#margo's so... soft

[synth-spinner]

All the younger spideys keep finding ways to annoy superior cuz they know he isn't going to do anything except verbally react in a way that's so old man core that it is funny to them. They frequently prank that loser and he genuinely thinks hes just struggling to keep up with Kids These Days </3 but also if they request him to do something he will try even if hes suspicious of it (because he has a soft spot for kids and if he doesn't they'll go running to Peter slandering him) and everytime it ends with him being hit with a Delicious Pie to the face

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hobie Brown, Emotional Preparation, and the Art of Great Dialogue

Nearly all of Hobie's dialogue is written with his goal - protecting and preparing Miles for Miguel's abuse - in mind, even if it may not be obvious at first watch.

Here's an unhinged breakdown where I over-analyze literally every one of Hobie’s lines and explain how every sentence was written to contribute directly to Miles’ radicalization.

Hollywood. Pay your writers. (:

___________________________________________________

Hobie has around 10 minutes screentime total, but for the sake of introductions and this analysis, let's start at the end of the battle, and the beginning of the quantum hole.

Starting with his first line in the scene:

"I don't follow orders. Neither does he."

All morals considered, Hobie doesn't seem like the type to speak for someone who can speak for themselves - he's a punk after all. But here, he speaks for Miles. This line serves to tell Miles 'I don't respect them, why should you?', but funnily enough, it can also be a point to Jess, as if to say 'Miles isn't interested.' - even if he is.

"Bit much, innit?"

While, Hobie and Mile's next interaction is their exchange in the elevator, the scene leads to Mile's introduction to the Society. Miles gawks at the lobby, obviously impressed. Gwen affirms this awe, telling him 'this is just the lobby.' However, Hobie feels the need to chime in. His next dialogue 'Bit much, innit?' is a subtle nudge to Miles that the society is not a place to be in awe off. It's a spectacle, one that's a bit overdone. Knowing Miles now sees Hobie as cool, Hobie makes it known - he sees the Society as uncool.

"Gwendy, How much have you told him? About his place in all this? Maybe not enough."

'So what happened about that small elite strike-team?' - 'Most of these are part time.' This is by far one of Hobie's more interesting lines, and I wrote about it here. But in short, this is Hobie's soft but direct confrontation of Gwen. After Gwen lies to Miles in front of him, Hobie immediately asks how much Gwen has revealed to him. And when she tries to play it off, he openly says 'Maybe that's not enough.' He's not angry with Gwen, but he is disappointed, which in turn motivates him to have his discussion with Miles.

"Super humane, and not creepy."

One of my favorites, because it's hard to catch and to the point. After talking about Hobie and Gwen's mission history, they're taken to Margo and the control room. As Miles marvels at Margo and the Go-Home-Machine, and Gwen says she voted against it. However, Hobie says blatantly: 'Holy shit, Miles isn't this inhumane and weird???', validating that the Society is willing to do inhumane, hurtful stuff to those it deems 'misplaced'.

Next comes Hobie's confrontation with Miles.

Because Hobie knows this is his last movements with Miles before he meets Miguel, and this is where if final push of emotional support kicks in, before he goes quiet in front of Miguel.

And because this conversation is so well layered, I think it's best to go line by line. ______________________________

H: "Bet this doesn't even do anything." M: "Maybe it did before you ripped it out of a wall!"

Hobie has now confirmed that he'll be making an exit soon. And he begins his finally sweep of parts he needs for his watch, stocking up his pockets. He's not stealing to steal. He knows he's leaving and this is his last chance to get what he needs before he's out the door.

"Propaganda, bro! It's to distract you from the truth!"

HOLY SHIT I missed this one. Notice how in this shot, Gwen is not visible at all. Hobie notices they're out of hershot of her for the first time. And his first line is - 'Propaganda.' Their watches can take them anywhere. When Gwen needed to, she was taken to exactly where she needed in Mumbattan. But when they're heading towards HQ, Jessica makes them walk through the lobby. They could have been sent directly to Miguel's station, but instead she makes them do the whole tour, which serves as a flex of muscle. In order, Miles was shown the massive number of members in the Society, then their prisoners, then the go-home-machine. Only THEN can they see Miguel. All of which was intent to intimidate Miles on purpose. Hobie tells him directly: 'Everything you just saw was propaganda.'

M: And what's that?

"I ain't got a Scooby Doo, mate. Cause that's what they want."

One of the most iconic and notable of his quotes. Cockney aside, this line ties back in with his discussion with Gwen just a couple minutes before. They've done their tour and walk. Both Jess and Gwen have been given a chance to prime or explain to Miles anything, and both have chosen not to. So Hobie simply tells him, 'They want you in the dark. And they're sending you into a fight.'

The next line is:

H: Why do you want to be part of this lot? M: To get a watch. H: Make your own watch.

Miles sucks his teeth at Hobie.

Because of this - Hobie begins to change methods. Which I cannot stress is incredibly perceptive of him.

Miles is exasperated with him. So instead of dissuasion and making the society out to be uncool, he tries to turn Miles' attention towards his family.

"Bet you got a nice setup, huh? Nice parents?"

This line is a very well done one, with two things of notice. First, I find it interesting that the screenplay phrases this line as a question, not a sentence. Hobie is asking. He's taking a shot in the dark here. And this is backed up by his delivery; Hobie hesitates while saying this. The only line in which he does so. He may not know about Miles' mom and dad, because Gwen hadn't met them when she met Hobie. But still, Hobie asks, hoping the reminder of Miles' parents will dissuade him from continuing.

M: They're fine. H: [After this line, Hobie turns black and white momentarily. Potentially a nod to the fact that this conversation is the only 'black and white' one Miles has had so far.] M: But we got into a fight. They just want what's best for me, so...

[Hobie frowns. The scene and dialogue REALLY starts to pick-up from here.]

"That's a bloody shame. Because you're not ready for everyone else."

As the scene progresses Hobie goes from behind Miles, to beside him like an ally. Then, when Gwen finally comes back into frame, Hobie crosses in front of him. When Miles mentions his parents wanting what's best for him, Hobie warns that everyone else does not want what's best for him. At the same time, visually Gwen has her back to Miles, and Hobie puts himself between Miles and Gwen, trying to block his path. The scene is set up to show that in Hobie's eyes, Gwen is turning her back on Miles. She does not have his best interest in mind. Hobie is telling Miles 'They're using propaganda on you, they're keeping you in the dark, and they do not have your best interest at mind. You're not ready for this." And he physically tries to block Miles from continuing, one last time.

Miles goes through Hobie, and now within earshot of Gwen again, this is Hobie's final chance and push to get as much information into Miles as he can - without freaking Miles out. Above all else, he needs Miles to be prepared, confident, and willing to fight back.

His voice becomes more serious, and he starts speaking more straight-forward and a lot less cryptically.

"Listen to me, bruv. The whole point of being Spider-man is your independence. Being your own boss, you don't need all this!"

I think Hobie saying this reveals a lot about his character, especially understanding the context where he's from. While many Spider-men would agree that being Spider-man is about responsibility and power - to Hobie, it is about independence, and freedom. Hobie is a freedom fighter, and one of the only Spider-men besides Noir that knows how to fight systemic threats as well as physical ones. To him, being Spiderman is about being able to free yourself and others. It's about independence and freedom, and he's trying to nail that in Miles' head one last time.

M: Then why are you here?

"Looking out for my drummer, is all."

As the scene is coming to a close, the writers chose this time to reveal some of Hobie's motivations, starting with the independence comment, and now this. Despite knowing about Gwen's deception towards Miles, he is still looking out for her - and Miles. This is the writers' and Hobie's last push to solidify himself as an ally to Miles and the viewer.

M: I want to be in a band. I want to see my friends, and I need a watch to do that. G: Guys, come on.

"Alright, Squashed. Just don't enlist until you know about who you're fighting."

I genuinely had to sit and ask myself why the writers would choose to leave Hobie's collective effort - a LOT of effort - with this line. And honestly, I think it's a perfect segway. Hobie chooses his words very clearly; He doesn't say 'what', he says 'who'. The next scene leads into Miguel's intro, and up until this point, Miles doesn't know who he is. He only knows about the Society, but never who is at the top. We know about Miguel, but all Miles knows is his name. That's why Hobie says 'who you're fighting'. Because the Society isn't really a Society, and this isn't really between Miles and the Society at all. It's a dictatorship - and the person he's enlisting to fight is Miguel. The perfect introduction and warning to the person he's about to meet. He's telling Miles, 'Don't rush into it. Wait until you meet Miguel first'. And when Miles does meet Miguel, he finally sees that this isn't the place he thought it was, just like Hobie said. ALSO EVEN MORE INTERESTINGLY - THIS is one of the lines that is changed between the two versions of spiderverse (there are two theatrical versions on release.) In the alternative he says 'Don't enlist unless you know what war you're fighting.' And I think that the fact the writers chose to publish two different versions of this line goes to show how powerful they knew this line would be in Miles' characterization. There is so much Hobie has left to say to him, but only one line - and so we get two versions. How fun!

With the scene now over, we see a change in Hobie's demeanor, and I love the writers' choice to have the shot linger on Hobie.

We see him give Miles a look that isn't exactly full of confidence, but from this point forward, Hobie chooses to hang back, no longer having any motivation to instigate. He knows his work here is done, and now all he can really do is wait for Miguel to reveal his true colors, and hope that he got through enough to Miles that he will react, and fight back.

And closing out the scene - I noticed that when Peter B. arrives Hobie pointedly says

"Oh boy, Humbling Reality Spider-man has arrived."

All I'll say about this is Hobie has to be Jamaican cause that was so mfing rude shgjfkghjgjkdfjk

Hobie has about three lines between this point and then end of his screentime - Two of which were his lines to Mayday, and his comment during the canon events.

But there is one shot of him before it all happens. And after this shot the movie begins staging Hobie in specific a very different way than anyone else.

The moment begins with Miles' line 'My Dad is about to be captain.'

The camera pans to each character. Gwen, Peter, and Jess all avert their eyes. Miguel looks at Miles. And Hobie is the only one who looks at all of them. Instead of looking down, he looks to the others, in anticipation of whats going to happen. It's also important to note that this was probably news to Hobie. He probably didn't know Miles' dad was a cop - or at the very least going to be captain. So the understanding of just how much trouble Miles is in kinda multiplies in this moment.

Then, this happens

From this point forward, every time Hobie is portrayed, he is shown as separate from the other characters, always being divided from the group - with Miles as the divider. Even as the camera moves, Hobie visually remains - quite literally - as the only person in Miles' corner. And as the scene goes on, he moves farther and farther into that corner.

Until finally the scene comes to a climax, and Hobie gets two shots to himself - delivering his final lines.

"Here we go." - "Hobie, You're not helping." - "Good."

GUYS IM GONNA CRY OKAY IM GONNA CRY

This is Hobie seeing his work pay off. This is him knowing that he got through to Miles and that it was worth it. He's proud of him.

Hobie knew what he came to do, and he used literally every line he said to Miles to the FULLEST extent. He doesn't give a fuck if he's not helping the Society. He's helping Miles. And now he knows his work is done.

Being a punk is not about being a hero, it's about empowering those who feel powerless. HE UNDERSTOOD THE MOTHERFUCKING ASSIGNMENT.

IN SHORT - HOLLYWOOD PAY YOUR FUCKING WRITERS I SWEAR TO GOD.

if you read this far let me know :) thanks bye

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

The Adventures of Orbwin and Chorb: A Masterlist

This is where any information pertaining to Orbwin and Chorb is stored for any use and for all to see. Written by that-trans-autistic-guy, with an assist by @technically-human who made the first depiction of the orb boys. List is to be updated, please message @that-trans-autistic-guy to request an addition to the list. Posts/fics tagged with the tags attached to this post will be easier to find for everyone who loves the orb boys :D

Traits, Attributes and Ideas

Ship name is Chorbwin

The orbs can purr in the same way cats do. Results in a visual vibration and soft sound. They have limited awareness in orb form, so it follows the feelings of safety and comfort.

The gravitate towards each other slightly, not unlike magnets

Often just soft, warm light but can occasionally be in their hero colors: blue for Edwin, red for Charles

The orbs give off warmth, one the dead and living alike can feel

The girls call them “The Orb Boy Detectives”

Charles made Orbwin a tiny ghost costume

Fanfics

Carry These Torches For You - that_trans_autistic_guy

You Said, “I’ll Never Leave You Alone” - Aster_Flower114

A Better Place, A Better Time - TheFanficMustFlow

Why Do I Tire of Counting Sheep? - carpediemma

The Many Forms of Phantoms - thegirlofthorns

Orbing With Edwin and Charles - grammarglamour

Frippery - Baby_Spinach

Professional Networking - RoseGanymede95

This Little Light of Mine, Let It Shine - ingridmatthews

Let Me Watch Over You - waywardsonsanddaughters

They’re in Lorb (Orb Love) - DarkStars

First Time For Everything - Anonymous

Orbwin’s Day Off - Quicksweetdreamer

A Blue Cap and a Red Jacket - williamvapespeare

The Glow That Dazzles My Eyes - Cesare

Other Types of Intimacy - Asidian

The Case of the Wilson Brothers - justafandomfollower

Your Voice Lights Me Up Like Nothing Else Ever Could - slyvir

Safe - Violet_Baudelaire

“You Must Make Him Feel Really Safe.” - slaycious_royal

Lost Marbles - bluetack

Run Your Fingers Through My Soul - Hse11z5

Doing Nothing With You - PurpleParanoia

Hold Me Tight and Don’t Let Go - cordelianoir

Get Orbed, Losers - kittymaine

Sweettalk My Heart - NuriaSchnee

Listening To Your Voice, I’m Orbin Toward You - slyvir

Ooh You Make Me Live - Dead_but_still_sarcastic

So Cute I Could Just Eat You Up - eunoise

Y’know I Worry - ahyperactivehero

The Case of the Missing Blood Blade - shadyphoenix

Fanart

Recharging - @technically-human

Recharging II - @technically-human

The Infamous Puppy Debacle of ‘94 - @technically-human

Niko and Orbwin - @gaypanicattackonlegs

Orbwin in Charles’ Jacket - @fellow-fandom-fruitifier

Portable Boyfriend - @jube-art

Portable Boyfriend Part 2 - @jube-art

The Girls and Chorbwin - @arisprite

Chorbwin But Colored - @terresdebrume

Cherishing Each Other’s True Forms - @a-jasminator

ORBWIN - @random-art-p3rson

Painland Week Orb Boys - @etheriiart

Chorbwin is my new OTP - @fellow-fandom-fruitifier

IRL Orbwin and Chorb (Glass Boys) - @neurodivergent-fangirling

Chorbwin Accessories - @aceofturtles

Confession: Orb Edition - @every-moment-a-different-sound

The Best Orb I Know - @every-moment-a-different-sound

Chorbwin in Elysian Fields - @acheel-and-cat

Spaghetti and Chorb - @aceofturtles

Chorbwin w/ Accessories - @edwinspaynes

Notes from Circles?? - @thesfromhms 

Tiny Orbwin and Chorb - @technically-human

Gay - @sawtism101

DBD Brain Takeover - @disgruntled-rat

Mirror Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Lantern Chorbwin - @aria-hannah

Death Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Eternity Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Happy Chorbwin - @minkbumblebee-blog

Light Orbwin - @beetlebug—1

Earring Orbwin - @margo-mania

Fem!Orbwin - @technically-human

Lantern Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Chorbwin… But Lantern - @disgruntled-rat 

The Annoying Chorb - @thesfromhms

Lighthouse Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Day Four Prompt Chorbwin - @alterego77 

Chorbwin Backpack Cuddles - @dead-but-still-sarcastic

Doll Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold 

Love Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

Glow Paint Chorbwin - @lesbicosmos

Spooky Chorbwin - @marbearmarigold

A Chorbwin Request - @downbaddetective

Orbwin Light - @etheriiart

Collection Feat. Orbwin - @unicorngunter

Orbwin’s Ghost Costume - @aceofturtles 

Orbwin Jack’O Lantern - @aceofturtles

Pastel Chorbwin - @starsandaces24

Chorb Light - @pippin-katz

Books Chorb - @marbearmarigold

Misc. Chorbwin Posts

Simple Orbs - @crosnt

Great Orb Incident of ‘02 - @edwinspaynes

First Sighting of ‘Chorbwin’ - @ace-misplaced

“ChOrBWIn” - @pippin-katz

Hyperactive Chorb - @khrorazir

Chorbwin Comic - @2ndfannypack

The Orb Boy Wizard - @succstosucculent

Cursed Chorbwin Gifs

Chorbwin Cookies - @dextheartist

Chorbwin Boba Meme - @etheriiart

Photo Of Orbwin - @edwinspaynes

Chorb Animation - @thesfromhms

Crossover Chorb Animation - @aria-hannah

The Orb Cameo - @moonikabear

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[space-cowgirllll]

I did boy mom Abby during the fall so you know I had to write some domestic fluff for Ellie too 🫶🏻🎃🍂

let’s ignore that I’m posting this less than an hour before Halloween is over 🥸

"Mama no! That's Rex's chair!"

