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Go To Hell

I haven't written any fanfics in so long... consider this my official retirement from retirement!

In other news, i've been rewatching My Hero Academia, I feel the need to crank out some guilty pleasure ideas that've plagued my mind

please consider: Bakugo + Fake Dating, because I can (I will write this for more characters if literally one person asks)

"You're insane."

Never in your life did you think the time would come where you truly believed Katsuki Bakugo to have gone mad. For all his brutish, abrasive outbursts, this was the moment where you truly believed he'd taken a turn for the worst.

"Fuck off," Bakugo dismisses, clicking his tongue. You don't miss the way his gaze avoids your own, the way he seems to speak softer despite the attitude clawing at his throat.

You suddenly realize perhaps this isn't as far-fetched as you'd initially believed. You do your best to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering against his vermilion for only a moment. "Bakugo... You're not seriously taking me up on a joke, are you?"

"Hell no! That's such a dumb idea! Why would I ever fake being your boyfriend of all people!"

His words sting just a bit. You know good and well he doesn't mean it, this is just his personality, the way he deflects as to not let people into the intricacies of his mind. But you've been around the blonde long enough to know exactly what he means, even if he'll never outwardly say it.

You decide to have a bit of fun with it...

Exaggerating exasperation, you lean over the front of your desk. The summer sun glitters against your skin just right, its scorching heat a reminder that graduation is imminent.

"I suppose it's not the worst idea I've ever had... I could ask someone else... I don't wanna embarrass myself after hyping myself up to my aunt, after all..." You hum, tapping your finger against your chin, feigning as though you were surveying the room for options.

You begin listing off the names of potential bachelors. Todoroki, Sato, Kaminari, Sero, Iida...

Your mind settles on an individual in particular, one you know will leave the blonde's skin crawling in disgust.

"Think Midoriya would mind? He's a sweetheart, my family would adore-"

Bakugo responds quicker than your heart can beat.

"I'll do it."

"Do what?"

He clicks his tongue again. It's a habit you've grown to expect.

"I'll fake being your shitty boyfriend or whatever, just... Don't even think about asking that idiot..."

You seem to have struck a nerve, and while you should feel bad for manipulating Bakugo's ego, you know he wouldn't hesitate to do the same.

"Really!?" Your relief is palpable, like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. "You're amazing, Bakugo, I mean it! I didn't mean for the joke to hold so much meaning but I'm glad it's you!"

"But!" His sudden addition has you taken aback, there's no telling what he'll conjure in that wickedly clever mind of his. "I'm only doing this on one condition."

You fall back into your seat.

"Shoot."

"Why me?"

Out of everything he could've possibly asked, this surely wasn't something you'd considered.

"Why pick me first out of everyone here?"

You suddenly regret every word you'd uttered.

"Do you want my honest answer?"

Of course he did. From the moment the two of you had first grown acquainted your interactions had been built upon a mutual honesty. Bakugo wasn't one to shy away from speaking his mind, and when paired against someone with the same tendency for truthfulness, it was like a match made in heaven.

"You know me better than anyone, Bakugo. It wouldn't make sense for me to ask someone else, not when you're around."

He nods his head. That's all he needed to hear.

The blonde pinches your cheek, amused as you attempt to fight back. "Look at you being all sentimental and shit."

You push his hand away, his warmth like a campfire on an autumn evening. He smells of smoke and ash, the effects of this morning's practical still lingering on his skin.

In a moment of split-second decision making, he takes the hand you used to push him away into his own, fingers entangling as though designed to fit together perfectly. You remain this way for a minute, basking in the way it feels to be this innocently intimate.

"What are you-"

"If we're gonna do this, we might as well get acquainted with the proximity, right? Otherwise they'll see right through our act."

One thing about Bakugo, he'll never do anything half-assed. Any and every task will be given its all.

You do your best to keep the smile from creeping upon your lips, fighting the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"When's the wedding?" He asks.

"We have a week to get our act together." You respond.

"Couldn't have made this any more last minute, huh?"

In truth, you liked it this way.

