluted you with a proud smile on his face. “You just left Miguel O’Hara speechless. Respect.”
You giggled at Miguel who was definitely not amused. At all.
Before your brain could process what was happening, your body was being hauled from the ground and tossed over someone’s shoulder.
“Time to go home.”
“PUT ME DOWN!” you protested, balling your fists and smashing them against a very hardened surface. “MY BOYFRIEND IS GOING TO DEAL WITH YOU!”
You felt your stomach lurch violently from the motion and decided to tap your webshooters in an attention to free yourself.
The result was…
“HEY! Get-get this off me!”
“I’m sorry, Pavitr!”
Your blob of web had landed on his face, sending the young spider into a frenzy as both Miles and Gwen hurried to aid him.
“Who’s the bloke, hm?” Hobie asked with a grin.
“It’s classified!”
The spider-punk scoffed. “Is that code word for ‘capitalist knobhead’?”
“Funny, ‘cause when I first met Miguel he—” Gwen started.
But was promptly cut off. “Lyla, deactive her webshooters before someone loses an eye.”
“On it, boss!”
You growled in annoyance as an orange beam hit your wrists, rendering the devices uselss. It didn’t take long before you were being dragged out of the bar, multiple spiders glaring you and whispering to each other.
“We can take her home,” Jessica offered, patting the top of your head endearingly. “It’s close by.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
Hobie seemed visibly amused. “Maybe we should wait for her boyfriend to get here.”
The big man carrying you halted his steps.
“What?”
You blinked a few times as you saw the pavement start to tilt and go into a swirl. “I’m going to fall!”
A strong arm came to wrap around your waist, keeping your firmly in place.
That was close.
“Yeah she’s been sayin’ her boyfriend’s gonna be here,” Hobie shrugged.
“She’s had too much to drink,” Peter said dismissively.
“And he is!” you snapped. “See, he’s very strong, Jerry.”
“Really?”
“He’s the strongest spider-man,” you smiled, pride evident in your voice. “Very handsome…”
The spiders in front of you exhanged confused looks and as the motion resumed, your insides flipped momentarily.
“He’s really big, too…”
Jess spoke this time. “Big? As in… tall?”
You nodded. “Right! But also… his dic—”
“Enough!”
“Bloody hell…”
“Woah!” Jess gasped.
Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives.
“Miguel’s face!” Gwen chuckled as Miles leaned on her shoulder fighting back the tears.
Oh. Right.
Miguel was the one carrying you…
Peter was absolutely scandalised, urging them back inside. “Let’s finish our apple juice,” Peter called, ruffling Pavitr’s hair. “I have these amazing photos of Mayday to show!”
None of the budged, though, enjoying the show.
“Real shame your boyfriend isn’t here to witness this,” Hobie said.
You grinned. “But he is! Right here!” you accentuated each word with a pat between Miguel’s shoulderblades.
“Ah, knew she was talking gibberish,” Hobie clicked his tongue.
Jess came to take a look at Miguel’s face. “I… don’t think she is.”
“Well! What a fun night,” Peter said in his usual cheerful voice.
“Wait… WHAT?!” Gwen and Pavitr half-yelled in unison.
Miguel let out growl. “Go back inside. We’ll talk about the next mission tomorrow.”
“But—”
He turned to face them, which had you clamp one hand on your mouth from the turbulence.
All three of them rushed back inside with Peter following closely behind.
“No wonder you showed up for once,” Jess said adjusting her glasses.
“Please… don’t start,” Miguel sighed. “Especially you.”
Hobie adjusted a couple of pins on his vest. “Chill, bro.”
“Say bye-bye,” Miguel said, tapping the back of your thighs.
You waved your hand clumsily at them. “Byeeee!”
Both of them returned the gesture, chuckling.
In no time, you felt yourself being hurled into the night sky across the tall buildings that covered the landscape of Nueva York.
The cool air and silence allowed the realisation to suddenly dawn on you as Miguel carried you effortlessly with each swing of his web, red glow flashing around you.
Fuck…
“They all know, don’t they…” you mumbled into his embrace when he made a quick stop at a rooftop.
“Yes.”
“Sorry, Miguel…” you hiccuped.
He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “It was only a matter of time, I suppose.”
You curled up against him, cheek resting on his shoulder as he heaved a deep sigh and ran one hand along your back in a loving caress.
He had wanted it to be a secret mostly because he feared others might see it as a liability. After all, as long as he put up a front that he had nothing to lose, then it would be a great asset to have in this line of work.
Or so he thought.
Feeling the pounding headache brewing inside your head, you merely groaned into the crook of his neck.
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Masterlist
4K notes · View notes
devilfic · 5 months
Text
❝late-bloomer❞
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plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.
a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha
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Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"
You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.
You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."
No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.
But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."
"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."
"I'm serious, Pete."
He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."
"How did it feel? Do you know?"
"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."
Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.
You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."
You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.
A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"
"Hm?"
"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."
Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"
A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.
You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.
But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.
At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.
Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.
But it wasn't laughing you worried about.
"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.
Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."
Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.
Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.
"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"
There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."
Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"
"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."
"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.
You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.
It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."
"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."
You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."
You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.
Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."
It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."
"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"
"I really don't want to. Move."
"Why are you shutting me out?"
"Because I want to go home. Move."
"Is it because of what I said?"
"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."
The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.
Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.
"I'll see you later, Pete."
You let his front door shut on its own.
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It hasn't been great.
What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.
You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.
So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.
It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.
And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.
Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.
You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-
He's sitting in your kitchen.
Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.
You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."
Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."
Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"
"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.
You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."
"Busy avoiding your best friend."
You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.
The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.
"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."
Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.
"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."
"It's not a big deal?"
"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."
"So it doesn't matter at all."
"Correct."
"Right."
"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."
You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.
Suddenly, you're released.
You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."
You smile, "And I appreciate that."
Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"
"Zilch. Nada."
"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."
You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"
"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."
Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."
"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"
"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."
"And now we do."
"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"
He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."
You're six years old again.
You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.
You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.
And you're thinking... you start thinking something.
You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.
Peter's still staring at you, waiting.
Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.
But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.
You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.
When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.
Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."
Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.
Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."
He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."
You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.
Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.
You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.
You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"
You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"
Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."
"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."
"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"
"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."
"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."
Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"
His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."
You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.
Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."
"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"
"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"
You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."
You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.
This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.
So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.
Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.
You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"
You nod, speechless.
Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."
You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."
Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."
"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"
"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"
You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.
He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.
Did it? You stare up at Peter.
"We can try as many times as you want."
You might have a very different problem than you started with.
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taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes
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waitimcomingtoo · 7 months
Text
I Can See You
pairing: Peter Parker x Happy’s daughter!reader
synopsis: You can see Peter being your addiction and Peter can see you as a secret mission
real synopsis: Happy forbids you and Peter from dating, which only makes you want to do it more
Masterlist
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“Hey.” You nodded at Peter as you wandered into his room. The hair on Peters neck stood up on high alert now that a stranger was in his bedroom. He shut his laptop and swiveled in his desk chair to follow what you were doing. He watched you walk over to his Lego shelf as if you’d been in his room a hundred times and admired his Lego titanic.
“Um, hello. Can I help you?” Peter asked.
“Did you build this?” You asked in reply.
“Oh, yeah. I did. It took me almost a full month.”
“Wow. It’s huge.” You said and gently ran your hand along the side of it.
“I know. It’s kinda cramped in here, though. I want to display it in the living room.” Peter told you. His tingle was telling him you weren’t a threat so now he just saw you as a pretty girl who had wandered into his room.
“You totally should display this thing. It’s awesome. What’s stopping you?” You wondered.
“The family pictures in the way.” Peter laughed dryly.
“Psh. Who needs those?” You joked, making him smile.
“Not me.” Peter played along. “But my aunt might be just a little upset if I replaced photos of her dead brother and dead husband with my Lego titanic.”
“That’s nothing. My dad replaced my high school graduation picture with a photo of his dead best friend eating a cheeseburger. It’s not even a good picture. It’s blurry and my dads pinky is in the frame.”
“Damn, your graduation picture? That’s next level. Either he really loved his best friend or it was a really good cheeseburger.”
“Probably both.” You shrugged. “Uncle Tony knew all the best cheeseburger spots in Queens.”
“Wait, Tony? Like Tony Stark?” Peter asked and stood up from his desk chair.
“Yeah, Tony Stark. Oh, that’s right. I forgot you knew him.” You said and tapped the side of your head.
“Your dads best friend.” Peter said to himself. “Wait a second. Are you…”
“Y/n Hogan. Your aunt invited my dad and I over for dinner.” You said and you held your hand out.
“Wait, you’re Happy’s daughter? But you’re so pretty.” Peter said in disbelief as he shook your hand.
“What?” You laughed.
“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. Your dad is a very beautiful man. I can see the resemblance.” Peter quickly followed up.
“Seeing the resemblance is impressive considering I was adopted.” You laughed again and continued looking around his room. You saw his Spiderman suit hanging in the closet and touched it with a fond smile on your face.
“Oh God. Can we start over? I feel like I failed at this conversation.”
“You didn’t. I actually think you’re doing a pretty good job talking to me considering the deep lore that runs between us and our mutual acquaintances.” You assured him.
“Oh.” He blushed. “Thanks.”
“No problem. So did this thing come with a Lego iceberg?” You asked and pointed to the Lego titanic.
“No. That would’ve been perfect. But unfortunately, Lego didn’t have a dark sense of humor.”
“But I do. Do you have any blue legos?” You asked with a devious smile.
“Yeah. What are you thinking?”
A few minutes later, you and Peter were sitting on his bedroom floor with his Lego bin between you. You led the conversation, much to Peters delight, as you added onto each others creations. Even though Peter was usually shy and awkward around strangers, he found it very easy to talk to you. Maybe it was because you were already apart of his secret world and he didn’t have to lie about anything, or maybe it was just because you got along. Whatever it was, Peter really enjoyed talking to you. You felt more like an old friend rather then a stranger. Happy came into the room after a little while and was surprised to see you already in there.
“Oh, there you are. I was looking for you. But I see you found Peter.” Happy said and gave Peter a stern look.
“You never told me you had a daughter.” Peter playfully scolded him to keep the mood light.
“That’s because I don’t disclose any personal information to teenagers in spandex.” Happy said curtly.
“Dad. Be nice.” You whispered harshly.
“What are you guys doing in here anyway?” Happy asked as he folded his arms.
“Making a Lego iceberg for Peters Lego titanic.” You explained and held up what you had built so far.
“Interesting, interesting. Peter, can I talk to you for a second?” Happy said through a fake smile.
“Yeah. Sure. Be right back.” He told you before getting up to follow Happy into the hallway.
“What’s up?” Peter asked kindly.
“Don’t even think about it.” Happy said immediately.
“Huh? Don’t think about what?”
“My daughter. Don’t even let it cross your mind. Because if it crosses your mind, I’ll know about it. And if I know about it, I’m gonna kill you.”
“Wait, you think I’m trying to date your daughter? I just met her. Relax.” Peter laughed.
“No, I won’t relax. I don’t ever want to see my daughter in your bedroom, okay? That’s gross. I don’t want you getting your horny little nerd germs on her.”
“We were just playing with legos.” Peter pointed out.
“That’s always how it starts.” Happy wagged his finger. “I know your type. You lure girls in with your boyish charm because they think you’re safe.”
“I am safe, Happy.” Peter insisted. “You know me. You know I’d never break her heart.”
“I know you won’t. Because you won’t get the chance.”
“I’m sorry, but why is it okay for you to date my aunt but not for me to date your daughter?” Peter asked and folded his arms.
“Oh, so it has crossed your mind? I knew you were thinking about dating my daughter.” Happy pointed accusingly at him. “I knew it the second I walked into your room. You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you? Well stop. My daughter is not allowed in your head, okay? Ever. Get her out.”
“I wasn’t thinking about dating her until you put the idea into my head. But I kinda want to do it now.” Peter laughed in amusement and looked back at his room where you were.
“Don’t you even dare.” Happy whispered and took a step closer to him.
“Or what? What’ll you do?” Peter challenged him. He didn’t even care that much about it, he just wanted to antagonize Happy for his own amusement.
“Kill you.” Happy stated like it was obvious. “Like I said.”
“What if she likes me? Huh?” Peter smirked. “You can’t tell her not to date me. That’ll just drive her straight into my arms.”
“That’s not gonna be a problem because she’ll never like you. She’s too smart.”
“I’m a good guy, Happy. Tony knew that. Wouldn’t you rather her date a nice, responsible guy that you’ve known for years over some random stranger whose intentions might be impure?”
“She can date a guy I know.” Happy shrugged. “Just not you.”
“We’ll see.” Peter shrugged as well.
“What? What does that mean? We’ll see? We’re not gonna see anything because you’re not dating my daughter.” Happy declared.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Peter shrugged again.
“No, you definitely won’t.”
“How are you gonna stop it?” Peter asked him.
“With a gun.” Happy replied. “That I use to kill you. To death.”
“I don’t think your daughter would appreciate you killing her future boyfriend.” Peter said innocently.
“You’re not her future boyfriend. You’re not her future anything. But you’re a future dead person if you keep this up.”
“Relax, Happy. I’m just messing with you. I’m not gonna date your daughter.” Peter laughed and patted Happy’s shoulder. Just then, you came out of Peters room with the Lego iceberg you had built.
“I’m gonna help May in the kitchen. Maybe I’ll accidentally knock down a few family pictures while I’m in there.” You said and winked at Peter.
“Why would you do that?” Happy asked you.
“Peter gets it.” You smiled coyly before disappearing down the hall and into the kitchen. Peter watched you walk away and felt something blossoming in his chest. That simple moment of sweet understanding between you was all he needed to fall head over heels for you.
“Happy?” Peter said without taking his eyes off where you had just been standing.
“Yeah?” Happy replied. Peter turned to face him, put his hand on Happy’s shoulder, and smiled sympathetically.
“I’m gonna date your daughter.”
Before Happy could respond, May called everyone in for dinner. Peter and Happy exchanged a look before throwing on smiles so that you and May wouldn’t suspect anything. Happy sat across from Peter with you sitting beside him, meaning that every time Peter looked at you, he got a kick under the table from Happy. Similarly, anytime you tried to ask Peter a question or start a conversation with him, Happy cut you off. Peter tried to do the same with you but was always met with a death glare from Happy. The incredibly silent and awkward dinner ended all too soon and Happy could not have taken you out of Peters apartment fast enough. You waved to Peter as Happy pulled you out the door but there was no time for an exchanging of words. What a beautiful wedding jk jk iykyk.
Peter was fully prepared to let his little crush on you go away on its own without any intention of acting on it. He knew it was a bad idea anyway to get involved with the daughter of the head of security, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about you from time to time.
“Hey Happy. I just wanted to report that I found a lost dog today. But then it ran away again after I returned to to the owner. I’m starting to think it wanted to be lost. Maybe he met a bunch of stray dogs and felt more at home with them on the streets than he ever did in his owner’s apartment. What do you think?” Peter asked over FaceTime as he gave Happy his daily report from patrolling the neighborhood.
“Kid, I don’t care. I never have. You don’t need to keep calling me with random updates of what you do on patrol.” Happy told him. In the background of Happy’s video, Peter could see you walking into the room with nothing but a towel wrapped around yourself and your wet hair hanging around your face. He perked up and felt his face heat up at the sight of you.
“Is that Peter?” You asked and walked over to where Happy was sitting.
“No. It’s not.” Happy said and tried to shut his laptop.
“Hi Peter.” You opened it back up and waved, leaving you with only one hand to hold your towel onto your body. Peter turned bright red as he stared at the screen and felt all dialogue options leave his mind.
“Oh, uh, hi.” He stammered. “I didn’t see you there. I didn’t even know you were home. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good.” You shrugged. “What kind of dog was it?”
“What?”
“The dog you found. What breed?” You asked with genuine interest. Peter smiled at you wanting to know and felt his blush deepen.
“Chihuahua. His name was Pinto.”
“Aw.” You smiled. “That’s so cute.“
“Oh, yeah. Very cute. Very, very cute.” Peters eyes glazed over as he stared at your through the screen. Happy looked back and forth between Peter and you before realizing what Peter was staring at.
“I’m hanging up now.” Happy warned.
“Wait-“
The call ended abruptly and Peter was left alone staring at a black screen. If Happy was going to stop him from seeing you, he would going to have to get creative.
A few nights later, Peter formed a new plan. If Happy was gonna date his aunt, he was going to use it to his advantage.
“Oopsie. I just accidentally ordered two pizzas instead of one. Silly me. What will we do with all this incoming pizza?” Peter asked as he dramatically scratched the top of his head to make it look like he was thinking.
“I don’t know.” May shrugged. “Eat a lot of pizza?”
“That’s a great idea, May. Or, and this is just coming to me now, what if we invite Happy over to eat some? So you guys can have a little date night. He even can bring his daughter. What was her name again? Telulah? Annabeth? Marcy?”
“Y/n?” May chuckled and raised her eyebrow.
“Right. Her.” Peter played dumb. “She probably likes pizza, right?”
“I know what you’re doing, but I’m gonna go with it anyway because there’s no way we can eat two pies and I hate wasting food.” May playfully scolded him as she dialed Happy’s number.
Much to Peters delight, you and Happy showed up a few minutes later. You were standing behind your dad with a bag behind your back.
“Hey. Thanks for the invite.” Happy said and kissed Mays cheek. You looked at Peter over your dads shoulder and waved.
“No problem.” May replied. “It was actually Peters idea.”
“Oh, was it?” Happy asked and stared daggers at Peter. Peter shrugged innocently before making eye contact with you. He discreetly nodded towards his bedroom before going to it. You followed after him once the coast was clear.
“Hey.” You smiled at him and shut his door behind you.
“Hey. Thanks for coming over. I’m glad you could make it.” Peter played it cool but was screaming on the inside over you being in his room again.
“I’m glad you invited us. I have a present for you but I didn’t have any way of getting in touch with you.”
“You wanna touch me?” Peter said in a low voice as he stared at you with his eyebrows raised.
“What was that?”
“I said you have a present for me?” He quickly corrected himself and threw on a smile.
“Uh huh. Look what I found.” You held the bag up and pulled out the Lego Super Star Destroyer, a Lego set Peter had dreamed of owning since he was a kid.
“What?! You got this for me?” He jumped out of his chair and held the box to read it.
“Yeah. You mentioned last time that you always wanted this one. I know you’re a big fan of the movies so I wanted you to have it.” You smiled sheepishly as you stared at him. His childlike excitement and wonderstruck expression made him even cuter than you typically found him. His expression changed suddenly when he realized he could never accept such a costly gift.
“This set costs a fortune. You really didn’t have to do this.” Peter looked apologetic as he looked into your eyes. You laughed a little at how bad he felt and put your hand on top of his.
“It’s okay. I wanted to do it.” You assured him. “Plus, Uncle Tony put me in his will so I’m kinda flushed with cash right now. I would’ve just spent the money on something stupid. And I know he loved you so he’d be happy I used the money to buy a Lego set for us.”
“Us?” Peter cracked a smile and felt his excitement return.
“Yeah. I thought we could build it together while my dad makes out with your aunt.” You suggested.
“Gross.” Peter grimaced. “But the part about building it together sounds fun.”
Now that he was willing to keep it, you tore the box open and dumped the pieces out. You and Peter sat next to each other with your knees touching as you built the spaceship. Peter snuck glances at you every now and then, and you caught them every time. You accidentally made eye contact at one point and he turned pink.
“You know, my dads been up my ass all week because of you.” You said with a soft laugh.
“Me? What did I do?”
“I don’t know. Did you tell him we were dating or something?” You questioned him, making him gulp.
“Actually, he told me not to date you.” Peter admitted.
“He told me the same thing. Little does he know, that just makes me want to date you even more.” You replied. Peter froze and realized that if what Happy said made you want to date him more, that meant you already wanted to date him in the first place. You realized that you had said too much at the same time Peter did and looked at him out of the corner of your eye to see if he was weirded out. To your surprise, he was staring at you with a soft expression. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away when you caught him staring.
“Doesn’t he know that the hottest thing a guy can do is be disliked by the girls dad?” Peter said like it was obvious.
“Exactly. I told him disapproving of you was just going to send me straight into your arms. And who could even blame me? They’re really nice arms.” You shrugged and gave Peter a coy smile. Peter laughed shyly and busied himself with the legos so you wouldn’t see him blushing.
