#Peter deserves much more love than he gets

[meowstri]

you could wipe my mind, i'd still be stuck on you

tags: peter parker x fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff, college/university au, lots of sarcasm, 1k words synopsis: while going out shopping to buy snacks for movie night, your bf, peter parker, tries to convince to you to let him get a new video game. chaos ensues. a/n: wow hey welcome to my first fic posted on here... sorry if this seems rushed haha. tysm @103rafes for helping me with the ending, ily man. reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!! title is from stuck on you by grentperez

"alright, i think we've got everything!" your eyes scanned through the various assortment of junk food in the grocery cart. "movie night is gonna be awe-" You turned to face your bf only to find no one standing near you. "ugh... where is that idiot?"

walking around the store, you find your boyfriend of 1 year, peter parker, in the electronics section. of course he was. you thought, he probably even forgot what they were at the store for.

he was staring intently at the newest spider-man video game. Spider-Man 2, it had came out just last month and everyone was going crazy over it. he had a scrunched up look on his face, studying the cover of the game in the clear display case.

as you walked up to him, his senses picked up on your location and he turned his head around, quickly glancing at you before turning his head back towards the display case. "i still can't believe they make video games of me. they really captured my likeness" he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "i am so going to get this."

rolling your eyes, you sighed. "no we're not mister. c'mon its time to go home." you tugged on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, but Peter still didn't move an inch.

"please y/n... ned has the game! so does everyone we know!"

"why don't you just go over to ned's house and play it?" you suggested, rolling your eyes once again. "yeah, keep rolling your eyes. it'll be stuck like that soon enough." he huffed with a pout. "if you let me get it i'll let you pick the movie tonight. i know you love those cheesy hallmark movies..." peter said in a sing-songy voice. he leaned in to give you a small peck on the cheek and looked at you with his chocolate puppy-dog eyes.

"your silly antics don't work on me." you can't help but let out a giggle as buried his face into your neck and kissing every expanse of skin on it. peter wrapped his arms around your waist hugging you close. "but no. out of the both of us, you're the worst at managing your spendings and we need the money."

he hummed. "but mr. stark gave me my paycheck on monday, its more than enough to buy the game and put away some of it in our savings..."

"you mean your allowance?"

"hey! i may not be an avenger, but i still work for one of the richest people in america" he laughed, messing up your hair. "so... can i still get it?"

you hesitated for a moment, doing some calculations in your head. the two of you lived together in a dingy apartment and did extra jobs on the side to keep the both of them afloat. you knew peter worked hard a lot, trying to keep his grades up while maintaining his life as the city's spider-man so maybe he did deserve something nice for himself.

the corners of your mouth lifted in a small smile. "well..."

—

“did you see that! i beat his ass so hard.” your bf laughed. you watched intently at the screen trying to decipher what was going on but all you could see were bright flashes of colour.

“you already beat ass in real life. don’t understand why you need to buy this game just to play a virtual version of yourself.” you said jokingly while eating from the bowls of chips and candy you bought earlier that day. you grimaced as you peter took a large handful of m&ms and popcorn, shoving them into his mouth.

“true, but this is more fun.” he said between mouthfuls. “plus i don’t get hurt.” he gave you a dorky little grin.

well there was no denying that, you thought as you smiled back. as much as peter tried to argue, you insisted on paying for the game as a gift. just seeing peter smile over some silly game made you fall in love with him all over again. it was surreal, dating the spider-man. the same one that appeared on the news 24/7. the same one that made you worry for days wondering if he might come back from saving crime.

but he wasn’t just spider-man. he was just plain old peter parker. the boy from queens that you met all those years ago. the boy who was practically an academic genius and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

interrupting you from your thoughts, peter wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you tightly. he had already finished playing the game but he still grasped the controller in his hand.

“what are you thinking about?” he asked quietly, playing with the strands of hair falling on your shoulders. he smelled like fresh laundry and a hint of butter from the popcorn.

“what?”

peter chuckled. “you were staring at me with that look you get when you’re thinking really hard. like your nose scrunches up a bit and you have this wide smile on your face”

“oh… i wasn’t really thinking about anything.” you locked eyes with him, staring into his big, doe brown eyes. you shimmied closer to him and rested your head on shoulder. “just thinking about how great you are.”

“thanks for feeding my ego— ow!” you punched him on the arm but there was no anger to it. “im joking, im joking. you’re great too.” the smile lines on his face deepened.

peter leaned his head against yours. “thank you for getting me that game by the way. i love you.” he pressed his lips against your temple, making a line down towards your cheeks, then ending at your lips. they were soft and warm, and he tasted like slightly like chocolate.

“mm, love you too spidey-boy. now play your game, i didn’t spend 90 dollars on that for nothing.” you giggled lightly.

unable to pull away from your face, he grumbled. “okay, okay! way to ruin a moment with my lovely girlfriend…”

“does this spider-man have a girlfriend too?” you nodded towards the screen.

“you’re better than any video game girlfriend i could have as spider-man”. you couldn’t help but let out a string of laughs as he pulled you in again, planting kisses all over your face.

fin.

[accio-sriracha]

James coming home to an empty house in the middle of the war.

James, with his intense fear of abandonment, with his need to protect the people he loves.

James coming home to an empty house and needing to face the idea that his wife and child could be gone.

James, who screams into the horrible silence, who begs a god he wasn't sure he even believed in. James, who slams his fist against the table, who collapses by the door to wait for this torturous hell to end.

But they aren't gone, Lily took Harry with her on her trip to get groceries. They were safe. Everyone was safe.

But that didn't stop James wondering every time he leaves the house if today was the day.

If today he would come home to an empty house and they wouldn't just be gone for groceries.

If he would have to wait for hours, thoughts racing in his mind, feet pacing the floor, fear after fear after fear turning over in his head.

What if someone broke in? What if someone stole his family? What if someone hurt them?

What was he supposed to do then? He couldn't protect them. He couldn't save them.

And every time he meets those sets of beautiful green eyes he feels the greatest relief of his life because they're alive.

But one day. One day they wouldn't be.

And James lived with this fear every moment of his life, every moment since that second set of beautiful green eyes first settled on his own.

One day he wouldn't be able to save them.

And James hated himself for it.

He hated the world. He hated everything that made his life into this shell of constant flipping between fear and relief.

James never spoke these fears, he didn't want to worry anyone.

But they knew. Everyone knew.

Lily always held his hand just a little bit tighter.

Remus always stayed over just a little bit longer.

Sirius always squeezed their hugs just a little bit harder.

Peter always said he loved him just a little bit firmer.

McGonagall always invited them over just a little bit more often.

Because they knew.

They knew how deep his fears ran. They all felt them too.

But what can you say?

When you live in a time of war and chaos, what can you say?

Other than, I love you.

Other than, I'll be home in a little while.

Other than I'll see you soon.

James would never know what having a family would be like after the war was over.

But he knows he would have loved them every bit as much, he would have told them so just as many times, he would have held them just as tight, stayed just as long.

He would have loved them like the world was ending even when it wasn't, because it was all he knows.

And it was everything they deserved.

James only wished he could have had a little more time.

[pevensiegiigi]

My problem with the Prince Caspian movie

The reason i love CN:Prince Caspian is because of how Andrew Adamson squeezed the emotions out of Peter. From the frustration of being an adult locked in the life of a child who wants to return to his land/country, the happiness of returning to that place he loves so much, the sadness of knowing that it was destroyed, the anger of knowing that a descendant of his destroyers would be the one who would ascend to king of his country and the guilt for being forced to leave Narnia again with no possibility of return.

My post is not to talk about those emotions, but i wanted to mention them anyway.

My post is to talk about my dissatisfaction with how everyone in the movie mocks Peter's words and orders, ignoring the title of high king. Except Edmund and Reepicheep; the rest, from Lucy and Susan, who are his royal sisters, to Trumpkin, Caspian, and Glenstorm, who are his subjects, disrespect his title of high king.

First Trumpkin by not addressing him with respect throughout the film, mocking his nickname, berating him for "leaving Narnia" and then making a fool of himself in the Stone Mountains when they searched for Caspian.

He is followed by Caspian, who equally disrespects Peter's position. Caspian is a prince from distant lands who intends to rule lands that he does not know, wanting to review the words dictated by the great king.

There's that scene where Peter suggests infiltrating the Telmarines' castle and Reepicheep asks, "What do you suggest, Your Majesty of him?" and both Peter and Caspian respond at the same time, a staring match ensues between the two which Peter obviously wins. The thing is, Caspian shouldn't have answered Reepicheep's question in the first place because the rightful King of Narnia was present let alone challenge him with his eyes because, I repeat, HE IS THE GREAT KING OF NARNIA and, not least, peter is Older than him. . . Maybe he didn't know it or maybe he did, but humanly Peter at that time was 31/32 years old although he would look like a child and as if that were not enough in the years of Narnia, Peter is 1300 years older than him, while Caspian was around 17 Just years, so...

Peter's plan to infiltrate the castle would have worked if Caspian had followed Peter's orders and we all know that, but no. He completely ignored Peter's order to go to the door and Susan supported that disobedience, don't get me wrong, but i'll tell you how it is. It's not just Caspian's fault that the infiltration failed, if Susan had supported Peter instead of Caspian, everything would have worked out and Cornelius would have been released at the end of the infiltration.

Caspian's most obvious disrespect towards Peter was challenging him to a duel in front of his people when Peter called him a usurper and it's not entirely a lie, he really was a usurper. From the moment he thought he was the leader of the Narnian rebellion, even knowing that he had called the old monarchs, he became a usurper, or at least it was for me. I understand Caspian will get mad at being called a usurper, but he called Peter irresponsible as if Peter wanted to leave Narnia when he didn't and then dared to duel him on HIS EARTH!?!?!?! The least he deserved was execution.

Third, Glenstorm. The mere fact that he was looking at Caspian as if he was waiting for his orders to follow the ones he received from Peter is disrespectful.

Lucy when she pretended to embarrass him by reminding him that it was Aslan who defeated the white witch, not him. I UNDERSTAND that being her sister he has every right to reproach her if she disagrees with something because he is also Monarch of Narnia, but why didn't she do it in private? At that moment, she took away from Peter part of the authority over the others.

I'm a little glad that at the end of the film in a scene they let us see how Peter showed that his title of Great King and his nickname of magnificent, he didn't have them just for decoration. However, it bothers me that throughout the movie they tried to make him look stubborn when he was just angry and outraged.