Your crush on Bakugo has plagued your mind since the beginning of your second year. At first you'd believed him to be nothing more than an egocentric asshole - not that it mattered much, he'd always treated you as an equal - but as time ticked on you grew to admire him; his drive, determined to vanquish any and all obstacles built before him. It was only natural you'd develop feelings for him. I mean, who hadn't right?

You've had your fair share of run-ins with his secret admirers, students from across the school who wanted a glimpse into the life of the student they both loved and feared.

You remember telling Bakugo about them, their questions, and the visceral reaction he'd had in response to the information.

"They ever corner you like that again, let me know, I'll send them to an early grave."

His words were the very reason you knew not to take this favor lightly. The imminent hero wouldn't willingly align himself with just anyone, regardless of its validity. He'd made a point to surround himself with the best of the best, including you.

"Think we can pull this off?"

You feel as though you've hallucinated the faintest smile on his face, Bakugo's thumb rubbing the back of your hand as though it was instinct.

"You wouldn't have asked me if you had any doubts."

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THE GALA - A Clone Dating Sim

You are a Jedi General. The Council has assigned you a very important mission: the infiltration of a Separatist gala on Raxus. But you will not be going alone--you are allowed to bring a date on this adventure. In the heart of enemy territory, who will you count on to watch your back?

PLAY HERE: THE GALA

Ideal play experience is on desktop! (I think you can play on mobile it just looks a lil yuccy)

Clone bbs x Fem!Jedi player FEATURED CLONES: Sergeant Hunter, Tech, Crosshair, Wrecker, Captain Rex, Commander Wolffe, and ARC Twins Fives & Echo

RATING: 18+ MINORS DNI - The paths can be SFW or NSFW depending on your choices (2nd option is always the NSFW one!) - general warning for smut if you make those choices, more specifics below the cut!

Additional (less relevant) info beneath the cut!

HAPPY MAY 4TH! ENJOY MY LOVES~~

COMPREHENSIVE WARNINGS LIST: In general, lots of flirting, innuendo, pet names. Established relationship for all

Hunter: LOTS of flirting (he is a whore), p in v sex

Tech: Oral (f receiving)

Crosshair: Fingering

Wrecker: Not much for him honestly, implied canoodling (p in v), oblivious boy ♥

Captain Rex: dirty talk, praise, oral (m! Receiving)

Commander Wolffe: rough! p in v

Fives & Echo: Multiple clones (no clonec*st), lots of flirting, Echo is self conscious!

-ART ASSETS I drew all of the Clone art! I found the most nakedest screencap I could of any of them (SURPRISINGLY DIFFICULT) and then traced the base, then looked for Star Wars Male Fashion (WAY FUCKING HARDER) to draw on them and dress them up! I think for Hunter and Fives/Echo I just went crazy but for all the rest lmk if u can spot who I stole the outfits from, i deadass dont remember at this point For Background art I found them all on google images - from what I recall, it's mostly concept art and screenshots from games! -ENGINE I made this in Twine, an incredible tool for making text-based games! I highly recommend looking into it. It's really easy to use and there are a ton of tutorials online!

AN: Thank you so much for playing! Please let me know what you think, I had so much fun making this✨✨ it is so phenomenally cringe but I hope you all enjoy ♥ (also if you spot any bugs or typos, please feel free to let me know and I will fix!!)

TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE PATH I like Rex Crosshair Wrecker the best I think

"""taglist""" - @shinyshayminflower @starrylothcat @pb-jellybeans @jediknightjana

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levi ackerman // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

you’re drunk and ridiculous (and he can’t trust you with anyone else)

gestures

no funny business

as the spark dies

wild card

dust, diamonds

dirty money

nobody's fault but mine

traditions

time

the wife

crush

percolate

petals inked in red

spite

one million to one

power trip

ghost

silent treatment

love hate me

as the world caves in

two faced

bad romance

garden of tulips

plans

and when i see you smile, the clouds will clear

ghostly greetings

safe haven

panacea

sayonara

“may i?”

his wounded heart beats for one

beneath the pages

respite on black waters

galaxies past

overwhelming

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i need bad batch fanfic ideas im so lost on what to write (plsplsplsplspls🙏)

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A lot of folks have been obsessing over Crosshair with that latest ep (myself included ofc 😌)

so my question is...