"Well I don't see his name on it." The soft thud of the stuffed animal hitting the carpet is followed by the stomp of a tiny foot.

"Mama!"

You lower the volume on the halloween music playing on the tv, watching your wife get locked in stare down with a mini version of herself. Margo's legs wobble on unsteady plastic heels and the pink material of her dress wrinkles as she places her hands on her hips. Ellie had managed to squeeze herself into one of the bigger dresses in your daughter's closet, the thing looking like it was about to bust at the seams whenever she moved. Her tiara lopsided as it slowly slips off her head.

From the color of their hair to the slope of their noses, it was actually scary how alike they looked at the moment. Their profiles damn near identical.

The two stare at each other from opposite sides of the coffee table where a "spooky" tea party was being held with hot chocolate and Halloween cookies. Action figures and stuffed animals line the sides, with the newest addition to your little family sitting at the head of the table. Your seven month old son, Theo, sits in his infant chair watching the drama unfold as he chewed on a yogurt puff. His little body swallowed up by the tulle of his dress, with a sparkly clip in his short hair. Neither you nor Ellie able to save him from the older sister effect.

"He's a stuffie, he can't even eat the cookie." Ellie says matter of factly, reaching over to fix the girl's tiara.

The four year old's eyes shift from Rex's spot to her own empty plate, nodding in understanding. "Get more from mommy." she whispers loudly, pointing to where you stand at the counter with a fresh batch. Their eyes widen at the sight of the tray in front of you.

Ellie has a full blown one sided conversation with the infant in her arms, stopping at the large window facing your backyard. She points out the swing set under the large tree in the far right corner.

"Pretty soon you'll be out there with mama and margo having competitions on who can swing the highest." She bounces the infant on her hip.

"Mama cheats." Margo pipes up from the living room.

"I do not!"

Ellie jumps to defend herself, launching into story after story about the times she's lost to the four year old. Theo watches her in fascination, his eyes glued to Ellie's face. Your wife never stopped talking, and you swear it's the reason Margo's vocabulary is as good as it is.

You pretend to ignore Ellie as she saunters over to where you stand at the kitchen island. Her front presses up against your back, lips pressing against your bare shoulder as she reaches for the cookies. "Don't mind if I do."

"I do mind, actually." You push her away. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Oh c'mon just one more."

"You said that like five cookies ago Els." Taking the baby from her arms, you move the tray further away from her grabby hands.

She pouts. "So you hate me."

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes, pulling her in for a kiss. "How about you two go wash up and you can have one more AFTER dinner." The little hand reaching for the tray pauses, slowly retreating when you pull it further away. Ellie snorts as the culprit click clacks back towards the couch.

The doorbell rings, pulling your attention away from the kitchen. Ellie moves to stir the soup currently simmering in the pot, ignoring your warning look.

"Babe, did you order something?" You question, staring at the large plastic bag on your front porch. The logo didn't look familiar, her name is on the label when you squint.

"Oh, yeah! This wasn't supposed to come until next week." The package is snatched from your hands, a flash of pink and purple fly past you and down the hallway. Your two dogs manage to slip in the room just before the door slams shut.

"We're the only sane ones here bub." You turn back towards the kitchen, undressing the infant and placing him in his high chair. He babbles happily while you clean up the mess on the counter.

It's then that you notice the two cookies missing from the tray. Your wife and daughter's muffled giggles reach your ears.

"Ellie!"

———

"Okay oneeee more for Grandpa Joel."

"No more." Margo pouts "Papa has lots of pictures already."

The three of you wait impatiently as Ellie props her phone up against one of the steps on your front porch. She rushes back to where you stand as the timer counts down. Her hand reaches down to adjust the dog's dinosaur costume, the hood covering his eyes.

Theo sits happily in the wagon your wife had spent the last week turning into a little cage. His little green dinosaur costume just thick enough to keep him warm from the chilly weather.

You quickly make sure your pink button up is tucked properly into your shorts. Ellie gives you a grateful look when you push the hair out of her face. The two of you smiling just as the timer goes off, praying that the kids were looking.

Your wife had insisted on picking out the theme for Halloween this year. Knowing she had at least one year left before your already opinionated daughter decided she wanted to pick out her own halloween costume. With how busy you'd been at work you happily let her take charge.

And that's how you ended up wrangling a family of dinosaurs out the door.

"Let's go!"

You bite your lip when your daughter wobbles in her inflatable dinosaur costume, the head throwing her off balance. Her little hand reaches for Ellie's, dragging her down the driveway and out into the throng of people already out trick or treating. Pink plastic pumpkin swinging at her side.

The four of you make your way through the neighborhood, you and Ellie taking turns walking the kids up to knock on doors.

Like most four year olds, Margo gets tired after a couple of streets. Her plastic pumpkin now full of candy. Theo snoozes away in his wagon, checks rosy from the cold.

"Last house?" You point at the tiny craftsman at the end of the street.

Ellie gives you a thumbs up and follows after Margo as she hobbles up the path towards the front porch.

“Well aren’t you two the cutest.” The elderly woman sitting on one of the steps gushes. “Matching costumes!”

She reaches into the big yellow bowl, pulling out a full size candy that has the little girl’s tired eyes widening.

"A big candy! Thank you!" She clutches it in her tiny fist, rushing back to where you stood on the sidewalk.

The elderly woman laughs at the way her costume wobbles as she runs down. "Is that your family?" She asks pointing to where you stand.

"It is." Ellie smiles.

"They're so cute." She gushes, patting her arm. "You're very lucky."

Ellie watches you gently pry the melting chocolate from your daughter’s grasp, putting it in her overflowing bucket. Theo now perched on your hip, a big gummy smile on his face at the sound of his big sister’s voice as she bounces around dancing to the loud music coming from down the street. The two dogs swore she didn’t want sat at your sides.

Ellie’s heart warmed at the sight. Her smile widens.

"Yeah, I am."

—

"Margo's finally down." You sink down into the spot next to Ellie on the couch with a sigh. A hand reaches into the plastic bag on her lap where you'd dumped all the candy, digging around for the full size candy bar from earlier. Your wife searches for a movie to watch, clicking through multiple streaming apps.

"Told you we shouldn't have let her have that second lollipop before bed." She mumbles through a mouthful of chocolate. Her eyes glued to the tv. You stretch out on the couch, legs thrown over her lap.

"Nothing scary." You remind her. "Don't need you waking me up to walk you to the bathroom at 3 AM again."

"That was ONE time!" Ellie scoffs, but quickly exits the horror section. She sprawls out on top of you, her head resting on your chest.

“No cartoons either.” You press a quick kiss to her hair. “Get enough of that with the kids.”

You settle on Hocus Pocus after ten minutes of bickering only for the two of you to end up asleep only fifteen minutes into the movie.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the arrangement. l General Marcus Acacius

Summary: you have to ask General Acacius for help and you know that only one thing can convince him

Warnings: anger, mention of attempted rape, Acacius is violent, breeding kink, mention of slavery, meantion of death

A/N: I had a few sentences in my head, I saw a few scenes, and I wrote the rest of the story. scribbles.

[PART 2]

The dark sky was covered with shining stars, and the area was silent when you appeared in front of General Acacius' house. The tall and vast building, just like its owner, made its visitors feel respect and a hint of fear. But you didn't have time for that.

You almost ran up the short stairs and banged on the door. The doorman was surprised by your late visit, but he took you deeper into the house without any questions. You both walked along the corridor lit by burning torches until you stood in front of the open door to the main room where, despite the late hour, its owner was supposed to be there.

"General." the servant walked in, bowing, “Lady Y/N has come to visit.”

""Bring her in," a deep and soft voice replied, but you didn't wait a second longer.

"General Acacius, please forgive me." you said, entering the room and nodding quickly. "I shouldn't have visited you this late, but I couldn't wait. This matter couldn't wait."

The room was illuminated by soft light, and the cool evening air flowed in from the open window. The general was sitting behind an ornately carved desk, looking through some papers, but he perked up visibly when he saw you.

The white robes he wore highlighted his sun-kissed skin, and you were surprised at how noble he looked even when he wasn't wearing his armor.

“Y/N, you know very well that you are always welcome in my home.” he replied, standing up and walking over to you, "What did I do to deserve your lovely company on this pleasant evening?"

He took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it.

"I'm afraid that the matter I came for will destroy your peace, General." you replied, "But I don't know anyone else I could turn to. Only you can help me."

Marcus crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you carefully. His brown eyes bored into you so much that you could almost feel him beneath your skin. He always had this effect on you, from the moment you met him you knew you would never find peace again.

"I think you overestimate my abilities." he muttered, smiling lazily, "I'm just an ordinary soldier."

"I don't think so."

"I'm listening."

"General..." you started, but he immediately interrupted you.

"Marcus. Let's drop the titles if we're talking in private."

You nodded.

"Marcus." you started and he tilted his head to the side slightly, listening to your voice. "I'm sure you know my situation and what happened a few days ago. My maid, Margo, has been arrested."

"I heard about it."

"Then you know how unfair it is to her. Meanwhile, as I have been informed, she will be sentenced. During the next gladiator fights. Along with common criminals and scum. It shouldn't..."

"That's the law." Marcus interrupted you, "Your slave broke it by attacking one of the senators. She injured him."

"She was defending herself!" you raised your voice in anger "What was she supposed to do when that bag of dung tried to rape her!"

“Hold your words, Y/N.” he raised his hand "I don't know if you've forgotten, but she's still a slave."

"She's a woman. And my friend."

"It doesn't change the fact that she attacked a free man in a high position."

"Did you explain in the same way what you did to me at one of the last receptions in the Emperor's palace?"

The words fell out of you like arrows that instantly hit Marcus. His chest heaved as he inhaled deeply, and his eyes darkened.

The memories of that evening still loomed between the two of you. That was a hard and long evening. Too much wine, music, suffocating aromas from incense. 

Marcus felt intoxicated not so much by the wine he drank but by your presence. You were his unattainable goddess. His fame and heroism meant nothing when he stood before you, and he couldn't even be sure that looking at you wouldn’t bring down the wrath of the Gods upon him.

And then it happened. Marcus found you alone on one of the balconies and his lust finally got the better of him. His lips crashed against yours brutally, strong arms pulled you against his body so tightly that for a moment you felt paralyzed. Even though he felt your resistance and struggle, he thought for a moment that he could take you by force. Here and now.

And then you took advantage of his moment of weakness, freed yourself from his arms and slapped him, hissing that even if he drowned the whole world in blood and threw all the treasures at your feet, you would never be his.

The brutality he was capable of terrified you. And even though you pretended that nothing had happened between you, and Marcus apologized to you for his intrusive behavior, that crack was still there between you.

And now you were standing in front of him, asking for help despite all the resentment you might have felt towards him. Because wasn't Marcus watching your every move? Wasn't he the one who took every possible opportunity to be close? So why were you so afraid of him? He wanted to adore you, honor you on an equal footing with the Gods. He would give you the whole world because he already gave you his heart a long time ago.

“Marcus…” your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Please.. No, I'm begging you.”

Your knees went weak under you as you knelt before him in supplication.

"I'm begging you, do something. I don't know anyone else who could stand up for me..."

“Please get up, love…” he muttered, confused by your behavior.

"Marcus..."

"Get up, for God's sake!" he roared and you quickly got up from the cold floor.

You saw the wildness swirling behind his eyes. He clenched his jaw and thrashed around like an animal in a cage. After a while, however, he sat down in the chair, clasping his hands and looking at you carefully.

"Why this one slave girl?" he hissed, "You can have a new one. I can give you a dozen new ones!"

"I could ask you the same thing." you replied quietly.

Madness.

His blood boiled at the thought of comparing you to this woman. You were more than anything else. Yes, he knew perfectly well that at his beck and call, a dozen other women, hundreds of other women, would take your place. But you were engraved in his heart like words in marble, you became his treasure and blessing in one person.

You walked over to him slowly and crouched down by his lap. Your eyes were shining and your chest was heaving with nervous breathing.

"Marcus..." his name sounded like a prayer on your lips, "I'll do anything... I'll give you anything you want, but try to help me. I'm not asking for more. I don't want you to incur the Emperor's wrath, but you're the only one who can speak to him..."

"You're asking for so much..." he replied calmly, and his hand tentatively moved to touch your smooth cheek, to caress it for just a moment, "What can you give me, Y/N? You know that I would do anything for you, just for your one tender look..."

Your fingers found his hand and you kissed his knuckles.

"I will give myself to you." you whispered, "I'll give myself completely to you..."

His eyes widened in surprise for a second, but then his eyebrows knitted together as if he was trying to understand what you meant.

“Y/N…”

"I will be yours." you continued, staring into his dark eyes, completely determined, "I will be your wife. I will be loyal, devoted, and humble."

"Do not say that." Marcus interrupted you.

"I will give you what you want, General Acacius." your fingers gripped his hand tighter. "I will give you an offspring. Many healthy and strong sons. And as many beautiful and wise daughters. They will be the pride of your house. That's what a man as powerful and wise as you wants, isn't it?"