Peter is the character in the entire saga that carried the most weight and yet he did not complain about what Aslan gave him, his greatest wish was to return to Narnia and stay there for the rest of eternity, which he achieved.

That's why i love the movie 50% and hate it 50%.

[messervixen]

Happy birthday to James Potter. You would have loved cheesy extravagant promposals <3

[horsefigureoftheday]

Can you explain the "breyer horses are stylised" thing you said a while back? Not because I don't believe you but because I don't know enough about horses to see it (besides the mane and tail)

All artistic representations of a horse will be somewhat stylized. Humans can't help it, they imagine details, even when referencing photos or live animals. A swayed back gets exaggerated, sickle hocks are overlooked, the face becomes more expressive, because to a human who loves a horse, and who expresses their own emotions with their face, the horse's face just feels more expressive.

Take a look at this horse from Peter Paul Rubens' "Wolf and Fox Hunt" (1616) and how it compares to a photo of a horse

The artist was clearly familiar with horses, and most likely referenced off a live horse. And yet its face is much more expressive than a real horse's face - it's neotenous and borderline anthropomorphic, with its huge sorrowful eyes, and the short muzzle that puts the mouth in closer proximity to its eyes (making its expression more readable).

I think a lot of people see what they want to see when they look at a horse, and they reflect that in their art. Is the horse an independent agent or a tool of its rider? Is the horse an unthinking animal or a soulful creature like yourself? Does the artist admire animals, in spite of painting them in terrible war-like scenarios? Does the artist paint animals in these scenarios because he admires them? Is the horse meant to elevate the status of its rider, by being depicted as a soulful creature that nonetheless submits to its rider? (You can probably guess my own opinion from these questions)

Earlier art saw horses almost an afterthought, depicted from memory while their rider was drawn reverently. All those art pieces of emperors and kings on horseback, where the horse looks like a cartoonish oaf, use the horse as a symbol of power, with no regard for the animal itself. Even when the horse is beautifully rendered, it's nothing more than a vehicle to carry its rider. The artist has depicted the horse as expressionless, beastly, and soulless.

Even when you get into portraits of horses in the 17-/1800s, they are still stylized, though now you're just as likely to see a lithe and graceful companion, as you are a muscled working horse or a faithful old friend. Horse breeding really took off around this time, as did theories of animal minds, so adoration of horses-as-individuals became more widespread. Examples are "Lustre" (1762) by George Stubbs, "Mare and Foal in a Stable" (1854) by John Frederick Herring Senior, and "A Grey Horse in a Field" (1873) by Rosa Bonheur.

All this is to say that horses will always be stylized in art. Humans can't not twist the horse the suit their own tastes, and that's fine. I actually think it's kinda beautiful. The way horses are stylized can give you insight into the artist's opinion of horses. An artist with a neotenic, expressive stylization probably has more respect for horses-as-individuals than an artist who depicts them as inexpressive, powerful, willing beasts of burden.

Breyer horses have an airy painterly quality to them. Even the draft horses seem almost weightless. Compare Breyer's "George" with the self-released resin horse "Gustav," both sculpted by Brigitte Eberl.

George has much longer hooves and smoother curves in his legs - you could draw a near perfect curve from his hind knee to his toe -, giving him a flowing appearance with very little weight behind it. Gustav, on the other hand, has sharp edges and corners. He feels heavy. I'm a big fan of wrinkles and muscle on model horses, but the muscles on George seem like he's been through a rock tumbler. They're smooth and soft-looking, except for the extremely deep crevices between them, which are probably there to better catch paint and enhance the shading (an effect that's especially noticeable on George's thigh). Gustav, on the other hand, has very subtle muscling and virtually no wrinkles (he deserves neck wrinkles, give my boy neck wrinkles!!). He looks like a working horse with a solid layer of fat over his muscles. George's stylization is, for lack of a better word, smooth. Flawless. A bit too perfect for my liking. George is like the platonic ideal of a visually appealing draft horse. A horse like him can't exist.

I think resin horses by master craftsmen are the closest we'll get to depicting horses exactly as they are in life. The stylistic choices are extremely subtle, and seem more like a consequence of the medium than a deliberate goal on the artist's part (e.g., you can't make a realistic mane out of resin, so you have to compromise).

I love both the stylistic trappings that humans fall into when depicting horses and the endless quest for the perfect artistic representation of the horse. Both are beautiful. All horse art is beautiful.

(Obligatory disclaimer that I'm not an art historian or anthropologist, I literally studied bugs at university, so if you think I'm talking out of my ass you are MORE than welcome to add to this post!)

[hemlock-dreams]

Hello yes hi. Big fan. Very big fan! Ur art, story, and that bad-freaking-ass spiderman design has me on a choke hold. Just a question bc I'm curious and a fanatic, what's Deadpools and Peter's relationship like here? Are they just lookin for a fun time or Something deeper? I gotta know man. I'll take all scraps I can get

Thank you so much! Here are some scraps I have fashioned into something edible (hopefully).

(Tfw u hug ur friend and pull back covered in his blood)

Wade doesn't have casual friends. In fact most people tend to leave, and the ones that stick around tend to like him in small doses.

Peter is weird. He's friendly, puts up with Wade's antics and is (for some reason) really patient with his bullshit. He lets Wade chatter and actually listens, they watch tiktoks together and Peter opens all his memes (not to mention actually replies to his texts!!)

Peter is also really tactile. Wade has had more casual physical contact (arm around the shoulders/neck grasping/etc) in the past few months than he's had in forever.

Peter also cares. Wade hasn't had anyone who's really cared in a long-ass time.

TLDR: Wade is so fucking far gone on him it's not even funny. He's also terrified of messing it up because if it goes south, it's not just a date he's gonna lose out on, it's the entire friendship. So he's been basically pining behind his usual 'I'm-going-to-make-crude-sexual-come-ons' routine and hopes Peter doesn't realize it's not for show.

He's also struggling with some very horny feelings for Spiderman but that's a whole other bag of marbles.

Don'tmessthisupdon'tmessthisupdon'tmessthis- "Hey, your tits look fantastic today" Fuck. Peter: "Thanks! Scarlett told me to get smaller shirts."

----

Peter, on the other hand, is kind of reluctant to have romantic relationships because his Spider side and human side tend to blend together in ways that most people can't handle.

Because what does a regular person do when their boyfriend's venn diagram of 'hunt/eat/mate' is a circle? Peter always has to hold himself back, has to watch his strength, has to curb his knee-jerk reactions to violence...it's exhausting. And it's gotten the people he loves hurt.

So he's interested, but contents himself with platonic interactions because he thinks he doesn’t deserve anything more.

He also doesn't want to ruin the friendship, because he actually, genuinely likes Wade.)

Now when he's in the suit...well...impulses tend to go out the window...

------

Thank you so much for the asks! I hope this was satisfying!! <3 <3 <3

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae since u said u would be willing to do an ED reader here's a lil idea for James or tasm Peter but them with a gf who had a really bad ED before they met (he doesn't know) and she starts to relapse and he thinks she's just too stressed to eat or something (idk u can pick how the topic comes up) and just her telling him and him comforting her (this is a bit self indulgent bc idk how to tell anyone I'm dating that I'm struggling)

Hi lovely, thank you for your request!

cw: discussion and depiction of eating disorder, anxiety

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 916 words

You don’t seem much up for talking at dinnertime. Which is fine. James can talk for the both of you. 

He prattles on about Sirius’ one-way rivalry with the temp at his work while you cast him half-hearted, flickering smiles and push your food around your plate. He’s made sesame tofu, a first for James but he thought it turned out all right. His plate is clean, whereas yours is all mixed up but he’s fairly sure you’ve only eaten a couple of green beans. 

You don’t appear to notice when he finishes his story. Your fork seems almost limp in your hand. 

“If you don’t like it,” James says lightly, “I don’t mind making you something else, lovely.” 

You look surprised, then guilty. “No, sorry, it’s good.” 

It’s not like you would know, but James isn’t cruel enough to point that out. Aside from his own ego, he has other reasons to suspect his cooking has little to do with this. 

You’ve been strung up tight, lately. There’s a lot going on at work, some conflict with your boss you don’t really want to talk about, and drama in your family you want to talk about even less. James has tried to make home as comfortable and easy for you as he can, but understandably you’ve grown withdrawn, seemingly exhausted all day long. He wishes he knew how to do more for you. Wishes he could cast a bubble of pure goodness to put you inside so the only things that could get to you were the lovely things you deserve. 

“I know you’re stressed,” he says, gently as he can, “but you’ve got to eat, you know? It’s probably cold by now, you could have something else if it’s easier.” 

Something painful twinges in your expression. James reaches for your hand on instinct. 

“I get that you’ve got a lot going on, angel. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but we could.” 

You sigh. “No, it’s…I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking, Jamie.” 

James frowns, but forces himself to stay quiet. He has the familiar sense that all he’s doing is putting his foot in his mouth. 

After a minute, you say quietly, eyes lingering to the side of your plate, “I haven’t always been able to eat properly. It’s been…I’m a lot better about it than I used to be, but it’s still difficult sometimes. Like now.” 

Your hand feels tensed inside of James’. His heart has begun to ache lowly. James thinks he knows the term for what you’re trying to tell him, but he’s not about to lob it at you now, not if it could only make you feel worse. He tries comforting you the surest way he can think of, smoothing his thumb along the side of your hand. 

It at least seems to relax you enough to say more. “You’re not too far off, I guess, because it is sometimes worse when I’m anxious.” You glance up at him tentatively, an attempt at a smile on your lips. “Food’s just a bit more difficult for me right now.” 

“I’m sorry I brought it up like that,” says James, earnestness aching in the back of his throat.

You lift a shoulder. “How could you have known? Sorry I haven’t been eating your cooking.” 

“That’s not your fault, sweetheart.” Your gaze flees his again. Guilt and shame quiet James’ voice. “I’m sorry, I thought you were only stressed.” 

You give a little laugh. “I guess I am stressed.” 

“Yeah, and for good reason, but…can I hug you?” 

You nod, and James gets out of his chair, bending awkwardly to get his arms around you. Your fingertips press into the muscles of his shoulders. 

“It’s not quite so simple as stress, though, is it?” he murmurs into your shirt. 

He feels your chest contract with a sigh. “No,” you admit. 