WHERE IS OUR CROSSHAIR X READER FICS YALL.

especially to use him saying "finally" as some kinda prompt idk.

Come on fic writers, im counting on you. 😩

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BAD BATCH GIRLIES HOW ARE WE FEELING TODAY

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GOJO would honestly leave in the middle of a fight with a curse if he receives an “I miss you” text from you, just saying!

He’s getting ready to activate his domain expansion to kill a special grade curse when his phone dings, and when he checks it — already knowing that you’re the one messaging him because he has everyone else on do not disturb — he sees your message.

He instantly stops activating his domain, puts his blindfold back on, and says, “I gotta go, we can pick this back up later,” and leaves right in the middle of battle.

And when he gets yelled at by the elders for not immediately killing the special grade curse, he just looks at them and goes, “I’m sorry, but have you seen my girlfriend? And how gorgeous she is? If she wants me to come over, you better believe that I’ll drop anything and everything to go see her.”

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Say My Name

short but I intend on adding more. this is more of an intro, if anything. an idea that's been stuck in my head and refusing to leave.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Gojo's voice pierced your eardrums, invading every sense of reason permeating through your mind. It was meant to be a simple day, spending time training with your students, teaching them feats you'd wished you'd learned in your youth -- Gojo unfortunately one of your previous classmates, the pair of you attached to the hip following such trying times.

Well, he was attached to your hip. You simply carried forward, doing your best to break free of his infatuation, to push unprofessional thoughts aside in the pursuit of your career.

"Gojo." You spoke his surname with a huff of breath, closing your book shut, looking up at him with an impassive expression. "I didn't realize you'd be back so soon."

In truth you felt relief was over you, the impossible thoughts that plagued your mind in the dead of the night leaving you awake with anxiety. He had a tendency to forego contact when on a mission, entirely MIA despite any effort of reaching out. Eventually, you'd had to come to terms with the fact he wouldn't return your texts and calls until he'd concluded his task.

It only made your anxiety worse.

He embraced you around your shoulders, squeezing tightly. "You know it's impossible for me to stay away from you for long. How can I leave my darling friend to lie awake in our bed? I can only imagine the torment you must feel when I'm away!"

You roll your eyes at his words, pressing the hardcover of your book against his chest, creating a distance between the two of you. "Our rooms are separate."

"I can change that."

You pushed him away with an immense amount of force, his body fumbling beneath your touch.

He always allowed his infinity to falter around you, craving your touch. To feel you in your entirety, nothing to disrupt your warmth. It didn't matter how fleeting the touch; how long it remained was not a matter for him.

What mattered was that it was you.

"Gojo, I really can't talk right now." You huffed, looking down at your watch, cringing at the time. As it was you were already on track to be late, and with your friend's most recent interruption, it wouldn't be long until that was set in stone. "I promised the First-Years I'd train them, you know how Itadori gets when--"

"Why do you call me that?"

Gojo's lips were a pouty mess, shimmering with that gloss you knew for a fact he'd slather on his lips when nobody was looking.

"Call you what?"

"Gojo. Why do you call me Gojo?"

"That's your name."

By now he'd given you infinite permissions to forego his surname, to call him by that which was given. Satoru. Forever and always your Satoru, a fact he knew in his heart, even if memories previous to you would flood his mind in the dead of the night.

"Not to you." Gojo tutted, snatching your book from between your fingers, holding it high above his head. "You know what you have to say if you want this back."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I don't have time for this."

"That's not what you said last night." He lifted his bandana, iceberg eye closing into a wink.

"Last night you weren't even here!"

There were moments where you couldn't help if Gojo's words made your heart skip a beat, if you imagined him with his arms wrapped around you in the late hours of the night, praying the mornings wouldn't strip him away from you for yet another mission. In such little time you'd lost so much, forced to grieve friends you believed would persist alongside you to this day.