“What did he say to that?” He asked you.
“That there will be a cold day in hell before he lets me go out with you.” You laughed.
“And what did you say?” Peter asked as he looked up at you and found that you were already looking at him.
“I told him that he can’t tell me who to date and if I wanted to go out with you, I will.” You said simply. Peter gulped and never broke eye contact with you and he reached for a Lego brick. Your hands accidentally touched and he saw sparks fly.
“Do you want to go out with me?” He asked quietly. You opened your mouth to answer just as May opened hers.
“Hey, kids. Pizzas here.” May said as she appeared in Peters doorway. You looked at him apologetically before getting up and following May to the kitchen. He desperately wanted to get you alone again to finish your conversation, but Happy was never gonna let that happen.
It came time for you and Happy to leave and Peter was visibly disappointed. As Happy and May said their goodbyes, you pulled Peter to the side.
“Goodnight, Peter. I had fun tonight.” You said sincerely.
“So did I. Thank you again for the legos. It’s the nicest thing anyones ever done for me.”
“I’m glad you liked them. Hopefully I’ll see you again. Hopefully soon.”
“Yeah. Totally.” Peter nodded eagerly.
You held out your hand to shake Peters, which Peter found a little strange. But when he shook your hand, he felt you slip a piece of paper into his. Peter waited until Happy was out the door before opening the paper up. Written in your handwriting was your phone number. Peter looked up in surprise and made eye contact with you.
“Call me.” You mouthed to him and made your hand like a phone just as Happy pulled you away.
And that’s exactly what Peter did. It became your nightly secret mission to sneak off and call Peter once you were sure Happy was asleep or preoccupied in front of the TV. You would talk for hours in hushed voices so no one would hear.
“Can you imagine what my dad would do if he found us out?” You asked Peter one night as you hung over the edge of your bed to talk to Peter.
“So there’s an us to find out about?” Peter asked and felt grateful you couldn’t see his blush over the phone.
“I don’t know.” You smiled timidly. “I really like talking to you, Peter.”
“Well that’s good. I’m happy to hear that. Because I like it too.” He laughed shyly.
“I think about you a lot when we’re not on the phone.” You admitted as you switched positions and rolled onto your stomach.
“You do?” Peter gulped.
“Uh huh. All the time.”
“What do you think about?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t believe half the things I see inside my head.” You chuckled. Peter gulped again and felt his face heat up. He cleared his throat before speaking again.
“Why don’t you explain it to me then?” He asked. Before you could answer, a loud crash sounded from his side of the phone.
“What’s all that noise?” You asked him.
“Mays looking for the pasta maker.” Peter sighed. “We have a thousand boxes of mezzi rigatoni but she wanted fettuccini.”
“Fettuccine actually sounds amazing right now. I need to get up and make some food. I just hope my dad went grocery shopping or else I’m eating sleep for dinner.”
“You should come over tonight.” Peter said before he would overthink it.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Come make pasta with us. May usually burns something and then gives up about 15 minutes into cooking so we wouldn’t have to hang out with her the whole time. We could make pasta together. Just the two of us.”
“Okay. My dads watching a movie in the den so he won’t mind if I go out. I’m in.” You smiled and started to get ready to see him.
“Awesome. Great. See you soon.” Peter grinned and hung up the phone. He quickly brushed his teeth and put on a fresh shirt before joining May in the kitchen. There was a knock on the door soon enough and Peter practically ran to open it.
“Ciao.” He said as he flung the door open.
“Ciao, bello.” You replied. “Scopiamo stasera o cosa?”
“Wait, what? I don’t actually speak Italian.” Peter sheepishly.
“That’s probably for the better.” You laughed and walked into his apartment.
“Oh, good. You’re here. And you brought wine! Even better. Come in, come in.” May kissed your cheek before taking the bottle of wine and opening it.
“Peters been dying for you to get here.” She whispered in your ear, but loud enough for Peter to hear.
“May.” Peter whined and motioned for her to zip it.
“What? I’m just being honest.” May shrugged. “Honesty is the best policy. That’s what I always say.”
“She’s right. That’s a great policy.” You said and gave Peter a look.
“Oh yeah? Does your dad know you’re here?” Peter asked you and folded his arms, already knowing the answer. Your smile dropped when you realized he was right.
“A little lie never hurt anybody.” You replied. Peter smirked, knowing he caught you.
“Come here. I’ll show you how to make the dough.” Peter said and led you to the kitchen with his hand on your back. You and Peter made the pasta dough while May chopped up some tomatoes and made a sauce. May switched the radio on to play some instrumental background music that made the apartment feel like a small cafe in Italy.
“All right. I think we’re ready. I’m gonna get the pasta maker. It should be in the attic.” May broke up the party and put the meatball back in the sauce.
“If you can’t find it, what do we do with all this dough?” You asked her.
“I don’t know. Make a shit ton of Pizza.” May shrugged and left to go find the pasta maker.
“Okay then.” You chuckled. Once you and Peter were alone, you hoped up on the counter and leg your legs swing.
“Should we try it to make sure it tastes good?” You asked as you rolled some dough between your fingers and made a snake.
“Yeah, but not that piece. You made a worm.” Peter said and pointed to your dough.
“So what? It’s just dough. Try some.” You replied and dangled the dough in his face.
“Dough way.” He laughed at his own pun and swatted the dough away.
“Oh, we’re making pasta puns now? You’re gonna pay for that.” You playfully warned him.
“But I dough not want it.” Peter pouted and leaned on the counter you were sitting on so you were caged in between his arms. You both became aware of how close you were at the same time and laughed shyly.
“Can’t think of anything other than replacing “do” with “dough” huh?” You asked and raised an eyebrow.
“Dough, I can’t.” He shamefully admitted. You gave him a look and he held up his hands in defense.
“That one was different.” He pointed out.
“All right. I’ll give it to you. Now eat the pasta worm.” You playfully demanded and dangled it in his face again.
“No. Get that thing away from me.” He laughed and smacked it away. It flew across the room and stuck to a nearby cabinet with a loud smack.
“Wow. Look at that.” Peter said, genuinely dumbfounded.
“It’s kinda beautiful.” You said as you quietly stared at the pasta in awe. Peter turned to look at you and rested his hands back on the counter.
“You’re kinda beautiful.” He said in a soft voice. You tore your eyes away from the pasta to look at him but couldn’t form a single word.
“Even with flour on your face.” He chuckled and wiped a smudge of flour off your cheek with his thumb. You gulped and discreetly picked up some flour off the counter.
“You have some flour on your face too.” You told him as you stared into his eyes.
“Where? Here?” Peter asked and touched his cheek.
“No. Here.” You smirked before throwing the handful of flour at him. Peter coughed and waved his hand to get it away from his face.
“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” He warned and grabbed a handful of flour. He went to throw it at you but you caught him by the wrist to stop him. Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer to him so that you couldn’t block his next attempt. But instead of feeling flour on your face, you felt Peter kissing you. You weren’t actually sure if you kissed him or he kissed you, but you didn’t really care. You wasted no time in tangling your hands on his hair and deepening the kiss. His hands slid up and down your back before finding their way up your shirt. You felt your entire body heat up as you kissed him and felt all the tension that had been building up release into the atmosphere between you. He kissed you until you felt dizzy but you didn’t stop even then. You started to unbutton his button down when the moment was interrupted.
“Found it!” May called from the hallway. You jumped apart so quickly that you fell right off the counter. You screamed on the way down as Peter watched with his hands over his mouth. He rushed to pick you up just as May came back into the kitchen. She took one look at the flour covering the two of your, most noticeably the flour handprints on either of Peters cheeks, and knew what had happened.
“Oh my God. What happened in here?” May played dumb.
“Fell.” You and Peter said in unison.
“Oh no. Are you okay?”
“Maybe?” You smiled weakly and rubbed your throbbing head. Peter touched his hands, which now felt cold from the absence of you.
“Oh my God. How did you get flour all over your back?” May laughed and turned you around to see the flour Peter had left all over your clothing.
“I’m a messy girl.” You shrugged and hoped she’d buy it.
“Look at that. The flour on Y/n’s butt looks like a perfect handprint. How funny is that?” May laughed again and pointed to the handprint Peter had left on your black leggings. He turned so red that he had to turn around so May wouldn’t see it.
“I’m gonna go potty.” You said quickly and ran to the bathroom.
“She okay?” May asked once you were gone.
“Her? What? Yeah. She’s fine. Nothing weird happened while you were gone.” Peter said a little too quickly.
“Hm. How did that piece of pasta get stuck to the cabinet?” May asked and pointed to the pasta Peter had flung.
“I’m not sure.” Peter lied.
“Are you feeling okay? Your face and neck is all red.” May asked and pressed her hand to Peters forehead. He knew she was getting suspicious and had to think of a lie to get out of there.
“I have to poop.” Peter blurted and walked out of the kitchen.
“Y/n is in there.” May called after him.
“I’ll go to the other bathroom!” He shouted back.
Peter passed the bathroom in the hallway and stopped outside of it. He pressed his ear against the door to try and hear if you were freaking out or not.
Which you 100% were.
“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just kiss him. You slut bag! You hussy! You don’t even know how he feels about you.” You whispered to the mirror. You splashed some cold water on your face to calm down before looking at your reflection.
“Woman up and get your shit together. Go out there and make pasta with your dads girlfriends nephew like a fucking normal person.” You warned yourself in the mirror.
The bathroom door suddenly opened and Peter fell inside. You gasped and pulled him the rest of the way in before shutting the door.
“I’m sorry! I wasn’t doing anything!” Peter said quickly.
“What are you doing out here?!” You whispered harshly.
“Nothing! I just wanted to talk!” He whispered back in a panic.
“So you wait outside the bathroom door? What if I was pooping?! You would’ve heard it.” You whispered even louder and angrily shook his shirt.
“But I didn’t.” He said weakly.
“I think I need to go home.” You sighed and left the bathroom.
“Wait, no. Please stay.” Peter pleaded as he followed after you. He caught you in the hallway and gently pulled your arm to get you to stop.
“I can’t. I can’t go back in there. She’s gonna know something sus happened.” You whispered to him and pointed to the kitchen.
“It wasn’t sus. But I really think we need to talk about it.” Peter said and looked at you with his big puppy dog eyes. You knew he was dying to talk about it and you felt guilty leaving him after what happened.
“Peter, look. I’m really sorry that I kissed you-“
“I’m not.” He cut you off and pushed you against the wall. The interrupted kiss was resumed and even more passionate than the last. He had you up against the wall as he kissed you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. You forgot all about the pasta and your dads warning and just got lost in his touch. You both knew it was wrong and that you could be caught any second, and that’s what made it feel so right. Peter squeezed your hip, signaling you to jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. You couldn’t feel him smiling into the kiss as he pressed you against the wall. That was the moment you knew you were never giving this boy up, no matter what your father said.
“Peter! Y/n! What happened to my sous chefs?” May shouted from the kitchen. You pulled apart and stared at each other as you caught your breath.
Peter gently set you back down on the floor but stayed in your personal space as he leaned against the wall. You never broke eye contact with him as he fixed a strand of hair that he knocked onto the wrong side of your part. You gulped and smoothed your clothing down before looking away.
“Can we talk after? Please? Don’t go home.” Peter pleased as he buttoned his shirt back up. You looked him up and down and knew you were at his mercy.
“Fine. You’ve convinced me. I’ll stay.” You agreed. Peter smiled in relief and led you back to them kitchen.
“Look who decided to join us.” May smiled proudly and stepped to the side to reveal Happy standing behind her. Peters knees buckled and he immediately fainted onto the ground. You caught him and let him lean on you as you waved your hand in front of his face to wake him up.
“Dad? What are you doing here?” You asked through a big fake smile.
“I could ask you the same thing.” He said through an even faker smile.
“I was making Peter with Pasta. I mean, pasta with Peter.” You stumbled over your words as Peter came to and nearly fell over again. You held him upright but his waist until he could stand on his own. Happy was watching the whole thing and growing more suspicious by the second.
“Hm. You didn’t mention you were going over my girlfriends house when you said you were going out. I find that a little strange. Don’t you?” Happy shrugged as he folded his arms.
“Maybe I find you a little strange.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.
“Now that Happy’s here we’re gonna need some more pasta. Honey, can you knead the rest of the dough?” May asked you.
“Sure. I can dough that.” You laughed nervously. Happy gave you a strange look and you gulped.
“I’m sorry. I kiss-poke. I mean, misspoke.” You gulped again and went over to the dough. Peter went to follow you and earned a longing glare from Happy as he did. The two of you bumped into each other and dropped things on the floor numerous times from how nervous you were now that Happy was there. Once Happy and May disappeared to the couch to drink wine, Peter knew it was safe to talk.
“Stop being weird.” He whispered to you.
“I’m about to murder-suicide us.” You said at full volume.
“Peter, can you help her? You gotta put your elbow grease into it.” May called from the couch.
“Yeah. I can dough that.” Peter replied.
“Stop making dough puns.” You hissed.
“I literally fucking can’t.” He deadpanned. You suddenly felt his arms wrap around you as he put his hands on top of yours to knead the dough.
“What are you doing?” You asked him.
“Helping you knead the dough.”
“Why wouldn’t you just stand beside me?”
“Because this is how men show women how to do things in rom coms.” Peter said very seriously.
“Okay, but we’re not in a rom com. We’re in real life in your real kitchen with my dad who has a real gun.”
“He won’t shoot me. I’m his girlfriends only nephew. I’m untouchable.”
“And so am I as long as my father is present.” You said and slipped out of his arms.
“Is everything okay over there?” Happy asked from the couch.
“Yes.” You and Peter shouted back in unison. You finished with the dough and brought it over to the pasta maker.
“You better speed run this fucking pasta before I lose my mind.” You whispered in his ear.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” Peter whispered back as he put the dough in the pasta maker as painstakingly slow as possibly. The pasta maker squeaked as he turned the handle and echoed off the walls of the silent kitchen. You could feel sweat running down your face and started to fan yourself.
“I can’t handle this. My dad is gonna know what we did.” You said and gave your hair a stressful tug.
“We haven’t done anything wrong.” He pointed out as he finished up with the pasta. You nodded in agreement and picked up the pasta he had made.
“Yet.” He added and stole a kiss against your neck. You gasped and put your hand where his lips had been.
“What are you doing? My dad is in the next room?”
“I know. That’s what makes it so exciting.” Peter said and leaned in to kiss you again.
“The water should be boiling by now. Can you start putting the pasta in?” May asked as she appeared in the kitchen. You quickly turned around and pretended to be doing something so she wouldn’t suspect anything.
“Sure.” Peter smiled calmly at her and put the pasta into the boiling water. May went back to the living room, leaving you and Peter alone once again. You picked up a wooden spoon and pushed the pasta around the pot in an attempt to look busy.
“I can see you. Stop staring at me.” You said when you felt Peters eyes on you. You looked up and sure enough, he was watching you with a soft expression.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.” He said as he walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you into him. It felt nice for a moment but you knew it shouldn’t be happening.
“I am off limits, okay mister? You cannot be staring at me like that.” You whispered and slipped out of his arms.
“Off limits? What does that mean?” He played dumb.
“It means that we cannot happen.” You said and gestured between the two of you. “We can never, ever happen. My dad will reign hell fire on you for even thinking about it. And he’ll reign regular fire on me because I’m his daughter which will be less hot but still really bad.”
“Psh.” Peter scoffed. “I’m not scared of him.”
“You should be. He has access to all of Uncle Tony’s weapons. So unless you want to get blown up or turned inside out, you need to stop. That’s means stop staring at me, stop touching me, and definitely stop kissing me.” You whispered as you got in his face. Peter smirked now that he had you close again and put his hands on your hips. You gulped and looked anywhere but his eyes as he got close to you.
“You want me to stop kissing you?” He asked as he tilted your chin up to look in his eyes.
“Yes.” You replied, but it came out like more of a question than a statement.
“Are you sure?” He asked and moved in even closer. His lips brushed yours when he spoke and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Right before your lips could touch, you covered your mouth and stepped back.
“No. No more. We can’t.” You said behind your hand. Peter smiled sadly and nodded his head. He looked disappointed but like he understood.
“I know we can’t happen.” He said in a soft voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it to.”
“It doesn’t matter what we want.” You gently reminded him and nodded towards the living room where Happy was.
“So you want it too?” He asked innocently and tilted his head to the side. You sucked in a sharp breath and thought about the way it felt when he had you up against the wall and how badly you wanted that again.
“Peter.” You breathed out.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful I find you?” Peter asked you. Footsteps approaching made you jump apart and turn your backs to each other.
“Hey guys. How’s the pasta coming?” May asked as she walked into the kitchen.
“It’s coming.” Peter replied.
“It’s definitely pasta.” You nodded in agreement.
“Great. I’ll set the table.” May laughed at your strange behavior and grabbed some plates. Once you were alone again, you answered Peters question.
“Yes.” You told him.
“What?”
“You asked me if I’d want this to happen too. My answer is yes.” You said and looked into his eyes. Peter smiled now that he knew you felt the same but didn’t want to let you off that easy.
“Oh. But then I asked you if you knew how beautiful I found you so I thought you were answering-“
“Shut up.” You laughed as you cut him off. Peter smiled fondly at you from across the kitchen and you felt yourself smile back.
“Do you really feel the same?” He asked, all teasing in his voice gone.
“I do. But I told you, it doesn’t matter what we feel. We can’t date. Ours is a forbidden love.”
“I know. That’s what makes me want you even more.” Peter said with a wicked smile. You stopped leaning on the counter and started to walk to Peter when your dad suddenly walked into the kitchen.
“What are you guys talking about?” Happy asked suspiciously when he noticed the love struck expression on both your faces.
“Dad.” You whined. “Don’t you knock?”
“Knock on what? You’re standing in the middle of the kitchen.” He pointed out. You and Peter exchanged a look, and then you and Happy exchanged a look. Happy looked at Peter and narrowed his eyes, making Peter panic.
“Dinners ready!” Peter shouted despite 75% of the people in the apartment being right in front of him.
“Um, Peter, the pasta is still raw. It’s only been in there a few minutes.” You reminded him.
“Dinner!” Peter said again. “Let’s sit and eat.”
You shrugged and went with it to keep your dad from getting suspicious. You drained the pasta and put it in a big bowl before Peter added the sauce on top. You brought it to the dining table that May had set and put it in the center. Everyone sat down and served themselves some pasta.
“So what’s new with everyone?” Happy asked.
“Nothing.” You and Peter said at the same time. You gave him a look and he gulped nervously.
“Is anything new with you?” You asked May politely.
“Yeah.” Peter nodded. “Talk about yourselves. Tell us everything.”
“Well, um, May and I have been thinking about getting married.” Happy said sheepishly. You spit out your water as Peters jaw dropped.
“Oh.” May smiled tightly. “I didn’t realize we were telling them.”
“Wait, married?” You asked them.
“Yeah. Thinking about it.” Happy nodded as May shook her head.
“But, uh, if you guys got married, what would that mean for us exactly?” You laughed nervously and gestured between you and Peter.
“Well, I’d become Peters uncle, so you guys would technically be cousins.” Happy shrugged as May nodded in agreement. A chill ran down your spine at the use of the “c” word. Peters mouth started to heavily salivate like it usually did before he threw up.
“Cousins?” You choked out.
“Or would they be siblings?” Happy wondered.
“Oh God.” You whimpered. “Not siblings. Anything but siblings.”
“No, just cousins.” May explained. “Because I would become Y/n’s stepmom but Peter isn’t my son so they would be cousins. But you guys could consider each other siblings if you really wanted to. It might be nice to have a sister, right Peter?”
“Stop talking.” Peter said in a grave voice as he gripped the table to keep from fainting again.
“Relax guys. It won’t be too weird. You’re basically cousins already.” May said with an innocent smile.
“Oh no. Don’t say that.” You whispered and clutched your stomach.
“I’m gonna throw up.” Peter said through a gag.
“Why?” Happy asked as he narrowed his eyes at Peter.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t you want to be cousins? It’s just you and me on holidays Wouldn’t it be nice to have a bigger family?” May asked Peter.
“Don’t call us “family”, please.” Peter said and gagged again.
“Yeah, no more.” You pleaded. “Not while we’re eating.”
“Are we missing something?” May asked.
“I don’t want her to be my cousin.” Peter grimaced and shook his head.