“What can I do to help?” 

“I don’t think there’s anything you can do, Jamie.”

“Not accuse you of not liking my cooking, though, surely.” 

Another little laugh, this one seemingly more genuine. “Yeah, that would help a bit, actually.” 

James worries about smothering you, backs up enough to see your face. His hands want to go there, too, one for each cheek. 

“Please tell me if you think of anything,” he says. You don’t agree but don’t look away from him either, which James figures is about as good as he’s going to get. “Would it be any easier if we ate in front of the telly?” 

You chew your lip. “It might, yeah. I’m not sure.” 

“You don’t have to make any promises,” he assures you, taking up your plate and bringing it into the kitchen. “Do you want me to reheat this for you? Or we could have something else?” 

You linger at the edge of the kitchen, fingers bundled up in your sleeves. “I’d like to try to finish that, if that’s okay.” 

“Of course it’s okay, m’love. More than okay.” James presses some buttons on the microwave, then turns to you, requisitioning you for another hug. He kisses your hair. “Thank you for telling me.” 

Your voice is soft. “Thank you for listening.”

He scoffs, squeezing you around the middle so that you squeal. “You make it sound like a chore. Don’t be so ridiculous.” James presses another kiss to your hair before releasing you. “Go find something good for us to watch, sweetheart, I’ll be there in a minute.”

[singmyaubade]

in love with my bullies

warning: mentions of smut : throatfucking, p in v bullying, and cursing

sypnosis : the marauders bullied you, tortured you. what will happen when you finally stick up for yourself?

dark!poly!marauders x female!reader

pacing is horrible in this story, ik but i was writing it while listening to music LMAO. did not proofread btw..

once again, here you were.

washing green slime gunk out of your hair in the abandoned bathrooms due to another marauders prank that was only towards you.

somehow their pranks always involved washing something out.

you tried your best to not be bothered or even show any sign of disdain in your face but this had really pissed you off.

it was relentless.

everyday, every hour, every minute, every second. the marauders would continue to bully you for no reason other than you being a slytherin.

but you would think that since there are so many slytherins, you wouldn't be top pick. you were quiet, kept to yourself, and never tried to go noticed in a huge crowd.

yet all the marauders did was pick you out and torture you.

the only one that showed you mercy was peter, he usually hung out with his girlfriend and never paid you much attention.

you thought it would be remus since he had a reputation for being mature and kind-hearted but even he showed you no mercy.

it's not like you could ask for any help, you didn't have a lot of friends that could help and even though you were a pureblood, the pureblood slytherins didn't accept you because of you family not helping the dark lord.

it wasn't easy.

and even though you tried to reason with them, they refused due to the fact you believed in 'blood supremacy' and you thought muggles 'deserved hell' which was complete rumors and you didn't believe that at all.

and now it was time to go back to class and the slimy substance had yet to disappear on your head. you then tried several spells in order to get it out of your hair and one had worked, getting whatever you couldn't.

you performed a drying spell before exiting out of the bathroom. you stepped out to see three out of the four marauders laying on the left of the wall with a smirk embroided on their face.

you scoffed, trying to move elsewhere.

"was that a scoff i heard?" james asked, stepping towards you with intimidation.

you never tried to look scared but you could tell it was painted all over your face.

"just let me go." you said, whimpering a little.

"aww," sirius stood in front of you, "are you gonna cry?" he asked, mocking you.

"i think she is." james replied in the same tone.

you looked over to remus who was looking at the entire situation with a look of entertainment and interest.

"fuck you." you spat, stepping face to face with james.

"don't say something you'll regret." he responded in a dark tone as you moved to step backwards but sirius was suddenly behind you.

you tried to carry a strong look on your face but they could tell you were easily intimidated.

"if you wanna go so bad," remus stood off of the wall and toward you, "all you have to say is please." his pointer finger holding up your chin.

you knew you wouldn't be able to move without doing as he asked.

"please," you whispered, locking in his eye contact, eyes watering.

"please what?" remus asked.

"please let me go." you said.

"good girl," he complimented, "that's all you had to say."

"you just have to be good, bunny." sirius whispered in your ear, feeling his hot breath down your neck, hand holding your waist.

in this moment, you were glad this was an abandoned hallway.

the worst part was, you wanted sirius to touch you more, aching for relief in your core.

you couldn't stop the butterflies in your belly nor the vibration in your entire body, it was as if you could feel all of your sense ten times more especially in your cunt.

your eyes were even getting blurry as if you were stuck in a trance.

you suddenly snapped back to reality to realize there was nobody around you, remus's eye contact, sirius's hand on your shoulder and james's stern tone, all gone.

it was all as if you had imagined it and the only thing that argued with that was the vibration throughout your body.

you had decided to take the rest of the day off, going to your dorm.

you entered your dorm to see your best friend, riley.

"i looked for you everywhere!" riley yelled, hugging you, "i gave them each a piece of my mind before i went to look for you." she looked into your eyes.

"it's fine riles, you know they are assholes." you said, half smiling.

"i'll kill them if you want me to, seriously," she said, knowing she wasn't joking.

you laughed it off, going to fix your bed.

"soooo," riley said, "there's a party tonight."

"where?" you asked.

a moment passed, "gryffindor."

you rolled your eyes, "no."

"cmon y/n!" she sat on your bed, "you can not let your fear of the marauders stop you from going to a party?"

"that's not it!" you said, still fluffing your pillow, "slytherin's aren't allowed at gryffindor parties."

"im pretty sure that rule only applies to the malfoys, dolohovs, blacks, and every dark lord supporter," riley said.

"they still hate me." you replied.

"only the marauders," she convinced.

"and they run that house," you argued.

"no they don't, most people think they are irritating." riley said factually.

"please don't make me go." you groaned.

"for me, please." riley pouted.

"don't do the puppy dog eyes," you groaned as she continued doing it, "fine, i'll go." you said, riley yelling excitingly and smothering you.

"can i still wear this?" you asked through her screaming.

she stopped and looked at you in disappointment, "y/n, i know i am not best friends with a vulture."

you giggled as riley went to her closet and picked out a red dress that was a little too short for your liking.

"this will hug your shape perfectly!" riley squeaked and went inside the bathroom before you could even give a response.

after a couple hours, you and riley were both finally done getting ready. she looked at you in total shock, "y/n, you look so fucking hot right now. and i mean that in the gayest way possible." her mouth open.

your entire face turned blush pink, "not too bad yourself riley." you laughed.

"let's go." riley suddenly rushed, grabbing your hand, practically dragging you to the gryffindor common room.

you couldn't hear anything from outside but you guessed it was a silencing charm.

you heard riley mutter the password before the dark opened and you saw students from each house having the time of their lives and the music was outrageously blasting.

riley grabbed your hand, dragging you through as the door closed.

you looked around to see if you could spot any of the marauders, only finding peter dancing with his girlfriend.

it was like you were a bunny in a room with foxes that you couldn't distinguish.

"let's dance!" riley shouted, making you look at her.

you shook your head but riley rolled her eyes and dragged you on the dance floor.

she started dancing but it's like she could feel your awkwardness as she grabbed your hips, moving your body with hers to the rythym.

eventually, you decided to just let go and try to enjoy yourself.

after about two or three songs, you had told riley that you were going to get a drink and asked if she wanted any but she was already making out with a hufflepuff girl and only swatted her hand.

you laughed, moving over to the drinks table.

you poured yourself some firewhisky when you felt someone roughly grab your wrist.

you turned around to see three of the marauders with james having a hold of your wrist to which you scoffed, yanking your wrist back.

"can you guys seriously fuck off for one night?" you sighed.

"have you forgotten yourself?" remus genuinely asked.

this was the night to stick up for yourself.

"have you?" you argued, "you all are fucking pathetic," you laughed humorlessly to which you could feel their anger radiating onto you, "i pray for the poor bastards who end up being your children if you all can even have any when your too busy sucking eachothers cocks," you insulted, "but if you don't me, i am going to go bed because you have unfortunately ruined this party for me." you shoved past them harshly, leaving the common room.

adrenaline was bouncing off of you, a new high you had never felt before. you were even partly turned on by the whole encounter.

you were even surprised they had let you pass

you speedwalked through the hallway in victory, you felt like you had finally won, that you had finally got a one up off of them.

you had yet to realize that the hallways were dark with a little bit of moonlight pouring through and you couldn't navigate your way due to you leaving your wand in your dorm.

you went to turn back to the common room but bumped into a hard surface to which you looked up to see remus lupin.

your heart skipped a beat as he roughly put his hand around your neck, shoving you into a wall. he was squeezing not enough for you to go unconcious but enough for you to not be able to take full breaths.

"what happened to your voice sweetheart?" he said as you croaked, "what happened to that dirty mouth?" you tried slapping off his hand but he only pushed you further into the wall.

you looked to both of your sides to see james and sirius.

"what do you think boys?" remus asked, "think she deserves to be punished?"

your eyes opened wider as you tried to make a sound but it came out in little squeaks.

"i think she does moony, i think we have given her too much freedom." sirius responded.

"yeah, i think we might have to fuck her into obedience." james said, inching closer.

even you couldn't stop the wet patch in your panties.

"i think that's what she wants, i mean let me check." remus said as confusion painted your face.

you felt him raise your dress up, hand now in your panties as you moaned.

"she's soaking wet," remus scoffed, "turns out to be a little slut after all."

you felt remus start rubbing your clit as you moaned more, his grip on your neck never softening.

you and remus staring at each other as james whispered something in his ear and he nodded.

he suddenly took his hand out of your panties, your entirety angry at his lack of letting you release.

he put your hands behind your back, leading you somewhere you couldn't figure out. there was a haze in your eyes that made it impossible for you to see a thing.

you heard a door close as you looked around, it was james's prefect dorm.

before you could grasp onto your reality, james put his mouth onto yours, bruising your lips as you moaned into his mouth.

you tried catching your breath but james was relentless, not letting you go.

you could feel sirius behind you, sucking hickeys onto your neck, knowing it would leave spots.

you couldn't even spot remus in the room due to all of the pleasure you felt.

sirius was unzipping your dress, letting it fall onto the ground. james was working your bra, letting it fall to the ground as he nibbled on your nipple.

sirius pulled your panties down, lifting your legs out of them.

suddenly, they both stopped touching you which made you whimper.

"on your knees bunny." sirius instructed as you obeyed almost immediately.

remus came into view, stepping in front of you.