Geto was supposed to be a teacher alongside you, but he'd lost his way, and in the process you lost everything you'd ever loved -- a friendship forged in admiration, undying love flowing from each and every one of you. Shoko had become distant, and you couldn't blame her, though you did your best to remind her through thick and thin you'd still remain.

Gojo was more complicated, more vocal in his efforts. For all he was worth you could only see what he lacked. What he lacked was the spark he had in Geto's presence, that affinity for life lost alongside his best friend.

It wasn't fair.

You couldn't lose him too, couldn't stand to watch another person you love lost to their mind, lost to death. You'd buried too many friends for one lifetime, that which remained would stay as it was in an effort to conserve its integrity.

"Y'know," Gojo's voice dipped into a whisper, book slowly faltering from its position above his head. "Everything I've ever said, all the things I've done..."

You snapped your fingers, clicking your tongue. "Gojo, stop."

"Satoru."

"There can't be anything between us, not the way you want it to be."

"You always say this," You could tell Gojo was approaching a breaking point. Soon the force you pushed up against him, that impossible wall you built, would have to crumble or risk crumbling him. "But you've never given me a proper explanation as to why."

"You know why." In the midst of his vulnerability you'd taken the opportunity to snatch your book from between his fingers, holding it close to you as you tried to push the sensation of fingers brushing out of your mind.

You pushed away how badly you yearned for more.

"I know you're scared," Gojo's voice cracked as though his mind and body had fought for the right to speak, lost in his delusion. "You've made that much clear. But you don't have to be, not with me! I'm the strongest, you have nothing to fear."

You shook your head, brushing stray hairs from in front of your face, entirely exhausted from just a moment's interaction. "It's inappropriate for us to even dance the line of the idea that we could..." Your voice trailed off, Gojo quick to finish your sentence, to appear in front of you in his majesty, palms clasped around your wrists.

"That we could be together?"

You pulled away, shaking your head, the thoughts that ran rampant within them. Your heart was beating a million miles a second, threatening to burst within your chest, and your stomach burned with butterflies fluttering to their own beat.

"You're just a friend, Gojo. You've always been a friend, the best friend."

"That's not enough for me."

"There's nothing I can do to change that."

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i have this urge to make a discord server for everyone to hold me accountable for my writing

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A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 7)

this is my fav installment simply bc of the dialogue at the beginning

Hobie had crashed at your place for the evening, a nice change of pace considering how quickly everything had seemed to progress recently. The two of you had slept on opposite sides of your bed, his socked-feet hanging off the edge, your head bumping against his ankles. It’d been entirely uncomfortable, maneuvering yourselves to fit properly, the idea of being along for the evening a terrifying thought for either one of you.

Yet, despite its discomfort, it was the best you’d slept in quite some time — a light at the end of the tunnel. The beginning of the rest of your life.

“Miguel doesn’t have much trust for me, doesn’t care much, either,” Hobie was fiddling with a mug of coffee you’d made him, looking to it with speculation, considering whether or not he intended on ingesting the beverage. “But you’re new, fresh. He doesn’t know much about you besides the fact that you’re you.”

“That’s meant to be good?” You took an apprehensive sip of your own beverage.

“It’s nothing short of perfection!” His words were laced with excitement, spinning around in the chair he’d swiped from your desk — didn’t believe in proper seating, especially not loveseats.

You hummed, waiting for Hobie to continue. You had no doubt he’d continue.

“You’re gonna persuade Miguel to tell you everything we need to know.”

“Hobie!” You choked on your beverage, “I’m not like that!”

“No!” Hobie stood, “No!” He plopped his mug against the marble island, “No!” He sprinted to you, shaking your shoulders, the contents of your drink spilling against the carpet — you’re making him clean that. “I don’t mean it like that! Get your head out the gutter!” A swat of his palm against your cranium.

“Well my bad!”

“Make friends, man! Play nice, earn his trust! Not everything is about—“ Hobie feigned a gag, “Indecency.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing one leg over the other, still dressed in your pajamas. “I can make friends, I suppose.”

“Great!” A few clicks at the buttons fashioned to his watch and a portal had produced itself in the center of your living. “We’re testing that theory.”

“Right now?!”

“No time like the present, yeah?”