You knew your words resonated with him. They definitely hit his loins, because his body tensed and his breathing quickened. The general had a soft spot for you, you knew it perfectly well. You were flattered by his attention, but you were afraid of his power and the violence that hid within him. He wasn't like any other man you knew. Maybe if you had met in another time and place…

But the image of you swollen and full of his baby was so tempting for him.

“Y/N, is this what you want?” he asked "Will you put your life on the line for hers?"

You nodded, and Marcus knew he would do the same for you.

"Do you think... Do you think you could ever love me? That you would learn to love me? I don't want you to look at me with disgust and fear..."

Your warm hands cupped his face tenderly. A soft beard laced with gray hair tickled your skin pleasantly. You looked into the eyes of the man who had brought glory to the Empire, and now he sat before you, uncovered and uncertain. All desires were stirring within him and only you could give it purpose.

"I'm sure it will happen, Marcus." you replied "I never thought you were a bad person. Maybe if we had new chances..."

"I will never hurt you, love. I won't let anyone hurt you. I will make you the happiest woman in the world..."

"I know that." you smiled softly.

He leaned carefully towards you. His warm breath touched your lips, and after a moment you tasted them again.

Marcus kissed you tenderly and gently, as if he was afraid that he would lose you again in a moment. But when you kissed him back and your lips parted slightly, he didn't need any more. He immersed himself in you, kissing you passionately, stealing your every breath and almost leaving you breathless.

You were like an antidote to all his pain and fear. The promise of a better tomorrow.

He rested his forehead against yours, sighing softly.

"You make me your servant, and I humbly accept it." he said.

You tangled your fingers in his soft hair and Marcus purred softly.

"I'll talk to the Emperor tomorrow. I can't promise you anything, love."

"That's enough for me. I want to know that I did everything I could for her. I'm leaving our life in your hands, Marcus."

"Don't talk to anyone else about this. Go home." he gave further instructions, looking at you with tenderness. "You must show up at the next gladiatorial games."

"Will you be there too?"

"Yes, I will find you. But listen, you have to be careful now. One wrong move and the Emperor could change his mind. If I can convince him..."

"Thank you for at least trying..."

Marcus stroked your face tenderly.

"If you knew how much I could do for you... Go home. I'll see you soon."

You kissed him one last time and after a while you were escorted to the door by his servant.

The promise to try to save Margo gave you a little hope. You knew you would do anything for her and General Acacius was the only person who could change the Emperor's decision at that moment. Did you also seal your fate? Maybe...

But we will all do anything for the people we love…

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[inkdrinkerworld]

mornings

synopsis: sunshine!reader is not sunshine-y early in the morning, and miguel finds it very cute

cw: fluff, i think that's it, gn!reader [i think i only use they but no gendered pronouns]

It’s amusing to Miguel- this little portion of your personality.

He’d been surprised the first time he was over at your apartment and it was time to wake up- but now, a little over three weeks after that initial day, you’re at his apartment and he’s come to realise that this is your ‘allotted grumpy time.’

He’s been fiddling with some sketches for new suits and new transportation centres for the anomalies that you find as the sun rises. 

Miguel’s an early riser- something he’s sure you’ve attributed to his grumpy disposition. Always telling him, ‘It’s because you don’t let your body rest so you get grumpy halfway through the morning’.

Your alarm is going to go off in ten minutes and he finds that he’s eagerly awaiting it. 

The soft tunes of waves crashing comes from your phone; your groan follows it immediately. Miguel bites back a smile. 

You’re facing the halfway opened curtains, little streams of light pouring through the window as the sun stretches to the top of the sky. Miguel suspects that doesn’t help you fall back asleep as you try burying your face back into your pillows. 

“Sol,” he whispers, pencil in one hand as the other scratches at the nape of your neck. “Es hora de despertar.” 

Your hand finds his at the back of your head and you remove it with a little more force than he had been expecting. 

“No,” simple and final.

He leaves you be, knowing you’ve another alarm in five minutes that usually does the trick. As Miguel waits for it, he moves to his kitchen, setting the kettle to boil. 

Your grumbles find him in the kitchen and he smiles at how annoyed you sound. 

You stomp your way to the bathroom, and ten minutes later you emerge wrapped in your towel, your face is glossy so Miguel can only assume you’ve showered and done your skincare routine. 

Your frown doesn’t go away though.

“You alright there, grumpy?” he asks as he catches a glimpse of you getting dressed. 

“M’not grumpy,” you deny as you put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top- as a second thought you pull a sweater off the hanger and drape it over your arm. You don’t have much tactical training today, so you’re opting for comfort. “S’early.” 

Miguel meets you in the living room with a mug of tea for you and one of coffee for himself. “You set your alarm, Sol.” he reminds you and you cast a scathing glare at him. He wants to laugh because you look the exact opposite of scary.

No one would believe him if he even muttered the words, ‘Oh they're not a morning person,’ or if he even insinuated that you could be grumpy. Not even Lyla. 

“How are you not grumpy?” you ask him as you take the mug from him and take a sip. 

Miguel shrugs, setting his coffee down as he gets a pair of socks and your shoes for you. 

“Maybe we’ve swapped places for the day,” it’s unnatural even for him to say but it pulls a snort from you and that makes him feel a sense of accomplishment.

“Or maybe you’re an anomaly,” you joke, reaching a finger to pinch and poke at his cheek as he fits your socks and shoes on for you. Miguel bites the tip of your finger as it comes close to his lips, smiling when you let out a gasp that turns to a giggle. 

“Ready?” He finishes off his coffee with a couple sips as he waits for you to pack your tote bag- it’s filled with mostly tactile stuff, like your crochet needles and yarn, a sketchbook and one of the little cubes that Miguel had designed to help with your thinking, and then your tablet with all your notes on it. 

“Miguel?” 

“Yes?” He holds the door open for you. 

“Do you think you could help me with the new design for the web shooters? Something’s off, but I’m not sure what.” 

He grabs his own tablet and a yoghurt freezie and hands it to you. 

“I can, amor. Will you come have lunch with me or will you be with Jess and Margo?” 

You laugh at how offended he sounds, “No I’ll have lunch with you. You missed me too much yesterday. Lyla told me how you were even grumpier than usual.” you’ve already eaten half of the freezie when you reach the elevator. Miguel only shakes his head, plotting to figure out a way to get Lyla to not tell you everything about him.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: Do you want a baby? || part two || part three: Dharma

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲- what was supposed to be just a general diagnosis turns into a pregnancy reveal + how your water broke in the middle of an actual date with Miguel. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ pregnancy, child birth, grumpy!soft!Miguel x sunshine!reader, sex allusions, implied short reader, implied age gap (legal) NO PROOFREAD :). 𝐀/𝐍_ recommended songs; so it goes and lover again (calling all the reputation & lover stans like me!!!)

♪ ♫ my miguel playlist. ✰ index (masterlist/ other works there)

______________

It would never stop being weird.

Looking at Miguel O’Hara with a tiny female spider by his side, her arm wrapped around his giant forearm, resulting in a confusing image.

Yet, the image continued as Gwen, Miles, Hobie, and Pavitr looked at you and your husband passing through the cafeteria and going to his office.

“How long have they been married?” Miles asked. Pavitr counted with his fingers.

“I think they’re about to turn two years,” he replied. Hobie smirked, looking at his friend.

“The wedding was sick… Remember?” Gwen and Miles looked at each other confused.

“What happened at the wedding?” The blonde girl asked.

Out of nowhere, Peter B. Parker appeared with a tray of food and Mayday on top of his head.

“Hey, kids. What are you talking about?”

“Miguel and y/n’s wedding,” Miles answers.

Peter lets out a little sigh like he is bringing back a happy memory. Pavitr also made the same gesture.

“It was a wonderful night…” Mayday went straight to Hobie’s arms, and the man was funnily tickling her. So Peter took advantage of that and got his phone out.

“I have pictures!” Gwen and Miles let out a NO WAY, LET ME SEE in unison.

“Alright, alright. Here’s the ceremony…” The phone displayed a picture of what seemed like a church. You had an elegant and vintage dress, Miguel was wearing a tuxedo, and the place was full of candles and sparkles that made the picture look so perfect that it was concerning.

“Miguel looks…” Gwen started.

“Happy?” Hobie asks for her. Everyone nods.

“Oh, show her the party, man,” Hobie suggested with a big grin. Making Miles and Gwen even more confused.

Some pics showed your friends, Jess and Margo, as your bridesmaids. Lego Spider-Man was one of Miguel’s best men; the cake had six layers.

It was a big celebration. With many spider people around, part of your family, and what seemed like a summer afterparty.

Gwen giggled at the variety of pictures; you and Miguel cutting the cake, the waltz… until the pictures turned a little… intense.

“Damn…” Miles let out. Hobie started laughing, looking at the pictures, and Pavitr was getting blushed.

From alcohol shots, a mess in the pool, and you and Miguel doing the infamous wedding garter removal.

“OKAY!… this is not for kids,” Peter yelled, snatching the phone from the pair of teenagers.

“How did that happen?” the girl asked. Neither she nor Miles could believe they would live to see Miguel, you, and other serious spider people doing things like that.

“Alcohol. Boss was drunk as hell….” Hobie said, evidently mocking the leader of the Spider Society.

“It was after the family left, only… close friends. I must admit it’s the coolest wedding I’ve ever been invited to,” Peter accepted. Pavitr nodded.

“Yes, it was at the same level as an Indian wedding,” that was a lot to say.

Soon, Lyla appeared and gave a disapproving look to the whole table.

“Why are you here doing nothing? Jess assigned new missions and- AWW, Is that a picture from Miguel and y/n’s wedding?” The AI appeared beside Peter, looking at his phone.

“Yes. Was a good party, remember?” Lyla nodded at Hobie.

“Until they left for their honeymoon. And I had to do all the job myself for….like a month.”

“You sound like you suffered…” Gwen said.

“I did”

“You’re an AI, Lyla. You can’t feel anything….” Everyone laughed.

“Insensible kids. Now go meet Jess for the mission’s debriefing unless you want Miguel's lecture on your lives.”

With that, everyone left to their respective rooms to hear the debriefings.

…

“Well, that was fun,” Miles commented. Enjoying a giant cheese empanada from the cafeteria. Gwen nodded, and Hobie shrugged, following them.

“Time to go home. I’m tired…” Everyone started to say their goodbyes. Hobie was gone, and then Margo appeared, running towards them.

“Hey! What’s up, Margo?” Jealousy immediately invaded Gwen, and she soon went to appear beside Miles. Nothing personal, but the feeling had been evolving. She liked Margo but didn’t like how she and Miles interacted.

“Haven’t you heard?… y/n is injured” The pair looked between them worriedly.

“Is she okay?”

“I don’t know. I was about to go and see her. Jess said it was delicate.”

Everyone started pacing towards the clinic.

It was as big as the whole HQ; bright, clean, and futuristic.

Many spiders were there, injured people, waiting for surgery, medicines, etc.

However, their way was towards one of the private rooms.

There, you were lying in a bed in the center.

Beside you, Miguel holding your hand.

In a hologram form, Jess and Lyla were looking too.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel asked, intimidating Gwen, Margo, and Miles with his massive height.

“We heard y/n was injured…” Margo dared to respond.

You smiled. You really loved them, so you giggled.

“This isn’t over…” Miguel spoke once again, pointing at you. Oh, Miguel and his so-ever-grumpy attitude.

But you knew there was a lot to talk about back home. A lot…

“Are you okay?”

“Are you gonna be able to go back to work tomorrow?” Miles and Gwen bombard you with lots of questions. Margo was always more considerate, so she stood quiet.

And Miguel was rolling his eyes and looking beyond annoyed, cringed by his younger employees’ questions.

“No, stop saturating her with stupid questions. She’s pregnant, kids….” Miguel said, maintaining his stoic posture.

Jess let out a little laugh, noticing that Margo was the only one to react at the moment.

Her mouth opened to form a big o of shock.

“Do you have anything broken?” The blonde girl in turquoise Converse asked.

“Just my ankle, a sprain in my inner tight… oh, and I have a baby,” you comment softly, rubbing your stomach with a smile.

The teenagers keep making comments Margo is already paralyzed. You laugh again, covering your lips. Then turn to look at Miguel, who’s rolling his eyes again.

“YOU WHAT?…” their eyes are going to pop out.

“You’re pregnant?” Gwen asks.

“That’s why I just said…” Miguel adds with frustration. Then proceeding to whisper something in Spanish.

“I’m very happy for you two, congratulations” Margo is always polite and sweet. You accept her hug, and the other two teens are all over you. Showering you with ideas for baby names, a baby shower hosted by Peter, and making the kid’s first birthday party in the HQ.

“We have to tell this to the others!”

“No. We don’t want to. “

But Miles and Gwen are already out, both still in shock, ignoring Miguel and his desire to keep your status private.

You don’t mind, actually. Everyone would know in a couple of months. But Miguel… what can you say? He’s your husband.

And he kept pinching the bridge of his nose, proving how annoyed he was.

“Paciencia, paciencia…” he keeps murmuring. Margo giggles before turning to leave.

“I’ll try to stop them,” she offers.

“Thanks, Margo,” your husband thanks her with a brief glance.

“Someone has to stop those kids and their unlimited energy” Jess comments, making you laugh.

Soon, it’s just you and your husband.

“Now what?” You ask, rubbing your eyes.

Miguel leans to brush some strays of hair behind your ear, giving you a warm look.

“Now I’m taking you home…”

He thinks you look sweet with the hospital gown, perfect hair, and no makeup.

And although he’s scared as hell of you being already so far in the pregnancy, he dreams of the day you are in the same position. With a baby in your arms…

…

“Your wife is almost six months pregnant…” Spider-doctor had said.

“Sorry… I’M WHAT?”

Miguel stood there frozen, holding your hand. You were also in shock.

His world sure stopped for some seconds. All the months trying, wondering why you couldn’t get pregnant, it was because you were already growing a baby.

“But-… I don’t have any symptoms. I don’t even have a belly,” you blurt. "Human bodies work out differently. For spiders, it can work beyond differently” Miguel, and you turn to look at each other.

His face came to hide in your shoulder almost immediately. Whispering ‘thank you’ multiple times, kissing your hair, working in private, so Doctor Spider-man couldn’t see.

Almost six months of going to missions like nothing, having sex like always (every day, at least four rounds). Damn… Miguel had to be more careful.

“I’ll come again to get you a scan and everything. I’m going to leave to get your blood test results.” With that, Doctor Spider-man leaves.

Now, you are sitting in your bed. Remembering the moment you found out the news. Looking at the candles that illuminated your desk across your bookshelves.

In a moment, Miguel entered with a little tray.

“I got your favorite chicken wrap, tea, and cookies…” Now you know you’re pregnant and suddenly want to cry about everything. He was so sweet. His reaction to the pregnancy was calm, and he promised to look forward instead of his past. And now he appeared at your door with some of your favorite snacks and looked beautiful; yes, you’re crying.

“Oh no. Don’t cry, hermosa,” he soothes you. Your little whimpers made him realize he had to be careful with his words. Then the thought of you being unconsciously reckless, putting yourself in danger, edging Miguel towards another breakdown…

“It’s just that… I’m- we’re halfway through this, and I can’t believe everything I did. I could have….”