"are you gonna suck my cock nice bunny?" remus asked, tipping your head up to look at him using his pointer finger.

you nodded immediately.

"good girl." he complimented which sent you into orbit.

he stroked his cock in his pants, bringing it out. his cock sprung up out of his boxers, pre-cum leaking off of his tip.

you licked stripes onto his tip causing him to groan.

"don't tease bunny." he moaned which caused you took his entirety into your mouth, gagging. he ponytailed your hair from going into your face using his hand.

you were still looking up at him as he threw his head back in pleasure, "so fucking good bunny," he praised you which sent tingles in your cunt, "sucks cock like a fucking champ,"

you looked over to see james and sirius jerking off to the sight in front of them.

before he could come, remus pulled you off of his cock, standing you up.

he took off his boxers fully, laying on the bed, reaching for you to climb on top of him.

you put your knees on the side of his hips as he stroked himself a bit and aligned himself up to your cunt.

you sank down on his cock with a moan, trying to fully adjust yourself. both of his hands were on your hips, speeding you up slowly.

you felt a mouth on your neck, sucking. the pleasure hitting you rapidly.

suddenly, remus pulled your head down to kiss you, his hand gripped on your neck while roughly fucking you.

you felt someone prodding into your ass before slipping inside. you moaned loudly into remus's mouth.

"bunny, don't tense." james said and you knew he was the one prodding. he went slowly but every time he went in, you sank down on remus's cock which made immediate pleasure shoot inside of you.

"you feel so fucking good," remus complimented, sucking harsh bruises onto your skin.

"so fucking good." james murmured.

both of their words praising you made you almost come on sight.

you were so cock drunk, babbling about how close you were. your eyes were watering due to the amount of pleasure you were receiving.

what made you crazier was sirius putting your mouth on his cock, throat fucking you while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

your spit dribbling off of your chin as tears rained on your cheeks.

remus sucked on your nipple as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

their words muffled in your eyes.

remus and james had both cum inside of you which caused your first orgasm, moaning loudly, barely able to see due to the pleasure you were recieving.

sirius pulled out of your mouth as you gasped for air, throat being a bit hoarse.

james pulled out of you, delivering a kiss to your neck as a thank you.

your chest dropped to remus's chest as he pet your hair and praised you, "come one more time for me bunny?"

you babbled something while nodding your head which gave sirius permission to slide into your ass.

remus continued holding your head, eyes on his, admiring you.

"i love you bunny." he said before kissing you but this time more softly and delicately.

remus didn't give you the choice whether to say it back or not but you didn't know if he was being genuine or not.

sirius continued pounding into you but you were only able to whimper based on how cock drunk you were.

he praised you, telling you how good you were while remus massaged your puffy clit.

sirius came soon with you as your entire body felt exhausted. remus pulled you off of him as james grabbed a wet towel and wiped your legs and mouth. you winced as he brushed your clit, being hyper sensitive.

remus laid you down into james's bed, putting the blanket over you, kissing your head as you closed your eyes.

you didn't know what you were sure,

that you were in love with your bullies.

[diejager]

a Miguel x f!reader "who did this to you?" Angst fic?

Bittersweet Devotion

Pairing : Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, neglect, canon death, dead wife, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.5k

Miguel’s been distant these days, the world around him coming to a stop. His temper shortened and his patience dropped lower than it was before, but his attentiveness to his work sharpened. He divulged more of his time to the cause, to defend the multiverse from every anomaly that kept popping up in wildly different universes, at the cost of his personal life. Ever since the *Miles issue* had been dealt with (Spots was stopped from ending Captain Morales’ life prematurely, the canon was kept safe and intact, but his parents knew of his identity and his duty to New York and the multiverse.), Miguel shut himself inside the main office, closed off from the wandering Spider-people he brought over to help him protect their livelihood. 

Atop his platform, he worked tirelessly, swiping screen to screen in search of any escaping anomalies. He depended on Lyla to help him search and the rest of the community to capture and contain these anomalies before they could be sent back to their appropriate universe, closing the rifts they used to escape. The brooding Spider-Man locked himself in, imposing shoulder peering from the edge of his high-floating platform while he stayed there most nights; days even, he hadn’t returned to your shared apartment in the building. He ate when you, Jess or Peter B. brought food to him, he drank and cleaned only when you urged him to do so. 

Staying in his den meant that he rarely slept, the dark bags under his beautiful eyes growing as the days passed. Anomalies appeared left and right, Spiders were dispersed to catch them, sometimes in solo missions, and other times in teams if Miguel deemed it necessary for the anomaly (Green Goblins, Vultures and Sandman were some that were harder to deal with for their volatile attacks.). If you weren’t sent away on a retrieval mission, you’d be working around his office, keeping it clean and usable while he moved around, growling and throwing things as he went.

That’s where things became complicated, Miguel hated meddling and you were often in his space. While he was soft and caring in your shared room (the one he hadn’t been in for weeks now), he was domineering and imposing around the others. His shorter temper meant he often hissed and growled at you, brown eyes glimmering red as he sneered your way. You hadn’t made much of it, contributing his issues to the stress and anxiety he felt while shouldering all this madness. His glares and growls meant little, he was under pressure, but his words, his rants in your face hurt.

His words burned you to your core, the degrading things he screamed at you when you did something that might’ve ticked him off or the insults he’d throw your way when you did something he deemed unsatisfactory. They stung, but you ignored the pain that tore into your heart, the tears that threatened to fall and the anger you felt at his shrugs. You simply missed him. 

Didn’t you deserve some affection? To feel the tender caresses of Miguel’s hands on your skin, the loving promises of his dreams and wishes, and the adoring stares he sent your way. Were you selfish for wanting that? For wanting to have your lover back in your arms. Or were you feeling neglected from the time you spent alone in your bed, the faded scent of his musk, the coldness of your apartment and the uneaten and forgotten plates on the dining table? Were you at fault for feeling forgotten? To sacrifice one for the good of thousands. To sacrifice your love for the safety of all universes. Did one outweigh the other?

“Hijo de puta! Why can’t you do anything right?!” He’d scowl at you, talons digging into the metal of his desk. The ear-splitting sound echoed as he dragged his talons to the edge of the table, red eyes brimming with wrath. He seemed on a warpath, ripping into anything he could get his talons in and throwing the things he could lift off the platform. (Motherfucker-)

You skipped around the objects he threw in his fit, ducking under a chair he gripped and swung randomly, over the desk he kicked, and around the cabinet, he swiped at. Every object he used to vent his emotions were light, in comparison to your given strength. He’d complain afterwards about his things being broken and needing fixing, something you helped him with unless they were too technologically advanced for your time. You webbed all the things you could, aiming your wrist and quickly sticking your end to the floating platform when it stuck to the victims of Miguel’s power. 

You danced around him, catching everything without getting too close to Miguel. He acted without thinking at times in these fury-filled moments, eyes tinging red and reverting to his more animalistic side. He’d warned you before about staying clear of him, to wait until he calmed himself down and realized the devastation of his office. Then he’d apologize and kiss you in hopes you’d forgive him (you always did, you knew his biology made him different - more violent - than you and the Spiders.). You’d fix the platform up, remake the broken parts or simply forget about it, like the many cabinets he ended up buying instead of patching them up.

Now especially, his tantrums began more often and lasted longer, a common occurrence when it was rare months ago. You couldn’t fault him, you didn’t want to, even if your heart throbbed painfully at his words, shoulders curving under the immensity of his tone and actions. You loved him, so you’d bare him in his best as in his worst.

“Detente- Simplemente detente!” In his fits of rage, Miguel reverted to his vulgarity, spitting Spanish words at anyone he faced. His voice was low and gravely, body convulsing as he swung at the fizzling, orange screens, dissipating under his aggressive gesture. (Stop- Just stop!)

When his fuse popped, he’d throw words left and right in Spanish, the enchanting slur of his Mexican accent turning hellish, slamming loudly like the Hephaestus’ hammer. Along his hit came the blow, the effects following them. Whether they were positive or negative, he pushed on, frenziedly hammering the weight of his words into whoever was the nearest to him. Which, coincidentally, happened to be you at the moment when you climbed onto his platform to relay the summarised report of last week’s missions from every Spider.

You let him ramble in silence, watching him twist on the spot and walk circles before his desk, turning and gesturing arbitrarily at something that wasn’t there. He’s expressive with his love, his spite, his care, his needs and his fury. He’d make big motions with his hands, voice dipping low and sometimes rising high with the pitch of his impatience. He growls when he’s displeased. He roars when he’s furious. He spits when he’s agitated. He smirks when he’s pleased. If not his voice or his lips, his eyes shine with emotion, showing those who knew how to read him how he felt.

That’s why you ignored the sharp nabs at your person, the low jabs at your work and how you dealt with the other Spiders as his right hand, or at your simple performance of his care. He didn’t want your care when he was busy, he didn’t want your soft and soothing words when he was tracking down another anomaly with vehement hate, and he didn’t want your meddling when he was focused on important matters of the multiverse. 

He was stressed, and pressure mounted over self-expectations made him lose himself. Down went his tolerance for failure and mistakes. Down went his awareness of his needs. Down went his patience with people and Lyla. Every man and woman would buck under intense pressure, some would break and stop working, and others would submit to the fate of their failures, but Miguel persevered, he pushed and pushed, pulling at the strings he could grasp, even the shortest ones. 

“Can you just- Coño- can you just shut up for a second?!” Miguel bucked, slamming his fist into the desk. It’d probably leave a dent for you or him to fix, a hole in the shape of his fist. 

You rushed to him, hand wrapping around his upper arm, supporting his hunched body as you webbed a chair closer to him, pulling on the synthetic fibre until it was behind Miguel. You whispered encouraging words into his ear, easing him into sitting on the rolling furniture. His legs shook, falling limp when he finally sat down, back slumped over and head low. You ran your fingers through his hairline, pulling up his wild mane. His eyes were closed, bags the deepest you’d seen, and his cheeks were sunken, near sickly. 

A chill wracked your body at his deteriorating appearance, his exhaustion had finally caught onto him. You wanted to fuss over him, to berate him for letting it get this far, but his exhausted figure made you frown and rethink your words. You couldn’t let this go on, you’d have to sit him down and talk to him after you took care of him. You lowered the platform, watching Miguel from the corner of your eye until you reached the lowest it could go. 