Hobie was going to be the death of you.

Miguel was broody, as expect. A man who wasn’t keen on conversation, absorbed with his work. You hadn’t the slightest idea how to approach him, form a friendship. He was as elusive as they came, a man stricken by tragedy, a lost cause.

In his eyes you saw despair, in hollowed cheeks you saw isolation. In a sculpted back you saw…

Well it didn’t matter what you saw.

Right now, all that mattered was that you make progress. What better way to make progress than to appeal to the one thing you knew he favored?

His place in the multiverse, it’s protector, maintenance.

“What do you need?” Miguel spoke to you rather dismissively, eyes never turning to gaze upon you as he manipulated the various screens before him — texts, images, videos — you could hardly get a glimpse of anything before it was confined to oblivion once more.

If you wanted to get your information, his computer had to be the perfect entryway.

“I was wondering if you had anymore assignments for me?”

“Assignments?” Miguel spoke with confusion, skepticism. “Lyla informed me that you were in a state of gr—“

“I just--!” You didn’t want to be reminded, didn’t want to admit it was entirely possible everyone in the facility had known of what occurred. You didn’t want to believe the way they regarded you was with remorse, empathetic of what you’d gone through, having gone through it themselves. “I want something to take my mind off things… Something to help clear up any loose ends in my brain.”

Miguel had willed the orange tincture of his screens away, standing to his full height, approaching you wordlessly. Upon his arrival your throat clenched, realizing how absurdly endowed he was in terms of height. The multiverse had truly taken its time with his creation. “This isn’t a game, toñto.”

“I really wish i paid more attention in class.”

“Better for me, I suppose,” Miguel was circling you, entrapping you within a web of his own creation, reminding you of your vulnerability, where you stood parallel to his position. “I can’t send you out knowing you’re not well.”

“You make it sound like I’m contaminated.”

“I don’t mean,” Miguel bit his tongue, rephrasing, “I can’t risk putting you out on a mission with your mind clouded by…”

“Yeah,” You sighed a defeated gesture, “I understand.” What were you going to tell Hobie? You supposed he’s have you try again, another attempt at your endgame.

“Miguel!” The voice of Lyla piped up just as you admitted defeat, the man suddenly piqued to the AI at his shoulder, the contortion of his features reflecting annoyance.

“What is it, Lyla?” His gaze still wandered along your frame, stance suddenly unsure as you held yourself close, feeling as though you were nothing more than a fleeting thought hardly condemned to memory.

“An anomaly has been detected on Earth-65. Typically I wouldn’t recommend dispatching you but…” Lyla’s eyes trailed to your form just a few feet away, unsure if your conversation with Miguel had concluded.

“I understand.” Miguel waved her off, the AI powering away, the man’s gaze trained to you — your eyes expectant, hoping he’d allow you to tag along. “I’m sure Lyla can find something for you to do.”

With those parting words, he was gone. As cold as ever. Never a fault in his personality, the web he’d wrapped around himself impenetrable.

A shame. You figured this wouldn’t be an easy mission, far from it. His form retreated from his office, leaving you to stand alone, eyes suddenly lingering upon his myriad of technology littered above you.

It would be so easy. So incredibly easy to simply.

No.

There were too many factors, far too many possibilities that stood between success and failure — the potential of being caught weighing heavy in your mind, perhaps a test of loyalty leaving you alone in his office.

You departed, lowering into the main hall of the Society, a particularly empty day considering the time — sun having set long ago, Hobie hyping you up for hours, telling you this was in the bag, only to be called for a mission himself.

‘Bullocks,’ He’d mumbled as he festered through the portal, ‘You got this, man!”

You, in fact, never had it.

Perhaps it’d be an inviting opportunity to visit some of the society’s many sights. They’d done well in curating it to the needs of the various Spiders inhabiting the facility, strength training, leisure, and a cafeteria piled high with the collective favored delicacies of the society.

Something growled within you as you sauntered past the double doors of deliciousness, the scent of freshly cooked meals wafting through you sinuses.

It’d been a while since you’d had a proper meal, hadn’t it? Hobie was away on a mission, and you’d failed your only task.