“No. It was almost impossible to know you were pregnant, love. You would’ve not put yourself in danger at the slight chance….”

“Now what? I don’t want to put the baby at risk, but I can’t stay doing nothing for the rest of the pregnancy. I’m a spider-woman….”

“I know what you’re thinking” Miguel was being so patient. He was listening to you and never letting your hand go.

“Since we started trying… I’ve psyched myself that it could be dangerous. But it’s not gonna be the same. I’m not gonna lose any of you two. Because I know this is correct” Of course, he was afraid, but he committed to letting go of his past and focusing on this present with you. So he would not try to control it and you.

“You’re my lovely wife. I know you, and you’re a strong and perfect woman who will take care of our baby when I can’t be around….” you are shocked. You have to squeeze his hand to confirm you're not dreaming.

He sounds so peaceful, wearing white socks with a hoodie and pants. And he looks that perfect? You had to be dreaming.

“You are taking some weeks to recover from the ankle, the sprain, and one more check to see the baby. Then, low-impact missions, and in the last month, I have you in my office. What do you think?” you nod, smiling. Pushing yourself to sit and hug him and feel his big hands moving across your back.

“Thank you. We love you so much, Miguel…”

We. Oh, he would cry too.

“I love you two so much too. Completely… my whole world…”

“Yeah. No wonder why your plan sounds like you want to have me by your side for the next four months 24/7,” he smiles.

“Maybe that’s the idea…I want my little family with me all the time” You let yourself fall into the pillows again.

You lift your shirt and start poking your flat stomach. Miguel looks at you with curiosity.

“I can’t believe it’s almost six months old, we have a healthy baby, and I don’t have a bump.”

“Well, you look gorgeous as usual. Maybe there’s even a glow on you that I overlooked before”

“It’s my hair, right?”

“Could be…” both of you giggle.

But finally, there’s a time for a kiss. And it feels like bliss like his lips were everything to soothe the confusing thoughts, to feel happy and blessed for the child growing inside you.

His hands sneak through your exposed skin to gently stroke your stomach, hoping to connect with the baby.

He’s going to treasure this new opportunity. He had taken it the first time by marrying you, protecting you but never trying to control you. So he would follow the same recipe for this pregnancy.

From the love you two shared, passion always bloomed.

You felt amazing, so nothing would stop you from having your husband that night. So you started to tangle your fingers through his hair cause it never failed to tease him.

“God… we have to stop, bonita.”

“Why?” You ask with a pout, coming to hug his neck and giving him an annoyed look.

“The baby…”

“The baby has been fine since day one. Want to remember all the things we’ve done in the last five months?” you can swear he’s about to blush. So you giggle.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” he complains.

But soon, you see his head disappear under the hem of your skirt.

Finally, you exhale with peace and tranquility.

…

Miguel fixes your suit from behind, his own suit already activated. He can hear your heavy breathing and feels slightly guilty because now, with the baby, your breathing could get hatred.

“See? Perfect as usual, mami…” he says, holding your hips, admiring you. He loved seeing his little wife waddling around the HQ with her cute belly and adorable smile. But having her in the HQ, making a moment only for him? It was a blessing.

“We spent at least an hour here; it’s gonna look obvious, Miguel,” you say, ignoring his comments. Your red cheeks, shiny skin, and curled hair could give you away.

Stupid pregnancy hormones.

Since your belly popped out in the seventh month, it felt like a prolonged fertile week that made you feel sexy and loved by your husband. As a result, extreme rounds of sex came like nothing most days.

“Honestly… I don’t care, hermosa,” he admits smiling. You roll your eyes, pinching his hand to annoy him.

“Sometimes you’re insufferable,” he smirks.

“You love me…” he attacks back, and you can’t help but blush like a little girl.

“Yeah, sometimes it scares me how much I do love you” The moment turns soft, as usual, between you and him.

Miguel turns into a giant heart marshmallow for you. All he can think is about how happy you make him.

“Can we have a date on Friday?” You ask with a cute and shy tone.

“Sure, mami. Where do you wanna go?” That fucking nickname. He meant it sweetly and adorably because, in his head, you were already a mommy. Still, he also says it in a hot way to proudly remember you he got you pregnant.

“The library and that new bakery near home” he would never say no to having a date with you. Never.

“You got me, bonita. I’m in the mood for a thriller book and some… What do you call those little cakes?” since you started dating, Miguel would pick one of your books to read together every night. The pastries only came to the scene on the weekends, though.

“Turkish pastries? Stop, I’m getting hungry. Oh, and I don’t mind another memoir, but yeah, I’m into the thriller book too,” he smiles, offering you another sweet smile. Thinking about how much he wants Friday to come and be out with you.

“I have to assign missions with Lyla. I’ll see you in my office. Okay?”

“Okay, amor,” the characteristic pull on his rib appears; he knows he must lean down and kiss you.

It’s slow, passionate, and delightful. His lips are soft despite all the times he had bitten himself with his sharp fangs. He was always so careful to avoid hurting you. He always avoided contact, but that didn’t stop him from playing with the skin of your neck in the most intimate moments.

“We love you…”

“Me too, bonita. I love you two with my whole heart….”

…

Your stomach was painfully churning. You were hungry, and your baby was asking for something too.

Maybe a burger with my husband’s mask printed on the bun. A side of fries with sweet and sour sauce; yeah, that’ll work, you think.

So you are peacefully sitting in the cafeteria. Waiting for Miguel to come back to the HQ and spent the rest of the day with him. Your mask is resting beside your phone and your web shooters.

It was crazy how the pregnancy made you both clingier than ever. His hands never leave your body, especially your belly. You don’t want to be separated from him for long periods. And even your family noticed how close you and Miguel were.

You asked where he went during a family gathering, only to find him drinking a beer with your father. And your aunts said you two were attached to hip… to the max.

“Hey, there’s my favorite spider-mama. Don’t tell Jess!” Peter appeared on your side with his kids; Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen, Miles, and Mayday.

“Hey, guys!” Mayday immediately went after you. Playing with your belly and softly poking at the roundness of it.

“Wow, your skin looks amazing!” Gwen flatters you, which causes a big blush on your face.

“Oh, thank you. I spent some time in the sauna today…” Miguel convinced you to try the least heated sauna room, saying it was good for your aching belly. However, it turned into a wild session of sex with at least an hour of duration. But your friends wouldn’t know that.

“How are you feeling?” Peter asked.

“Fine. You say maybe two more weeks or so…” you rub your belly along Mayday. Her beanie is dirty, and you promise her to clean it up before the day is over.

“I can’t believe you guys don’t know the sex of the baby…” Pavitr commented. You giggle, shrugging.

“I want it to be special. Especially for Miguel… you know his past,” they all nodded. They could see their boss apathetic as usual, barely glancing at them, ignoring their jokes, etc. But every employee of the Spider Society knew Miguel O’Hara had only one weakness; you.

And now that you were pregnant, it was impossible to not notice how Miguel tried to remain calm and be more patient about everything.

“I’m still a little hurt that I wasn’t the first to receive the news,” Peter B. Parker admitted, watching his daughter play with you.

“You left early that day!. You didn’t even know I was injured.”

“Yeah… and I called as soon as I learned the news” You pat his shoulder.

“Oh, Peter. You know you’re one of my best friends. And you’ll be my kid’s godfather,” his eyes sparkled. Everyone laughed at the comment, but Peter was pleased about it.

“I already got something for the kid…” Hobie announced.

“Aww, Hobie!… That’s so sweet, thanks!” their fondness towards you and your baby makes you want to tear up.

“Please, don’t give the child a set of piercings or the book of historic protests like you did with Mayday,” Pavitr prays, looking at his friend. Gwen was laughing so hard that it infected everyone.

However, Hobie had a little guitar full of excellent phrases and stickers he had collected over the months.

“It’s something better,” your punk friend promised.

You really liked spending time with them. It was like a second family that you could enjoy every day.

Then the conversation was all about Pavitr's upcoming big Indian party in Mumbattan. He invited everyone, and you promised to show up with Miguel and the baby.

Then you realized something. You really craved it, being a family of three.

…

A pink box was stuffed with Turkish pastries; 4 pieces of baklava, 2 of basbousa, and a slice of baklava cheesecake.

The sweet woman placed a green ribbon on top of the box, and you squealed out of happiness cause the ribbon matched the pistachio crumbles on the pastries.

“Thank you…” Miguel thanks the woman and follows you toward the exit.

The date was amazing, as usual. Hours spent between bookshelves, stolen kisses, and spending on four books to read in the following months.

“I can’t wait to eat this at home… my mouth is watering, amor,” he chuckled, admitting that these last few weeks, you looked even cuter with your bump and emotional attitude.

“Yeah, give me the box. Or else there won't be any cake left before we arrive home” Frowning, you hand him the box. The way to the parking lot is quiet.

But there’s a pair of big smiles on both of your faces.

The whole day you’ve felt tremendous pressure on your lower belly, nothing painful, but the feeling was weird. Only two weeks left, and then…poof!!, the baby was here.

A heavy noise disconcerted you. And when you looked to your left, Miguel had bumped himself with a lamppost.

Your heavy laughs are all it can be heard isn’t the parking lot after that.

“Stop laughing. I was taking care of you, not stumbling with the bags and your belly” he heard you let out a long oww before continuing to laugh. His spider sense was worse since he learned you were pregnant, always taking care of you. His eyes never leave you, alert in case of anything.

He’s annoyed but smiles at the sight of you being so happy.

Until…he noticed something on your pants. There was a big spot; it certainly looked like…

“Bonita…I think-I think you just….” As you follow his words, you look down to see why your pants and underwear feel drenched.

And once again, you’re laughing.

“Oh my god, Miguel. I think I just…” you peed on yourself for laughing so hard. You’re embarrassed, but still, you find the humor to find it funny. Miguel gets closer and takes the bags of books and your purse from your hands, finally laughing too.

“This is what happens when you make fun of your husband…” he opens the car door for you, and you only send him a lousy look before he keeps smiling. When you accommodate on the seat, your disgusted face worries Miguel. He leans to inspect you better.

“What? What is it, mi vida?” Your discomfort grows, and your hands travel to your lower belly. Seconds later, your eyes pop open in shock.

“Oh god. I don’t think it was pee after all…” you reveal, looking at your husband. His eyes also open in shock, and he starts breathing heavily.

He starts walking in little circles between the space of your car and the neighbor from the parking lot.

All he can think about is that a little human is trying to get out of you.

His life is about to change. All he ever wanted was going to be complete. He had to be strong for you and put his trauma away, like during the pregnancy.

“Okay. Does it hurts now?” He asks, returning to kneeling and looking you in the face.

You shake your head, not even knowing how you feel.

“Not really. I just feel like there’s something stuck inside me and-“

“And?” He urges you.

“And I want to push it out…” he nods, already feeling sweat on his forehead. He leans to kiss your forehead and hold your hands.

“Activate your suit, bonita. We need to go back to the HQ…”

“WHAT? NO… Just take me to a normal hospital, Miguel,” you say, trying to calm down.

“We can’t. Doctor Spider-man has been treating you since we found out. He’ll know better….”

“But…”

“Mami, you’ll have to deliver this baby soon. The best place to do it is in the HQ. You know it, right?” Slowly, you end up nodding.

He makes you look at your watch and activate your suit.

You don’t even feel when your soaked clothes are gone and you are in the suit's skin. You just feel like some beach ball was stuck inside your mouth, but everything happening on your cervix.

Miguel also activated his suit, including his mask. You shake your head at the sight.

“Oh no, fuck no. I'm not wearing the mask…” he sighs. Miguel is doing everything to not panic and not stress you. Even when he feels surprised you are handling the dilatation very well, he knows he can’t panic you too.

“Okay, don’t wear the mask. Can you stand up?…” you do your best, but it’s impossible to stand straight anymore. You must lean a little and open your legs to soothe the intense pressure on your pelvis.

“It’s okay, mami. We’ll be home with our baby in a blink of an eye.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Miguel” Your sarcasm signals him to hurry, so he opens a portal and helps you enter.

…

The room's wide window is like a living landscape, with the futuristic sight of cars and bright lights from skyscrapers.

There were no curtains because no one could see what was happening inside.

You were lying on the hospital bed that night, trying to push out a baby.

“I can’t do this…” you sob. It’s not even that painful (thankfully). The discomfort of the little human sliding out of you very slowly.

“Yes, you can. You are already done, bonita.” Miguel encourages you, which makes you roll your eyes.

“No. I mean-I can do this, just not on this bed…” your husband looks confused, but you ignore him to turn to Doctor Spider-man.

“You can try on your feet,” the doctor speaks through his mask. You nod, and with Miguel’s help, you end up on the edge of the bed; instantly, you feel the pressure of your baby slightly better.

You hear the doctor’s instructions, and even Miguel is in a position to help to catch the kid. You hold onto his broad shoulders to support yourself. Then, after three more big pushes, you feel it…the baby is out.

“We got it,” Miguel hears the doctor say, and a wave of soft cries instantly starts to echo across the room.

Desperation floods Miguel, who wants to see his baby and know everything is fine.

As the doctor cuts the cord and makes Miguel help you to lay on the bed again, he can’t stop kissing your forehead.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you so much,” you nod, feeling tears in your eyes.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” officially, there are tears in your husband’s eyes. Doctor Spider leaves, saying he will come back with some papers and to help you.

He thinks Gabriella must’ve been very happy to have a little sister.

“Here you go…,” and everything is a comfortable silence once the baby is in your arms.

She’s tiny, with sun-kissed skin like his father, brown matted hair, and grey eyes that will eventually turn into chocolate like his father’s.

Her eyes are slightly open, she looks like she’s yawning, and her little tongue pokes out occasionally.

“Look, Miguel…” he leans to inspect his daughter closer.

He’s in love with her, and he’s beyond in love with you. He would always thank you for giving him a second chance to be a father.

“Oh, I’m in love again. She’s perfect, amor,” you sob, kissing the baby’s tiny head.

“I can’t believe this… I had nothing. Then I found you. And now…suddenly, we have a baby,” he confessed, caressing her rosy cheek.

“How do we name her?” He asks again.

“I want something related to her father’s name…”

“Are you sure, bonita?” You nod. After all, Miguel deserved it, and you wanted to do it for him.

“Yeah. Magalí, Marina, and Magdalena have been in my mind” his smile lights up with your last option, easily looking at her baby with that name.

“I like Magdalena…”

“Then… hello, baby Magda” you coo at your daughter, feeling her soft skin and plump cheeks.

“Your mommy and I love you so much, baby” Miguel’s hand comes to take yours, and together, you’re admiring your baby girl.

Doctor Spider enters after a knock on the door, holding a little binder.

“Okay, we’re cleaning her and healing you….” he announces. He adds that you’ll be fine in three weeks with a good recovery and that the baby was healthy. Miguel is so thankful and happy. He can barely hide his smile from his coworker.

“But before that… Lyla wants me to congratulate you two and ask if she can spread the news. Everyone is asking for this little family,” you smile. Spider plushie and Lego Spider-Man must be very worried and spider cat. You want to see your friends soon.