“Miguel,” you hushed, pressing your lips to his cheek, soft and gentle for his fatigue. “We need to get you to our room, you can’t work anymore.”

He grumbled, feet weakly moving to ease the weight on your shoulders, you wanted to remind him that you were strong and that you could easily carry him back if you wanted, but he liked to keep his pride as the strongest, the boss that people could depend on. You nodded at those who gave you worried glances, shaking their helping hands for carrying him (you knew Miguel wouldn’t have liked others to touch him so casually.) and asked some to run errands for you while you two were busy. Lyla would take over for now, until you took care of Miguel.

“Let me help you, Miggy. Let me take care of you.”

He slept better than night, the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks - months - and was grounded to a week of rest and recuperation. You helped him shower, washing his back and hair. You cooked his favourite dishes, following the Mexican cooking books you had laying around. You gave him daily massages for the aches over his shoulders and back, massing the tenseness off his arms and legs. At night, you’d force him to bed, blocking his access to his office and kissing him goodnight. The sun rose with you, you rode Hélio’s chariot, turning his nights into mornings as you pulled Selena’s moon into the sky.

While he rested, you worked tirelessly to fill in Miguel’s seat, scouring the multiverse for anomalies and sending Spiders to deal with them. You had Lyla run diagnostics and simulations about the chance for future appearances, playing the game of prediction and bettering the percentage after each successful prediction. Peter B. and Jess could help you around the clock, they shared the job you had as Miguel’s right-hand and worked fantastically together when put in charge of it. They were still sent on missions if you and Lyla determined it was too difficult to face alone, they were skilled and had experience, and they would mentor those who needed help. If the case came forward, you would step away from the office and jump through the multiverse, aiding your fellow Spiders to capture anomalies while Lyla took care of the office. 

Miguel came back healthier, stronger and more energetic. He thanked you in the forms of kisses and hugs, gratified words and gestures that made your heart warm, flutter like wings. It nearly made you forget all the heartache he burdened you with within the past months. Nearly. 

Something had ticked Miguel off, his ragged breath simmering in the air, a steady stream of fury. It burned like the lowest pits of hell, ruled by the cold tone of its god, seated at the top-most throne of the Underworld. Powerful and iron-handed, Hades led with strong principles and meticulous habits, much like Miguel did. His fury and anger were dealt by Cerberus, the three-headed dog of hell, as ferocious and dangerous as Miguel’s agitated state was. 

His shoulders shook, waves of unadulterated rage filtered off his back, rippling his sculpted back as metal creaked under his hands. His talons sunk into the metal, drawing lines in his anger-filled moment. He spun to face you with a roar, arms flailing until he faced you. He heaved heavily, shoulders and chest moving as his blood rushed with emotions, eyes dilated and turned deep red. He stalked towards you in all his mad glory, like the form of the Cyclops casting its dooming shadow on Odysseus’ men. Except, unlike his men, who were eaten in a blink, embraced by death in such a violent but swift way, you’d be ripped apart by it, pieces of your being torn apart for a slow and painful descent.   

He moved in big, lumbering steps, looming over you, shoulders broad and demanding. He sneered at you, in ways that would kill others but wound you deeply, to tear your heart out and throw it away like old, wilted flowers. The air seemed stuffy, hot and confining, his breath even hotter, burning you when he stopped inches from you. You gaped at him, eyes wide and fingers trembling, something crossed your mind, a flash of emotion that you never thought possible to connect to Miguel: fear. 

“Why can’t you be like-!” He started, mind dead set on breaking you down to your smallest, his force slamming into your softer one. Then he stopped, body seizing as if he was shot, but his round eyes told you he almost let himself slip, to let the name slip from his tongue in a haze. You knew who he was talking about, the memories that he related to her, that he was simply mad, but it didn’t ease the pain that ripped through your heart.

“Like who, Miguel!?” You cried back, hands clenching and rigid on your side. Your body trembling with disgust, shock and heartbreak. You couldn’t believe he would bring her up, to compare you to her and voice it out. It hurt; it drove the nail deeper into your coffin, adding another thing over the mountain of doubt and pain.

He just stared, he couldn’t finish his sentence, a starch contrast to his attitude seconds ago. It pained you that he couldn’t even say the words, to apologize to you about what he said. He knew how to run, how to ignore, and how to push things back. He did that well, and now he couldn’t face what he said to you was pathetic. 

“Like who, huh?! Like her!? Like Dana?!” Your vision blurred, and your breath hitched as your body crashed down with agony, sadness and betrayal. You shook this time while he looked on with desperation, body unable to make a sound or motion. 

“I- no- mi cielo, no- I didn’t mean to, I swear, ” he reached out, hand (his talons had received back into his pads) extending to touch you, to hold you in an apologetic embrace, but you stepped back, unable to contain your sobs. “Mi vida, please. Perdón, no fue mi intención.” (I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.)

You backed away from him, his warmth, his adoration, his love. His apology sounded guilty, dripping with regret and sorrow. He winced, watching you step away from him, regret gripping his heart as he moved to follow you. Every step you took backward, he took one forward, copying you, trying to approach you as if you were a wounded and unpredictable animal, to appease and soothe you. 

You shook your head, tearing your eyes away from his teary ones. You fiddled with your watch, opening a portal to your world and shook off your watch. You jumped back before he could catch you, hand extended to you in a desperate attempt to stop you. He wanted to bring you back into his arms, to kiss the tears away and beg for forgiveness until you let him back in, but to leave him, to throw away the watch that connected you to him. It broke him. 

He wouldn’t be able to see you unless you wanted to be seen, the tracker in your watch left blinking before his feet, discarded as you had with him; after he pushed you away, tore you down with his words spurred by the moment’s rush of negativity and pressure. It wasn’t an excuse, he knew that, but it didn’t ease. He sank to the floor, raking it with his talons as he cried out, a pained sob breaking out of his chest as he cradled his head, cursing himself for not being careful, for not heeding your winces and frowns, and not taking your heart into consideration. 

You fell when you landed in your universe, knocking a few boxes as you crashed onto your side. Your body jerked, cold droplets pouring down on your broken figure as you sat back up on the pavement. You hissed, the downcast atmosphere making your body heave a heartbroken sob, clutching your chest - where your heart would’ve been if Miguel hadn’t shattered it - and falling into yourself. You made yourself smaller, hiding your tear-stained face between your knees as you let the rain shower over you, soaking you down to your socks. 

A relationship built on pain, need and desperation was bound to fall. The carelessness of his ways cracked the edge of your relationship, slowly breaking it down into a shell of what it was. You bled for his cause as you bled for your loss. Like Apollo - a caregiver, a watcher of the fates of the people he oversaw, all the good and evil he could do just by saying the word - Miguel loved and felt, he gave and took, but lost it all in the end. His heart was broken and his soul lost over and over, the people he loved and cared for lost to time and fate. Like the Greek god, he loved what he could not have, loved what he could not hold, loved what he could not keep. 

As would Daphne’s story, she loved as much as you did, she cared as much as you did, and she hated as much as you did. In love was the god, as Miguel was with you, heart-stopping in every aspect. He stood like a god over them all, tall, broad and caring. But like any Greek love story, yours was as tragic, the hymn of your love left to fester with hate and anger, with regret and untold pain. Run, you did as Daphne had, crossing where you hoped he couldn’t reach you; where you’d be left hidden from the heartbreaking sorrow.

You didn’t know how long you sat in the rain, perhaps seconds, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, but every moment blurred into one. The once vibrant colours of New York dulled to a boring monochrome, the world was swallowed in tones of black and white. Your limbs felt numb, you could hardly feel the cold, only the drops of rain and the heaviness of your heart in your chest. You could sit here a while longer, to drown in the sensation of the world falling around you-

Then it stopped raining. That wasn’t right, you could see the water crashing onto the ground by your feet, inches from you. Your side felt warm, a calm, soothing warmth that made your body quake from the cool air. You looked to the side and saw feet, big ones. You followed their body, tracing the lines of their soaking pants, to a warm jacket, broad shoulders and to a familiar face. 

“Oye, who did this to you?” His voice dripped with worry, a calmness that contradicted his frowning eyes. It was a familiar voice. It was a familiar face. It was Miguel’s face. Your lips quivered, staring at the face of your lover - ex-lover now that you thought about it - with newly shed tears. His eyes widened, even more worried than before as he crouched down to your height, hand running down your back soothingly. “Hey, hey, calm down. It’s all right.”

You wished you could believe his words, believe the softness in his tone and the beat of your torturous heart that missed the Miguel you knew. This one - your universe’s Miguel O’Hara (you didn’t even know you had one in your New York, it felt surreal to your depressed mind.) - was a stranger wearing the face of the person you loved. His face was a carbon copy of your Miguel’s, but softer on the edges, calmer and more… human than Spider-man 2099. His voice was gentler, caring more warmth for a stranger in need than yours has, like a whisper from an angel lulling you into a peaceful rest. 

“Vamos, let’s get you out of the rain first.”

Next

[lymmsweb]

Until I found you

🕷pairing : miguel o’hara x spider!reader

🕷word count: 1095

🕷warnings: non sexual intimacy, description of wounds, nudity, minor ATSV spoilers

🕷summary: Lyla alerts Miguel that you’re injured, Miguel takes it upon himself to help you

🕸 After he set up the Spider association you were one of the first that joined, he didn’t feel much for you at first but after going on countless missions together he trusted you more than anyone.

🕸He gave up on finding love after his daughter died, he felt as if he didn’t deserve a good relationship after all the damage he caused. You were one of the few people that helped him through his guilt and sadness after the event, often cracking jokes with Peter B. to get Miguel to crack even the littlest of smiles.

🕸 He never truly got over his daughters death but he slowly started to act softer and more affectionate with you. He would hang around the lobby more, he didn’t really know why but he always felt like he was looking for someone every time he went out. All most each time he came out of his ‘office’ you would always find a way to lock eyes with him or even strike up a conversation and each time he’d always let his rough exterior fall and shoot you a small smile.

🕸 Normally in his free time you’d always be with him eating Empanadas or Arepas in the kitchen, working in silence next to each other, checking up on you daily and slightly leaning into your touch whenever you’d accidentally bump into him. Miguel even gave you special authorisation with Lyla that no one but him had.