Suppose a celebration was in order.

A practically empty cafeteria save the presence of a few bodies — cowboy, popsicle...

Jess.

The Spider-Woman was seated on her lonesome, scrolling through something on her mobile device with intermitten bites of the food placed before her.

She was close to Miguel, wasn't she? Surely there was something you could get out her.

Grabbing haphazardly at the food lined in rows upon rows, you darted to her table, a feigned smile plastered upon your pretty face as you approached her.

"Is this seat taken?" You were hesitant, her unglassed eyes suddenly turning away from her phone, trained on you.

She surveyed the various tables, plenty of room within the vicinity, yet you'd chosen to make her acquaintance. Interesting. "If none of the other tables are to your liking, I guess I don't mind."

Nerves seated themselves deeply within you, nodding your head in thanks, tray of spider-themed delicaies -- you'd only just realized this —sprawled out in front of you.

Spider-Man had an orange juice?

"How are you likin' it so far?" Jess questioned, taking a sip from her spider-themed soft drink.

"Liking what, exactly?" You questioned, confused, guilty. Did she know something you hadn't? Perhaps Hobie had set you up, gave you away.

No, you shook the thought from your head. No way in hell he'd pull something like that, not after everything he'd done for you.

"Society, your place here," Jess was quick to clarify. "Have you at least been semi-enjoying it? Even if you're..."

There it was again. That extension of pity everyone seemed to believe you were entitled to, not wasting a beat in bringing up memories you wished so desperately to repress, move away from. You'd far from spoken your piece to Aubrey, hadn't fully recovered from your role in Alador's death, but that didn't mean you had to allow it to weigh on you at every waking moment.

That was reserved for nights of solitude, curled up in your bedroom, convincing yourself you could still hear their late-night shenanigans — Alador's gaming and noises of frustration as noise cancellation headphones hindered his hearing, Aubrey's death metal blaring from a set of speakers.

It was a wonder they'd noticed your disappearances as you slipped out into the evening, shenanigans of your own, a persona to maintain.

"I'm fine," You cut Jess off just as you'd done to everyone else previously. You didn't require their sympathy, didn't need to be reminded every forty-two seconds. "Admittedly, I haven't gone on many missions. I've mostly been tending to my own universe."

Jess hummed, "Yeah, that's typically how it is. You'll be doing that until you prove yourself to Miguel, make him realize you're a valuable member — someone he can depend on."

So he favored loyalty, reliability.

Shocking.

"Do you think..." You paused, contemplating what to say, always needing to be careful with how you extended yoru words. "Do you think you'd be willing to teach me how all this works?"

She would've refused Hobie, downright knocked him on ass. Perhaps it'd be different with you.

"Hobie not teaching you enough?"

You cursed inwardly, doing your best to keep the noise maintained.

"He's been great!" You became defensive, nervous. "I just thought it'd be better to get some lessons from someone more attuned to this work, not just a go-with-the-flow Spider like Hobie...?"

You were lying through your teeth, Jess could see it.

"Stop," She laughed, shaking her head, "I know what you're doing, Spider."

"Y-You do?"

Shit. There goes any chances you and Hobie had of finding the source of these anomalies, where supposed deceit ran deep.

"Of course I do. You think I don't deal with this shit all the time?"

Fuck, there it was.

"Hobie is intimidating you."

"W-What?"

Relief washed over you, every anxiety you'd previously experienced dissipating in a mere instant.

"He's like that, y'know. An odd one but... I don't know why Miguel keeps him around, honestly. I guess as a formality?"

You hummed, shaking reaching for your beverage, needing to do something with your hands before you combusted into a bundle of webs. "He's a character..."

"Tell me about it."

Jess' watched buzzed to life, the hologram of Lyla greeting her in a flash, turning to in the midst of her regard of Spider-Woman. "Oh! We could use you too!"

You quirked a brow, confused.

"Miguel is requesting backup, an anomaly really giving him a run for his and the local spider's money. I'll relay your correspondence." With such few words, Lyla slipped back where she'd first appeared, leaving you at a loss for time, for consideration.