“No. We don’t want to share-“

“Miguel.” You scold him, give him a bad look, then look down at your daughter, smiling again.

“Yes, you can tell Lyla to share the news,” the AI appears before you. Her eyes open at the sight of the new addition of the HQ.

“Oh-great. And- OH MY GOD, SHE’S SO CUTE” Miguel instantly rolls his eyes, looking at Lyla moving in front of her tiny daughter and simulating touching her. There’s a little pink headband with a flower in Magdalena’s little head, which doubles how cute she looks.

“Thanks, Lyla…”

“Peter and Pavitr are on their way already. Probably the others will be joining us later” You nod once again. Feeling so welcomed and accepting that Miguel was right.

It was the best idea to give birth to your daughter in the HQ.

“Great. More visits!…” Miguel complains with a big load of sarcasm.

“Sorry…see ya later. ” with that, Lyla disappears.

“Ay, mami. You don’t know what you’ve done” Miguel can hear everyone talking about him and you and the baby. Having all his annoying coworkers asking questions and grabbing his daughter. However, he knows that will make you happy.

“Miguel, don’t be like that. This day is special… but we have our whole lives to have a family moment… just the three of us” he knows you’re right. So he sighs, letting a smile appear on your face.

“Right, yeah. You’re right…”

“I know. Now give me a kiss…” as his lips collide with yours, he takes baby Magda from your arms. She’s light as a feather, beautiful, and Miguel can’t think about ever putting her down in your arms again.

“I love you so much, hermosa. And that will never change…”

“Oh, Miguel. You and Magda are my full happiness now. I love you too.”

Miguel feels complete. He had his daughter in his arms; you on his lips.

And he hoped to treasure that feeling… forever.

______________________________________

Can we think about how baby Mayday and baby Magda are going to be BESTIES now?!?! *sobs*

taglist:

@alison645

@futuristicpandakid

@sleepyoriana

@amb3rrz

@amyg1509

@t00-pi

@crowleysthings

@boobabietch

@I3laze

@brtodd

@gigachadcowboy

@saturnknows

@chiyoyooo

@miggyyyyohara

@puresweetenerx

@saturnnnnl

@natthernandez

@reagan707

@voidashh

@daisydark

@amyg1509

@kissezfornamjoon

@etherealton

@wonderlandangelsposts

@niyanispunk

@g0oshtt

@ang3l-dust1

@electro-supremacy

@bestie1223

@dangerousness15

@iluvjisoo

@atlaincorrect

@naponiac

@edgycatx

@fluffy-koalala

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓜iguel 𝓟lans 𝓨our 𝓑irthday ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ your birthday is important to miguel because it’s his girl’s special day. the day of celebrating you, tho he celebrates you every day. you are everything to him.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ since you’re not a fan of big parties, miguel decides to throw you a little party at your shared apartment with only close friends and family. those close friends are the spidey gang: peter b, jess, hobie, miles, gwen, pav, and margo.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ he planned your siblings to take you out for the day so he can set up the party. the spidey gang helped him out. peter and the teens putting up the decorations. him and jess preparing the food. your family eventually arrives shortly after and help too.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ of course miguel baked your cake of your favorite flavor and topping (if you do). although you don’t mind how it looks, he wants it to be perfect.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ the apartment is decorated beautifully in your favorite color. transparent balloons with tiny bows and pearls around it of your favorite color. pom-poms and streamers hanging on the ceiling. banners amongst the wall where the table of food is.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ miguel hurries everyone to get into positions when he hears the door unlock. anticipation flowing through his veins to see his pretty birthday girl walk through that door.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ everyone happily says “happy birthday!” as you enter through the door. a vibrant, bashful smile on your face. happy and grateful to see the people you love here celebrating you.

“surprise, mi reina.” his large arms wrapped around you in a loving embrace. a gentle kiss on your forehead which makes you smile.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ after delicious food, chitchatting, and some games like uno and heads-up, it’s time for cake. everyone gathers around the table. miguel standing next to you, an arm wrapped around you.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ miguel’s gaze fixated on you as everyone sings happy birthday to you. pure hearts in his eyes as he sings to you with all his heart. he plants another soft kiss on your forehead after you blew out the candles.

“thanks for the cake, it’s delicious.” you smile up at him with a soft, loving gaze.

“i’m glad it is.” he mirrors your smile.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ miguel sat beside you as you open your presents. him and your dad collecting the wrapping and tissue paper, throwing them in a trash bag. some of your nieces and nephews play with them.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ once the place was cleaned up with everyone’s help and they left, miguel could finally give you your present. returning to the living room with a small basket in his hands.

a crochet bouquet of your favorite flowers in your favorite color. in the middle, a tiny box.

“aww, miguel…” your heart melts at his gift. gently touching the petals of crochet flowers before your eyes drift down towards the tiny box. grabbing and opening it, a golden locket.

inside the locket is a photo you and miguel took in a photo booth at a fair. you’re kissing his cheek, cupping it with a hand. a very thin layer of tears in your eyes. miguel knew they were happy tears. he helps you put on the locket before pulling you into another embrace filled with love and comfort.

“happy birthday, mi alma.” he whispers softly, his hand gently stroking your hair.

“gracias, osito.” you whisper back.

⠀♡ ˖ ࣪ ༘⠀ your birthday is miguel’s favorite day. loves to celebrate you but miguel will celebrate everyday. your are his everything, you are his beautiful girl.

‧ ִ ۫⠀♱ 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. it’s my birthday today, turning 20! kinda bizarre to me tbh lmao. i decided to make cute birthday headcanons of miguel planning a small party at home. ♡

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[cowboydisaster]

I have no idea about the historical accuracy of this but imagine a reader who used to be in a pretty well off family (think like the braithwaites level in society) but she left it all and gave everything up to be with Arthur. It’s her first Christmas away from her family and she misses the Christmas tree back home. Queue Arthur cutting a tree down with his big manly man strength and dragging it back to camp to surprise her🥲

* ˚ ✦ Stardust * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 4k a/n: margo!! This prompt was too cute. I kinda took it and RAN so I hope I did it justice! xx

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: SEVEN days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

If there's one thing you haven't gotten used to in this way of life, it's the elements. Camp is situated in Big Valley along the Upper Montana River. It's beautiful, and more open country than you've ever seen in your life. But damn, is it cold in winter. Snow drifts down from Mount Shann, creating a beautiful flurry of white around camp, albeit a freezing one. 

At this moment, though, the cold doesn't bother you. In the safety of your tent, back tucked against Arthur's chest, it's impossible for the cold to reach you. He keeps you warm. Like a furnace, that man. You'd be worried he was running a fever if you weren't so used to his toasty-warm temperature. 

You shuffle against Arthur, readjusting in the soft cotton cot. The wind whispers quietly outside, peacefully. Gone is the loud whipping ice storm that had come through a week or so ago. It's been replaced by a quiet falling of snow, the creak of nearby oaks. 

“Darlin’? What is it?” Arthur whispers, voice sleepy against your ear. The hand that's hung over your waist squeezes gently, a small act of encouragement to respond. You smirk. You can picture his face, eyes closed, or half-lifted, eyebrows knitting with worry. 

“What's wrong?” He whispers again. The hand on your waist flattens against your stomach, gently pulling you back towards him. 

Oh, your Arthur. His heart is perfectly in tune with yours, and well, when yours is sunk, he notices. A peculiar little thing you've discovered– he always notices those small details, those small fluctuations in your mood. On top of that, he always addresses them. 

Those selfless personality traits are why you left the city in the first place. Arthur is genuine, real. He's caring, and he communicates with you when you're upset. Your mamá and papá were far too concerned with selling you off to the most eligible bachelor in Saint Denis to care about your feelings. The bachelor's characteristics were of no importance, just his wealth and status in society. That life was… a load of shit, as your dear Arthur would say. 

You'd started sneaking downtown at night to get away from the chaos of your home. Your parents were always fighting and screaming. Broken dishes and ringing ears became a staple in that house. La Bastille Saloon was a short walk from your house on Flavian Street. And that's where you met Arthur. 

Despite his career, you immediately recognized him to be the first honest man that you'd ever met in your life. In a mere thirty seconds of conversation, you'd found a depth to him that your father could never scratch, a kindness that no arranged husband would show you. And so it became a habit. You'd sneak out of your window a few times a week, meeting him at La Bastille– talking, laughing, drinking. Arthur's whiskey burned far more than the French wine you'd sipped on in your life. Where you came from, drinking was for show. To sip on a glass of imported chablis was to assert class, but Arthur taught you how to drink for fun. He'd taught you how to play cards and how to cure a hangover. Your parents would be mortified at your unladylike behavior. 

Arthur showed you fun, and kindness, spontaneity and honesty in a world that you thought was without those virtues. When Arthur had asked you to join him, it was an easy yes. He laid it all out. the good, the bad and the ugly. Criminals, you'd be joining. He was afraid that you would turn away, but crime is no stranger to you. Coming from high society, you saw the rich take from the poor time and again. You saw laundering and fraud, servitude, coercion and arranged murder. 

All your family does is twist lies for their own benefit. They're all snakes, sinking their teeth into everything they come across. Gluttonous in their pursuit to expel venom. It has drowned the whole city of Saint Denis, sunk into the cobblestone roads and poisoned the entire place. 

You see more honesty in the Van der Linde's life of crime than in your family's. At least the Van der Lindes are honest about what they do, and only rob from those who rob from others. 

Leaving with Arthur was the most freeing feeling you've ever experienced. You love him with all your heart. You love the gang, and your new life, and yet even with all that you've gained, you still left so much behind. Joining Arthur; it's the best decision you've ever made, and you don't regret it for a moment, but the approaching holiday is bringing out sadness, memories of your childhood, friends that you'd left in the city. Any good memory of the city is recalled through rose tinted glasses, but still, it's beginning to sting now that it's almost Christmas.

“Darlin’?” Arthur says, the grogginess no longer evident in his voice. He pulls you back to the present like a tether. His thumb drags soothingly over your hip bone, and underneath the thick blankets, you lay your hand atop his. 

“Hmm?” You offer. 

“Where's your head at?” Arthur whispers, breath against your ear. 

“Oh, just thinking.” You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. It's a sad smile, bittersweet. If a candle were lit, and he could see it, Arthur would be much more worried. 

His fingertips brush your hair away from your face, gently pulling some strands behind your ear towards the braid they have escaped from. 

Arthur lifts his hand from you, adjusting the blankets as you turn over in bed. Once you're facing him, he makes sure that all of the blankets cover your frame.

“It's just that this will be my first Christmas away from home.” 

A small silence ensues. One that threatens to let tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Your nose tucks into Arthur's chest as you sniffle, hoping he hasn't taken your words with offense. This is your home now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But old habits die hard. 

“You missin’ home?” Arthur whispers between kisses to your hair. You shake your head quickly 

“No-no. I don't want you to think-” 

“Baby, I ain't gonna give you a hard time ‘cause you're missin’ home. Hell… my childhood weren’t nothin’ but a world of pain, and sometimes I miss it.” 

You should have expected his understanding. Arthur's never made you feel foolish for your feelings. His hand traces along your hip, keeping you warm and coaxing you to settle back into the comfortable space that he’s surrounded you with. 

“I’m finding it difficult.” You whisper, “The holidays are coming up, and they’re bringing lots of memories. Fond ones, things I don’t want to forget.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well…” You crack a small smile, eyes going far away, back to old memories long ago, “Papá would have a Christmas tree shipped from Cumberland forest, only the best for him of course.” You chuckle, and Arthur smiles for the sweet sound. 

“And we would decorate it with candles, blown glass, popcorn and cranberries. Oh, it was such a sight Arthur.” You say, a wonder in your voice. The memories are crystal clear in your head. Bright colors, laughter, songs. 

Arthur's Christmas memories don't bring much joy. Except for the year his daddy didn't come home. Still, the way your eyes have lit up– Arthur wishes he could have experienced the Christmas that you're describing. He wishes he could see you with that much joy. 

“Have you ever seen a Christmas tree?” You ask, rekindling that tether and pulling him back to you. 

“Nah, only in the papers. I ain't never lived nowhere so fancy to have a Christmas tree.” 

“It was so beautiful…” You whisper, a chill running down your spine. You hardly notice it, but Arthur pulls you closer nonetheless, his body heat wrapping around you like the warmest of blankets. 

“It seemed as if when the tree was decorated and we all sat together, maybe it was not so bad.” You murmur, and the wonder dissipates from your eyes, replaced with reality. 

Arthur waits for you to collect your thoughts. A whistle of wind breaks the silence before you do. 

“Ah, I'm sorry for this show of emotion. It's silly of me.” 

He shakes his head, forehead gently meeting yours. Your eyes marvel up at Arthur, making out the deep blue of his eyes from a stretch of moonlight that's infiltrated the room. 

“You ain't ever gotta apologize for gettin’ emotional, sweetheart. Not with me.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling again like a schoolgirl with butterflies running rampant in your stomach. His breath traces your face, noses just barely lining each other. 

His lips meet yours, soft and sweet. Your heart soars like it does every time he kisses you. It's something that you're sure you won't ever get used to. But something you're hoping to find familiarity in, because you never want to stop kissing him. 

He pulls away all too soon for your liking, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. When he hears your small whine, he huffs. 

“I know, get back to sleep baby, I'll still be here in the mornin’.”

It doesn't take long for you to slip back into slumber, not with the soft whisper of the wind, and the cocoon of warmth around you. Arthur practically carries you across the threshold into sleep with the way his arms wrap around you. 

In the little tent, deep in the snow, Arthur begins to hatch his plan. He kisses your head, climbing over you and out of bed to light a candle. It provides just enough light to illuminate the pages of his journal. Just enough light for him to illustrate his surprise. 

He had promised you– all those months ago, when he'd packed your bags onto his horse and ridden you out of the city– that he would do anything and everything to make you happy. It's a promise that he intends to keep  

— — — 

a few days later 

“This is the one.” Arthur marvels, sparkling eyes cast upwards toward the fullest, greenest evergreen in Cumberland Forest. You deserve nothing but the best, and he’s sure that he’s found it.  

Arthur takes a short moment to pull out his journal, dusting some fallen snow from the leather cover. He sketches the tree, a way for him to remember the moment. To remember how the tree had been, perfectly untouched in nature. He takes his time, back propped against the unhitched wagon in the forest, hat covered in a thick dusting of snow. A few flakes even drop onto the page, melting and smudging his charcoal. 

When the branches are sketched to his liking, he accompanies them with a quick passage and closes the book. 

For the lady. Christmas. 1899. 

When the book snaps shut and is stuffed back into his journal, he looks up, finding a questioning look on his trusted stallion’s face. 

“What?” Arthur’s brow furrows, “I’ll plant another one.” 

The stallion sighs.  

Arthur moves around the back of the wagon, pulling an ax from the toolbox, dusting some snow off the handle with gloved hands. The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, the horses too. They press their noses together, whinnying and rumbling, entertaining each other with horse-typical play in the snow. 

“Jasper. Sugar. Quit bein’ sweet on one another, we got work to do.” Arthur calls back to the two horses. What a pair, those two.