“Peter. That’s disrespectful.” May scolded him.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t want him to be my cousin either.” You assured her as you wiped some sweat from your forehead. You looked over at Peter and he was just as distraught if you were. He was pale and sweating and extremely close to breaking. You snapped your fingers at him under the table and motioned for him to keep his mouth shut. May and Happy exchanged a suspicion look at the strange behavior in front of them.
“Is there something you guys aren’t telling us?” May asked and leaned on her hand. She stared at Peter, who looked at you in a panic. You shook your head at him, making Happy frown in confusion. He turned to stare at Peter, and that’s what made Peter break.
“I made out with my cousin.” Peter blurted before gasping for air. You groaned and put your head down on the table as May and Happy reacted.
“You what with your what?” May scrunched her nose in disgust.
“You what with my what?” Happy asked and glared Peter.
“Haha. He’s just kidding.” You laughed nervously and waved your hand.
“He better be.” Happy stated without taking his eyes off Peter. Peter was staring all around the room at everything other than Happy.
“This pasta is amazing. Let’s all eat it and stop talking.” You said and shoved some pasta into your mouth.
“It’s a little undercooked.” May commented. “How long did you guys leave it in the water for?”
“Peter?” Happy asked calmly.
“Yes, sir?” Peter answered while looking up at the ceiling.
“Look at me.”
“Yes?” Peter said and looked near Happy, but not at him.
“Peter, look me in the eyes.” Happy commanded. “Right now.”
“I am.” Peter scoffed as he stared at Happy’s ear.
“Not at my ear. My eyes.”
Peter shut his eyes and turned to face Happy head on.
“Open your eyes.” Happy said through clenched teeth. Peter slowly opened one eye, then the other. Happy was glaring at him with a face redder than the sauce May had made.
“Did you make out with my daughter?”
“Which daughter?”
“The one sitting beside you. The only one I have.”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“Let me ask it again then. Did you or did you not make out with my daughter?”
“No.”
“Okay. Good.” Happy nodded in satisfaction.
“She made out with me.” Peter clarified.
“Peter!” You shouted and looked at him.
“You’re a dead man. He’s a dead man.” Happy declared and lunged across the table at Peter.
“Wait! She kissed me! I didn’t kiss her.” Peter defended himself as he scrambled to get out of his chair and run away from Happy.
“You did the second time.” You pointed out.
“Second time? There was a second time?” Happys voice got louder as he chased Peter around the table.
“Daddy, no. Don’t hurt him!” You protested and stood between your dad and Peter.
“Move it, honey. I’m gonna fight him. I’m gonna fight him up real nice.” Happy declared and grabbed the bowl of Italian bread off the table. He started throwing pieces at Peter, but Peter dodged every one.
“Stop dodging my bread!” Happy shouted and threw his last piece.
“Ha! You’re all out of bread.” Peter pointed at the empty bowl before hiding behind you.
“I’ll just have to use my hands.” Happy said and lunged for Peter again.
“Hold on. Step away from my nephew.” May said as she stepped in front of you and held Happy back. Happy stopped trying to attack Peter and caught his breath.
“Happy, you need to calm down.” May told him. “Your daughter isn’t your property. She’s a beautiful young woman. She is allowed to make her own decisions. And that includes deciding who she wants to date.”
“I know that.” Happy sighed. “She just can’t decide on him.”
“Why not, dad?” You asked him.
“For starters, he rented a very inappropriate movie when we were in Germany. No man who respects women would rent a movie called “Grinding Nemo”. I can’t have a guy like that dating my daughter.”
“I was like 15!” Peter whined. “I just bought the first one I found!”
“Grinding Nemo?” You turned and asked Peter.
“It’s like Finding Nemo but instead of fish it was this guy looking for this girls-“
“I don’t even want to know.” You cut him off.
“Happy, you know Peter.” May reminded him. “You know he’ll stop at nothing to protect the people he cares about. She’s in good hands.”
“But why do they have to be his hands?” Happy pointed to Peter and sat back down. You squeezed Peters shoulder before going to sit down beside your dad.
“May is right. You knew I was gonna start dating eventually. And you also know that Peter is a great guy. You should be glad someone like him turned my head. He’s nice, responsible, smart, respectful, and loved by Uncle Tony. So come on, dad. Let me date my cousin.”
“But Tony asked me to look after him. And I don’t always so the best job. I try, but you know he won’t listen if he has his mind set on doing something. God forbid something had ever happened to him….” Happy trailed off and looked down at the ground.
“You’d be letting down the two most important people in your life.” May finished his sentence with a sad smile.
“Its hard for me to remember you’re not a little girl anymore. I thought I would have more time to prepare for this.” Happy admitted. “And I thought Tony would be here to help me. But you’re just growing up so fast. I can’t keep up.”
“We’re both growing up, dad. But we’re doing it together so it’s less scary.” You told him as you put your hands on his shoulders. Happy smiled fondly at you before looking over your shoulder at Peter.
“Do you really like him?” He asked you.
“I do. He listens to me. And he makes me smile.”
“Gross.” Happy gagged.
“Dad.” You whined. “Stop it.”
Happy sighed and looked up at everyone in the apartment. When his eyes landed on Peter, he got up and went over to him. Peter raised his fists in case Happy tried to attack him again, but Happy lowered them.
“Peter, you have my blessing to date my daughter.” Happy said sincerely.
“You have my blessing too.” May spoke up. “But I don’t love the whole cousin aspect.”
“Me either.” You agreed. “Please never get married so we’re never actually cousins.”
“We were never actually talking about marriage. May just said “Aw” during an allergy commercial that showed a wedding.” Happy admitted.
“So we’re good then? We can date without it being incestuous or forbidden?” Peter asked hopefully and wrapped an arm around you.
“I guess so. Just no PDA in front of me, okay? I don’t need to be reminded of this. Ever.” Happy asked and Peter immediately removed his arm.
“No problem, sir.” Peter replied.
“I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s get back to the family dinner.” You smiled and sat back in your seat. Everyone scrunched their face in disgust and you realized your mistake. Calling it a family dinner now that everyone knew you and Peter had kissed and nearly become cousins made everyone a little queasy.
“I, um, I apologize for my choice of words.”
Tag List 🏷️
@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling
@tom-hollands-wifey @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning
@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101 @peterparkoure
@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland
@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​
@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant
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 @officialsimppage e @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours
@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85
@olixerwxxd @whereismytelephone @leilanixx
@so-very-asleep @veryholland @white-wolf1940 @firwproof-blog
@nowayhomeparker @imobsessedzs @spideyspeaches
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dreamingofbucky · 9 months
Text
THE REPORT
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Miguel O'Hara x Spider!F!Reader (one shot)
summary: You failed to report to Miguel after a mission and he makes it a living hell for you. to teach you a lesson, he makes you meet him after everyone's gone home and has a special punishment just for you.
tags/content warnings: slow burn til it isn't, grumpy!miguel, cockwarming like that's the whole plot, consensual smut. p in v. fangs. praise kink, size kink. age gap (reader is 20, mig is almost 30 idk). reader is a sister figure to gwen.
Word Count: 6.1k
author’s note: not beta read. this was so fun to write! hope you enjoy <3
-
Living in Spider Society was chaotic, but you loved it. You enjoyed it so much, but there were times you liked to visit other universes and even your own. You haven’t been back to your own universe in months due to work though. 
You’ve been to Gwen and Hobie’s ones countless times, even stayed multiple nights. Albeit you being a few years older than them, about to turn 21, they were your closest friends in Spider Society. They got your humor, they understood your mess, and they’d fight for you. 
With Jessica Drew being older and busy with her own relationship, and then Peter B Parker with MJ and Mayday, you were glad you had these Spiderteens to hang with. You felt like an older sister to them sometimes which helped with the whole identity crisis you had the first month moving to Earth-928 and feeling so alone. 
And then there was Miguel. He was technically your boss and he was so cold, so standoffish toward you. Even after he recruited you, you’ve seen him less and less around missions unless you had to go to his office to report any difficulties with anomalies. You felt miniscule under his gaze most times. But then… even as much as you hated to admit how he made you feel though at random times when you felt his gaze linger a little longer than normal. 
It’s probably been a week since the last time you had to go up to his office to relay a report, yet the grumpy man’s eyes were everywhere in Earth-928. You felt his eyes everywhere. Your spider senses went haywire whenever you felt him near. But it was more than just a tingle to you. It was a strange feeling you couldn’t pin down. But you brushed it off anytime that specific feeling came around. 
You did have some hard times though in this new universe you called home. You had your own Peter back in your own universe until he passed. It was your canon event, after all. Something you still hated thinking about. 
It was hard at first acclimating to Spider Society seeing so many Peter Parkers. Yours wasn’t Spider-Man, since you were the one in your universe, but the name was hard to adjust to hearing all the time, every day at work. That was the one thing you and Gwen had in common which was why you both were glued to the hip most of the time like real sisters. 
Some might say it’s just trauma bonding, but you did ultimately feel like Gwen was like a younger sibling to you at this point. And no one really understood the hard adjustment to Spider Society like she did. It was comforting. 
“You’re thinking again,” Gwen says, pulling you out of your thoughts. Her pink-blonde hair fell in front of her face as she busied herself with a journal. She liked to journal a lot more recently ever since she’s been spending more time with Miles. 
You remembered her mentioning when she saw him after a year apart that she found his own journal of doodles. It was so obvious the crush she had on him, but you didn’t push or ask any questions. 
A smile comes to your face as you see her doodling nonsense. You couldn’t admit that she wasn’t the best artist, but you let her have her vice whenever Miles was busy and off on different missions or even back in his universe to finish school. His parents still didn’t know he was Spider-Man, so he wasn’t around Spider Society as often as Gwen would like. 
“No,” you counter. “Just letting my mind rest. Had a long week.” 
Gwen’s bright eyes drifted up from the journal before a smile etched on her face. “Did you send your latest report to Miguel yet?” 
Your spine stiffened at the sound of his name. “No, why? Was I supposed to? I thought Hobie was in charge of that this week?” 
Sometimes Gwen, Hobie, and you would rock-paper-scissors whoever did the reports for the week. This week was supposed to be Hobie’s. 
Gwen shakes her head. “No, I clearly remember Hobie mentioning it’d be you. He’s not even around today.” 
“Oh,” you plainly stated. She was right, he wasn’t in this universe today. Had some protest to join back in his own universe. He invited you and Gwen, but you both wanted to be around in case you were needed. You urged Gwen to even spend the day with Miles, but he apparently had something to do with his parents. 
Gwen whistles. “Miguel is gonna be looking for you then.”
Your eyes widened at that. “Fuck, no he can’t. I didn’t even prepare anything! We went two days ago, how am I supposed to remember each detail of what we did? Fuck, I’m going to find Hobie and–” 
“Chill!” Gwen laughs. “Just go see him and let him know. Hey, maybe bringing an empanada will lessen the blow.” 
You rolled your eyes at that before standing up. The room you both were in was quiet and not many spider-people were around. Gwen and you liked to come in here to either debrief, talk about Miles, or just sit in silence while she doodled and you thought. 
You cherished her, you cherished every one of your spider friends. Well, except now with Hobie. Because now you’re for sure going to get a scolding from the boss man. 
“Good luck,” Gwen sing-songed as you shook your head and laughed. But inside you were dying, your heart was starting to race as you left the room. You made your way through the building until you got to the elevator. The ride up was short and you even forgot the empanada. 
Your fingers laced together at the front as the doors opened and you walked on the floor where his office was. It was unusually quiet. And darker than normal.
There wasn’t any big anomaly that had to be contained today or else you’d know. So where was everyone?
By the time you reached his office, you craned your neck up to see his platform high up and he was there standing, staring at a screen. He hadn’t noticed you yet, due to his inability to have spider senses, and you take your time looking at him. 
His broad shoulders were facing you and you noticed his hands on his slim waist. You lick your lips at the sight. It wasn’t something you were proud of. 
Call it hormones. You closed yourself off to any romantic flings or relationships the moment you moved here, but you still had those urges. 
And they so happened to heighten whenever you were around the one person you shouldn’t have those urges around. Your attraction to your boss wasn’t something you expected, especially with him being a few years older than you… okay, he was definitely older. He never mentioned his age, but you overhead he was probably closer to 30. Which made him almost a decade older than you. 
Your thoughts drift to a week ago when you saw him in passing. Spider-Woman was briefing you for a mission when he caught on to the conversation and halted his steps. He interrupted that conversation to scold you, letting Jess know that you wouldn’t be joining her that day. 
You didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like the anomaly wasn’t someone you couldn’t handle. But you had to follow his orders and ultimately stayed back while he and the other Spiders went. Even Gwen and Hobie went. 
That was a low blow on Miguel’s part. You’d at least thought he’d make the non-teens go on a mission together. You can’t remember the last time you went on a mission where Miguel was present. It felt like some days he didn’t even want you around. 
As you think about Miguel, you hear shuffling up above you and you blink, brushing away the thoughts and focusing on what you had to do. 
You shoot out a web to his platform and bring yourself up, landing on your feet. He finally turns at the noise and gives you a side-eye. 
“What are you doing here?” He asks. 
Your fingers find each other again as you fumble for a response. Here goes. “I-I had that report to tell you about. I thought Hobie was going to give it, sorry for the delay.” 
His shoulders rise and fall with each breath before he turns around. His hand goes in the air behind him, waving off the screens he was just looking at. You caught a glimpse of another universe and Spider people shooting webs. 
He had an eye on everything. 
“That was supposed to be given directly after you returned from it,” he scoffs. He takes a step toward you and you try to hold your ground. Your breathing increases and his lips twitch. 
“I know! Just a simple miscommunication, that’s all,” you try to laugh it off, but his stern face is anything but finding it funny. 
“Do you know what I think?” He simply asks. The hairs on your arms stand as you look at him. His eyes smooth over your face, looking all over. They stop for a brief moment a little lower, on your lips, for more than a second. 
“What do you think?” You ask breathlessly. 
He takes another step closer, now inches away. He’s so tall compared to you, he’s basically caging you in at this moment without even knowing. You gulp. 
“You’re supposed to be an example to them.” 
“What?” 
“You heard me,” he grimaces. “You’re older than them, yet you seem to act their age. It’s evident in the way you completely forgot to send in that report on time.” 
“It happened once! And by accident! Like I said, it was because–” 
“Take responsibility,” he spits. His hand goes to his hip and now you’re on the verge of hyperventilating. You didn’t expect a lecture when you came here. You expected Miguel to throw a fit, yelling at you, and then banishing you from his office within minutes. But you’re still here. 
“Okay, I will,” you finally state. You feel deflated from the conversation already and you’re starting to get impatient at his obvious anger. Or annoyance. He seemed to be either angry or annoyed by you everytime you’re around. 
“Okay, let’s hear it.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his elbows brushing against your chest in the process with how close he is. You take a deep breath. 
“I’m taking responsibility for not giving you the report on time. I apologize, boss.” 
He nods before turning on his heel and returning to his screen. You’re left confused and you even raise a brow at the odd reaction. 
“Don’t you want the report now?” You ask, kicking your heel at the ground. 
“No, not right now. I’m busy. Come back later.” 
“But I had plans with Gwen,” you start, but he snaps his neck back at you and his eyes glow red. You stop talking immediately. 
“Come. Back. Later.” He hisses, fangs showing. 
“Right, will do,” you stutter out before attempting to run off that platform. Your two left feet make you trip and fall, making you have to shoot out a web to catch yourself before you planted face first on the floor below. 
You didn’t dare to look up and see if Miguel saw that, you left as soon as your feet hit the ground. 
By the time you went to regroup with Gwen, she wasn’t where you left her. It took you a moment to walk around the building before you found her outside, sitting and staring at the scenery. You climbed the structure she was on, upside down, before shooting out webs to anchor you, and lowering yourself and sitting next to her. 
“How was it?” She asks, looking at you. 
“Not so well,” you confess. 
“Really? What happened?” Her eyes widen. 
You shrug. “Not much, actually. I apologized and took responsibility for not giving it to him on time.” 
“But? Your face looks like there’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there,” she laughs. You nudge her shoulder with yours and you frown. 
“Yeah, there’s a but. He didn’t want the report. Told me to go back later tonight to give it to him.” 
“That’s great!” Gwen smiles. 
“How’s that great?” You ask, raising a brow. You decide to look out in front of you both and see the vast city before you. Although you’re upside down, you never get tired of the view. 
“Because you have time to do the report and then give it to him, duh. You don’t have to verbally give it to him on the spot.” 
“I don’t know,” you finally breathe. You place your palms behind you and lean back. Gwen does the same, mimicking you. 
“You know, Jess mentioned that he’s a big softie under all that anger and macho-ness.” 
“What?” You laugh, wondering why the hell she’s steering the conversation this way. 
Gwen nods with a smile curling on the tips of her lips. “Yep. It kind of reminds me of those stupid sayings where if he makes fun of you, he likes you.” 
Your body stiffens and you shake your head. “Gwen! What are you talking about? Miguel?” 
There is nothing behind the reasons why he’s cold to you or why he’s made it seem like you aren’t worth being around. If he had any inkling of attraction toward you, you’d know. Spider sense or not. 
“See tonight, then! And please let me know. I kind of made a bet with Jess… I have to win.”
You groan. “What?! You guys are betting on the most impossible thing. There is nothing there. He hates me, but like actually. There is no underlying meaning.” 
“Sure,” Gwen laughs. “Anyways, Miles said he’s coming back tomorrow so we might have to raincheck on that girls night.” 
“I thought that was tonight?” 
“I figured we’d have to move it to tomorrow night the moment you mentioned Miguel needing to see you tonight. He’ll probably make you handwrite that damn report all night.” 
You lean your head back and stare at the city above you. “Fine, raincheck. But nothing is going on, you’ll see.” 
“Hmm,” is all Gwen says before you shake your head and laugh. You both stay watching the city in silence for a little longer before you go on with your day, dreading for the night to come. 
***
“Miguel?” You call out into the darkness of his office. His platform is dark, with no sign of life from him or anyone. 
Suddenly, you hear a fizzle in the air and then Lyla pops up into thin air. You almost yelp, hand flying to your chest. 
“Hey! Miguel let me know for you to meet him in his quarters.” Lyla floats around you, disappearing and reappearing at random spots. Her pink glasses lower on the bridge of her nose as she takes a good look at you. 
“His place?” You repeat, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. You’ve never been called to his quarters. He had a place of course in the city, but it was known that he’d stay multiple times a week at the floor of the building that acted as a penthouse for when he needed to be on call for anyone. 
You were terrified that you did something else wrong and that’s why he decided to have this meeting in a more private location. You gulp, looking at Lyla. 
“Don’t look so scared!” She laughs. “Come on!” She yells before disappearing and reappearing a few yards away closer to the elevator. 
You follow with no argument before you both get into the elevator and it skyrockets a few more floors up. The elevator dings and you see Miguel in normal clothes, not his suit. It didn’t occur to you that he can wear something else besides his suit. You’ve never seen him without the suit, so this was weird. 
Miguel hears your steps and he looks, a look of concern on his face. You instantly cross your arms over your chest, as if trying to hide yourself from his gaze. His eyes drift from your toes to your eyes before he looks at Lyla who appears in front of him. 
“She’s here, boss,” she sing-songs before Miguel grunts. 
“Thanks, Lyla. Now pause all updates unless it’s an emergency. Forward any updates to Jessica if there are any.” 
“Only if you say it,” Lyla teases, twirling around Miguel’s body. 
Miguel groans, rolling his eyes. “Lyla, do it.” 
“Nuh uh, I need to hear it boss,” she pushes. This makes you giggle at the encounter but you shut your mouth as Miguel gives you a stern look. 
“Please, Lyla,” he finally says with a bite to his words. 
“Already done, boss, but I loved hearing that,” Lyla says before evaporating into thin air. The silence fills the room as you stand there, rocking back and forth on your heels. 
“Where’s your suit?” He finally asks, heading to the kitchen. You follow blindly, unsure what else to do. 
“I-uh, didn’t think I’d need it.” You looked down at your sweats and long sleeve, wondering if you should’ve looked more presentable. It was past dinnertime, way past that to be precise, the sky was dark outside his floor to ceiling windows, so it didn’t make sense to wear anything else. You wanted to feel cozy too. The softness of the clothes calmed you a bit with the anxiety of what Miguel might say. 