Jess nodded her head, not hesitating for a second, always willing to tussle with a villain despite her condition — she was doing it for her family, stability, the prospect towards a better life.

Why were you doing this?

Jess stood, stretching, the intricacies of her costume moving alongside her, obeying her every whim. She tapped the destination into her watch, a portal manifesting before her as though it was nothing more than a typical occurrence — you'd never get used to that. "Coming, Spider?"

"Coming."

taglist: @coralineyouareinterribledanger @danit152 @l3laze

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A Web of Their Own Design (pt. 6)

the plot thickens, a plan ensues

I'm sorry for not updating this recently, writing has been feeling difficult, I'm so emotionally tired, but we persist

You'd found nothing on your hunt for the anomaly, frustrations at the back of your mind as you laid in bed, devoid of joy, unfeeling. You heart was a void where flowers of emotion once bloomed, a luscious garden seeded in your heart.

The garden had long since died, keeping to yourself, confined to your bedroom. Classes went unattended, crime unchecked.

It was as though you'd returned to the worst of days in your prime, a budding superhero, overflowing with youthful prowess nothing more than a shell, a husk.

Hobie had noticed, Jess had noticed.

Miguel had noticed.

Your acquaintance might have been fleeting, but it was simple to see how quickly that attitude of yours had changed. A sprightly Spider reduced to nothing more than spunk — it could only take you so far, guide you only part of the way.

If you wished to heal, wished to overcome, some aspiration had to be of your own fruition.

You couldn't heal, not like this.

Not when you'd yet to find closure.

Aubrey had sent for her things, a team of men and women taking every trace of her — scents, sights, sounds — out the door. Alongside them, Alador's family had come to collect his things, leaving you with his parting promise, a joke between the three of you.

"Do you guys ever think about death, what lies beyond?" Aubrey was pushing the brink of her edgiest years, out of pocket questions fueled by black and white social media aesthetics. "I like to think it's the best feeling in the world." "I think you're one of the only people that thinks so," Alador teased, flipping through another page of the novel between his fingers, body enveloped by the plush grass of your backyard, uncaring of the stains his mother would later scrub. "I'm terrified of when it comes, how it'll come. I don't I'll ever be ready."

You hadn't been, Alador. Gone too soon, unfair.

"That's true..." Aubrey pondered his words, tapping his chin. A sudden jolt, yourself and Alador clinging to one another at her sudden takeoff. "I have an idea!"

"That's a new one." You slipped a kernel of popcorn between your teeth, looking up at Aubrey from your seated position, amused.

She was hardly enthralled with what you had to say.

"We should leave something for each other, parting gifts, a promise."

Alador's interest had been piqued, a difficult feat. "A symbol of friendship?"

"Exactly!"

You hummed, prompting her to continue, nestling the bucket of popcorn in Alador's lap. "Alright, I'll bite."

Aubrey spun in a circle a few times, humming a fanfare preceding her announcement "Alador!" Her finger pointed in his direction, "Upon my expiration I hereby appoint you the inheritor of my rapacious manga collection! Treat it well, or else my ghost will burn your house down."

"Ah, yeah!"

"What?!" You couldn't believe between the both of you she'd chosen Alador. Alador of all people to inherit such an honor. Books piles upon books of the most unobtainable series, spanning the length of her entire bedroom.

Alador, really?

Your arms crossed over your chest, looking between them with impatience. "Calm down, calm down." She repeated her previous fanfare, this time gesturing to you, "Upon my expiration you shall inherit my coveted crystal collection! Gems and jewels, minerals and stones unobtainable across the globe! They shall be in your possession!"

"Awesome!"

"What?!"

Giggled erupted between the three of you, falling onto your backs to gaze upon the stars as they slowly freckled across the sky. "Aubrey gets my clothes when I die, you can have my PC."

"Hoodies!"

You turned onto your stomach, peering into Alador's eyes, his words absentminded as he transported to his world of literature. "You'd really leave me something important?"

"That's assuming I die before you," He snapped the red-vine from between your teeth, plopping what remained past his jaws. "Unlikely, considering how reckless you are."