🕸 It was when Lyla alerted him that you were severely hurt after a mission gone horribly wrong he quickly dropped everything and rushed over and into your dimension. You were bloody and bruised, sitting on your living room floor panting and exhausted. Miguel’s heart dropped for a second,at the thought of loosing you he’s reminded of how his daughter hung onto him before she disappeared.

“Mierda! What happened?” he panicked as he bolted over to the medical kit you kept under your bed. He knew where everything was in your house, he crashed many times to your place durning restless, nightmare filled nights. He fumbled a bit as he grabbed it, hurriedly making it back to you making sure he didn’t knock anything over. Without hesitance he started to rip your suit off to get more access around the wounds.

“Buy me a drink first.” you chuckled weakly as you watched him furrow his brows as he started to disinfect the gash in your thigh.

“You only need one drink to sleep with me?” he joked as he to reach over to grab the needle and stitches, rubbing your leg gently with his other hand. He knew he had to ask what had happened but he decided against it just in case you would start stressing out more, although this didn’t stop him seething with rage every time he saw your bruised and cut face.

“Cielo this going to hurt.” he apologetically looked at you before he started to close the wound, with every painful noise you let out his heart broke just a little more, reminding him yet again how in his daughters final moments she was also making those noises. It didn’t take him long before he was finished, putting away all the medical equipment he made Lyla scan you for any internal damage. It turned out you had a concussion but apart from that you were somewhat ‘okay’.

“You should probably wash yourself.” Lyla chimed in, looking closely at your body before turning around to wink at Miguel. He scoffed in annoyance and swatted her away. She always enjoyed pushing her limits with him.

“Come let’s get you cleaned up.” blush crept up on your cheeks as he bent down and picked you up bridle style, trying his hardest to not touch any bruises as he gripped onto you harshly. He swiftly moved around furniture and rooms until he made it to the bathroom, setting you down on the toilet seat before turning to get the bath ready. He stared at the water slowly filling up the tub lost in though, what if he got there sooner, what if you died, what if…? He didn’t know what he’d do if you were no longer by his side, if he didn’t get to hear you again, to feel you again-

“Romeo, you okay?” your teasing words snapped him out of his trance, his head snapped towards you, just blankly meeting your eyes.

“I should be asking you that.” he hummed as he looked you up and down, taking in the way your torn suit stuck to the curves of your body. The way your lips were slightly parted showing your front teeth, the way you looked at him intensely back. He felt like he was under your microscope as you were studying ass his features too.

“Miguel..” you placed your hand on his knee, softly rubbing it. Once he heard you softly whispering his name, touching him so gently he realised just how much he was deeply in love with you, he would’t be able to having you not there in his life.

“Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” Miguel replied as he grabbed your hand intertwining his fingers in yours as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “Also the bath is ready, do you need a drink firs-“

“Shut up.” a light smack to his chest interrupted him, earning a small laugh both of you. Miguel silently asked for permission, waiting for you to allow him to help. You offered him a nod and smile, relaxing your body as he started to strip away the layers from your body, each little touch was like electricity against your skin. It took a while before you were down to nothing. He stayed silent, not letting his eyes wander around your naked form keeping strong eye contact.

He grabbed your hand and helped you into the tub, worried you’d end up slipping and hurting yourself even more, sitting down in the water felt like a blessing against your skin, finally getting all the seat and blood off of your skin was rejuvenating. Miguel felt his heart flutter as he realised how domestic the scene in front of him was, finding comfort in the love and trust you gave him. He walked around searching for your floral scented shampoo and your citric body wash, humming a song quietly to himself. Once he retrieved everything you needed, he passed you the bottles and sat down next to you playing with your hair, watching you intently as you cleaned your blood off of you.

a/n: Cielo - Sky (affectionate nickname) Mierda - Shit . I’ll def be writing more Miguel so whatever nickname he says in spanish is normally what my parents call eachother! The title is taken from this song. Also i just redid my page, hope y’all like it!!!

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[intoxicated-chan]

Come Back to Me, It’s Almost Easy

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Memories from his past come back to haunt him. Reminding him of how much he’s failed.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Almost Easy” by Avenged Sevenfold. I’m in the mood for some heavy angst. Requests are open!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 870

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, heavy angst, major character death, sleep deprivation, death, blood, light violence…

“You have a choice between saving one person or saving every world.”

Miguel knew it all too well. He’s gone through it just like every other Spider-Man, so it’s nothing new. He should’ve expected it coming which is why he never really reacted or mourned his losses.

He knows what’s coming, which means he shouldn’t have felt this awful about himself. It was almost easy for him to move on from everyone else, but the loss of the most important people broke him.

He can easily tell other Spider-Mans that it’s part of the job, so get up and continue doing what you’re doing. But when he’s asked to do it, he can’t help but cry out loud, the feeling of going crazy by asking him to forget everything. He can’t do that.

But the way he held you in his arms, the way your fingers weakly grazed his face… He won’t forget the way he begged you to stay with him, and how shameful he felt when he realized that no matter how different he chose to do things, it was always going to be the same.

“You’ve been awake for almost 48 hours, Miguel.” Peter B. told him, Mayday in his arms as he watched Miguel struggle to stay awake, “Maybe you should take a break?”

“M’fine.” Miguel nearly pulled at his hair, huffing heavily as he stared into the screen, “Everything is fine.”

“I asked if you were fine, not everyone else.”

“And I said that I am fine.” Miguel growled at Peter B. “And besides, don’t you have better things to do than bother me?”

“I’m just worried about you, Miguel.” Peter B. stepped closer but remained a good distance just in case, “Everyone else is worried, even Miles. We’re here for you.”

“And I said…” Miguel slammed his hands on his desk, “Leave me be!” Snapping at Peter B. without even looking at him, “I don’t need you breathing on my back.”

“Okay, okay.” Peter B. mumbled, hurrying off before Mayday could begin to cry.

But Miguel didn’t react, he remained hunched over at his desk. Watching as multiple screens popped up and then closed by Lyla. His eyes had started to burn, and he began to slump over his desk and maybe, fall asleep.

But the second he felt fingers running through his hair, it caused him to abruptly stand up. He scanned every inch of the room… But he was all alone.

“Miguel?” He flinched, “Are you sure you’re okay?” He then huffed after a minute, learning that it was Lyla who just spoke to him.

“Just perfect.” He heavily sighed, “Everything is perfect. Not like I’ve lost an entire family in an instant. So yeah, I think I’m doing good.”

He hears Lyla sigh, “Get some sleep.” She said but sounded like a demand, “I won’t say it again.”

He thought about the scenario over again, what mistakes he made and how easily the warning signs showed from the start. If he had never let his guard down, his family would still be alive.

Miguel sighed once more. He had to apologize to Peter B. and fast, it wasn’t his fault, he was just worried about him.

“Now do you believe me?” You softly spoke as you watched Miguel cradle his daughter in his arms, “See? You aren’t hurting her.”

“I guess I should believe you more often.” Miguel softly spoke as she began to sleep in his arms, “Thank you, (Y/n).”

“For what?”

“For giving me a chance.”

“Anything for you, Miguel. You deserve the world.”

He shouldn’t have. He never should have believed that it was all true. Pushing away his mindset and letting him fall into the beautiful feeling of love. If he didn’t, then you’d be continuing your life that didn’t involve him.

“Stay with me, (Y/n)!” Miguel cried, his tears streaming down his face, “The ambulance is almost here! Just hold on a bit longer!” But the ambulance isn’t in his sight. So, carefully, he began to stand, still holding onto you.

“Don’t.” You cough, “I need you to promise me, Miguel.” He feels your hand come up to his face, weakly trying to wipe away the tears, “Take care of her Miguel…”

He drops to his knees, “Don’t say that!” You laid on the ground, his hands coming up to cup your face.

“She’ll need her father.”

“I can’t do this without you!”

“Let her know that her mother will always love her…” You cough, then cough again, and then again until he sees blood spilling from your mouth, “No matter what happens.”

“Stop! Please!” He begs you.

“And know that forever, I’ll always love you…” Your voice gets weaker by the second, your vision begins to fade, “No matter how far you go. I’ll be here.”

He remembered the sounds of the sirens. How hard it took him to force himself to put his mask on as he watched the medical technicians try to help you.

And so, Miguel stopped wishing for a lot of things. But there was always one wish… If he could go back in time to fix things, could he be able to have the family he wished for?

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[webslingingslasher]

IM GLAD YOURE GOOD <333

also whilst we’re here. you know how girls get scary horny right before their periods? like i need to be tied to a tree like a wolf when im ab to get mine JDJDJDJ

peters never had a gf before trouble and the first time it happens he fr thinks he’s in HEAVEN. he doesn’t understand but she’s just on him 24/7 and he’s living for it. but also confused bc he can’t think of what he’s done differently to have u pouncing on him 24/7 but he’s not complaining djdjdnd

BOYFRIEND FRAT!PETER LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

-i've literally had this done for like two months but i got scared and let it collect dust. not anymore bby!!!-

for the fourth time today, peter tilted his shoulder towards his face to sniff his shirt. it smells just fine, it's clean cotton. he didn't get a new fabric softener so it couldn't be that, and it's not like he got a new cologne or soap.

peter couldn't place it, but something about him lately has you absolutely feral. especially today, he almost had to peel you away from his skin so he could go to class.

'i missed you so much,' you moved quicker than peter's ever seen, his feet haven't even come to a stop on the pavement before you're kissing him.

it becomes more sensual than he's willing to provide in public.

'it was an hour, trouble. what'd you do, wait for me?' peter meant it in a teasing way, he didn't expect you to nod quickly. 'yes. you're about to open your instagram to thirty messages, i'm so sorry.'

your palms race over his arms, something about him seems ultra soft today. in the least joking way possible, he really does feel like boyfriend material. and he was all yours.

'did you know i love you? like, so much.' he did, but he still loves to have a reminder. 'i love you so much it's uncool.' you've got a glazed look in your eye.

peter knows that look and if he's being honest, he's done nothing to deserve it. the last two days you haven't been able to keep your hands off him.

is this what people mean by the honeymoon phase?

'i love you too, trouble. what's got you so mushy recently?'

puffed cheeks, no regard and absolutely no reason to hold back. 'i just really wanna fuck you.' peter takes a sharp breath, something about you being bold makes his knees weak. it must be his desire to please.

'i would, i really, really would...' with gentle scratches up and down the back of your arm, you know he's setting you up for a no. you whine and pout up at him.