You tried to write the report earlier, but your mind was a mess. You’d have to apologize for that again you were sure of it. 
“You didn’t, just wanted to ask,” Miguel chuckles as he reaches inside his fridge and pulls out a water bottle. He turns to you and raises it, looking at you with a questionable face. You nod as he tosses you it and you open it, taking a few sips. You hear the crack of his own and his gulping. 
You didn’t realize how much of a cottonmouth you had until you started drinking the cold water. 
“So the report, do you have it?” He asks, heading toward you. 
“About that…” you start. His jaw clenches and his eyes go red for a moment before they go back to the pretty brown. 
“You didn’t do it?” 
You shake your head, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “No, I-I tried to. I swear, I can do it right now, just let me get my computer or a pen and paper.” 
That’s when he laughs again. You’ve never heard him laugh before. It was like music to your ears. Your heart picks up its pace at the sound and the way his eyes crinkle at the motion. His teeth bare with the laugh and you notice the fangs popping out. 
An inappropriate thought of him sinking them into you comes to the forefront of your mind and you suck in your breath and clench your thighs together. He pinches his brows, looking at you at the sudden sound you swore he wouldn’t be able to hear. 
“Ven aquí,” he beckons as he waves you over to the other end of the place where a living room holds a few couches. The place isn’t decorated and it looks like it was just created as something to show, not live in. He sits on the edge of the couch and you walk over to him, keeping a few inches away. 
You can practically feel his body heat emanating and your body betrays you as your knees get wobbly and you have to clear your throat. You curse yourself for having these reactions toward your boss in his private place. 
Lyla couldn’t even interrupt you both as much as you’d like. You didn’t want to be scolded. You wanted to take the punishment of finishing the report in front of Miguel and then go home.
“Your heart is racing so fast,” he murmurs, causing you to gasp. Heat pools in your belly and your cheeks start to burn. He cocks his head to the side before sighing and running a hand through his hair. His biceps flex under his shirt and you bite your lip. 
“It’s just hot in here,” you lie, fanning yourself to prove a point. 
“The AC is on,” he counters. 
“Of course,” you squeak. You try so hard to lower your heart rate, but it’s not helping being so close to him. 
“Do you want to know what else I can observe?” He asks, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. Your ears are pounding as you intake a sharp breath. 
“What?” You whisper. 
He rises, getting close to you. He lifts a hand and traces a finger underneath your chin, causing you to tremble and your lips quiver. “I can smell the way your sweat is protruding. And it’s not from fear.” 
“Oh,” you whisper again. 
He bares his teeth, fangs glinting. “I can also smell you to the point where it’s driving me fucking crazy right now.” 
“Smell me? Like my sweat and my scent?” You raise a brow. You’re not sure where he’s getting at this. Is he trying to intimidate you? Cause it’s working. 
“I can smell your arousal,” he chuckles, getting closer to brush your chest with his body. You widen your eyes. 
“Oh, uh, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say. You try to clench your thighs together, but that doesn’t help with the growing feeling between them. Your pussy is basically singing for him to touch it. You do your best to push down those thoughts, it’s utter humiliation that he can sense those things. 
His thumb brushes your bottom lip and your knees almost give out at the gentle touch. It’s all confusing you to the point where you’re not even sure this is happening. 
“You look confused,” he mutters. 
“I-uh, I’m not sure what’s going on. I thought I was going to be lectured. I thought you’d send me away to finish the report or something,” you admit. 
“You won’t be going on any missions anytime soon, how’s that for a lecture?” 
Your heart drops at this. “What? How is that fair? I’m not the only one who missed a report, I’m sure!” 
His hand drops from your face and you miss the feeling of it instantly. You stare at him and your anger is starting to increase. Scrunching your brows together, you exhale loudly. 
“It’s completely fair for the way it was handled.” 
It wasn’t wise for you to keep talking back to your boss, especially being alone with him. There wouldn’t be anyone around to save you if he started one of his rage arguments. 
“The report can be done now, how about that?” he finally breathes. He retreats back to the couch and leans back, thighs spreading. His frame is large and your eyes immediately go to his core and then his crotch. You gulp, knowing you shouldn’t be looking in that region. 
He says your name sternly and you look up before seeing a smirk pass his lips. 
You shake your head and straighten your posture. “Of course, boss. Where do you want me to do it?” You ask, looking around for a desk or maybe he wanted you to complete it on the kitchen island. You still needed a paper and pen or a computer. 
He makes a slapping sound and you turn toward it, seeing him slapping his thigh. You stare at him incredulously. 
“Miguel?” You whisper. His eyes are no longer the light brown you remember from moments before. They've gone a little darker and red is seeping into the sclera. You gulp. 
“Aquí,” he states firmly. You oblige, getting closer and bumping your knee with his before you stand in between his spread thighs. 
Your heart continues to race and you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from it. He pats his thighs again before he leans up for a moment, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you in so easily. He lifts you up like you weigh nothing before you’re straddling his thighs, legs on either side of his. 
It happens so quickly all you can do is gasp and then balance yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders. His very broad, strong shoulders. Your fingers clasp them tightly and you swallow. 
“Isn’t that better?” he whispers. You bite your lip, not sure how to respond. His hand lifts to brush your cheek before pushing strands of hair behind your ear. The movement is delicate and completely opposite of how Miguel holds himself in public. You’ve seen him swat a butterfly once that wasn’t even bothering him and his grumpy persona is all you know. 
“Tell me,” he demands. You part your lips. 
“Yes,” you finally admit. His hands move to your waist and press hard, enough for you to gasp. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and he hisses. 
“What are we doing?” You ask, courage finally bubbling out of your chest. 
“I’ve noticed things about you, reina,” he whispers, holding you tighter. 
“You have?” 
He nods. “The way you look at me. Your heart races when you’re near me. Your pussy craves my touch, I can smell it everytime.” 
“What? No, it’s not–” you scream but he pulls you closer on his thighs until your core brushes against his. You feel something right under your pussy and you realize it’s his erection. 
Your hips instinctively roll at the feeling and you groan, biting your lip. 
“See? You can’t deny the way your body is wanting me. I can’t lie and say I haven’t thought about it too. That I don’t feel the same way.” 
“Miguel,” you squirm underneath his hold but that only makes your hips roll even more into his erection and it sparks something in you. It feels so good and a moan leaves your lips. He grunts, fangs hitting his bottom lip for a moment. A slight red dot forms from the incision. 
“Besame,” he asks, smoothing his hands up to your torso, over your arms and then to your cheeks. You feel intoxicated from his touch. 
He wants you to kiss him. You can’t deny that, you’re already so far gone now. Without a delay, you nod and lean in, crashing your lips to his. A moan escapes your lips while a hiss leaves his. You feel a slight prick from his fangs and you gasp. 
“Sorry, reina,” he says, licking your bottom lip. 
You take a few deep breaths, lifting a hand from his shoulder to run it through his hair. You don’t do it gently, call it payback for the fang bite. But it only rouses him more, your fingers grasping harshly at his strands. He pulls you in then again to kiss you and then pushes his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with fervor and you let him. Your hips begin to roll over his erection and it hits the spot you need it to. 
“Take these off,” he slaps your ass and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your sweats. You nod before lifting yourself and he pulls them down. You shift awkwardly until your sweats are off and then you’re straddling him with just your panties. His calloused palms touch your thighs and he groans. 
“Fuck, your skin is so soft.” He murmurs before smoothing his hands over your thighs before moving to your panties. 
“Do you want me to take these off too?” 
He shakes his head, lifting a hand. You see a talon come out from his finger and he’s quick to cut the fabric of your panties. You gasp and he smiles. 
“Hey!” You yelp. 
“My turn,” he moves on, moving his hands to pull down his own pants. You have to lift yourself again, your panties falling from the motion. You watch as he slides his pants down enough until they’re past his knees. You finally look down and gasp, not expecting him to be bare underneath. No boxers, just his erected cock ready for you. A glint of pre-cum is at the tip and your mouth salivates at the thought. 
His hand goes to his cock and he starts to move it up and down. He hisses through the movements before he licks his hand and continues the motions. You widen your eyes. 
“Are you ready for your report?” He breaks your thoughts. 
You lock eyes with him. “T-the report? Right now?”
He nods. “Sit on my cock, reina, and give me the damn report.” 
Your cheeks burn and you look around the room, wondering if this is some kind of dream. You lift your hand to your other arm and pinch. It hurts, so you know you’re not dreaming. 
He’s still fisting his cock as he waits patiently. His eyes are redder than before and he licks his lips. 
“Miguel,” you whisper. 
“You’re so wet for me already, I know it,” he laughs. 
He wasn’t wrong, but your brain was turning into mush. You muster the courage to finally do as he says. You lift yourself enough to hover over his core and his hand moves from his cock to your pussy and you gasp from the feeling of his fingers running along your wet folds. 
“Fuck, you’re going to be a tight fit. But I can’t warm you up, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. 
“Wait, why?” 
“Another punishment, now sit on my cock before I change my mind about everything.” 
You didn’t want to know what else he planned for your punishment and you knew it wouldn’t be nearly as enticing as this. He’d probably make you work at the cafeteria or some shit. 
“Okay,” you meep, finally lowering yourself onto his tip. You hiss at the feeling of his wet tip entering you. 
“Come on, you got this,” he coos as his hands move to your waist to help lower you down. Inch by aching inch, you lower until you’re full of him. His girth practically splits you in half and you bite your lip, holding in a cry. 
“You’re so pretty like this, sitting on my lap with my cock stuffed inside you.” 
You let out a deep breath. “You’re so big, Miguel, I need a moment.” 
“Take your time, you’re not leaving anytime soon.” 
Your heart skips a beat at that thought. It takes a moment for you to adjust to his length before you’re ready to roll your hips. It feels like the world has flipped upside down and you’re in heaven. Sparks run all along your spine and throughout your body. 
His cock twitches inside you and you start to roll your hips, closing your eyes. 
“Open your eyes,” he demands. You whip them open and stare at him. Your hands dig into his shoulders again as you roll your hips again, causing him to groan and tighten his hold on your waist. 
“Now, the report,” he repeats. 
“Oh, yeah, uh–” you mumble out. Your mind can’t concentrate on that damn report as your pussy clenches around his cock. He stills your movements. 
“We can only continue if you start talking,” he says. 
That’s when you realize what he’s doing. He’s not going to take you off his lap until you’re done with the report. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to handle that. Your orgasm is already rising to its peak with the small movements. He’s so big, hitting your g-spot perfectly. Each roll of your hips sends you closer and closer to your release. 
“Okay, well,” you start. “Hobie and I were able to handle the Vulture from Earth-673. It was good and–ah–we got him contained.” You say, biting your lip to keep from coming. 
“And?” Miguel presses, lifting his own hips to drive his cock a little more into you. An exasperated pant leaves your mouth at this. He’s cruel. 
“And that was it, that was all we did. Nothing else happened,” you mumbled out quickly. 
“That’s not what I saw on the screens,” he hums. He moves a hand to roam down between your cores. His thumb presses gently against your clit and you clench his cock before whimpering. 
“Miguel!” 
“What else happened?” 
You try so hard to think back to the mission that happened days ago. You curse Hobie for not sending the report or reminding you that you had to do it. 
That’s when you remember something. You smile. “Gwen was handling that train cart that fell off the platform and then Hobie and I focused on the people on the ground. We got them all.” 
“And what else?” Miguel starts to circle his thumb over your clit at a faster pace. You groan and hang your head back. His movements stop. 
“Miguel, please,” you squirm, trying to get back that friction against your clit by rubbing yourself over his abdomen. He hisses and shakes his head. 
“You forgot about the canon event you didn’t stop,” he reminded you. 
That didn’t seem like important information to tell him. You all worked hard to prevent canon disruptions. It was an obvious task that didn’t need to be vocalized. He raises a brow. You take a deep breath and nod. 
“Y-yeah,” you mumble. “We allowed the canon event to happen successfully.” 
“Good girl,” Miguel coos before placing his thumb back on your clit and his other hand grasps your waist tight enough and he lifts you enough to slam you back down on his cock. You scream, falling on him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Your hands bury in his long hair. 
“So good for me,” he whispers in your ear as you roll your hips some more, chasing that high. 
“I’m close,” you whine. You feel his lips graze your neck and before you know it, you feel pain and little stabs at your skin. His fangs sink into your skin and that only causes you to moan loudly and squeeze his cock even more. He grunts before removing his fangs from your neck. 
“You did so well for me, you can come whenever you want to, reina,” he whispers. And before you know it, both hands go to your waist and he’s lifting you up at an alarming pace and slamming you down on his cock. 
You’re both panting loudly, the only sounds in the room are your cores slapping and your pussy drenching him in your arousal. 
“Fuck! I’m going to come,” you whimper. 
“Come all over my cock, baby,” he stutters as his pace of slamming you down grows sloppy. You nod and lift your head to look at him. His eyes are less red and his features have seemed to go a little softer. 
Before you know it, you’re screaming and coming over his cock. He doesn’t stop though, he continues to jut into you until his hips still and his hands shake on your waist. You feel the warmth spread inside you and you know he just released inside you. 
“Fuck,” he sighs. 
You lay your forehead against his chest and his hands are soft to the touch as he rubs your bare back underneath your shirt. You shudder underneath his touch, but you try to calm your breathing. Your pussy clenches around his softening dick and he groans. 
“I can get off,” you whisper, attempting to lift your hips, but his hold on you tightens. 
“No, not yet.” 
“Why?” You giggle. You lift your head and you’re nose to nose with Miguel. His eyes dance around your face before he answers. 
“I think you need to repeat the report once more.” 
“What?!” You scowl. 
“I’ve got you here now, what’s the problem? You can’t repeat the same thing you just said? Or are you too cockdrunk to think of anything?” 
You didn’t want to tell him that he’s right. The last few minutes are a blur and the mission of a few days ago is at the back of your mind already. You whimper as his hands lower to your ass and squeezes. You try to lift your hips again, but he slams you back down on him. The friction only causes your arousal to rise again. 
Fuck, you’re never going to leave are you? 
His erection starts to grow again in you and he smiles like a jerk. 
“The report, repeat it. If you stumble once, you’re starting over. I have all night.” 
You roll your hips, fully drowning in him and obeying his every command. You’re too far gone at this point to fight. 
You nod, biting your lip before starting the report again. You mumble a few times and you curse yourself as he takes a moment to lift you and slam you on his cock a few times. You scream his name relentlessly before having to start the report over again. 
You don’t get off his lap until the sun peeks from the horizon and filters through the penthouse. 
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triangularz · 2 months
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Works from black creators; we’re here.
The list is updated fairly frequently, so reblogged versions may not be most recent; click here to be sure you’re viewing the latest
NOTES ABOUT THE LIST | #-G
H-O | P-Z
WELCOME, CELEBRATE. Darlings: This is a directory of Black individuals who create (different backgrounds, experiences, interests, etc.) and includes a variety of preferences, styles, subgenres, fandoms, original works, etc. You can link to it in pinned posts (you’ll find in mine) or save to keep top of mind and heart ✔️
Primarily fan works creators here: Fanfics, fanart, fanthoughts, variety of fandoms. But you’ll see individuals who create straight original work/art. List begins below housekeeping. And below that, a few thoughts from me.
Original idea post here thanks to @cardierreh15 for posting a request for black creator tags/recs- l've aggregated as much as possible here
Growing it: The list isn’t exclusive. There are no applications or requirements for inclusion*. I'll add your blog or your recs as long as within the context of the list’s purpose! Just share in comments/dm. Please spell correctly (when I can, I'll ask your recs first). Some blogs are recommended but if not found, I can’t spend time searching for them unfortunately
Upkeep: I’ll consistently spot check for removed blogs, name changes, etc. If you happen to notice something like that, please let me know. If you have a post with a list of recs, I can link to that as well. I will remove your tag if you'd prefer not to be listed. And cry.
I'm happy to add a few descriptive words/content tags/fandoms to the list when you’re added: These are examples- art/photography/writing, smut, fluff, plot (plot plot not like, where y'all fuckin), feelings, angst, series, typical word length, humor, dark content, lgbtq, etc. or your own; just message me or comment.
CHECK: @blkwriters ( @ramonathinks damn, the tags the organization of it wow) and @angelshub (specific writers were part of the network… shut down but works are present) specifically post our creations.
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when you find something you love: reblog reblog reblog some blogs listed may not be active, but have great work. abbreviations/definitions/listing of genres, styles, etc. here
#
1zurusprinc3ss (smut, plot/pwp, dark content, angst, fluff)
555sage (wwe- jay critch, dave east, more)
A
a-lumos-in-the-nox (Druig, Merlin, Hogwart’s Legacy
characters, others, black female ocs) abinitioart
ackee (original art; writing-oc) akm87 (original art, ocs)
annie-manga (original art, oc) aquiboni (original art, ocs)
arachine (stranger things, marvel, avatar- angst, fluff, dc,
nsfw) asieybarbie (original art, fanart/ocs- pokemon,
sailor moon, others)
B
backwzzds (op, bleach, aot, jjk, gangsta, simon riley)
bbybrainrot (aot- explicit, dc)
bey0nseh (aot- fluff, smut) blkkizzat (jjk - smut, pwp, plot,
fics 5k+, black coded reader)
bleach-your-panties (bleach, mha, aot, jjk, tr, tg, h!!, hxh,
ds, cm- smut, plot/pwp, dc, angst, fluff, x blk reader)
bloodripleygal (wwe) bluumey (original art, ocs, lgbtq)
boxofbonesfic (star wars, thor odinson, lotr/the hobbit,
h. cavill, marvel, c. evans, s. stan- angst, fluff, dark content,
comedy, horror)
breyspage (aot, mha- fluff, nsfw) btrcp (original art)
bunnerscrib-28 (fanart, original art, ocs- toontown,
danganronpa, total drama, more)
C
c-nstantine (dc comics, marvel, mha) c0pkiller (aot, jjk, ds,
cm, hxh, op- sfw, nsfw) cardierreh15 (h. cavill- angst, fluff,
smut, violence)
channwie (jjk, bleach, op- angst, fluff, smut)
charee (original art) cherienymphe chosaya (jjk- fluff, smut)
chosovixen (jjk, h!!- fluff/sfw, nsfw)
chrissshub (jjk, ff, tr, kny, aot- smut)
chrollohearttags (aot, ds, hxh, jjk, tr, kuroko no basket, h!!,
op- fluff, smut, dc)
chrollosbm (jjk- smut, fluff) clouzyday (jjk- fanart and
writing)
cocoamoonmalfoy (timothée chalamet, zendaya
and florence pugh characters, eivor varinsdóttir, loki
laufeyson, peter parker- various genres)
cookiepie111 (marvel, könig, op) cowinf (fanart, ocs, original
art- deltarune, final fantasy, d&d, berserk, more)
cozystars (fanart, original art- dungeon meshi, superstar
saga, more, lgbtq, mature themes)
crescentmoontsuki (ds, jjk, mha, aot- fluff, comfort, angst)
crystolnaut (original art, ocs, lgbtq) cuddledot (original art)
D
darksideofthecocoamoon (timothée chalamet characters,
prince hal- dark content)
daitsaisan (original art, ocs, lgbtq) darcias
darqchilddaydreamz (sons of anarchy, mayans, chicago pd,
good girls- humor, smut, angst, fluff) @deathc-re
dejwrld (aot, jjk, cod, h!!, mortal kombat, vinland saga- sfw,
nsfw, multi-chapter/long fics) delinda-arts (original art,
fanart) desavine (original art- lgbtq, blood, gore, horror)
dimikira-art/dimikira (original art)
diorsbrando (bleach, naruto, mha, aot, jjk, jjba, more-
fluff, smut, dark content)
dreamsinfocus (roman reigns- smut/nsfw)
E
ebonyslasher (slashers- michael myers, billy lenz, jason
voorhees, stu matcher, more- fluff, smut, humor)
elfqueen006 ellethespaceunicorn (h. cavill, c. evans and
s. stan characters- explicit, mature, general, fluff)
empressdede endotwrites eraofevermore
F
fairune fineanddandy (character roles- brandon boyd,
s. stan, aldis hodge, charlie hunnam, manny montana, tess
thompson, more) frogwhomp
G
gardenof-venus (scream, euphoria, criminal minds, stranger
things, marvel- smut, fluff, angst) genottr (fanart)
getoscrybaby (aot) getosbigballsack (jjk- smut, fluff)
glorious-imagines (angst, fluff)
greyspaceghost (original art, ocs)
▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️
Some thoughts, with respect (roll your eyes if you’d like, it’s a lot of the same ole same old… if you do roll your eyes, send me a video of you doing it and I’ll try to care… I’m being cheeky, but there may be some newer folks who appreciate the thoughts!):
We’re very obviously diverse in artistic/creative style, speech, experience, philosophies, takes on the world, how frequently we post/ how prolific, our perspectives, personalities, all that… so find what you like, skip what you don't (Settings - Filtering for what you don’t want to fully see or just block). REBLOG (THEY’RE FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN LIKES). GIVE PRAISE. THANK PEOPLE. particularly with specifics (I’m working on all this too, my lazy ass), we don’t need more of us to leave… ✔️
Creating and pinning a masterlist is SO HELPFUL! ppl can better find your original works OR use a unique tag for each of your works so that ppl can search within your blog. ✔️
Tagging is important for your works and what you reblog- character or fandom x black reader, x black!reader, x fluff, x smut, x smut with feelings, #blk fanfic writers, #blk writers, # blk fanfiction, see how others use tags, there are a shit ton more ✔️
Adding name and age to your blog is smart. Many, many folks have blogs that include explicit content and topics, and they choose to use age restrictions block those who follow or reach out to interact if a name/age aren’t listed on that person’s blog ✔️
▪️
Besos, Hazel 💋
blk fanfic writer, triangularz
*If I happen to skim, and note that a blog contains themes like inc*st, harm to minors, glorification of abuse or similar, I will not knowingly add. I’ll refrain from adding quietly, no call outs or big to dos about it
370 notes · View notes
nouearth · 9 months
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hope.
pairing ; peter parker x m!reader. fandom: ; marvel, spider-man. word count ; 1889. genre; angst. rating ; pg-13. warnings ; holland!spider-man, crying, break-up, kissing.