Jasper is Arthur’s stallion. He’s well behaved. Shy. Obedient. Then there’s Sugar. She was a gift from Arthur to you. White as snow and wild as the wind. She still is, despite all of her training. 

Arthur had brought the pair of them with the wagon to pull the tree back to camp. But now, Sugar seems more interested in kicking up snow, and well– Jasper is only interested in following Sugar around, hearts practically emitting from his eyes. 

Snow falls in thick flakes,  dotting Arthur’s red flannel and melting against the thick material.  He pays it no mind. The snowfall silences the forest, save for the rhythmic whack…whack of Arthur’s ax hitting the evergreen, and the softened sound of playful hooves in the snow.

“Don’t tire yourselves out.” Arthur huffs to the horses, “Jesus.”

A few more swings of the ax, and the tree begins to fall. It hits the ground with a thud, not nearly as loud as Arthur imagined it would be. But, the snow softened the fall, he supposes. 

In a matter of minutes, the tree is in the wagon. Just a few more, and Jasper and Sugar are pulling it home. 

If everything is going according to plan, right now you should be with Marybeth, picking holly. She had taken you out, because she had “wanted to spruce up camp a bit.” Little do you know, the little adventure is a part of Arthur’s plan. With you away from camp, he was able to borrow Sugar, take Jasper, and get the tree. With you away from camp, the final touches can fall into place.

Arthur gently taps the reins over the horse’s backs, urging them into a faster canter along the beaten down snow path back towards camp.

“Hyah! C’mon, we’re pushin’ it.” He calls to the horses. The little golden bells on their harnesses jingle and ring as he pushes them towards camp, massive evergreen in tow. He checks his pocket watch, cursing quietly before putting it away.  Sadie should be done by now. 

It’s not long before the horses are pulling into camp, large puffs of white billowing out from their noses as they catch their breath. Arthur hops down from the wagon, his hand running along the expanse of it as he reaches the back. 

“Well,  I’ll be damned!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp. He makes his way towards the wagon, “Now this is how we celebrate Christmas!” 

The evergreen nearly overtakes the wagon, branches sticking out from all directions, billows of snow still stuck to them. Dutch has no idea how Arthur managed to get it into the wagon. An approaching Hosea is just as flabbergasted.  

“You know, I never took you to be much of a romantic, Arthur. But this might just prove me wrong.” Hosea 

“Whatever you say. Now, quit gawkin’ and help me get this big bastard up.” Arthur mumbles, grabbing the thick tree by the trunk and pulling it down. Sap sticks to his hands as he begins to drag it out of the wagon. Carrying it into the center of camp is a group effort– much easier than Arthur getting it into the wagon by himself. 

“I reckon you two can handle this. I got some other things to check up on.” Arthur steps back, sizing the tree up and down.

“Run along then and leave us the hard work.” Dutch muses, within earshot of Arthur.

“Figured it would do your old bones some good to do real work, Dutch!” Arthur hollers back over his shoulder,  chuckling to himself as he makes his way towards the circle of tents.

“Mrs. Adler?”  Arthur hollers, approaching the A-frame tent, “You in there?”

Before he can part the white canvas tent, Sadie emerges, and he backs up.

 “You get it done?” Arthur asks, cheeks tinged bright pink from the cold. Hat white instead of black. Sadie chuckles for it. 

“Did I get it done?” Sadie mocks with a huff, “A’ course I got it done.”

From her tent, she pulls out a Christmas tree garland. A string carefully woven through dried cranberries and popped corn. It's beautiful and long. It must have taken her hours to make. Arthur’s eyes go wide in small wonder as she transfers the garland to him. 

“S’perfect, Sadie. She’s gonna love this.”

A wide, bittersweet smile stretches across Sadie’s face, “Jake taught me how,” there is a pause as Arthur nods in understanding, “Now go. Go decorate it for your woman.” Sadie smirks.  

“Dear boy! Dear boy, how does it look?” Hosea calls out, and Arthur’s attention shoots towards the tree. They have it standing upright now, perfectly in the center of camp. It stands tall, a real beauty. 

“Perfect.” He gapes at it, wishing he could have done something like this when he was younger– hoping that it will live up to your memories. Arthur doesn’t have the money to buy fancy ornaments, but he’s doing everything in his power to make it special for you. 

With the help of the horses and the wagon, everyone manages to wrap the garland the whole way around the tree, even up to the top. The little trail of white and red looks beautiful against the dark green of the pine. Arthur places lit candles in holders on the branches, casting a beautiful hazy glow that lights up the tree. Camp members begin to gather, circling around the tree, watching and helping. Mrs. Grimshaw offers some holly. Karen offers some candy canes that she had bought in town, hanging them from the branches. 

The sun begins to set, and Arthur checks his watch, knowing that you’ll be back any minute. A small tug on his pants pulls his attention downwards. 

“Uncle Arthur?” Little Jack whispers, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tree lights, “I made this for you! For you to put it on auntie's tree!” 

Arthur’s brow furrows, and he glances quickly up to Abigail, who is smiling warmly. Jack reaches into his little bag and pulls out a beautiful paper star. He has apparently put a lot of time and effort into folding and cutting the paper into a perfect little topper. Jack’s little hands extend the star up to Arthur, the smile on his face brighter than any of the tree’s candles. 

“You made this?” Arthur asks. 

“Yep, I sure did! Momma even helped me cut the paper!” 

Arthur kneels on the ground– eye level with Jack, a smirk on his lips,  “I think we better put it on the top then, don't you?”

“Oh yes! It would be perfect on top! I just hope aunt y/n likes it…” 

“She’ll love this, buddy.” 

With some more help from a very grumpy Sugar, Arthur manages to place the star perfectly on  the tree top. And just in time, apparently.

When Arthur steps back, taking in the tree for all its glory, his jaw falls slack, eyes filling up with wonder.

It's beautiful. At dusk, the candles shine brightly. The garland has attracted a few red cardinals, and they rest in the branches, comfortable in the new camp tree. Everyone looks in awe. It’s perfect.

— — — 

“No peekin’.” Arthur whispers in your ear from behind, his hands covering your eyes. He slowly walks you forwards towards… something. He hasn’t explained anything to you, just… kidnapped you right outside of camp. You’ve been walking with him, eyes covered for nearly five minutes. 

“Oh, Arthur, what is going on!?” You giggle, hands covering the length of his own, a smile plastered on your face. 

“S’a surprise, darlin’. That’s why you can’t peek.” Arthur’s voice whispers from behind you,  his chest nearly pressed against your back as he inches you forward. 

You roll your eyes. Suddenly, his footsteps are still behind you, and you stop in return. 

“Is this why I was stuck in the forest picking berries all day?” You ask. Arthur huffs. 

“Shhh. We’re here.” He shushes. 

Your heart quickens with excitement, bottom lip tight between your teeth with anticipation. As much as you try to listen for any clues, all you can hear is the munching of hay and the crackle of the campfire– typical for camp after dusk. 

“Arthur…?” You whisper, almost afraid to break the quiet. Anticipation swirls in your stomach, followed by anxiety tickling up your spine. 

His calloused hands pull away from your eyes, and your lashes flutter as you focus on the sight in front of you.

It’s… a christmas tree. Your jaw falls slack, and as unladylike as it may be, you can’t help it. A small gasp escapes your rosy lips. 

It must be twelve feet high, and it's thick with branches. Candles, and decor wrap around the tree like a dress tailored to perfection. Color and light burst from the beautiful tree, and before you can control yourself, tears are welling up in your eyes. 

“Arthur, I–” Your voice cracks, the tears almost spilling over.

“Darlin’?” Arthur’s thumb softly brushes the inside of your hand. For a moment, he worries that he’s misstepped terribly. The sight of your tears brings forth a small panic, quelled by the outburst of your smile. Tears fall freely from your eyes, but they are of joy– not sadness. 

“You got me– You got me a Christmas tree?” You smile, wiping away the tears as he envelopes you into his warm arms. You sniffle, laughs of pure joy escaping into his chest as he holds you tight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Arthur whispers to you, arms wrapped around your waist. The light from the tree dances in your eyes, almost as beautiful and bright as your smile. 

“Oh, Arthur, it’s perfect.” You gasp, eyes glued to the tree, pulling away to glance into Arthur’s eyes, “How ever did you get it here?” 

“With a little help.” Arthur nods towards the horse station where Sugar and Jasper are laying in the hay, nuzzling each other sweetly. As if knowing, Sugar whinnies towards you softly, followed by a quiet neigh from Jasper.  

Your eyes wander back towards the tree in front of you, and then to Arthur once again. His hands slide down from your waist, thumbs settling into the dimples in your back. 

“It's beautiful.” You say.

“It’s all yours.” 

In all of your life, Arthur has been the first person to cater to your emotions– to care about them. Your heart fills with love, so much that it overflows and floods the earth at your feet. Soaking into the ground of the camp, touching the hearts of the others around you. 

“I love you.” You whisper, head resting on Arthur’s chest, eyes fixed on a cardinal that’s pecking at the popped corn on the tree. 

“I-” Arthur pauses, realizing. His brow furrows, eyes flickering down, “Wait, what?”

“I said I love you.” You reiterate, chin propped on his chest to look up at him. Arthur looks nearly blown away by the words. Words he’s not heard from you yet. Words that he’s nearly let slip time and again over the past few months. 

Arthur’s lips crack into a smile, crows feet wrinkling for the action. His thumb brushes your cheek before trailing down to your chin, pulling you in towards his lips. You lean on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his, meeting him with all the love and joy that you never thought would be possible for you. He’s taken you from a bad situation, and given you everything you could have wanted and more. Your lips press against his, pink-tinged noses lining each other. Your eyes flutter shut, snowflakes catching in your thick lashes as you deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the base of his neck, your tongues dance with one another. 

When you pull away to breathe, your eyes lock with his, sparkling with light. 

“I love you too.” He smirks, hands wrapping under your thighs, eliciting giggles from you as he hoists you into his arms. Fat snowflakes fall into your hair as Arthur turns towards your tent, ready to carry you to bed. 

“No- wait!” You grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks, “Please, Arthur- just five more minutes. I’d like to keep looking at the tree.” 

Arthur pauses, brushing your cold cheek, “Alright. Five more minutes.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your hair.

The tree shines bright as ever, as if god had sprinkled stardust down from the heavens, painting your tree in beautiful white light. 

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

[aliorsboxostuff]

I LOVE THE MIGUEL FICS SO MYCH OH MY GOD

Could I request a fic where Miguel gets flustered over you kissing him and showering him with love and you tease him about it?

WOWWWIE I GOT CARRIED AWAY W THIS ONE GHJDFGLKSH left it on a cliffhanger cuz i wasnt hmmm….. ‘Ovulating’ as the girls says it LMAO anyways hope you enjoy this anon!!

Skittering Touch

Tags: Miguel O’hara xM!Reader, Spidey!Reader, Lyla, Spider Society, No Smut, Kissing , Fluff, Reader is another spiderman, Tease!Reader, slight OOC, teasing, suggestive content

Maybe teasing Miguel that much was worth it. 

—

It’s been half a year since you began going out with Miguel.

Half a year of subtle touches, short pecks on the lips and cheek and stealing glances at each other. Obviously, as time moves, so does a relationship and your relationship with the Spider Society leader is no different. 

The funny thing is, despite Miguel's hardened exterior, you never miss to spot the man melting whenever you give him the slightest affection. Whether it be holding his hand, suddenly giving him a peck on the cheek, or wrapping your arms around him he would immediately halt whatever he was doing and turn into a red, stuttering mess. 

You've used this advantage over him too many times to count. Most of it was used whenever you found the younglings getting scolded by Miguel, usually just out of his irritation, but you knew it’d affect the teen’s mood for the rest of the day. As you watch Miguel, hands on hips with his annoyed tone towards Miles and Gwen, you can't help but snicker at the plan brewing in your head. You swing down from the beam you were hanging on and stop behind Miguel before slithering your arms around his narrow waist. You practically felt the sudden jolt of his body, Miguel’s arms half extended like a bird's wings. 

“With that the two of you should've-” He choked, feeling your familiar warmth behind him. 

“Awhh honeeey, have mercy on these kids would ya’? I'm sure they didn't mean to do whatever it is they did,” You pout, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Why don't you two excuse yourselves and head over to Margo, hm? I bet she has some stuff you two can work on,”

Despite the same confused expression on the teens’ faces, they both hurry to swing out of the area, leaving you with a flustered Miguel in your arms. 

“Sweet heart why would you…” You giggle at his groaned-out response, finding the much larger man adorable while his complexion turns a deep red. 

“Sorry Miguel, I just couldn't resist your tempting hips, they’re just built for my arms,” You smirk as the man turns around, his arms around your neck. Miguel huffs as he's unable to hold the smile that creeps up his lips. That triples his current cuteness and you couldn't help but bring him closer to press your lips against his. Miguel returns the eagerness, a deep chuckle rumbles through him.

Other times, it was to help Miguel out instead of teasing him in front of the other Spideys. 

Whenever a mission does a number on him, you could find Miguel burying himself in work and suddenly too deep into surveying the myriads of universes scattered across the webs. It digs a deep worry into your heart seeing him in such a distressing state. Sometimes it takes you a while just to call him down to have dinner together. But there is one way to snap him out of that s[iral of overworking himself.

You’d swing yourself atop his platform before softly landing beside him. With a steady hand on his shoulder, you pull his chin towards you and leave a short peck on his cheek. Miguel would blink once, twice before inhaling sharply as his blush spread through him. 

“Carino,” You’d call, earning Miguel’s full attention now. “It's getting late, let's have dinner together,”

You smile as you press the ascent button on the platform, slowly leading Miguel towards your shared sleeping living quarters where a warm dinner is waiting. 

After dinner you’ll coil around him and bring him to bed, patting his soft curls while he lets off steam with whispers of a rant or simply bask in your warmth, engulfed within your arms. At these times, you cherish how big and cuddly Miguel truly is, especially how he keens when you scratch a certain spot on his nape. Your boyfriend resembles so much like a big panther it’s hard to find him intimidating, you thought with a giggle. 

“Why’re you laughin?” He glances, propping his chin on the expanse of your chest. You shake your head, a smile still evident on your lips. 

“Nothin’ love, what were you saying about Gwen again?” And he’ll continue his rambling.

Other times, you do it well… just because. When you have the most respected spidey in the compound by the tips of your finger, why won't you play with him a little, you know? 

It's been a week of nonstop onslaught towards Miguel. Swinging past him while he talks with Jessica and smacking a kiss right on his forehead, making him halt with an immediate blush over those high cheekbones. Then wrapping your arms just for a minute while he reviews mission files, making him drop the holo-tablet with a clang before you jump away. Or the day when you kissed the back of his hand, squeezing it, before leaping into a portal into the dimension you were assigned, making him stand blankly while Miles's group snicker before they jump into their portals.

When Lyla informed you that Miguel was waiting in your shared living space, you quickly ran from finishing your mission and into the directions of the room. Miguel must have been in a sour mood to have Lyla tell you he’s expecting you instead of shooting a text himself, but you thought it must have been another misbehaving spidey or a mission gone sideways, so when you entered the room to find it empty your brows raised in question. 