'no! you're not allowed! just say yes, please say yes!'

it's literally tearing him up inside. 'baby, i'm already going to be late for my library session. i also have a chapter meeting tonight.'

'do you really-'

'yes.' there was no way he'd be budging on that one. peter made you know you were number one priority, frat responsibilities sat right under you.

if he was suggesting you'd have to wait until late, or worse, the next day, you'd die.

'what about after the library? before the meeting?'

peter's never seen you so persistent. he really doesn't know what he's done, but he won't complain one bit. he'll be a little crunched for time, but that's no reason to let you down.

'if we use your dorm, yes, i think we can make it work.'

peter’s forced to balance himself, you attacked him with a bear hug and nuzzled into his chest. ‘thank you, thank you, thank you! i’ll tell my roommate right now!’

seconds tick. he’s already late and you’re not moving, keeping him in your grasp while your thumbs fly across your phone to send out a message.

‘trouble, you’re making me late.’ because you’d be offended if he pushed you away.

a finger is held up, ramped texting takes priority. ‘trouble,’ the second you feel yourself pushed to the side you huff up at him. 'don't toss me off to the side like i'm some toy, i'm your girlfriend.'

'you're not a toy, you're just not listening, therefore making me late.'

your arms cross over your chest, 'fine. whatever, go.' peter is nowhere in the wrong, but you're making him feel like he is. if this was before, he could just walk away. but now, he has to pause and address your concerns.

he's still adjusting to boyfriend duties.

'don't get mad with me, i'm being very nice.' he is, he even let you gently bully him into getting him into your room in an hour and a half. you hold your stance, it takes a few seconds, but he catches on.

'you're not mad, you're pouty. don't be pouty, you're gonna see me in an hour.'

a toddler grumble, 'i'm gonna miss you too much.'

peter really doesn't know where the sudden desperation came from, he really needs to check in with you, but if he's any later, he's gonna piss off a whole room of people.

'i'll miss you too, trouble.' it appeases you enough, you finally allow him to pass. peter isn't able to go a full three steps until you tell him to wait, he realizes his mistake.

'sorry, c'mere.' three quick kisses, you make it hard to pull away. 'love you,' he allows you to sneak another kiss. 'love you too, petey.'

—-

one thing you loved about peter was that he was always on time, at least for you he was. just like he promised, he was at your door an hour and a half later with a hand on his stomach.

‘i’m missing dinner for this, i could be having a nice catered meal with the boys, but no, it wasn’t allowed.’

‘that’s very kind of you, handsome.’

‘i just needed to let you know, you know, in case i go lethargic or my stomach starts growling.’

‘as long as you don’t pass out on top of me, gerald’s game scared me.’ peter holds his fingers up in a scouts honor, ‘i promise.’ it’s all it takes, you reach for his shirt, clenching the fabric, you tug him in. shutting the door and slamming him against it, your lips on his in a minute.

peter’s mind is spinning, he’s never been pushed up against a wall. it feels nice, it’s a good feeling to know someone wants him so badly a tinge of aggression comes with it.

your kisses trail over his jawline, you’ve never been so desperately horny in your entire life, something about him has you dialed to ten recently. it could be the impending period, but that just feels like a fraction of the reason.

feeling slightly guilty you’ve ruined his meal plan, you pull back, just for a second to rip his shirt off. when his skin is shown, your hands race over it, he’s toned, and tanned, and down right delicious.

you scatter kisses over his chest, peering up at him. ‘are they saving you a plate?’ peter looks down, he’s lost at your words. you’re asking about plates while worshiping his body?

‘huh?’ a trail of wet marks across his collarbone.

‘dinner. are they saving you a plate?’

how do you expect him to answer while you nibble a bruise on the bottom of his neck? ‘i don’t…’ peter takes a sharp inhale, he never knew he had a sweet spot until you found it. it’s behind his ear, and he has to lean down, just slightly, but it’s so, so worth it.

‘i don’t know, probably not. guys don’t think about stuff like that.’

you pull away with a pop, raising your thumb to brush over the red mark. ‘hold on,’ you turn for your phone abandoned on your bed, on the walk over you take your own shirt off.

it’s a quick text and a quicker response, your guilty conscience cleared. ‘done. ethan said he’ll save you one.’

‘my hero.’

you jump to your bed, shimmying your pants off before sitting up on your knees, you get into position, shaking your hips at your boyfriend before arching slightly.

‘are we thinking doggy?’

peter’s still stuck to the door, ‘you wanna start with doggy? what happened to foreplay?’

you move to your back to tug your underwear off, you were only following his words. ‘you said we would be strapped for time, i’m making it easier.’

‘by blowing past the most important thing and having me jam it into you?’

you narrow your eyes at him, ‘once upon a time you didn’t care about foreplay.’

‘that’s old peter, he’s dead.’

‘let’s revive him.’

peter finally steps away from the door, he feels ten times warmer. his arms move around like he’s trying to clear the air, ‘alright, hold on, we need to talk.’

four words that are forced to put the night on pause, he could wait for a heart to heart after. ‘let’s not.��� you reach for his jeans, he steps out of reach. ‘peter! you were the one that said it would be a time crunch, i’m doing my best here, let’s go.’

‘not until you tell me why you’re so possessive lately. this whole week, you can’t get enough of me. what’s going on?’

peter’s starting to think you have some doubts running through your head and if you have enough of yourself to him he’d stick around. it’s a bogus idea but you’ve done it before to him, maybe it’s worse because there’s more to lose now with the title.

‘i’m horny.’ there wasn’t much else to add. he’s just made you wildly needy this entire week, but peter wasn't buying it. with crossed arms he waited until you really told him what was going on.

you groan, the quicker you explain, the quicker you get what you wanted. 'fine, what do you know about the menstrual cycle?'

'as little as possible.' while he's slightly more knowledgeable than most men his age, everything he's learned has been against his will.

'great. i just got off mine two weeks ago, i'm ovulating, aka, my body wants a baby real bad. not just any baby, your baby, that's why i'm so horny for you.' you hope it's enough to appease him, you shuffle around on the bed.

'fucking in this bed sucks.' there's little room for peter but you did what you could with the space you had. 'also, expect this monthly. cause, it's gonna be your problem now that you're my boyfriend.'

peter breathes deep, 'that has got to be... the best problem i've ever had in my entire life.' peter moves so quickly your head spins, he's on his knees in front of the bed while you're pulled to the edge.

kisses up the inside of your thigh has you pulling at his hair, 'peter, you're gonna be late.' you suck in hair as he nibbles on your skin. 'we don't have time for this.'

it pauses him, peter looks up into your eyes, a cocky smirk forms. 'my girl has a primal urge, and it's my job to take care of it.' 

[missberrycake]

So, I know we all love the headcanon that Eddie moved in with Wayne when he was a teen or a pre-teen, be it because one or both parents died, chucked him out, are in prison, etc. But! I’ve been thinking about another option.

What if Wayne has been looking after Eddie since he was a toddler?

It all comes as a bit of a shock to Wayne who, in his early forties, had pretty much assumed he’d missed the boat on the whole ‘kids’ thing. And yet, here he is, taking in his baby nephew when his brother turns up on his doorstep one day.

When it starts, it’s only supposed to be for a short while. His brother’s wife is newly out of the picture (it’s a crying shame, Wayne had liked her, she’d stayed a gentle soul throughout) and he just needs some time to get himself sorted, right? But then a week turns into a month, turns into two months, turns into half a year and Wayne? Well, he gets attached to the kid, so sue him. 

Because little Eddie is a rambunctious boy. He’s full of gummy smiles and bubbling laughter and Wayne runs himself in circles trying to stop him from toddling into sharp corners and sockets and yards of rope. The two of them are well suited, it seems, and Wayne takes to settling Eddie on his knee in the evenings and going through the races for the next day in the paper.

Eddie chooses a winner more than once. 

Every day, when Wayne comes to pick him up from Julia’s two trailers over (he’s still got to work, something his brother hadn’t considered before he left, or maybe he didn’t care), Eddie greets him with his arms out, already chatting away with the handful of phrases that he knows. 

The boy’s hair is soft and his cheeks smooth and if Wayne gets a little sentimental when he tucks him into bed at night, then nobody else needs to know, do they?

He’s a sweet boy. He deserves someone to care for him. 

So when his brother turns up again with vague mutterings about there being some work for him down in Florida, Wayne’s chest aches. 

“What’s your plan for the littl'un?” he asks.

“Ed? Whad’ya mean?”

“I mean, have you got a place to stay lined up? Who’s gonna look after him while you’re working?”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out.”

He shrugs and Wayne feels something close to panic bubbling in his veins. When he suggests that perhaps his brother should travel ahead, get himself settled first before sending for Eddie, he doesn’t expect him to agree so readily. He can’t say he’s much surprised though. 

The entire exchange doesn’t take more than ten minutes and his brother doesn’t ask after Eddie once, doesn’t show any desire to see him, doesn’t even step inside the trailer—not one jot of fatherly affection shines through. 

It only occurs to Wayne that evening that perhaps this was the outcome his brother wanted. But, hell, it’s fine with him—he’ll let him think he’s winning. Wayne knows who’s got the real prize here. 

He doesn’t mention the visit to Eddie, the kid doesn’t need to know, too busy digging holes and collecting bugs. 

Just like he expected, his brother never sends for the boy. They get letters for the first few years, poorly wrapped and ill-thought through trinkets for the kid’s birthday and Christmas, but it’s not long until they fall by the wayside too. 

Once Eddie’s older, they have a conversation about it. Have to, really, when Eddie comes home from preschool and is full to the brim of questions, because apparently Peter Gillespie says that everyone has to have a mom and a dad, “and I know I have a mom because you’ve told me about her and I said that she’s not around and Mrs. Lang told Peter to be quiet but then I thought about it, but I don’t know, ‘cause you’re my dad, right? I know I don’t call you dad, but that’s what you are, isn’t it? Because what else would you be and Peter says I have to have one.”

It floors Wayne for a moment, but he recovers quickly. He leads Eddie to the couch where he sets him on his lap. For the next while the two of them look through all the pictures that Wayne can find of Eddie’s mom and Wayne’s brother. Wayne makes sure to hold him close and tells him it doesn’t matter that he’s ‘just’ his uncle, that he loves him as much as he would a kid of his own, that he’ll always be around to take care of him. And Eddie takes it all in his stride, in the way only children can. 