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it was nearly midnight, and the stars were in full bloom, clustered yet distinctively separate. it was a familiar sight, but you lounged in the wake of the city—the sweet sound of sirens, the laughter of drunk passersby, and the smell of pollution—nonetheless.
it was brave of you to be hanging your arm over the ledge of the rooftop, but you received better signal this way. your face was lit up by the brightness of your phone screen as you were bent over the ledge, scrolling through your messages with peter, clearly displeased.
still on tonight?
you stopped your thumb on the screen, muttering peter’s messages from a few hours ago.
bringing pizza! new place just opened up.
you can’t lie to yourself anymore: you and peter have been drifting apart. dates have slowly come to a halt ever since peter confessed to you about his dual life as spider-man. and when they do happen, he was late—out of breath and disheveled, and occasionally bruised—though he’d brush the latter off with a laugh.
i just need to ice it! don’t worry.
guilt would overcome you as you would silently analyze his condition on one of those dates. you would notice his dark circles: a clear indication of sleep-deprivation. his tensed face when he moved: a torn muscle he refused to check up on. his constant attention anywhere else but you: a search to help.
and they’ve only gotten worse.
but you never complained or berated him because in the end, it was peter who was sacrificing a portion of his heroic life for you, doing everything he possibly could to please you—because your relationship was hanging by a string of web at this point, almost tearing, and you both knew it.
a frustrated groan came out of you and you stashed your phone away to turn to the comfort of watching the dark alleyway beneath you, only to be met with peter in his uniform, spider-man mask and all, staring right up at you, sprawled over the side of the building. “jesus- peter!”
“you really didn’t notice me?” you heard his laugh, muffled by the mask as he skillfully traversed upwards until he reached the ledge and hopped onto his feet later, sliding off his backpack that’s been harboring the pizza box—if you can call it pizza anymore once he opened the box.
“no! you wouldn’t exactly be a great hero if you didn’t know how to stealth properly.” the pizza was a squished mess. the cheese hardened to the top of the box and the toppings were scrambled from corner to corner, collective evidence of peter’s hasty journey to your date spot.
“shit- y/n, i’m so sorry-“ he said apologetically, mask off, and his body and face tensed as he began to sit on the ground with the pizza box still in his hands. you join his side.
“pete, it’s fine! pizza’s a finger-food anyways, y’know?” you laughed to appease his guilt, compensating with a kiss to his lips and a side-hug, but you pulled away after when he groaned—a new pain in his shoulder. he doesn’t like talking about his injuries for your sake, and so you don’t, even if you felt like an asshole for not asking anyways.
“come on, let’s eat. i know you’re hungry.” you sang the words to brighten the mood—it doesn’t. 
“yeah.” dry and un-humored at first, but peter made sure to return your kiss and a smile, albeit a rueful tuck of his lips, before picking a cold slice and eating. you followed, cautious of the sudden change of atmosphere.
both of you were silent, but your eyes were still on him while peter’s was fixated towards the concrete, thoughtlessly eating. it wasn’t new to see peter quiet, which at first seemed impossible considering how talkative he usually was. but when he was, he was either deep in thought or wasn’t thinking at all. maybe a combination of both because then, he stopped chewing. instead of inhaling his second slice of pizza, he exhaled a sigh—one that harbored thoughts and tension.
“what?” you avoided his eyes because you can feel it coming, mindlessly picking at the hard and crusty cheese off the cardboard box—mainly to calm the swelling in your chest that has begun.
“you know i love you, right?” peter said quietly and from the corner of his eyes, he was looking at you again.
“you do? don’t recall you ever telling me that before…” it’s another joke to cheer him up—to cheer you up—and you looked at him with a smile, a meager masquerade. “i love you too, pete.”
he reached for your hand to hold onto, intertwining his calloused fingers with yours. you could tell he was bracing you for the inevitable news, so you gave his palm the gentlest squeeze, collapsing your warmth into his own—because you’re ready.
“and,” peter spoke again, this time tears appeared in his eyes. “you know i’d do anything for you, right?”
“y-yeah, of course…” you swallowed the hard lump in your throat that continued to swell nonetheless, controlling yourself from gripping peter’s hand harder. “you’ve... been the best. you’ve done so much for me and-“
“no, I haven’t, y/n.” he looked forward again, shaking his head in disbelief. the sour taste of tomato sauce quickly became bitter when he took a bite of pizza, pushing down the welling tears. “we barely see each other anymore because of me.”
“peter… yes, you have. i mean, you’re not perfect, but who is? i’m certainly not, right? no relationship is perfect.”
the cold breeze of the night sang in response and you two naturally moved closer to each other for warmth.
“i’m not perfect. as far as i can tell, you’re doing way better than me.” you followed up on the silence, continuing as you pulled peter’s head to your shoulder and kissed his forehead. “you make me sandwiches for work, because you know i have no time to eat. you check up on me to make sure i’m safe, and because you know I’m probably close to losing it at my boss…”
“and you’re late to our dates- always late. but you still come, because that’s our only time together now.” you’re unsure whose heart was beating faster—harder—but you were close to breaking because you want to be selfish. a part of you wants to keep peter to yourself for as long as possible, but you also want the best for him, even if it meant separation.
“and you’re always… hurt or injured somewhere. you laugh it off, but i can tell you’re in pain.”
“i’m okay. i told you not to worry-”
you cut him off with another kiss, but to his lips, softly muttering after. “sometimes, you fall asleep when i’m telling you about my day, when we’re watching movies, or even when we’re eating dinner… and i should be mad or annoyed at you, but I’m just…” you trailed off to take a breather and you can feel peter’s hand stroking your back, comforting you—when you should really be comforting him. “I feel so bad, peter.”
peter took your woeful confession to his lips, kissing you sweet and gentle because he knew that would calm the both of you down, but you were stiff. he was an indecisive person and you knew he had run back on his decision to break up with you. it was telling from the moment he held you in his arms, impossibly close, as if you were the one running.
“we can work things out.” he whispered against your lips and your sigh met his. it was frustrating to watch peter constantly put friends, families, and you over himself, all at the expense of his own happiness. “i-i can work less hours and… and… i’ll stop being spider-man- yeah… that’ll work! there’s so many of us—superheroes—now, so i don’t think it’ll affect-“
“peter…” you watched peter wander in circles, a clear shift in mood by the simplicity of false hope. by now, peter’s in his own world—a perfect paradise that consisted of you and him, and nothing else.
no worries, nothing.
“and… shoot! we can move in together, yeah? my place is a little small, but it’ll work out. we’ll sleep in my bed, share groceries, the bills… god, why didn’t i think of this sooner?!”
your heart raced even faster the longer you watched peter convince himself of a perfect scenario that was bound to happen.
i love you so much.
“peter, we can’t-“
“what- why?” he approached you, cooling down from the fleeting thought of ‘paradise’. “I don’t know how we haven’t thought of this, but it seems like the best option, yeah?
“i-peter…” you sighed, grabbing his hands to hold again and stared affectionately into his eyes. “i want to… so bad. and the thought of living together… i would love to.”
“yeah? i can get started on cleaning and-“
“peter.” your lips pressed to his to shush his rambles, even though you loved seeing him so passionate about everything, and you cupped his cheeks after. you take a moment to admire the way his eyes brightened when you finally smiled, and that makes it all the more painful.
he loves you.
“it wouldn’t be right of me to have you prioritize me over anything else in your life.”
“but you are my priority, y/n.” he half-smiled, resting his hands over yours. there was still hope in his eyes, gleaming.
“i’m not your only priority, peter.” you said, caressing his tear-stained cheeks.
“but-“
“you have to take care of yourself first, peter. you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the world, but you’re on the verge of breaking anytime now. and it’s sweet and all, that you would sacrifice everything for me. but i can’t let you do this, peter. i don’t control- i shouldn't control your life. what kind of boyfriend would i be, hm?”
my sweet peter.
“no, come on- let’s just talk about this. i- we can figure out another plan, yeah? how about i work part-time where you’re at? serving tables will be a piece of cake and-“ his voice cracked, desperate to convince you with different possibilities, but he stopped and stared at you with utter defeat, his eyes blood-shot red.
you shut your eyes tight, inhaling in the panic of peter’s voice, and exhaling with brewing tears. “i’m breaking up with you.”
your eyes opened to peter’s back towards you; he’s perched over the ledge. you approached from behind and for a moment, you could see the tension in his body and face leaving; a massive weight—a burden you’d call yourself—lifting off his shoulders as he watched the city. it was calmer now, safer than it has been in years, ever since the first introduction of spider-man.
“will we still be friends?” peter spoke up after a long silence, his gaze fixated on the flashing lights of a nearby ambulance passing by, blaring its siren. his face tensed up again, jaw hardening and eyes lit up with fire as he put on his signature mask.
and you confirm to yourself that peter’s ideal world was simply a construction of hope.
“always.”
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nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.
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iheartyvesss · 9 months
Text
green eyes | p. b. parker
peter b parker x black cat!reader
this a drabble guys.
for rico
infidelity, degrading!!, comparison (“can mj do this?”), sub!peter, soft dom!reader, oral (m receiving), riding, peter js got bitched ngl, premature ejaculation, creampie, mentions of anal & rimming, angst if you squint.
wc: 2.1k
my heart lags behind it
but, i don’t love you anymore
i’m so insecure
never knew that love did this.
—erykah badu, green eyes
peter knows it’s wrong to imagine someone who isn’t his wife under him. he can’t help it. the way you prance around and maneuver your body in ways he didn’t know was possible makes him strain against the seat of his suit. the way your lips brush his ear when you’re on a stealth mission, or the way you drag your claws up and down his chest. he knows he’s married. you know he’s married, but you and mj have your own intense problems. enough to take her husband, apparently.
and that, you did.
your claws are digging into his thighs, dark eyes trained on his as you kiss the tip of his dick. your eyes are so pretty to him, so hypnotizing, so needy. the way you deepen your voice to a purr so smooth he can feel it in his chest. he can’t help but feel the urge to give you what you want. he needs you so bad he’s gripping his dick at the thought of you instead of his wife.
“mm, been waiting on this haven't you? been thinkin’ about me when you’re fucking your wife?” you blow out a humored huff. “such a shame. poor peter parker not happy with his perfect little wife.” you watch his reaction with bright eyes. the way his brows furrowed and his cock twitched in your hand. slut. you give him one last teasing lick before you’re dragging your tongue up to his tip and swallowing it down. your tongue flattens before it’s swirling around his dick, providing peter with a sensation that makes him double over.
his hands are tight on your hair, pulling gently and you find this endearing in a way. superhuman strength and he makes sure he’s gentle with you. “god- i- fuck.” peter mumbles, thighs already twitching and he almost looked embarrassed. you take him fully in your mouth while your free hands rub up and down his thighs affectionately. you dig into them slightly when his hips jerk, launching his cock further down your throat. you sputter briefly from his actions but regain your composure. relaxing your throat, you pull off of him and sweetly lap the precum from his tip. you don’t give him a chance to comment as you take him back down your throat, pumping what doesn’t fit this time.
peter’s thighs continue to twitch under your hands, deep groans leaving the man above you. he moans louder when you take him fully and swallow. the way your tight throat sheathes him has him seeing stars, it’s making his chest tight and his vision swim. “wait i-” and he’s cumming down your throat, plentiful and pitiful. peter covers his face with one of his hands, the other is on your cheek as some sort of apology until he can regain his composure.
“i’m sorry, it’s been a while.” he mumbles softly as he strokes your cheeks. his own are a bright red and the strawberry shade creeps up to his ears and down the back of his neck. you attempt to bring yourself back down from the high that was having the man you’ve wanted for years cum down your throat. you pull away from him but still swallow, collecting excess at the side of your lips. you sigh affectionately and pull yourself up to kiss him, your hands almost immediately sliding to his bare ass. “it’s okay, baby.”
peter’s kisses are soft and strong at once. he puts his entire body into his kisses, leaving lingering touches where he’s allowed and deepening it the most he can. with your hands wrapped around his back he’s allowed to pull you closer by your hips. his lips are desperate and sweet against yours and you feel your heart pound more than it already had been. your hands slide from his ass, up his back, and to his neck. you let one of your hands cup his cheek affectionately whilst the other begins to wrap around his throat. “you…” you pause, briefly kissing his lips again. “are so cute, but i need to fuck you, hm? need to make sure that every time you’re inside mary jane, you’re thinking of me. you wish she were me.”
he groans softly, dick twitching against your thigh. he doesn’t let you say much else as he’s kissing you softly before moving towards your bed. you trail after him, peeling your suit off piece by piece while he peels the entire suit off from where it pooled at his feet. god, what you’d do to fuck him in that stupid suit. you need him. as soon as he sits back on the bed you’re on top of him, straddling him with that look in your eye again. the one that landed him this situation in the first place. “what do you want from me pete? tell me baby, i need you to use your words.”
“need you to fuck me, (name). shit- i can’t- need you so bad.” he mumbled, jutting his hips upwards in an attempt to have any sort of friction. you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, “how pathetic. one of earth’s heroes begging to get fucked. how would your spider society feel?” you lift slightly to reach a hand down and stroke him in your palm, rubbing circles around his red tip. peter tips his head back but doesn’t answer, the softest of whimpers and whispers falling from his lips. he doesn’t know what to do with himself. mj doesn’t fuck him like this.
you rubbed his tip against your clit, let out a soft gasp at the friction you’ve desperately needed all evening. you moan before biting down on your lip and finally sinking down on peter’s cock. he groans, deep and guttural before his hips jerk into you. you’re so tight, so wet, better than he’d imagined. better than what he’d been fucking his fist to. “(name)!” he whines, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “you feel so good, better than i imagined. can’t- shit- can’t compare.” he mumbles, damn near unintelligible. and you think it’s adorable that he’s already pussydrunk. “i’ve barely started fucking you and you’re already a mess, peter. what would you have done if i’d bent you over and fucked your ass, hm? pressed my fingers in like you’re some kind of slut.”
the movements of your hips are fluid. the bounce of your ass against his hips before you settle on grinding your body down against his has peter thanking a god he didn’t know he believed in. he grips your hips for dear life, but it does little to prevent him from thrusting up into you (though there’s nowhere else to go). “shit. you should’ve, i would’ve been so good for you. so good to you. fucking- faster, please!” and even with your knowledge that peter was practically a loser, you knew even this was pathetic. your friendly neighborhood spider begging for some pussy. fucking punk.
“aw,” you purr and lean towards his ear whilst your nails trail down his chest. your thumb remains at his nipple, rubbing it in slow circles. “my peter likes his ass fucked? you really are my kind of slut, baby. my spider.” peter replies in a groan, his hands at your hips twitching out of what could only be desire. you giggle in his ear, licking the shell of it before pressing a soft kiss to it. you pull away, angling your hips to hit that spot inside of you whilst also pleasing peter. you slam your hips down once, taking in peter's reaction. his eyes are glazed over and his teeth biting down harshly on his lip. good. your ass practically smacks against his thighs, filling the previous silence of your room with the loud sounds of skin on skin contact. your lips meet peter’s to prevent a loud moan from resonating out of your throat and out into the open, and it takes everything in you to remind yourself you have neighbors.
peter feels so good. he’s on the longer side rather than the thicker, but the way his tip hits into you makes your legs shake. those specific veins on the side of his dick rub your insides so well, makes you want to fuck him forever if you could. “i wish i could use this dick everyday, baby. wish you’d chosen me, you could’ve always had me. had this without cheating on your wife.” peter thrusts up into you in what you assume is an attempt to distract you from the fact that you are, in fact, his mistress at the moment. even if this is supposed to be one-and-done. “you’re so good to me, (name), maybe you’re right. maybe i should’ve chosen you, but what would have changed?” you shake your head, pressing your lips against his once again.
this isn’t a conversation to have when he’s balls deep in you.
the grinding of your hips and the harsh jutting of peter’s hips has the both of you holding onto each other for dear life. your claws begin to draw blood on his shoulders, and his fingerprints are no doubt leaving bruises on the side of your hips. you whine into his neck, moaning against the skin at a particular thrust into your g-spot. it has your eyes rolling, hips digging further into his as you chase that specific movement. peter picks up on your attempt and holds your hips in place. “that’s it, baby, please. i just want to cum, just wanna fill you up.” you pull back from his neck to wrap your hand around his neck, squeezing gently. he moans and both of your movements become desperate, needy, pleading for a release that is so close and so sweet.
peter watches your expression change with sharp eyes, taking in this image forever since it will be the first and only time this occurs. he wants to remember what your face looks like when you cum on his dick. not miguel’s or fucking webslimger’s. his. “peter i’m gonna cum- oh, fuck!” you practically yell out your orgasm, legs shaking as your pretty pussy flutters around peter’s cock. he’s right there with you, holding you down against him to ensure that his seed goes deep in you. that it’ll take even if he has a hard time explaining it. “you’re so good, baby. so good. filled me up so well, ‘m so proud of you.” you’re mumbling soft praises against his skin, rubbing your hands down his chest and across his nipples. peter jerks into you a few more times to finish out his orgasm, hissing softly when you bite down on his neck and pull at his nipple.
“i love you.” he mumbled softly, looking at you with the softest eyes known to man. you feel your stomach turn, but give him a soft smile in return. you kiss his lips, hoping and praying he can’t taste the uncertainty against your mouth. that he can’t taste the fact that you don’t, in fact, love him anymore. but you’ll always crave him. always want his body against yours and to see his smile, his happiness, his heart.
this must be post-nut clarity. you come to the realization that you don’t love him anymore. and to think this man was the love of your life. he was what you saw when you thought of your future, but..not as of late. he has mj, and she seems to be (or used to) enough for him. maybe she wasn’t. but you didn’t intend on finding out. instead, for the time being you’ll play pretend. press soft kisses to peter’s lips and moan his name in that soft purr you know he likes. for now you’ll be what he first fell in love with. the same you that you wish you still were. for now, you’ll lie.
“i love you too, peter.”
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aliorsboxostuff · 9 months
Note
Trans Spidey reader and Miguel where the reader is really really into Miguel’s talons and muscles and everyone at HQ knows but Miguel (basically just sexual tension between oblivious people)
Imagine crushing on Miguel and being reciprocated haha couldn't be me FHSFHFJKDF I really do like this idea anon tysm! I love writing oblivious trope, its always so fun! I hope you all enjoyed this btw!