“Miguel?”You call into the ghostly room with nothing to reverb an answer. You take a step inside, pulling back the cover to, obviously, no one. Tilting your head, you figured Miguel won't be hiding in the bathroom if he ever was hiding. The only possible conclusion would be Miguel is waiting for you in the other room, a small office space you usually hole up to read or do your other hobbies. 

The door slides open with a hiss, the room inside engulfed in darkness. You take a cautious step inside. “Miguel, Lyla told me you-”

Your spidey senses weren't triggered by how fast Miguel pinned your waist to the wall. His claws gather your wrists above your head, and another sharp nail dances over the fabric of your suit.

“You…” He growls, eyes a bleeding red as it bores into you. Hot breath ghosts over your pulse as you gulp, you anticipate the sharp sting of Miguel’s fangs. 

“You’ve been teasing me this whole week, you little-” He huffs, taking a lungful of your musk, before another low growl breaks out as he straightens to meet your eyes again. His breath is labored, eyes almost frantic with either arousal or anger you couldn't discern. 

“Take resposnisbility.” Miguel bites before he releases your hands, now those claws reach around your body, pawing at your suit, which you quickly pry off of yourself.

Maybe teasing Miguel that much is worth it. 

Reblogs are appreciated <3

[mcumorningstar]

Do Not Disturb

pairing: larry durrell x reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, exhibitionism (sort of but it’s not intentional)

summary: it’s 1935 and you impulsively follow your boyfriend and his family to live in Corfu, however you did not anticipate how little privacy you would get.

a/n: there’s a criminal lack of larry gifs. i love this show so much.

Following Larry Durrell and his family to Corfu was the dumbest, most impulsive decision you ever made.

And it was wonderful.

Waking up everyday to blue skies and soothing waves, breakfast on the patio and trips to the local market.

But your boyfriend’s family were very full-on, all the time.

“At least close the shutters!” Leslie shouted from the patio below Larry’s bedroom window.

Like most younger brothers, Leslie was infuriatingly outspoken about his grievances, especially those involving Larry’s good fortune.

Stilling his hips, Larry lay between your legs and dropped his forehead to your chest, panting breaths fanned out against your sweaty skin.

“Sex is a normal biological function! Go away and have some! Oh wait, Alexia dumped you!” Larry shouted back, snapping his head towards the window, before you slapped a hand over his mouth.

The sound of the ocean rushing against the shore and the breeze of sea air drafted through the glassless window.

“Shut up! Bastard!” Leslie angrily cried.

“Ignore him… and don’t stop,” you whined, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist and clawing at his back.

Larry laughed and lifted his head, “But you do know he’s in love with you? And can hear?”

“I do not want to think about your little brother while we make love, Larry,” You held his face in your hands as his body pressed you into the mattress.

Digging your thighs into his hips, you turned him onto his back. The bed springs creaked and cried out underneath you.

A surprised moan came from the man below you, “You are... incredible.”

“You’re a published author and that’s the best you can do?”

“While I’m inside you, yes, yes it is,” Larry rambled, brows furrowed and struggling to stay still. A flood of giggles escaped you at his worked-up state.

Working up a rhythm, you pressed your palms to his firm chest and rocked your hips up and down on his cock.

Strong but soft hands gripped the flesh of your hips, aiding your movements, as a sheen of sweat began to form on your skin.

The loud slap of your spread thighs against his pelvis echoed through the room. There were scuff marks on the wooden floor underneath the four posts of his bed.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you threw your head back, moans spilling from your mouth. Larry watched you bounce on his cock with hooded eyes and parted lips.

“Oh god,” He watched your tits bounce and reached up to cup them in his palms, brushing his thumbs over your pert nipples.

Three loud thuds boomed through the wall to your left. Margo’s room, his younger sister.

“How much longer do I have to endure this?” Margo’s girlish voice sounded through the wall and you could practically hear her pout.

“Ignore her,” Larry panted, attempting to keep up the pace of your hips as you slowed to a stop.

“Do they ever leave the house?” It was your turn to press your forehead to his chest. Your bodies pressed flush together and the wiry hair below his navel tickled your abdomen.

“Yes,” Larry nodded, “Though I suppose Leslie has given up shooting and Margo is more interested in sunbathing than employment.”

“Ah.”

“And they love you,” Larry pulled your face from his neck with a big grin, “I can hardly blame them for lingering at the house to spend time with you.”

You melted at his praise, kissing him softly. One press of his lips then a second then another as your kisses grew heated, tongues clashing.

Your hips began to grind back and forth, and Larry thrusted into you from below.

“Larry! Larry, darling!” His mother’s shrill voice called from the patio, “Is he in? Have you seen your brother?”

With a frustrated sigh, you stopped your movements and pressed your cheek to his chest. He stroked your back, bare skin flushed and sweaty.

Outside, Leslie grumbled to his mother, “They were copulating in his den of sin.”

Then suddenly she was knocking at the door.

“Do not come in!” Larry called sternly. You were both naked and he was still inside you.

“Alright, I was wondering if y/n would like to join me in town today,” She asked through the door, as sweet as ever.

“No, she’s busy,” Larry responded sulkily, clutching you to him.

“He’s being selfish, Louisa! I would love to join you,” You pushed yourself off your boyfriend and out of the warmth of his bed. Pressing a deep kiss to his lips, you began to dress.

“Y/n’s going? Can I come too?” Margo asked, sickly sweet just like her mother.

After agreeing, the excited party of two headed downstairs but Larry continued to pout.

“I reserve the right to be selfish, for being raised in a family full of unintelligent cock-block busybodies,” Larry complained, sprawled out in his bed, the sheet tenting over his fucked but unsatisfied cock.

“I’ll check the market for any remedies,” You teased, smoothing out your appearance, “You might have to settle for some Nietzsche and your hand.”

Larry forced a deadpan laugh. It was incredibly easy to poke fun at his obnoxiousness.

He stared as you moved around his bedroom as if it was your own, wearing the sundress he bought you.

He supposed it was your room now, too.

“I wish I had you all to myself.”

Sitting in the edge of his bed, you leaned over him and met his eyes.

“Then you’re going to have to get creative,” You kissed him, a few lingering pecks, before heading out of the door.

[valentine-writes]

their "i love you"s and other drabbles...

「 tws + notes: no tws, HEAVILY unedited, a little angst in sum partz but f it we ball (THERE'S SUMN WRONG W/ ME I NEVER DO THIS MUCH?), fluff, tried to add a lil bit of everyone, little thoughtz abt the characters,,, 」

↳ ft. ben reilly/scarlet spider, gwen stacy, hobie brown/spider-punk, jessica drew, lyla, margo kess, miles morales (1610 and 42), miguel o'hara/spider-man 2099, pavitr prabhakar, peter b parker, spider-man noir, and the spot/johnathan ohnn

「 gn!reader, romantic relationships <3 」

author's note: not my usual content but thought it wud b fun to whip up a few drabbles,, (´。＿。｀) diff format than usual too! all separate and stuff, w/ the characterz at the bottom being the ones the drabble applies to the most (ALL CAPZ MEANS I THOUGHT IT FIT THEM SUPER WELL!!!!) thought it wud b fun,,, altered lyrics are italicized, itz jus a pronoun change 2 make it gender neutral (❁´◡`❁) edit: my tags. do not fit. so i had to redo them. reblogz r super appreciated ^_^ i jus wanna make sure all fans of these characterz are being fed content <33

[ please don't forget about me - pompey ]

"and if you see me everyday / will I lose my shine?"

↳ always terrified of not being exciting and new to you– like one day, their appeal will fade. not like they understand what drew you to them in the first place, but they never asked. maybe you're just hanging around for the hell of it. maybe one day, they'll watch you leave and they'll have nothing to convince you to stay

"how many bad jokes will it take? / or awkward quiet times?"

↳ they wonder if they're already losing you slowly. everytime they speak to you, it's like they're trying to compensate for something. begging you to look at them– but not too close,,, just in case you notice how brutally flawed they are, beyond just the quirks you find endearing. maybe one day you'll look too deep into their eyes and you won't like what you see

▸ JOHNATHAN OHNN/THE SPOT, peter b parker

[ soft sounds from another planet - japanese breakfast ]

"i'll show you the way to hurt me"

↳ loving again is the biggest risk anyone who's been hurt like them could take. you make it worth the danger– the possibility of the pain they've grown all too familiar with. maybe for today, caution can be set aside. when it comes to you, they wouldn't mind letting their guard down.

"in search of a soft sound from another planet / in search of a quiet place to lay this to rest."

↳ they have to admit their past has burdened them in ways they can't even begin to communicate. they know you can't fix everything that has been broken in their lives. still, the comfort you provide is never taken for granted. you are their safe space– the soft sound from another planet. their quiet place to finally lay it all to rest. and suddenly, the aching in their chest doesn't eat them up inside as much as it used to.

you make it easy to love again.

▸ GWEN STACY, MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099

[ our lullabye - miracle musical ]

"i was made for you / you were made for me"

↳ it's hard to believe that you're more than just a distant fantasy sometimes. they can't deny how much they've yearned for a love like the one you two share. something so sweet, so real. it's nothing like the movies or the fairytales, but is anything ever? even when things are messy and complicated, it's undeniable how perfect it all feels. how everything about the two of you just fits. they're inclined to thank every shooting star they've ever wished on, every birthday candle they've ever held their deepest desires in as they blew the flame out for the day you two met. by any manner of higher power or forces unseen to the human eye, they're certain fate was on their side to give them such a blessing.

"i'll love you 'till you're gone / our song goes on and on"

↳ they're determined to hold on as long as possible. all good things cannot last– but they try not to dwell on that thought. they hold onto the hope that you're the one thing that will stay. your love feels divine. radiant, in the way it overtakes them fully. they almost feel undeserving. so, no matter how small or how grand the action, they try to remind you every day, "i love you"s woven into their every being whenever you're around.

▸ lyla, SPIDER-MAN NOIR, johnathan ohnn/the spot

[ i will - mitski ]

"everything you feel is good / if you would only let you"

↳ sometimes they feel you holding back. they can't help but notice the tension in the room as you suppress the things you want to say, silence the thoughts in your head. they know it's not easy to be earnest all the time. but they love you– they care for you. and all they've ever wanted is for you to be authentic. if it's pure, how could it ever be wrong? maybe in your own time, you'll be able to unravel in front of them. they're by your side every step of the way. to finally have you open up to them– to be real, to be honest– it would mean the world to them. they want to show you they love every single part of you. they love you when you're upset, when you're crying, when you're angry– because it's you.

"so stay with me / hold my hand / there's no need / to be brave"

↳ they offer every reassurance they can give you. you no longer have to fend for yourself. those days of being alone are over. you can crumble apart if you need– there's no need for constant bravery anymore. you did such a good job picking yourself up, time and time again. now, they outstretch a hand to you, a silent way of saying, "let me help you this time."

▸ ben reilly/scarlet spider, gwen stacy, HOBIE BROWN/SPIDER-PUNK, JESSICA DREW, lyla, MILES MORALES (1610), PAVITR PRABHAKAR, PETER B PARKER tbh all of them but shhh

[ right side of my neck - faye webster ]

"you looked back at me once / but i looked back two times"

↳ absolutely smitten with you. it doesn't matter how hard you fell. they. fell. harder. and maybe it's not obvious to you. but they've never had someone who made them care so much. some part of them feels immature for feeling so in love,, like a school kid with a puppy crush. they find it ridiculous, how absolutely lovesick and enamoured they are with everything about you. whatever you feel and express towards them, they feel towards you three times as much. they try everyday to show it.

"the right side of my neck / still smells like you"

↳ you just seem to leave a part of you with them always. they can't ignore it– can't seem to escape your presence, even when you're not physically there. it felt like spiralling to insanity at first. but they've learned to appreciate it– find comfort in it, even. the way the smell of your shampoo lingers on the pillow they leant you when you stayed over, the way that the mug of tea (made just the way you like it) is still on the kitchen table from the morning after– you left your t-shirt once and you had to ask them directly for it back. they like keeping pieces of you near. it reminds them of how loved they are.

▸ BEN REILLY/SCARLET SPIDER, gwen stacy, HOBIE BROWN/SPIDER-PUNK, MARGO KESS, miles morales (1610 and 42), pavitr prabhakar, the spot/johnathan ohnn

[ you love me - kimya dawson ]

"but when i met you, right away, i knew / you would never, ever, ever hurt me"

↳ you're used to pulling away. leave before they can leave you, before they even try to make you miss them– but the second you met them? they were insistent on proving that they were harmless. they could never dream of hurting you. and they see as you pull away, scared to get too close– and yet, every single time, they open their arms back to you.

"and the road's still long but you come along / and you hold my hand, and you understand"

↳ "when you're ready" has become second place in their favourite three word sentences. they remind you of these words constantly.

"when you're ready" means they don't mind that it's not now. ""when you're ready" means it doesn't matter how long they have to wait for you, they will. when you're ready" is another form of "i love you"

▸ MARGO KESS, MILES MORALES (1610), pavitr prabhakar, PETER B PARKER, spider-man noir

[ (you) on my arm - leith ross ]

"i wanna buy you pretty little things / and never ever lie to you"

↳ wants something simple with you. craves a form of sweet, normalcy. the mundane tasks and events of life seem far more appealing to them when you're in the picture. no, they never really imagined ever having a quiet life, yet the hope for one with you lingered. to buy you little gifts, to be the best they could possibly be to you, to drive around with you for the hell of it. they're certain anything could be heaven if you were there to accompany them.

a quiet life sounds nice.

"i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it"

↳ having you on their arm just makes them feel secure. keeping you close while showing you off to the world– showing you've got each other. they're a bit sappy for little things like this. everywhere you go, they never fail to extend an arm out to you. something about you makes them feel safer than ever.

▸ jessica drew, miles morales (1610), MILES MORALES (42), peter b parker, SPIDER-MAN NOIR

[ peach scone - hobo johnson ]

"so I fall to ground, collect myself and get ready to take over your heart / or at least your spare time"

↳ they try so incredibly hard to be the one for you. no matter what they try, they just seem to fumble and mess it up. they stumble over their words when they try to compliment you, they get weak in the knees when they try to make a move, and no matter how much they spend deliberating, and deliberating– they've got no clue how to win you over. hopefully you find their clumsy attempts endearing. they're making a fool of themself. and maybe, they haven't really said anything yet– but they're happy to at least hang around you in the meantime

▸ BEN REILLY/SCARLET SPIDER, gwen stacy, MILES MORALES (1610), spider-man noir, the spot/johnathan ohnn

[ dan the dancer - mitski ]

" he liked them more than life itself / i'm sure "

↳ he was quiet in the way he expressed his adoration. still, he did everything he could to ensure you would never go unloved. the way he looks into your eyes, taking you in like you are the loveliest thing on earth... it's only fitting. you're his world. maybe in the silent moments, when his fingers gently brush your cheek, admiring you– you'd begin to understand this.