“So I can’t call you dad?” he asks.

Wayne lets out a long breath, rubs at his jaw. 

“It’s not that you can’t, kiddo, it’s just that I ain’t.“ 

Because it feels a little like stealing. What would happen, if one day his brother came back and found his kid calling Wayne ‘Dad’. If the boot were on the other foot, Wayne would be angry as all heck. And there was still time, wasn’t there? For his brother to see the error of his ways? Who was Wayne to keep all of that from Eddie? 

“Okay,” Eddie says quietly. “Uncle Wayne is still good.”

“Oh, it’s still good, is it?” Wayne crows and squeezes Eddie tight. “I’m sure glad I meet your high standards, your majesty.”

Eddie just giggles at that. He always giggles when Wayne puts on his voices. 

“And what would the esteemed gentleman like for dinner tonight, huh? The options are spaghetti hoops, spaghetti hoops, or - now let me think. Oh! Spaghetti hoops.”

The nail in the coffin comes one day in the summer of 1978, just before Eddie’s twelfth birthday. It’s been over eight years since his brother dropped him off in search of better things and sure, there have been some days where Wayne has been tearing his hair out, but through all of it he knows he made the right decision that day in the doorway of the trailer. He wouldn’t change Eddie for the world, and he knows by now that there are some out there that would, who would only see the difficult or the different in him, but isn’t that what being a parent is? Loving your kid no matter what? Seeing the good in them and helping them see it themselves?

When his brother slams the door shut on some car so shiny that Wayne wonders if it’s fresh out of the packet, he knows they’re in for some trouble. 

“Nice car, man,” Eddie whistles from where he’d been lounging on the plastic chairs out the front of the trailer. Clearly the sight of something so drenched in luxury in their neighbourhood makes it so that he just can’t help himself.

Wayne’s brother grunts in that way that he always did when they were younger, like he’d gotten away with something. 

Wayne just watches, then, as his brother nods at the book in Eddie’s hands. “A reader, are you?” he says, a joke in his voice. “What’s this? Always knew there were brains in the family somewhere.”

“It’s ‘Lord of the Rings’,” Eddie replies, uncertain. His gaze flicks to Wayne, who nods. Funny, that the kid was quiet now, he’d been ranting and raving to Wayne about that goddamn book every spare second of the week. “It’s got orcs and wizards and elves in and stuff.”

“Fairytales?” his brother scoffs. It grates on Wayne like a physical thing. “What you been doing to the boy, Wayne? Here.” He turns back to Eddie. “You know me, kid?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“I’m your old man! So you like cars, do you? Want to go for a spin in her?”

“You don’t have to Eddie. Not if you don’t want,” Wayne pipes up then. He knows his boy well enough that he can see the internal war going on behind his eyes. And, hell, it is a nice car. Eddie bites his lip and stares at Wayne, eyes wide, asking permission.

“‘Course he wants to.” And his brother is already walking back to the driver’s side door. He winks at Eddie. “Gotta lot of catching up to do, ain’t we?”

“Hold this for me?” Eddie asks and hands Wayne his book before jogging away.

There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when Wayne watches the dust trail behind the car as it leaves the trailer park. He sits out on the porch all afternoon, eyes flashing towards the road every few minutes. It isn’t until almost dusk that it careens into the park once more. 

The passenger door slams violently and Eddie stomps towards him.

“He’s not my dad,” he splutters as he pushes his face against Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne can feel where his cheeks are hot and flushed.

Cradling the back of Eddie’s head with one hand, he mutters gently, “Yeah, son, I know.”

And how had he ever thought that man could be Eddie’s father? No, Eddie may still call him ‘Uncle Wayne’, but they’ve gone well beyond that and both of them know it.

Directing Eddie back inside the trailer, Wayne sends a small nod to his brother where the man is still lingering by his car door, looking faintly murderous. 

Let him try, he thinks. No one’s taking his boy from him now, come hell or high water.

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[cupidddd-d]

heart eyes

aww, they're in love with you !

peter

"h-hey," peter's voice cracks as he tries to speak, clearing his throat as a blush creeps up his cheeks. "i-i mean, hey."

his hands fiddle with something underneath his robes, his freckles slowly disappearing as his flush grows darker.

"hi peter, what's up?" you offer him a polite smile as you try not to laugh at how adorable he is.

"s-so i noticed that um...y-you're really good at, um, ch-charms. c-could you maybe...tutor me? i-i mean, i-it's fine if y-you don't!" he stutters.

he clears his throat again as he stares down at the ground. preparing himself to be slapped. for what? he doesn't really know. maybe for even daring to talk to you, let alone asking you for anything. why would he deserve to hold even an ounce of your attention?

"sure, that's fine. i'm free anytime, so let me know when you want to meet in the library," you shrug simply, your eyes widening in shock as he shoves 3 boxes of chocolate frogs in your arms.

"okay, thanks, bye!" he rushes off before you can respond, practically running away from you.

"um...bye, i guess?"

james

"merlin-!" your neck almost collapses as james places his elbow on your skull, casually using you as an armrest and leaning his full weight on you.

"has anyone ever told you how short you are?" he ponders, letting out a quiet oomph when you shove him off.

"get off me, you...ogre!"

"sweetheart, i'm hurt. anyhow, have you heard of what happened to malfoy? i set his mattress on fire," he looks at you with a childlike grin, eager for your approval. "you said he was insulting you behind your back, didn't you?"

"oh, that's not...that's not really a prank. that's just, um...arson." you scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, your lips twisted into a weak grimace.

his smile dips slightly. "well, i didn't exactly consult the boys about it. was more of a personal project. for you. don't you like it?"

"um...it's the thought that counts, right?"

as dubious as your answer is, it causes james' spirits to lift once more, and he tackles you in a hug (which subsequently cuts off your air supply--who knew he'd have such a strong grip?).

"i knew you'd love it!"

sirius

"ahh, good evening, love. sitting at the fireplace all by your lonesome?" sirius says loudly as he plops down on the couch next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"not anymore," you gingerly pick up his hand as if it's radioactive, tossing it aside and leaving it dangling behind the couch--but most importantly, away from you. "what are you doing, black?"

"you're so cold to me," he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "you didn't notice anything new about me?"

you shake your head cluelessly.

"nothing? really, love? shoes? haircut? rings? clothes? you don't notice anything?"

you shake your head again.

"i'm heartbroken! devastated! anguished! inconsolable, even! i did all this to fit your tastes, you know!" he complains. "can't i have a little kiss to heal my shattered soul?"

he puckers his lips, leaning in with a hopeful expression.

"yeah, maybe in your dreams, black." you snort as you get up from the couch, moving as far away from him as possible.

he bites his lip as he watches you leave, idly rubbing his jaw.

"oh trust me, i'm dreaming...hell, i'll do a lot more than dreaming..."

remus

"i couldn't stay for break, so i wanted to give you an early yule present, if that's okay?" remus rummages around in his bag and hands you a strange rectangle.

upon closer inspection, it seems to be a (poorly) wrapped gift, but it's the thought behind it that warms your heart and causes an involuntary smile to spread across your face.

yes, too much wrapping paper was used, and there's tape in unnecessary places, but remus made a gift for you. who cares that it looked like it had been constructed by a blind toddler?

"thank you, remus," you say sweetly, your voice dripping into his ears like warm honey. "can i open it?"

"o-of course, and if you don't like it, i also have a sweater in my dorm for you. i um, remember how you'd always compliment my sweaters, so i thought i might get us a matching pair." he offers you a shy smile that makes your heart melt.

"you're so sweet, rem," you say softly. you delicately tear the wrapping paper, not wanting to ruin his hard work.

"it's my favorite book. i thought you might like it, and i annotated it. i highlighted the lines that made me think of you, and i also wrote little comments in the margins," he explains quietly, picking at his cuticles. "but now that i'm saying it out loud, it seems stupid..."

"it's not stupid, rem! i love it! it's really sweet and thoughtful! thank you," you say earnestly. "i'm really excited to read it over break. i mean it,"

"you're welcome, dove,"

[lovelettersforthedamned]

thinking about nerdy!peter...

--gif credits: @capinejghafa

-first of all...his glasses oh my god. peter looks so delicious with his glasses, and it makes you melt.

-especially in the morning when his hair is a mess and he's still in that half awake state. oh my godddd.

-nerdy!peter loves a good movie night. he's lowkey a movie guy, but won't admit it. he loves to geek out about the little things while watching a movie you've never seen, but he's seen a million times.

-peter's pretty quiet, but is a more outgoing when he's around you. it took some time before he could come out of his shell, but with you, it was easy.

-when you guys go out to parties or get togethers, he doesn't talk much. he usually is stuck by your side all the way until you guys get home.

-nerdy!peter loves to figure out what your interests are and cater them around you. like if you're obsessed with a certain artist right now, he will make it his mission to get you every single album from them.

-he loves to get you flowers, and he especially loves to surprise you with them.

-sure, he's pretty quiet and awkward, but he knows when to step in when things get a little crazy. he suddenly loses all of his introverted tendencies when something happens, especially when it involves you.

-he would fully bend backwards for you. he thinks that you're an angel reincarnate, and that you deserve the entire world. or, at least the best parts of it.

-sometimes he has these thoughts that you could do better than him:(...you always reassure him because he is quite literally the sweetest boyfriend ever?? like hellooo?????

NSFW BELOW!! MINORS IF YOU SEE THIS, YOU'RE SO GROUNDED!!!!!!!!

-lets be real, nerdy!peter is a virgin when you met. teaching him about being intimate wasn't hard, but you didn't want to rush things with him. if you were his first, you wanted it to be special and loving for him.

-peter is so submissive at first, but when he gets more comfortable around you, he realizes that seeing you under him is something he can get used to.

-since the first time peter has tasted you, he can't get enough. sometimes he'll just eat you out for hours. you try to do something in return, but he says he's alright and that "seeing you cum was more than enough."

-when you guys do have sex, he goes hard. of course, you've had very slow and intimate sex, but holy shit??? peter likes to fuck you, hard.

-aftercare with him is so special. you want to make sure he feels loved every single time, especially since you are his first intimate partner. you often prioritize his needs before yours, but peter quickly realizes you need to be taken care of too. showers after are quiet, usually you are standing with him under the stream of hot water as you hold each other. you two are connected the entire time. all the way up to the moment you fall asleep, limbs wrapped around each other.