Exclusively Yours
Tags: Miguel O’hara x ftM,!reader, Spidey!reader, Miguel O’hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabakhar, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Margo (Spider Byte), Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, Mayday, Fluff, sexual tension, soft!Miguel, Maybe OOC, Miles’ group being a menace, a bit nsfw-ish maybe, kissing, humor, confessions, feelings realization
Maybe you're not the first Spiderman to notice Miguel's arms and claws, and maybe you're not the first person to fall in love with him because of those too. But you're certainly the first to make Miguel fall in love.
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1st Month
“I can't be the only one seeing this, right?” The other tree turns to Pavitr, his eyes following the new guy that just got into the Spider Society, next to him stands Miguel. 
“I mean, he made Miguel walk outside his office for once!” The new guy laughs, a flash of a blush on his cheeks while Miguel says something the group couldn't hear. 
“Honestly a bit scary ain't it?” Hobie chews another chip. “Boss man never smiles, now look at tha’,” 
The group snickers as they watch those two walk past the cafeteria, before they turn a corner and disappear from their vision. Gwen takes a sip of her smoothie, her head tilted slightly. “You’ve seen how he looks at Miguel?” 
“I mean, I've only been on a mission with those two once…” She grins. “Pretty sure he kept sneaking glances at his arms,”
“There’s no way they don't like each other!” However, what Pavitr said made Hobie scoff.
“Miguel or new guy?” Pavitr tilts his head.
“I wouldn't bet on that mate, man’s so blind might as well be walkin’ to a pole,”
“Both to be ‘onest,” 
“Impossible! Did you see the tension? I can practically feel it,” The shorter boy grips at the edge of the table, his eyes sparkling.
“Y’know, yesterday, while me and Peter reported back to Miguel’s-” The group leans closer to their shared table. “He was showing the new guy his claws!”
“What?!” Pavitr shouts, the group erupts in laughter. “No way that's real!” 
“Wait wait, were they like-” Suddenly, Pavitr grabs at Hobie’s wrists, bringing them close to his face. “Oh! They are so sharp Miguel! Must you always be so dangerous!” 
Pavitr brings one hand to his crown, pressing the back of it to dramatize his impression of the new guy. Hobi snickers, before he plays into his friend's bit, one hand holds Pavitrs face while the other fists, pressed to his chest. “Never for you, my love,”
“Oh Miguel!” Pavitr turns his head to the side and Hobie closes his eyes, both of them making kissy faces at each other.
“Oh my god!” Gwen and Miles doubles over in laughter, the girl holding on to Miles’ shoulder while she holds on to her stomach, Miles already cackling over the table. Hobie and Pavitr join their laughs, Hobie holding his sides while Pavitr slapped the table repeatedly, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. 
Miles shakes as he brings his head up. “Miguel would kill you!” 
“Who would I kill?” The group halted, turning slowly to find Miguel standing beside their table, arms crossed, one dangerous brow raised. Gwen looks away, Pavitr and Miles audibly gulp while Hobie rolls his eyes, huffing. 
“N-nothing- No one! Nope, haha,” Miles shakes his head, a nervous smile on his lips. Miguel simply raises his brow higher, eyes narrowing.
“Oh! Would you look at the time!” Gwen glances at nothing on her wrist. “We should get going, right guys? We have that meeting, right?” 
“Oh yeaah! The meeting, yes,” Pavitr shakily grins, shaking Hobie’s shoulder. “Come on Hobie we should go, haha,” 
The team shuffles awkwardly away from the table, before they all booked it and ran in the same direction, Miles and Pavitr already jumping off the ledge and swinging away, followed by Gwen and Hobie who’s running behind them before also flying away. Miguel rumbles lowly, before he sees the new guy approaching him with his tray of food and joins him in looking for a seat.
5th Month
Gwen pulls off her mask as she enters Margo’s lab, the girl nods her head to the music she's listening to, her eyes on the monitors. She adjusts the files inside the small box she's carrying before walking towards her. “Hey Margo, Jessica told me you needed these?” 
“Oh yeah, just put them there,” Her hologram glitches as the headphones disappear. She stands, walking towards where Gwen set aside the box before riffling through it.
“What’s in those anyways?” Gwen perches herself on one of the empty consoles. Margo opens one and flips through it.
“Oh it’s actually from Miguel,” She closes the file, setting it aside, before looking through the others. Gwen hums, looking around the various screens, briefly at the Go Home Machine, before she turns to Margo again.
“Hey, speaking of Miguel, you’ve seen the new guy right?” 
“The one that sticks with Miguel, like, all the time?” Margo smirks, setting aside another piece of paper. Gwen nods, now intrigued. “Oh have I,” 
“They were here, like, a couple of weeks ago right, and lemme tell you,” Margo pushes the box away, sitting up where Gwen is also sitting, pulling one leg up to her chest. “His eyes were all over Miguel's body, I swear!”
“Holy shit?” 
“Im serious! Jessica was right there, by the way, and he was eating Miguel up,”
“Shut up!” Gwen giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. Margo laughs too, now her legs are crossed over the console. 
“Especially his arms, like boy get a room!” Miguel laughs, throwing her head back while Gwen holds at her side, almost doubling over from her own laughter. 
“You think-” Gwen tries to stifle her giggles. “You think Miguel notices?”
“I’d be surprised if he didn't! We both know he’s dumb about these things, but come on,” 
“Yeah, I’d feel sad if Miguel doesn't know,” Gwen sighs, leaning on her hands behind her. “Though, I’m pretty sure he’s also been checking out the new guy,”
“Don’t get me started!” Margo’s grin widens.
1 year
“So how’s Miggy been treating you?” 
“Really? Right now, Parker?”
You’re currently swinging through another universe's version of Brooklyn, chasing a rouge Doc Oct from another dimension. Peter was now running on top of a building while you swung under the elevated railway. Mayday giggles in her baby carrier when her father leaped off the building and joins to swing next to you. Your back aches a bit when you swung to another building, maybe wearing a binder today wasn’t your best choice, then again you didn't know the fucker was gonna run this long.
“Hey, we haven't got time to catch up ever since Mr. Dark and broody’s been stealing you,” He shrugs, sharply turning just as you swung above him, Doc Oct meter away, still running with his metal arms. 
“First of all, he hasn't been ‘stealing me’-” You made quotation marks mid-air. “And Secondly-” 
A car was suddenly thrown at you, at which you narrowly slide past the opened passenger and driver's window, before webbing it up so it doesn't hit the pedestrians below. “Miguel’s been treating me great, okay,”
“Has he asked you out to dinner yet?” He twips another web, swinging on it.
“What?!” Just as you said that, Doc Oct threw debris toward you, which you quickly swing away and secured that too. “Oh shit…”
“You’ll never catch me Spidermans!” He shouts and does that damn annoying meniscal laugh.
“Let’s wrap this up?” You suggested to Peter as he stops at the same lamp post as you.
“Yup, hold on to daddy, baby,” Mayday nods her little head as Peter adjusts her straps, then it’s off against Doc Oct. 
Peter swings behind him, effectively catching his attention as you landed a punch straight to his jaw. He shakes away the pain, imminently turning and letting his metal arms attack you, the sharp appendages reach towards you before Peter shoots at it, pulling it down towards the ground. Doc Oct hits concrete hard, at which you quickly tie up the rest of his appendages. He sharply turns to you before you could tie the last arm, sweeping you off of your feet, which makes you fall as he cages you on the ground, the sharp end of the arm almost slicing your next if you didn't duck quick enough. Peter lands meters behind Doc Oct, the hologram cage in his hand. He nods curtly, his eyes on you.
“Now!” You threw off Doc Oct with your legs, Peter throwing the cage just where he lands. When he went to chase after you, the cage clicks open, effectively containing him. 
You catch your breath, before deciding to lie on the concrete floor and covering your eyes with one arm. “Nice going man,”
“Thanks,” You say as Peter stands beside you. “You too,”
Peter shrugs before he releases Mayday from her carrier, holding her in front of him before he kisses her nose. “And you too young lady, very brave,” 
Mayday giggles, hands patting Peter’s cheeks. You huff, resting your arms on your chest while keeping your eyes closed. You can still hear Mayday's little voice, before Peter turns to you. “So he hasn't asked you out yet?”
“I really don't know what you're talking about Pete,”
“Oh come on! You’ve been with us for a year, probably longer with Miguel-”
You sharply sit up. “What?”
“I’m just sayin’,” He held his hands up, Mayday hanging on his hip. “You guys should be official by now,”
You scoff, crossing your arms. “And what makes you think he likes me?” 
“Oh my god, Jessica is right, you’re way too oblivious,” 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You stand, brows furrowed while Peter laughs with his daughter. Clearly, your confusion is hilarious to him. “There’s no way thee Miguel O’hara likes me, okay,”
“Sure sometimes I feel his eyes on me, or how much he asks me to hang out with him, but I’m probably not the only one!”
“No, you are-”
“Plus, he’s busy okay, he only ever makes time to eat lunch with me, or to train, sometimes, if I'm lucky, maybe even a coffee break together, but that's it! He doesn't like me, he doesn't trail me with those sharp eyes, we don't accidentally make eye contact, he doesn't smile at me or laugh along my lame jokes, and he definitely didn’t blush when I asked about his claws- oh my god he does like me…”
“Bingo,” Peter snaps his fingers, followed by Maydays giggles as Pete holds her by her legs, red hair covering her face. 
Your face reddens, eyes blinking as you recall all of your and Miguel’s interactions for the past year. The first month you showed up, Miguel paired himself with you and you thought he was just being nice. He indulges in your curiosity, showing you his claws, a bit worried but couldn't help the steady red that appears on his cheeks when you leaned closer. He makes time for you, joins you for lunch, which had the teens curious. He only ever trains with you, letting you spar with him, those widened eyes whenever you managed to pin him down. The longing gazes that you sometimes caught, smiling at him when you do which only makes Miguel turn away. The way he lets you on his platform, hanging out with him where others usually had to wait until Miguel dramatically descends. When he encourages you, lingering hand on your shoulders, and back, the ghost of a smirk only reserved around you. 
And you have been eyeing him too. How could you not when a man that good-looking, that dedicated to his work, is right there?! But the idea of Miguel reciprocating your feeling…
“Alright, let's get you home buddy,” Peter moves behind you, pushing your shoulders and walking towards the opened portal. You’re still in a daze, confused and embarrassed with how many signs you missed from him. 
The next day, you're still clouded with the possibility of Miguel liking you back, making you hesitant to ask him to eat lunch with you. The activity has become a constant now, but ever since your revelation, you were second-guessing yourself. 
You take a breath, closing your eyes briefly, before pushing the doors open. You jog your way to where Miguel's platform is and swing your way up easily. “Hey Miguel, join me for lunch?”
“Sure, let me allow Lyla to take over,” He nods toward you before turning back to his screens. You hum, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. 
“Alright, let's go,” He turns around, stretching his arms above his head briefly, the sight of his muscles taut makes you gulp. Now or never…
“Wait, I have something I wanna talk about,” You blurted out, looking anywhere but at Miguel. He stops in his tracks, putting one hand on his hip.
“Sure, go ahead,” He nods, patiently waiting. You inhale slowly, and let your breath out.
“I hope I'm not reading the room wrong but- I’ve noticed the way you look at me, Miguel,” You meet his red irises. They widen slightly, Miguel stands straighter. “You follow me with your eyes, and I know what they mean. You make time for me and we train together, you let me up on your platform, hell, I’m the only one allowed to get close to you without you getting irritated!” 
You laugh nervously, swiping back your fallen fringe. “What I’m saying is, am I wrong to think that you like me?” 
A beat passes. Silence aside from the writing of cables and soft beeps from the monitors. Your hands turn to fists ready for the rejection, maybe a condescending laugh from the man you’re pining, until-
“No, you're not,” He sighs. “ I do. I like you a lot, but I didn't want to ruin what we had. You're so close to me, and I’m afraid that if I told you, you’ll…”
Miguel turns slightly, averting his eyes, which is unlike him at all. His blush is now prominent, which spikes your own blush. You gulp, slowly stepping towards him. Your hand reaches for his arms, your touch making him blink and meet your gaze once again. “I like you too, Miguel,” 
“If you couldn't tell, I’ve also been sneaking glances at you,” You chuckle, placing one hand on his jaw as Miguel also chuckles, his voice reverberating around the room. “God, they were all right, we’re so oblivious,”
“‘They’?” Miguel grins, his hand holding your wrist, tilting his head against your hand. 
“The others noticed before we did,”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” You giggle.
“Wow, okay,” He follows your laugh, bumping his forehead against yours as the two of you laugh. You close your eyes, breathing in the scent that is Miguel, Basking in his warmth as he holds you close. Slowly, as the laughter dies down, you open your eyes, staring into his bright reds. Your hand brings his chin closer, you felt his breath stutter. After months of build-up, Miguel's lips against yours feel explosive. His hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, the reminder of those sharp talons beneath them. One hand reaches to tangle in Miguel’s hair, making him grunt, deepening the kiss. You feel his large hands caressing your sides, sending shivers down your spine. When you two pull back, Miguel's eyes are blown wide while you smirk, licking the remnants of him from your lips. 
“That year-long pining?” You smirk, pulling his shoulder closer, your nose brushing his. “Fucking worth it.”
Requests are open! Reblogs appreciated &lt;;3 
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likedovesinthewindd · 9 months
Note
peter parker wirh a black cat! gf (blinks and flutters eyelashs)
of course dear. i decided to write a few ideas down instead of like a fic i hope you don't mind.
peter parker x fem!reader
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★ You've heard just about every rumor concerning you. The ideas that people had about you and how they perceived you. You were often described as mean-looking, intimidating or even off-putting.
★ You didn't try correcting them either, it didn't particularly bother you. It bothered Peter, though. He'd always tell you how he didn't like the way people saw you, and made it his daily mission to correct any person unfortunate enough to say anything bad about you in his presence.
★ He defended your honor better than you did yourself, and in return he'd always get the same replies:
"She seems so mean, though." "What do you two have in common anyway?" "Does she ever talk?"
★ Yes, he'd think. You do talk, a lot actually, though that was usually reserved for your closest friends and family, a group Peter fortunately found himself in. He knew everyone else knew she talked too, they'd see her talking with Peter every morning when they make their way through school, her soft hand in his as she rambled about whatever lay heavy on her heart.
★ And he'd listen attentively, giving pointers where he thought necessary and laughing at the joke or two you'd always throw in. He'd walk you to whatever class you have, greeting you goodbye with a chaste yet affectionate hug. You'd spare him a small smile, and as soon as you made your way into class, the smile would disappeared, giving those around you slight whiplash at the sudden change.
★ A party wasn't something you often found yourself at, the idea alone enough to deter you completely. You much rather preferred the company of your boyfriend, him being one of the few people you enjoyed being around. In this way you were similar, because he himself wasn't the most social person around and he understood that you didn't always want to be around a lot of people, so he'd never say no to night in with his favorite person.
★ He brought the best out of you; one of the few people fortunate enough to experience your unabashed humor and personality, and relish in your affection--reserved just for him. In return he doted on you; dousing you in an ocean of unconditional love and utter adoration. Perhaps this was his way of telling you he admired you, just as you are; regardless of whoever's opinion of you. Because in all honesty, when did Peter ever care about anyone's opinion?
a/n: might write a bit more on this bc this is so little.
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spiderfunkz · 10 months
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✧.* cold hands
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— summary : frozen yogurt dates with peter
— pairings : tasm!peter parker x gn!reader
— word count : 0,6k
— warnings : fluff, pet names, the normal cheesy first dates, peter and reader being awkward and cute, holding hands, messy plot, not proofread, lmk if i missed any !!
a/n : more fluffy peter blurbs because i may or may not have an angsty idea for him soon wink wink ;) this blurb is so random but i've been craving frozen yogurt so i thought this would be cute.
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you grab onto your leather jacket as you see peter from across the street right next to the frozen yogurt store.
"hi." you smiled.
peter's eyes immediately lit up as he saw your smile, "hey." he smiled back.
"you look pretty nice." he says, fumbling his words — "wait- not pretty nice i mean you do i-" he pauses sighing as he couldn't find the right words, "you look pretty, and nice. really pretty and really nice."
the skies turn pink as your face does the same. "you look really pretty and nice too." you nodded.
"oh! these are for you bye the way." peter pulled a flower bouquet from his bag, a bit crumbled. "aw they're lovely." you commented as a petal fell, "they were nice."
"i'd say they held up pretty well, you got my favorite colors there too." you added.
"i'll get you new ones, that don't have missing petals on each flower." peter smiles, putting the flower back in his bag.
"well, let's get some frozen yogurt now." you say, gesturing towards the store.
peter bought you some frozen yogurt and you two talked for a while, walking towards a park as the sun begins to set.
you got to know eachother, his interests, your interests, favorite colors, food, music taste, and much much more.
you've always admired peter from afar in your class. he always stood out to you, his sarcastic humor, his well written character, the way his hair is always so perfect everyday.
he's always nice too, standing up for you that one time flash made a comment about your art studies.
but you've always just seen him as a small crush, too afraid to make any moves. until you found a note from peter in your locker, asking if you wanna hang out sometime.
you've worked with him in projects before, but you've never had an actual conversation and interaction with him.
you're nervous yes, but peter is just that type of person that you could easily talk to, like talking to an old friend you haven't seen in a while.
"you wanna try it? it's really good!" you offered, "no it's fine you go enjoy it." he nodded still smiling at you.
"it's really good, pete," — "really, try it!" you offered again as he accepts it.
"see?" you look at peter as he furrows his brows. "not a fan?" you pout.
"sour." peter states, "it's yogurt peter, say it with me, yo-gurt." you smiled.
"i mean if you like it i can learn to like it too." he shrugs his shoulder.
you smile at his sentence as you arrive at the park with peter.
you finish your frozen yogurt, sitting next to peter at the bench, getting the best view of the sunset.
you rub your hands on your jacket, warming up your hands from the cold treat you just had.
"you cold?" peter asked, "oh, no, just my hands." you reply as he looked down on your hands before gently holding it.
he looked every where else other than you, avoiding the awkwardness of eye contact.
"that is literally so cheesy." you smile, holding his hand back. "cheesy?" he laughs — "it's sweet, but cheesy." you stated.
you continued your afternoon walking around the busy streets of new york before peter walks you back home.
"tonight was really nice y/n." — "i had an amazing time with you, really." continued, "it was really nice spending time with you peter, i really enjoyed it." you wave.
"i'll see you tomorrow?" he says, referring to school. "mhm, bye pete." you wave goodbye as he skipped away.
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ashes-escapism · 4 months
Text
Overcoming
Word Count: ~7,400 words of tickle fluff (SFW)
Pairings: Loki x reader, brief Peter Parker x reader (both platonic)
Pronouns: she/her
Summary: Noticing that the reader struggles with overthinking, Loki wants to help.
CW: Self-doubt, overthinking, anxiety. Brief description of fearful reaction to a horror movie, though the scene of the movie is not described.
There are some heavier moments written from a more metaphorical perspective, but lots of fluff and (silly attempts at) humor as well!
-----------------------------------------
Note: Hi! I'm Ash, I've been lurking on here for yearssss reading other's fics, and decided to write one of my own!
I had full intentions of finishing this before Halloween (as you will see, it has some Halloween themes), but... that did not happen LOL. I didn't want to wait until next October to post it, so I hope someone is still able to enjoy it :)
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Scrolling through the different movie options in the Halloween section, you abruptly stopped when you heard Peter dramatically gasp. 
“STOP! We have to see this one! Please tell me you’ve seen this before- it’s a classic!”
You chuckled at Peter’s enthusiasm, then answered, “Peter, I told you I don’t like horror movies. Honestly, I don’t even think I’ve heard of, like, any of these movies.”
“Okay, well, we have to see it then! I promise it isn’t that scary!” Peter assured.
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say,” you countered. “Until I have enough adrenaline rushing through my body to singlehandedly power the electricity in this whole compound-“
“That isn’t even possib-“
“-and then I’m not able to sleep for the next month- not to mention the horrific images scarred to my brain, and-”
“Pleaseee,” Peter cut you off and looked over to you with wide, glistening eyes. “You said you would get in the Halloween spirit with me…”
“Oh… alright. But if you’re lying, we’re changing it to Hocus Pocus. All I’m saying is that I happen to value my sleep and peace of mind.”