▸ MILES MORALES (42), MIGUEL O'HARA/SPIDER-MAN 2099

[ lover // over the moon - alice phoebe lou ]

"i'm a lover / i feel it now / i'm a lover / just never knew how"

↳ they don't even try to hide how much they enjoy your company. you're special to them– why would they try to hide that? at this point, whenever you feel arms wrap around you from behind, you've learned to see their grinning face when you glance over your shoulder. maybe they've never been particularly shy about most things,, but now they're just twice as loud. it's inexplicable, the things you do to them. they hadn't anticipated being so utterly soft,,, not like they're complaining

▸ hobie brown/spider-punk, PAVITR PRABHAKAR

[luveline]

𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers. 

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?" 

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo." 

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in. 

"Very much," you agree. 

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys." 

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks." 

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?" 

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones. 

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask. 

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny. 

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him. 

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?" 

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious. 

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says. 

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog." 

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says. 

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower. 

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice." 

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that. 

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest. 

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin. 

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–" 

"Not what happened–" 

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words. 

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes. 

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze. 

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better. 

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone. 

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?" 

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down. 

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again." 

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly. 

"Then I won't say it." 

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory. 

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…" 

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say. 

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?" 

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment. 

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate. 

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks. 

"About you, handsome? All the time." 

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag. 

"That's in poor taste," he says. 

"I would like to hand in my resignation." 

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram." 

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

[glowstick-cafe]

♡Across the Spiderverse: Relationship Hc's♡

Hobie Brown x reader

Genre: Fluff(?)

Warning: Hobie is so cool and he knows it, black peepole(British rizz) being in love, as always reader is gender neutral.

Summary: You actully hated him at first, but the line between hate and love are often blurred.

A/n: You guys liked me being delulu with Pav so imma be delulu with Hobie. Also, leave a comment if you want. :]

_______________________________________

You are a part of the spider society, Miguel just picked you up and said, "You're coming with me, kid." And you've just been on it ever since.

Your often aided Margo with her work(not like she minded), mostly because talking to spiders other than her, Miguel, Jessica, and Lyla were scary.

That's when you met Hobie, you truly had no idea what the hell he was saying for a full hour into him talking becauseof his accent, and he probably picked up on that from your constant confused nodding.

Hobie was fine with you not wanting to talk, which you appreciated; the boy was always happy to carry the conversation, and he assumed you wanted to be friends because you've been following him around and listening to him attentively.

Your friendship with Hobie was great, you've even stayed over at his house a few times to watch a movie you never made it through because you always fell asleep.

That was when Gwen came into the picture. You didn't hate her, she was actully really sweet and you had a lot of fun with her, but Hobies' attention began to be more on Gwen rather than you.

When Hobie began to notice how distant you were becoming he confronted you when you both were watching a movie at his house again, for old time sake.

"You've been ignorin' me lately, why?" He asked bluntly, Hobie was laying on your lap looking straight up at you.

"I'm not ignoring you, you have Gwen to talk to, anyway." You quickly realized how you sounded and cursed yourself, you looked down to meet Hobie's gaze only to see him with an amused expression. "A bit jealous, are ye?" He jokingly questioned, then sat up from you lap.

You could feel the heat emanating from your face, "No! Not like that- I just....fuck off!" You retorted, before you could embarrass yourself futher, Hobie placed a finger under your chin and gave you a peck on the lips. "It was never like that with Gwen, you idiot."

Safe to say that you stayed awake for that whole movie.

When you and Hobie started dating, he became more touchy, in the sense that he has to be touching you in some way.

He loves showing you off, it's like Peter B. showing off his kid, he takes offense if they don't wanna see you.

Hobie likes to rest is head on yours, it happens everywhere, standing in a line, washing dishes, it great for him, not so much for your neck though.

He also likes to likes to hug you from behind, but since your a bit jumpy about hugs the alternative is using your head as a pillow, or using your shoulder.

"Mate, wha chu' mean you don't wanna see my partner?"

He's so soft for you, even with he doesn't want to be.

He absolutely melts when you lightly tugg on his pinky finger or his jacket when you want his attention for something.

You love to kiss all of his piercings individually when you notice he's not having a great day.

You can't do cornrows for the life if you, but Hobie got you covered. He sits you down between his legs and does your hair as you watch whatever.

God forbid you touch your cornrows while he's doing them, he will hit your hand with that comb and it will hurt. "Why you tryin' to mess up my work, nah?"

[hoshigray]

A Pricked Hand to Hold

Just thinking about h*lding h*nds with Miguel for the first time bc I'm still fucking soft for this man (like it's so bad).

An: Yup, it's been three weeks, and my infatuation for this man has yet to falter (or that movie in general bc I've seen it like 5-6 times already, and can't get tired of it). This was meant to be a little smthn, but I just wanted to get my soft aggression out of the way. Also, tysm for 1k followers again!! Like fr, y'all are too sweet :') Sacrificed sleep to get this done, sooooo hope you guys like it!! If there are spelling/grammar errors, my dumbass will take care of it tmrw bc I need to take a fckin nap right tf now ahhhhhh— Also! Gonna make an ATSV masterlist later today, so I'll be sure to link it when it's done!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - h*nd h*lding (barf) - the reader is implied to be in college (at least age 20) - you and Miguel aren't together [yet] but the pining is strong in this one! - Lyla and Jessica teasing you lovestruck idiots lol - you accidentally prick yourself with your lead pencil, but no blood or injuries - ayo you and Miguel almost kiss tho??

Wc: 2.1k

As usual, it was a busy day at headquarters. Many anomalies have been captured for Margo to send back home, Spiders helping other Spiders fight off evil-doers and placing them back in their universes, and Pavitr having a scare nearly revealing his identity to his girlfriend, Gayatri.

Then there's you, sitting at a table doing your homework that needs to be finished for the lecture tomorrow. But you're not alone. In front of the table are three others discussing matters of their own. Lyla is giving new information about another anomaly that needs to be captured before going home, and Jessica's leaning on her motorbike listening to her pixel friend. Right next to her is another taller person listening along as well.

Miguel O'Hara — leader of the Spider Society and the man you've been pining for a while now.

You've been working here for a few months, taking in Margo's shifts or helping Lyla relay messages to other Spiders across the multiverse. At first, you've tried to keep it simple and only see it as a job. But the more you work here, the closer you get to others...and your boss, Miguel, is no exception.

Things started short and blunt with him between you two — just simple greetings and exchanges of the necessary information. But then there was a time when the man was in HQ for far too long, probably sacrificing too much sleep and time to eat that day. So, you got him something from the cafeteria and a little note telling him to "Take care of yourself, leader!" before going home.

From that day on, you and Miguel got closer slowly but surely. Not only does he appreciate you reminding him to take breaks or grab something to eat, but he also checks up on you whenever it's your shift, talks to you on his breaks, or eats dinner with you whenever he has a chance (or when he's not stressed out).

And how you talk to each other is much more comfortable and personal. Sure, you're still respectful of his position and are aware of his duties, but it's always a guilty pleasure when he spends his little free time with you. Unfortunately, you've developed feelings for the tall and brawny Spiderman due to this.

You know how complicated it is to have feelings for someone, especially within the work field, so this is something that you have no faith in whatsoever. But for some reason, you can't help but think something between the two of you is starting to bloom...and based on his actions, maybe Miguel feels the same way as well? Lyla and Jessica tease you, saying it's plain to see that even Pav fangirls about you two.

".../n."

However, for a man like him, is such a thing possible?

"Y/n."

Your thoughts vanish as you turn to the person calling for your attention, just to find it's from Miguel. The two women are nowhere to be found, probably tending to other matters you didn't catch because of your overthinking.

"Yes!" you stutter a reply. Oh God, I hope I didn't make him call on me so many times...

"Done with your homework?" He asks while coming to your side of the table.

You give him a nod, fidgeting with your mechanical pencil. "Yeah, I took care of the stuff for my classes tomorrow. Now I just got a paper to finish by Friday...What about you? Gonna head out soon?"

"I would, but I gotta stay here in case Jess needs backup for the mission. She just left to fix up her bike before she goes."

A chuckle sneaks past you, and Miguel swoons at the sound of it. "Are you sure you wanna do that? Didn't Lyla keep bothering you the last time?"

You can tell he reminisces the time you recall; his sigh and a shake from the lead confirm so. "Yeah, well, when is she not bothering me."

"Heard that." The woman appears in front of him quickly before disappearing again, leaving Miguel a little puzzled before a slight scowl paints his face. Yet it's not so bad when he sees you laugh at the interaction.

"I swear," your giggles wear down, but your smile remains. "It's like you two are siblings or something. But that just means the pestering comes from a place of love."

He hums at your words. "Yeah, love..."

For the past few months, you've been a reoccurring theme in Miguel's life that he thought he'd never experience again. From the day he met you, he figured keeping his distance and maintaining an appropriate work relationship would benefit him. But he was a fool to challenge your beauty and welcoming aura whenever you entered the scene. Especially your kind gestures, starting with the food and your little note for him.

It was apparent then that avoidance would do more harm to himself than good, so he spent his days getting to know you more, understanding you more, appreciating you more...and worse, loving you more.

An emotion such as love has been something that's only brought up painful memories and anguish. And for that reason, Miguel has chosen to dedicate his life and being to doing something he's good at — his job protecting the multiverse. Because, in his eyes, it's the only thing he seems capable of. Not love.

...However, whenever you look at him, speak to him, or smile at him, Miguel can't fight the twinge of his heart longing for something — longing for you. And he knows he isn't the only one who thinks so since Lyla constantly ridicules him about his "schoolboy crush," just like a sibling.

Nonetheless, he still doesn't go far from the talks you share with him or the times you eat together in a friendly manner. Because that's what he and you are comfortable with, and he wouldn't want to break it. Yet he can't help but wonder what would happen if he was just a little more selfish.

Be more selfish and pursue you...without losing you.

"OUCH!!"

Without hurting you.

Miguel's thoughts are immediately halted when he hears your hurtful cry. You drop your pencil and grab your finger as you wince through the pain. And he wastes no time coming to your proximity to examine what happened. "What!? Something wrong?"

"Ahhhh, yeah, I'm fine," You reassure him with an attempted smile. "I just accidentally pricked myself with my pencil."

"Let me see."

The words take a long to register before the man takes your hand in his, the back of your hand resting on his palm while he surveys your fingers. He then sees a tiny circle indent on your middle finger. "I don't see any pieces of lead."

"Oh, thank goodness," you exhale in relief. "Because I don't think I'd survive tomorrow if I did. I got three lectures that day!"

Miguel chortles at your comment, and it has the beat of your heart quicken. "So sorry for you."

Your smile is still prominent. "Thank you, Miguel."

"Don't mention it."

Silence follows those words, yet they're substituted with gazes between you and the man. The twinge on your lips slowly dissolves the more you lose yourself in his burnt amber eyes. The same goes for Miguel, who still has your hand in his.

The internal turmoil in his mind doesn't ease at that fact, incapable of deciphering whether to let go. And when your hand slowly reciprocates the hold — turning it for both palms to face each other — his breath hitches.

"Miguel..." his name appeared in a whisper, only for him to hear. Your breathing goes shaky when he replies with his fingers intertwined with yours. And you notice him take a tense gulp, easing your nerves to know that he's also nervous.

He knows he shouldn't be this close to you as it could jeopardize the relationship you have spent all these months building and maintaining together. However, this is the first time he's been so close to you, touching you. And his heart pushes him to want more.

He knows he shouldn't...but curiosity is an intriguing dance. That's why he slowly leans forward to you.

And you go rigid by the notion...yet your eyes are drawn to his lips, and you follow suit by going inward. Eyes close, letting the moment take place for itself.

"Ready, Miguel?"

Nevermind.

Both eyes open immediately, and locked hands are withdrawn from each other. Miguel puts on his mask quickly, but you could still see a slight flush of pink on his cheeks and ears before they were covered up. You straighten yourself and look to the other side of the table to see Jessica on her motorbike entering the scene.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

"Oh—" the woman spots you two before Miguel stands straight up, and she doesn't try to hide the smile that creeps on her face. "Oh. Was I interrupting something?"

"No." You two say in unison. Jess only lifts a brow through her yellow goggles. You continue with an explanation while you pack up your stuff. "I accidentally pricked my finger with my mechanical pencil, so Miguel checked it out to see if I had any lead on it."

"Ooh, yeah, those aren't fun. Basically like a splinter." Before Jessica could say more, Lyla appeared in everyone's line of sight.

"Good, you two are still here." She jumps around between Jessica and Miguel. "The anomaly we discussed earlier has jumped to another dimension as predicted; better get them now so we can go home."

The two nod while you get up from the table with your backpack. "Good luck out there, guys." You address the older three before exiting for the night, and they all say their goodbyes to you.

For a few seconds, your eyes linger on Miguel. Despite the mask covering his face, his gaze was intense and palpable. Without saying a word, you let your eyes say your final words before turning to leave.

Miguel still watches you leave until he's unable to spot you through the dark hall. And unfortunately for him, he can feel two pairs of eyes on him. He mentally prepares himself before looking at the two women who harbor shameless grins. "What's with the faces?"

Lyla and Jessica only share a look amongst themselves and shrug before answering him. "Oh, I don't know, Miguel." The pixelated woman darts close to the man. "What's with your face?"

"Wh-What are you—"

"C'mon now, Miguel." Jessica cuts him off. "Seems like something more was going on than just a pricked finger."

He sighs. "Well, you're wrong. Because that's all it was." The two share another look with each other as their smirks go higher.

"Oh~, my darling Miguel," Jessica changes her voice to a higher pitch and daydream tone. "I wish you luck on your mission and that you return to see me tomorrow~."

"Don't you worry, my wonderful Y/n," Despite Miguel's eyes narrowing at Lyla's terrible impression of his voice, she still acted out the role. "I will return to you unscathed and have you in my loving arms in no time~."

"I don't talk like that." The two women chuckle at his blunt statement. "How old do you think I am?"

"Old enough to look like a man but still scared to talk to your lil' crush." Jessica crosses her arms with a matter-of-fact attitude, her smile itching broader when Miguel rolls his eyes through the mask.

"Ay, por Dios, can we please open the portal already?" The poor man can only take so much teasing from the two, making him feel like he should've left with you instead.

Lyla giggles one last time before Jessica uses her watch to open a portal to the desired dimension. "Whatever you say, lover boy." The portal opens, and a flash of colors and shapes contrasts with the dull room. Jessica is the first to go, Miguel following right behind her.

Even when going on his mission, his mind can't stop thinking about you and the moment you shared together earlier. It was a risky thing to have happened, and he scolds himself for letting such a thing happen. Miguel knows he isn't a person for love, for it's something meant to be destroyed by his very touch. You are no exception; the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. He loves you too much to put you through that.

But then the compliance and willingness you've expressed in holding his hand surely meant that you wanted something more, right?

If Miguel were selfish enough, he'd use that as a hint. A hint to look forward to what other things you'd allow him to express to you.

If he were selfish enough, he would plan to approach you tomorrow in the right way.

If he were selfish enough, he'd test out the waters more and finally let this "love" flourish into something better.