“YES!” Peter exclaimed. “Wait, before you start it, I’ll grab us some blankets! A-and some snacks!” Scrambling out of the common room, he wasted no time before returning with some snacks, setting them down on the glass coffee table in front of you. He tossed you a cozy white throw blanket, then threw himself down on the opposite end of the couch, with a blanket of his own.
“Thanks,” you smiled softly at Peter, grabbing a bag of popcorn mix from the table, then wrapping yourself in the blanket and snuggling into the cushions.
While most of the Avengers were out today on different missions and errands, you had remained in the compound to work in the lab earlier. As one of Bruce’s lab assistants, you were thankful that your line of work didn’t require you to go into the field all that often; your strengths were more so in your research and analytical skills, rather than through physical combat or espionage. 
When you moved into the compound earlier this year, you and Peter had become friends fairly quickly, given that you were the second-youngest member of the team, you both shared a love for science, and you saw each other quite often. You had a tendency to be shy around new people, so you appreciated how Peter immediately made you feel welcome on the team, and how he always had a kind and optimistic presence. Sure, the kid could be a handful at times, but his youthful energy was a refreshing change in pace to your day at work, so you were thankful to spend time with him. 
You tossed a handful of salted caramel and cheddar popcorn in your mouth, a burst of sweetness and saltiness deluging your taste buds. After swallowing, you turned to Peter.
“You know, when you asked me to get in the Halloween spirit with you, I was thinking of something more along the lines of carving pumpkins or jumping into a pile of leaves. I didn’t really picture you as someone who enjoys scary movies.”
“Oh, those are next on the list! I already got us some pumpkins,” Peter responded with a big smile on his face. “And, well, I like to say that I enjoy watching scary movies, but sometimes I get too scared watching them, especially by myself. L-like this one time, which may or may not have been yesterday, I tried watching one of the Insidious movies, and I had to turn it off because I got too scared. Kind of embarrassing,” He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “But anyways, it’s still fun! I think it’s better to watch them with friends because, in the end, it brings you closer.”
“That’s totally fair.” It meant a lot to you that Peter wanted to grow closer to you, so you supposed you could sacrifice your dignity and watch the movie. Or, start it, at least. You’d see how it goes.
You pressed play on the movie. From the opening scene, the energy of the room shifted to a caliginous and eerie ambiance. Your eyebrows instinctively raised and drew together, and you absentmindedly bit your fingernails in fearful anticipation.
Peter glanced over to you, then shifted towards you on the couch. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m right here. If you get scared, you can grab on to me, or whatever you need, okay? My Spidey senses can detect a jump scare from a mile away, so I can let you know when one’s about to happen, i-if that makes you feel better.”
You couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish, somewhat childish for having such a strong fear of horror. But, you met his eyes and smiled softly. “Thanks, Pete.”
“Hey, I’ll always make sure you are safe.”
Taking a deep breath, you lowered your tense shoulders as you returned your attention to the movie and continued snacking on the popcorn. Twenty minutes passed, and honestly, you were lasting longer than you’d expected.
A few minutes later, the suspense began to climb. Your breath hitched. Your heart pounded. The excellent acting and thrilling music entranced you, cast a spell on you to believe that you were experiencing everything directly through the lens of the characters themselves. As he leaned forward on the edge of the couch and rested his elbows on his knees, Peter, too, held his breath as his unwavering wide eyes glued to the screen. You instinctively sat up next to and leaned into Peter, wrapping your arms tightly around him as if your life depended on it. Peter returned his arm around you and rested it on your waist. 
Peter’s embrace lulled you into a sense of security, and the suspenseful music diminished as the characters escaped to a safe haven. You let your guard down, relaxing into him and releasing the breath you’d been holding. 
“AHH!” 
Peter screamed. You also screamed.
He yelled right next to your ear, jumping at the jump scare that suddenly occurred and squeezing his fingers into your waist. 
A millisecond after Peter began screaming, you screamed with him. A reaction not only to the jump scare, but also to Peter’s scream and his fingers digging into your skin. With your senses heightened from the movie, feeling Peter squeeze into your waist tickled way more than it should have. Adrenaline shot through your body and you launched away from Peter. The popcorn flew off of your lap, some pieces spilling onto the floor as you accidentally rolled off the couch with a thud. Rolling over onto your back, you clutched your hands over your chest as you caught your breath, and began to laugh in both amusement and mild embarrassment.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay??” Peter asked with a concerned look on his face as he knelt beside you, before noticing that you were laughing. “You scared me!”
“Oh, I scared you?? You were the one who scared me first, after you screamed at the jump scare!” you chastised, albeit with a slight smile as you came down from your adrenaline rush.
“Ok, I guess that’s a fair point,” he shrugged. “I guess my Spidey senses were a little off because I did not see that jump scare coming. I totally forgot about that one.”
“Yeah, no kidding! So much for keeping me safe!” you joked. You sat up, started picking up the popcorn off the floor, and threw a piece at Peter.
“Sorry! But hey, in my defense, I really did not expect you to fall from a jump scare.” He finished helping you pick up the remainder of the popcorn. “A-are you sure you’re okay? I’m so sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t trying to, I promise. You’re okay, right?? I feel so bad, I really didn’t mean to scare you-” 
“Hey, it’s alright, Peter, I know you didn’t mean to scare me, I’m completely fine,” you reassured him, looking him dead in the eyes to show you were telling the truth. 
“O-Oh, thank goodness you’re okay,” Peter exhaled, though you could see he still felt guilty.  
“I didn’t fall just because I was scared,” you elaborated, and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “When you jumped, you squeezed your hand on my waist and it tickled me. Which, really, you should know better to be careful!” You poked him on his stomach.
“H-hey!” He flinched. “I didn’t mean to! But you’re right, I should’ve known better. How could I forget how ticklish you are?” He smirked and quickly squeezed his hands on your sides, before standing up and offering you his hand.
You playfully rolled your eyes, then took his hand. Peter had found out you were ticklish a few months into your friendship as you were working in the lab. While trying to write a report, you had zoned out and hadn't heard him trying to get your attention, so he decided to poke you on your side to draw you out of your trance-like state. You jolted dramatically, giving a bigger reaction than he was expecting. Truthfully, you were just as surprised because you hadn't been tickled since you were a child and had forgotten what it felt like. You both laughed in amusement before you apologized to Peter for not hearing him.
Since his discovery, Peter never hesitated to poke you on your sides or ribs, or scribble his fingers briefly on your stomach when he could sense you were too stressed, or could use a little help getting out of your head. He observed that you had a tendency to overthink, and how you would often get lost in thought, especially when working. He also noticed that you weren’t truly bothered by his playful distraction.
“How are you feeling? Should we keep watching the movie?” Peter asked.
“How about we take a break? Maybe we could carve pumpkins now? That jump scare sent me overboard, metaphorically and literally speaking. I think I need some time to recover,” you laughed.
“Absolutely! A break sounds great. Carving pumpkins sounds amazing. Let’s do it, I think we need something fun after that jump scare.” He took the remote and paused the movie. “I’ll go grab the pumpkins from outside, I’ll meet you in the kitchen!”
Heading into the kitchen, you cleared off the table, covered it with newspaper, and set out some utensils for carving. A few minutes later, Peter returned, holding two large and two smaller pumpkins in his arms. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted a small pumpkin or a really big pumpkin, so I brought both!” He exclaimed, placing them on the table.
“Wow, I’m impressed you were able to carry all of those,” you chuckled. “I’ll take a big one first, I feel like it might be easier to carve.”
“Alrighty, here you go!” He set a big pumpkin in front of you, then grabbed a big one for himself and set it down next to yours. “This is going to be so much fun, we are going to carve the best pumpkins ever!”
“I agree! I haven’t done this in so long.” You each picked up a knife and started carving a hole in the top of your pumpkins. Removing the top and reaching inside the pumpkin, you pantomimed gagging as your hand became swallowed by the slimy innards. “This is so gross!”
He glanced over at you and laughed. “Eww! Yes I forgot how nasty pumpkins are before you carve them.” Now digging out the guts of his own pumpkin, a look of disgust emerged on his face as he gripped the slippery orange goop and slapped it onto the newspaper. “It won’t be so bad once we get past this part.” 
As you and Peter continued working, you looked up as you heard footsteps enter into the room, belonging to Tony, Thor, and Loki. The three of them were recently in Iceland on their latest attempt at searching for a dangerous fugitive. While they were on the quinjet on the way home, Tony had sent everyone an update letting you know that the fugitive managed to elude them, but they gathered more intel on their identity and potential next moves.
“Hello, there, young ones!” Thor greeted you and Peter as he made his way past you to the fridge. After heating up some leftovers, he found a seat at the table away from where you and Peter were stationed. Loki had crept over to the stove, turning on the burner beneath the kettle.
“Ooh, carving pumpkins?” Tony set down his briefcase and walked in between you and Peter, crossing his arms and observing your work as you finished removing the pumpkin guts. “I haven’t done that in ages. I’d join in on your little Halloween party, but right now I’ve gotta finish up this paperwork. Pepper will be upset with me again if I don’t do it right away,” Tony said. “Speaking of Halloween parties, I’ll see you all Saturday, right? I’d wish you all good luck in the costume contest, but Pepper and I are definitely winning this year.” He confidently pointed towards everyone around the table before picking up his briefcase and exiting towards his office.
“Nuh-uh! My costume is gonna be way cooler than yours, Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed loud enough for Tony to hear as he walked down the hall. You listened on as Peter continued to tell stories about the “epic” Halloween costumes he’d had over the years and further emphasized how serious he was about winning the costume contest this year.
Glancing across the table to Thor, your mind wandered as you were curious as to whether or not he, or Loki, would be in attendance. You wondered, had they ever participated in celebrating Halloween or attended a costume party here on Midgard? You could see Thor good-naturedly joining in on the annual festivities, but Loki would probably take some convincing to participate. Although, perhaps he would enjoy a Halloween party, given the mischievous and chaotic activity it might entail. 
You looked over at Peter’s pumpkin and back to yours. Your face dropped as you sighed at the realization that while his was nearly complete, yours remained a blank canvas. You’d been staring at your pumpkin for the last few minutes, hesitant to take action out of fear of messing it up.
Up until this point, you were doing perfectly fine. After all, it didn’t matter how the inside of your pumpkin looked. But now that you were done removing the guts, your overthinking suddenly kicked in as you came the part that truly mattered: carving the actual design.
Your brow furrowed as you tried visualizing and calculating the best distance and angle to carve the eyes, nose, and mouth. A barrage of thoughts swirled through your mind. Yes, you came to realize that only you would overthink even when it came to carving a pumpkin, but you couldn’t help yourself from wanting it to be perfect. That’s just the way you lived; everything you did had to be done to be best of your ability, or you wouldn’t do it at all.
Lost in concentration and indecision, you bit the corner of your lower lip and narrowed your eyes to map out the best course of action. Maybe you could start it here? No, that would be too-
“Hey!” You jumped at the sensation of someone poking your side, pulling you out of your thoughts by ticklish shock waves travelling up your spine. You accusingly looked over to Peter, who wore a guilty half-grin. Heat rose to your cheeks at the realization that the three of them had been looking at you, in an almost expectant manner.
“Ah, the young maiden is ticklish!” Thor chuckled heartily.
“Yes, the spider child does seem to provide some valuable intel about her,” Loki stated flatly, pretending as if he wasn’t interested. Though, it didn’t escape him that your face appeared to slightly relax, and your demeanor seemed to shift from one of melancholy to liveliness after Peter had tickled you.
“Peter! What was that for?!” you exclaimed indignantly, but you smiled despite yourself.
“Oh, Thor asked you a question, a-and we tried getting your attention, but you were really zoned out again, so I wanted to show them the best way I learned how to get your attention whenever you do that,” Peter explained.
You swiftly covered your face, your voice slightly muffled by your hands. “Oh my gosh, that’s so embarrassing.”
“I really don’t think she minds it as much as she lets on,” Peter whispered loudly to the Asgardians. 
Your face flushed traitorously. (Though, Peter was arguably the bigger traitor, since he was the one to sell you out in the first place.)
But, he wasn’t wrong; Peter’s playfulness did help you relax a bit. Playfully engaging with someone wasn't all that common for you, so it felt kind of nice to let loose sometimes. Not that you really wanted that information casually spoken aloud, especially in the presence of the boisterous God of Thunder and the tall, dark, and handsome God of Mischief. You couldn’t say that it would truly bother you if either of the gods exploited this piece of knowledge, but you weren’t expecting Peter to just call you out like that. You planned on keeping at least some of your self-dignity intact today. 
Desperate for a diversion, you asked, “Anyways, what did you ask me, Thor?”
 “Ah, yes! As I was saying, what costume might you be wearing to the Halloween party?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure yet! What will you be going as? And have you celebrated Halloween before, or is it not really a thing on Asgard?”
“This will be my first time, actually! This mortal holiday is quite intriguing to me, I’m looking forward to seeing how you humans celebrate the evening. I went shopping just yesterday for a cool costume to wear. I’m a bit excited, I’ve never done this before!” Thor beamed as he stood up from the table and made his way to the sink, rinsing off his empty plate. “I picked out a vampire costume for myself, and I even bought a werewolf costume for Loki!”
Pfft. You and Peter let snickers escape you as you fought hard to not laugh at the thought of Loki in a werewolf costume.
“Now, hang on a second! I have agreed to no such thing!” Loki retorted. “I have not seen this costume in my life, but I can guarantee you I will most certainly not be caught dead wearing such poor quality, cheaply manufactured pieces of fabric.”
“Come now, brother! Have some fun!”
“You are a fool to think I would ever partake in that. If I truly wanted some fun, I could simply shape-shift myself into an authentic werewolf and scare all of the mortals in the area. Not to mention, that is the most basic, unoriginal idea you could think of. Honestly, brother, you have such poverty of imagination.”  
“Really? I thought I was onto something there,” Thor admitted sheepishly. 
Peter added, "Yeah, come on, Mr. Loki! It would be fun! Are you sure you don't-"
"No." Loki deadpanned as you bit your lip to hold back a smile.
The conversation was diverted by the kettle as it began to whistle, its tune fading into a soft hiss as Loki turned off the burner, then searched through the cabinets for a mug.
Peter turned to the Asgardians, looking up from his pumpkin for a moment and pausing from shaping the final details into his jack-o-lantern. “Do either of you guys want carve pumpkins with us? There’s a couple small ones here, and we have some more outside, too!” 
Loki declined, while Thor said, “I’d love to join you! It sounds like a good way to de-stress after a long mission. How about we grab some more from outside?”
“Sure! More pumpkins will help us with decorating for Tony’s party, too!” Peter set down his carving knife on the table. “We’ll be right back, ok?” 
You gave Peter a small smile. Peter and Thor left through the backdoor of the compound, the door shutting behind them with an enthusiastic thump. Unenthusiastically, you turned back to your pumpkin, your face falling once again as you were slightly upset with yourself for having yet to carve anything.
Unbeknownst to you, Loki observed your demeanor shift back again to one of frustration. “Would you like some tea, Agent?"
Absentmindedly and politely, you declined his offer, maintaining your hyper-focus and concentration on thinking through the best possible strategy for your task at hand. Loki shrugged, finding it a little unusual that you would turn down tea, then poured some steaming water into a mug for himself.
“You know, Agent, I can’t say that I have any experience carving pumpkins, because I’d never touch my hands to pumpkin guts. That would be disgusting, and I am a god, after all.” He placed a tea bag in his mug, letting it steep. “However, from what I’ve gathered from you mortals, I’m fairly certain it’s supposed to be fun. It appears to me that this is not the case for you.”
“What do you mean? I am having fun,” you said. It would be silly of you, you thought, to get upset over something as simple as a pumpkin. Plus, it wasn’t entirely a lie; despite your frustrations with yourself, you were enjoying the company of your teammates. 
“Do you plan to carve your jack-o-lantern, then? Or are you going to keep staring at it, with hopes it will carve itself?” Loki asked gently with an equally teasing and amicable tone. 
“Well…” You looked down sheepishly at your pumpkin, fidgeting your thumb on the handle of your carving knife, then placing it on the table. “I would like to do it, but I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.” 
He lifted the porcelain mug to his lips, taking a sip of his steaming tea. “I must admit, fear has gotten the best of me many times, as well. But once you start, you’ll fall into a nice rhythm. I understand your concerns, but pumpkins are plentiful and if you ‘mess up’, then that simply means you have room to grow and learn how to avoid any errors next time.”
“Thanks, Loki. I hear you,” you sighed. “But what if it’s ugly?”
“That’s impossible, darling. Nothing that you touch could ever be ugly. I’m sure whatever you create will be lovely.”
Heat crept to your cheeks at his compliment. “But-“
“Ah-ah. No more of that,” Loki cut you off. “It seems to me that you are in need of some confidence. I do not think there is any shame in not being instantly or perfectly good at something.”
“Yeah…” Your shoulders slumped. “I know, I just… don’t know how to change it,” you said to your pumpkin.
“I can understand that. Perhaps there is something I could do to convince you to at least begin carving the pumpkin? To convince how little risk there is?”
“I don’t know… I know it’s silly, but I’m so nervous about messing up. I just want it to be perfect.” You were thankful that Loki was trying to help you. Truly, you knew how ridiculous you were being and wished you could just carve the damned pumpkin. You hated your anxiety for turning something you should find fun into something that you feared.
Loki thought that you were too hard on yourself; you had a kind, calming and gentle presence to everyone around you, so why couldn’t you give yourself the same grace you give to others? Over the past year, he had noticed your proclivity for self-doubt on several occasions as you lived and worked at the compound. It was odd to him that you would doubt yourself and your abilities, given that you were an incredibly competent scientist, which you had proven time and time again.
He wished there was a way for him to help you not hold yourself to such unrealistic standards. You had just admitted to him that your fears were stopping you from doing something that you wanted to engage in; he believed there must be something he could do to provide encouragement in overcoming your insecurities, even with something as harmless as carving a pumpkin. Clearly, offering words of wisdom alone wasn’t enough, so he racked his brain for another strategy.
One idea came to his mind, though he wasn’t entirely certain it would work. Based on Peter’s playful engagement with you earlier, you appeared more relaxed, as though a weight was lifted off of your shoulders when he tickled you. Loki couldn’t say that his observation was a fact, after all, it was only a single, brief interaction that he saw. And who was to say you would be equally comfortable with him as you were with Peter? He had no intentions of making you uncomfortable in the slightest.
But, perhaps he could test his theory. There was no harm in testing the waters to see if you’d take his bait. And who knew? Maybe it could be a win-win situation. He could potentially assist you in overcoming your self-doubt, while proving himself to be right at the same time. He’d never pass up that opportunity.
“Well, Agent…” He set his mug on the countertop and clapped his hands. “I can’t stand seeing you in that little melancholic state any longer. So, I’m going to propose an offer.” He raised his eyebrows subtly, making sure to lace his demeanor with mischief to see how you’d react. “Since you’ve told me that you want to do it, either you can willingly at least begin to carve the pumpkin, or… I will be forced to provide you a little motivation. Some coercion, if you will.”
You perked up a bit at the glint of playfulness in his voice, then tried to hide your inquisitiveness just as quickly as it appeared.
“Coercion, hm?” you hummed flatly, though Loki saw right through your attempt to masquerade the sudden glimmer of curiosity in your eyes.
The corner of his lip pulled upwards as he gained some assurance in his speculation. “Oh, most certainly. As the God of Mischief, I must say I’ve gathered some rather effective strategies over the years. I am well versed at using a person’s fear as leverage to manipulate them to do what I want,” he said in a low drawl.
“Ih-is that a threat?” you stammered. Loki carefully studied your body language to check for any signs of unease, but he failed to notice any. If anything, he might’ve said you were intrigued.
“Perhaps it is,” he offered casually. He crossed his arms, flaunting a little intimidation and a little more confidence.
“I’m not afraid of you, Loki. I know you’d never do anything to hurt me,” you taunted, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. 
Your response further confirmed his suspicions; if you were going to be playful with him, Loki presumed you wouldn’t mind if he dished it right back. Maybe Peter was onto something; perhaps you needed some playfulness to provide a little distraction. To help alleviate the voices in your mind from telling you nothing you did could fall short of being perfect.
He tilted his head. “Mm, perhaps you should be afraid. Especially after your spider friend recently provided me with such valuable information of you.” He exuded a calm, yet slightly unnerving confidence as he stepped towards you.
“What are you-“ Oh. Oh. (As if you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.)
The wheels in your brain abruptly screeched to a halt as you froze. Your legs glued to the ground as if they were anchored in place. Your heartbeat quickened, and nervous, (who were you kidding?) excited giggles spluttered from your lips. Weakly, you held up your hands, pretending as though you wanted to maintain distance between you. Though absolutely everything else in you was provoking him, your final brain cell seemed to have a sense of self-preservation as it fought for you. “Waihait-“ 
Before you had any time to react, he grasped his fingers around your wrists, quickly spinning you around, pressing your back flush against his chest. A crimson haze seeped over your cheeks at the realization of how trapped you were in his strong arms. He gathered your wrists, pinning them against your chest with one hand, then used his other hand to lightly scribble his fingers on the side of your stomach just above your waist. Instantly, giggles left your mouth and you squirmed at his delicate touch.
 “I’ll show you mercy if you promise me one thing,” he said, casting chills down your spine. He paused his fingers, resting them on your sides as if waiting for definite permission.  
“W-What?” you squeaked.
He gently turned you to the side and gazed at you softly. Bringing your eyes up to his, you could see that the glimmers of mischief had been replaced with genuine care. “Promise you’ll attempt to carve the pumpkin, and give it your all.” 
Being well and fully aware that you were digging your own grave, you flashed back a defiant grin and responded: 
“I can’t promise that.”
“A shame,” he sighed as if it pained him, but secretly took delight in being right. “The offer was genuine, too.” He released your wrists and latched his hands onto both sides of your ribcage, expertly digging into the crevices of your lower ribs. You squeaked and squealed and fell into laughter, doubling over as you tried to evade his ticklish touch.   
“AHAH Loki wa-HAIT- NO“  You shrieked and writhed uselessly against him as his nimble fingers relentlessly clawed up and down your ribcage. Electricity rapidly trickled through you in every direction, down to your feet and up your spine to the base of your neck. Zapped of your power, your legs lost their strength as you quickly fell weak in his arms. Gently, he laid you down on the kitchen floor, throwing one of his legs across your body and straddling your upper legs.
“I’m afraid it’s too late now, Agent. I did offer you an out; you simply chose not to take it,” he hummed. “My offer does still stand, however. Though, perhaps you don’t truly want this to stop.” He winked, continuing his ticklish onslaught and scribbling his fingertips into your belly, equidistant between your bellybutton and sides. 
Fireworks exploded across your cheeks and laughter flowed from your lips. He chuckled endearingly, amused as his deft fingertips made quick work of sending you into hysterics. Alternating between well-placed pokes and clawing around your stomach, and pulsing his hands up your sides and ribcage, he dodged your hands with ease as you attempted to push his away, never letting you get used to one sensation.
Loki paused as he noticed your eyes widen and blush deepen when he found a particularly sensitive spot on the middle of your ribcage.
“Oh, my,” Loki drawled, his eyes lighting up as though he’d discovered a valuable treasure on a deserted island. “You should really be thankful you don’t work out on the field, with how little control you have of your face.”
 “UGH I kno-OHO-w,” you whipped your hands up to your cheeks to conceal your impossibly increasing flushing face. You were sure that in any second the heat radiating off of your face would burst into flames, emitting smoke signals to any potential rescuers to help you off of said island.
Speaking of rescuers, how long does it take for someone to simply go outside and grab some pumpkins?!
(On second thought, maybe you were thankful they were taking so long.) 
“There’s a r-EAHA-soHON I work behind the sc-EHENES AHAHA NO” you managed to say in between your laughter. You all but screamed as Loki unexpectedly latched his fingers onto your hips, drilling into the soft skin next to the bone. Throwing your head back, your eyes squeezed shut, you lightly snorted, and then fell into silent laughter. Your entire body became inundated with ticklish shock waves as his thumbs rhythmically and steadily pulsed into the dip of your hips, his fingers simultaneously digging into the back of your sides. Persistent, unrelenting, unyielding, he targeted your hips, eventually slowing down to lightly scribble at the sides as he noticed tears forming in your eyes.
He stared down at you with an amused grin, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. “Ready to yield, yet, Agent?”
“Lokihihi,” you said as your giggles audibly returned. You had to admit, the sensation was entirely overwhelming, but at the same time, it was kind of fun. Only Peter had really tickled you before, but it was never more than a couple seconds; the extent of his playfulness seemed completely mild compared to how Loki was taking you apart with his hands. You couldn’t remember the last time you truly laughed and let loose like this. You would never admit to enjoying yourself out loud, but you had a feeling didn’t need to; your traitorous face spoke for itself.
“Yes, darling?” Smirking, he exuded mischief and amusement as his fingertips ghosted around the soft skin on the inside of your hipbones. He wondered how much of his playful tormenting you were willing to subject yourself to.
“I cahahn’t-” You batted weakly at his hands. Loki had been observing you closely, and even through your disheveled state, he noticed a genuine smile still remained behind your eyes. Reaching behind him with his left hand, he lightly scratched the skin on the back of your thigh, just above the back of your knee. Frantically, you kicked your legs and your shoulders shook as he simultaneously engaged his right hand, continuing to squeeze your hip. “I caHAHn’t take iHIit AHA-“
He grinned, “You know how to make this stop.” Picking up the pace of his tickling fingers, he elicited more of your melodic laughter as you became nearly powerless under his playful touch.
In a half-hearted attempt to protect yourself, you somehow managed to slip one of your hands in between your left hip and Loki’s hand, to which he quickly grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them above your head. Using his free hand, he rapidly pinched up and down one of your exposed and vulnerable sides, from your hip bone to the top of your ribcage. You jolted and laughed underneath him, your laughter interlaced with squeaks and squeals as Loki found especially sensitive spots.
Curiously, he wiggled his index finger deep into the center of your underarm. Much to Loki’s delight, your eyes glittered with liveliness as you shrieked and squirmed under his touch. He couldn’t help but find it adorable that you were enjoying yourself so much, and how much it was seeming to help you relax.
“OK, okahAHy,” you uttered. He relented, though he remained seated on your legs and maintained his grip on your wrists, in case you changed your mind. Euphoric giggles continued to spill from your lips; you were feeling almost giddy from the endorphin rush. Impatient, he pinched your side once, then glared at you expectantly. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you took a deep breath and said, “I-hi promise to carve the pumpkin…” You giggled, hesitantly adding,” … if you do one thing.”
“What is it?” He raised an eyebrow with fake indignance, but he couldn’t help but be a little amused. “Need I remind you, Agent, you really aren’t in any position to be making ultimatums.”
“I’ll carve the pumpkin… if you wear Thor’s werewolf costume to the Halloween party,” you jokingly proposed. You knew that Loki would never wear it, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him about it. And honestly, you weren’t quite ready for your playful interaction to end just yet.
He looked at you with a blank, emotionless expression, letting the taut silence linger between you for a few seconds. Your giggles slipped out again, partially from nerves, partly from delirium. Loki found himself both charmed that you were provoking him to continue and amazed at your resilience.
“You’ve got some nerve,” he growled and glared at you, though with lightheartedness in his pale emerald eyes. “Too much nerve for someone as ticklish as you.”
With that, he let go of your wrists and found your triggering middle rib, drilling his middle fingers deep into the bone on each side. You strongly jolted, laughing uncontrollably as you kicked your legs helplessly from underneath him. Eventually giving up on your halfhearted attempts to protect yourself, you relaxed as you succumbed to your torment. Loki continued his relentless, playful attack on your sensitive spot, digging in ruthlessly as you once again fell into bright laughter. In this moment, you felt the weakest and most flustered you had ever felt in your life, your entire body dissolving like Jell-O on the floor. At the same time, you somehow felt entirely carefree, unable to think about anything else except for how bad it tickled, as the endorphins flitted around your brain.
His heart glowed with endearment as he heard the bubbly giggles pour from your lips and saw a big grin across on your face. He felt quite satisfied with himself on his newfound effective strategy to help you let loose and relieve some stress.
Your face was now an overripe tomato, your laughter soon becoming breathless, so Loki stopped, sensing that you’d had enough. Catching your breath, you sputtered out a surrender through your laughter. 
He climbed off of you, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence, aside from your occasional residual giggles as you recovered from your delirious state.
After a few moments, Loki turned towards you. “Darling, I would never force you to do something that makes you uncomfortable. But I truly think it would be good for you to at least try.” He paused, gazing at you gently. “I understand that you don’t want to mess up, that you want to do things perfectly, and I can respect that. Perfection is a noble goal, though it is unachievable. It pains me to see that your pursuit of perfection sometimes paralyzes you in beginning something, for fear of messing up.”
You met his eyes softly, listening intently.
“You are incredibly competent and gifted with a brilliant mind, but even the most brilliant minds in the world will continue to fall short of perfection. Even Odin himself has flaws. But he is one of the most powerful and wisest gods out there. Thor isn’t perfect, even as a mighty warrior. His ego is massive. Yet he is still a powerful warrior, a noble brother.
I only want to give you some confidence and reassurance that it is entirely okay to mess up. It is a natural part of our life’s journey, that we are capable of growing from our mistakes.”
Feeling slightly taken aback by his compassionate and understanding words, and at a loss of words to match his kind sentiment, you gently smiled and said, “Thanks, Loki.”
He offered you a sincere, tight-lipped smile in return. “I only wish you could see the value in yourself that everyone else does. You would do well to give yourself a little grace.”
“That’s very kind of you to say,” you breathed. 
“It is all the truth, Agent.” 
You had never realized how attentive he was towards you, or how much he cared about you. You were so used to fighting your battles on your own, the thought of receiving help was almost foreign to you, especially from Loki.
Perhaps your fear of appearing incompetent was keeping you from letting anyone in, and you’d blinded yourself to the reality that others might want to be there for you. But now, here you were, seated side-by-side in a vulnerable moment with the God of Mischief, his kindness coming as a welcome surprise, comforting you like a warm embrace when you needed it the most. 
Your heart swelled at the thought that Loki cared so much about you, feeling honored that he was comfortable enough opening up to you in a way he really hadn't with others. It meant so much to you that he was willing to risk being vulnerable himself in order to help you, to show that it is okay to allow people to see behind your mask of perfection. He reminded you that you were more than competent, and even when you did make a mistake, you were still loved.
Learning to be more forgiving of yourself and your mistakes would be a process; that much, you knew. It wasn't something that would completely change overnight, but you decided it was something worth working towards. Especially now that you knew you had your teammates to support you.
"Shall I let you get back to your pumpkin now?" he asked.
Nodding genuinely, you gave him a soft smile.
Loki beamed with an uncharacteristic warmth, recognizing that the traces of downheartedness in your disposition had faded, replaced with a glow of hope and promise.
“Excellent! I’m proud of you, Agent. Perhaps this is what you need to overcome your fears. A victory, even if it’s simply over a pumpkin.” He stood up, offering you his hand.
“So… does this mean you’ll wear the werewolf costume? If not, I totally get it- I think the vampire costume would suit you better anyway,” you deadpanned, giving him a wink as you took his hand.
Feigning menace, he held your hand firmly and stared down at you before helping you up. “Ask about the costume one more time, and I will pin you to the ground and tickle you until you are on your last breath. And next time, I won’t show any mercy.” He winked right back and gave you a sly grin.
You squeaked and blushed furiously at his threat, causing Loki to smirk at your flustered reaction. Although, now that he was aware you truly didn’t mind his playful antics, he knew he would follow up with that one day, anyways. Perhaps on a day when you were extra hard on yourself, if only to make you smile.
“We’re back! Sorry it took longer than-“ Peter, pumpkins in hand, stopped in his tracks as he saw Loki helping you up. “You fell again? Wow, and I thought that I was a klutz,” Peter remarked with a smile.
You lightheartedly laughed at the coincidence, while Loki looked a little bemused and returned to his tea. You decided you’d be fine with keeping both of them in the blue about your embarrassing moments you’d had with the other. 
As you began working on your pumpkin again, in the company of your teammates, you couldn’t help but be thankful for them.
Perhaps you could be a little less hard on yourself. You made a promise to yourself that one day you would learn to be more forgiving of yourself and your mistakes. To believe that you were good enough, and that you were worthy of the same love and grace you gave so freely to everyone else.
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desb3ar · 4 months
Text
Vulnerable
Pairing: Miguel x Reader
Summary: A heart to heart. Comforting Miguel.
Genre: Emotional, uplifting
Warnings: Forms of self-neglect and self-loathing.
Disclaimer: This is placed during the heat of his tragic event. Just a couple weeks after. I can’t tell you the gap between then and the time the movie was placed since I don’t have a timeline at my disposal, so I’m sorry if theres some inaccuracies within here that don’t sit right.
The reader has no indication of gender.
~~~~~~~~
It’s been weeks since the tragedy. The moment the world had crumbled around him like an earthquake wreaking havoc in a city, debris crushing those around him, just out of his reach. That horrific day of seeing the unforeseen result of his actions left an ugly stain on his decrepit psyche. The unforgettable memory of hearing his foster daughter desperately yell out to him for aid as she glitched into nothing right in his arms had messed him up completely. Seeing his palms, like her blood was on his shaky hands. Someone he had a strong connection with, someone who he loved dearly, was gone, and he was the person to blame. A whole universe was in the palm of his hand, unbeknownst to him.
As he would stand tall, the Miguel he was before being gutted out of anything, he remained in his office. Empty and cold. That space was nothing but a tomb with someone buried alive inside by the worries and concerns for keeping everything together. Dealing with nails-on-a-chalkboard humor by numerous Peter Parkers and other variants was something he endured every waking hour when he was working. Which is every day.
With his neglected emotions aside, shoving them into the back of his mind, he keeps himself ready to order when he’s on the clock. An anomaly was taken down in minutes if it wasn’t some big shot super villain. He’d rid himself of the need for back up, he didn’t need anyone. He can do it all by himself, he’s a strong guy. Isn’t he?
He’s lost track of the days, or weeks, he’s taken a day off. That led to certain needs not being met. His shower wasn’t touched for days until he actually took his focus off his screens to get a whiff of himself. He had no shame, nothing was worse than the reason he’s brought himself down to hell. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. Jess and Peter B. gave him a push to get his tail up. He was able to return to his home just to bathe, but then it was back to work. That was his plan, to pop in then pop back out.
However, someone knocked on his door. With a slight groan and great reluctance, he made his way over to his door and pulled it open.
“You got the wrong house. I don-“
His mouth froze when he saw who he was about to shut down.
It was you.
Miguel and you had gone way back to his early days of being Spiderman. You and him had chemistry that not even the most skilled chemist could understand. You were a calm, reasonable, and sweet being with a heart made of gold, seems like you gave him a chance when he was accepted into your orbit.
The two of you hung out with each other frequently, drinking at spots you found in the cities, downtown too, and swapped between who’s pad you two were gonna hang out in that day.
Your bond was believed to be unbreakable. Until the incident.
Days together turn into the days you’d only remember. When life was just alright, when he smiled. Now they were counted, tallied up to the grand total of 47 since the last time you two faced one another.
What you saw was a walking dead man, his eyes sunken from the lack of overall care, eye bags telling his horrific sleep schedule, skin dry, hair messy, he was not the same man. You couldn’t even make out if he was even the guy you’d steal food from and share drinks with. Its been weeks and then some of radio silence on his end.
You’ve ruthlessly contacted him, but he was never keen on responding to your messages and endless calls. Multiple calls turned to one a day. Messages followed suit. You lost enough hope with long-distance communication and decided with better judgment that this reunion needed to be face-to-face. The untold but expected awkwardness was your push.
You two stood in heavy silence until you let out a soft sigh. Then, you pushed your way in, making him stumble as you moved him away from the door and pushed it close. His cracked and damaged heart skipped a beat.
“I’d believe you’ve lost your phone given your silence.” You started. Miguel stared at you as you found your place in front of him. “… But you make way too much money to not have another one if you even lost it to start.”
Miguel sighed and just… Walked away. This left you wide eyed. “Wha- Hey! Don’t just walk away from me- TALK to me! Where have you been?” You exclaimed as you followed behind him. “It’s been ages without a single word and you don’t even have anything to say now that I’m here?”
You went on to vent about the worrying abrupt absence that came from him as he set his route to his room that was devoid of filth. You’re heart ached when he didn’t say a way to your words, as if they hadn’t meant anything, or simply went through him with no effect. He sat on his bed facing away from you with you standing at the doorway.
"It's nothing." He monotonously muttered as he kept his eyes off you,
"Like hell it is." You spat. "C'mon, don't get fresh with me. Where have you been all this time? I get that you have your whole superhero thing goin' on, but nothing's kept you away for this long."
"Nowhere." He answered dryly as he put a hand on his face.
You took a deep breath and sighed at his response. "Miguel O'Hara, you have got to talk to me, not just respond. Gimme somethin' to work with." You protested.
Your friend was going through something. You let your excitement to see him and annoyance at him being a brick wall get to you. Thinking he died tragically without a trace made it seem valid. You took a second to get yourself together before you walked to his bed, joining him. Your own weight made the bed mattress seep, moving him slightly. He didn't grant you not a second of a glance.
He wasn't always the most vocal about how he was mentally. It had always been a thing you wanted to get into with him. Having deep coversations about life once a bluemoon had opened a window of oppurtunity.
One night, the two of you were talking about childhood and other endeavors that sculpted out how you turned out. You spilled some details about the past and he was surprised about how you seemed so vastly different compared to how you were brought up. That surprise came with validation when he was somewhat relating to you. Everyone who wasn't sheltered as much had suffered through some form of childhood trauma, that's obvious. However, with Miguel, going through his neglectful and troublesome past, he was stuck on the fence of reaching out when he truly needed help.
“… Miguel. What’s going on?" You asked him, your voice now lacking the fierceness you once had, just filled with worry.
Miguel stared down at the floor. His mind was flipping through the pages of a book on how to even explain. The pain he felt these past couple weeks crept back through him like a cryiptic plague.
"... I'm sorry." He spoke gravely. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything." He closed his eyes as if it would make it easier for him. "I... I went through something that really... Troubled me..." He confessed slowly.
"That's fine, that is alright, Miguel." You reassured him. "Just..."
You looked down his lap. His fingers tightly gripping his pants as his forearms shivered. You looked at his face with only your eyes. He was trying so desperately to keep himself together.
"... I hate myself for this." He grieved, his eyes were tightly shut. "I made a horrible mistake." He confessed.
He wanted to speak more, but it wasn't coming out. He knew you deserved a better explanation, but he didn't know how'd you see him after he foolishly let a whole universe blow away into oblivion. All because he wanted a family, to take care of a daughter that wasn't even his. Who makes that seem so innocent. Anyone could find that immoral, but he couldn't just let her be on her own. He wouldn't be able to bear it. Yet, he would have much rather her go through it alone now instead of her not being here at all. He couldn't think of a reason to care for himself, or even look at his own reflection. He only saw someone who was naive, someone he didn't deserve much more than a passing glance.
During his attempts at trying to speak, his lips remained parted to only spill nothing. His breath was shaking with anticipation, that was when a horse sob broke past his guard.
"Hey, hey." You placed an arm on his shoulder, rubbing it. "Look, you can talk about it later. Okay?" You told him with a gentle tone.
Silence reigned when he looked at you.
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It was a sight you never thought of seeing.
He was on the brink of breaking down right in front of you.
This was not like him.
That's what broke your heart.
You went in and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"I'm sorry." You said.
That was when he finally broke down in your arms, hugging you tightly. His painful sobs ripped through his throat as tears ran down his cheeks like faucets, wetting your shoulder. All the pain he's gone through up till this point was finally being let out.
You pat his back gently, gasping and panting, catching his breath. The sounds of his despair made it harder for you to keep it together yourself. You nearly caved when, through sobs, he spoke about how much he despised himself. Treating himself like someone that committed the worst crime. He gripped onto your top tightly.
You spoke against it, knowing this was all just things saying out of spite of himself. You didn't want him to keep up with this mindset. You started to give him soft and gentle kisses on the cheek. You spoke words of reassurance and small truths that was able to break him out of his shell of self-hatred.
He was beginning to find ease, taking you in, he didn't loosen his grip around you however. His breathing hitching as you rubbed his back.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
There was never a time in your life where he was even close to shedding a tear. However now, he was completely vulnerable.
.
.
.
.
.
got a little rushed in the end so i apologize.
comforting miguel is so nice so why not write about it??
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