Your fist collided with his shoulder, "In your dreams. The day you die I'll be at your funeral with that PC in my arms, and your ghost will regret not being able to tap into the afterlife video games."

He clicked his tongue, "Whatever. You better treat my darling with respect."

Aubrey cringed, "Did you just call your PC your darling?"

"Yeah! What about it?!"

"Man!" You sat up onto your bottom, "Just when I thought it was impossible for you to be any more of a loser!"

"Oh yeah?" Alador puffed his cheeks, crossing his arms over his chest, "And what gift will you bestow upon us, your benevolence?"

"When I die, I'm gonna leave..." You intended on saying super suit, the word on the tip of your tongue, only to realize they hadn't the slightest idea about that part of your life, what you did as they passed their time studying, grades slowly surpassing your own. "I'm gonna leave the code to my safe somewhere in my room. If you guys can find it, whatever's inside is yours."

"A secret?"

"Better be a good one."

Upon your return you believed it time to address the elephant in the room, slowly approaching the end of the hall, Alador's door bathed in shadows, a sight surely foreboding. With a shaky hand you turned the knob, light trickling in from the drawn-back curtain, something that'd never been allowed when the man inhabited the space.

Nothing remained, a room devoid of anything to remind you of your best friend — bed, desk, clothing — it'd all been repossessed by those they were entitled to.

You fell to your knees, a laugh crackling through fits of sobbing.

In the center of the room stood Alador's PC in all its majesty, the laugh stemming from the fact he'd been literal in his promise.

There stood the PC, monitor nowhere in sight.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy.

The universe wasn't keen on making anything simple.

You hadn't remembered when you'd fallen asleep, curled up on cheaply carpeted flooring, practically cradling the PC within your arms — the device suddenly foreign, devoid of its overused hum, lacking the luminance of LED lighting.

As the sun slowly rose over the horizon, as did you. Pushing yourself off the floor, changing into a suit that felt less like it belonged to you, more like a costume. You felt empty, like a stranger behind your mask, looking into the mirror and seeing a stranger staring back — what did you reflection even look like?

Who were you in all this?

The cemetery was devoid of life. Shocking, considering...

Okay, bad joke.

Clouds hung low in the sky, midnight gates unopened to the public. Suppose you bypassed any sense of public, a greater status, there before the staff had even begun to tend to the grounds after resting peacefully in beds cultivated with the finest materials.

You placed a single flower, one you'd plucked from the beds of the apartments adjacent to your own, before a name etched in stone. It had been such little time, yet simultaneously an eternity. You couldn't remember the smallest details, everything seeming to blur without a beginning or an end.

You felt silly as you pondered your words, carefully selected what you had to say. This was everything, all you had left; what you had to remember him by besides harrowing blurred selfies and a PC you were unsure of how to operate.

"I uh..." You wanted to laugh, pondered how far your sanity had faltered. "I suppose you can guess why I wasn't there?" You gestured to your costume, nothing more than a costume. A scar against your skin, an eyesore. Colors you'd chosen meticulously to reflect not only yourself but your loved ones burning into you, reminding you of why you began this life and simultaneously becoming the reason you wanted nothing more to do with it.

"I didn't know how to tell you, I still don't." You huffed a deep breath, palms against the back of your neck, forcing air to expel, "I didn't want it to come to this, I just..."

What even was there to say?

From behind you, a voice of familiarity, one that seemed to be the only thing that made any sense recently, a constant in these incomprehensible equations. "Condolences."

"Thanks."

A silence befell the two of you, one unlike others you'd experiences in your lifetime. Unlike the silence of fear, anxiety, anticipation. It was unlike the silence that now plagued your apartment, making you run your hands across your face in frustration.

This was a comfortable silence, practically familiar.

"Hobie, do you ever..." You scoffed at the thought, retracing it before it could come into the light, "No, nevermind. It's a dumb thought."

"In my experience," Hobie slung an arm around your neck, allowing your stance to hold his weight, "The only dumb thoughts are ones that go unsaid."

You smiled then, a genuine one despite the struggle you'd had producing them since you discovered everything that occurred. Biting the bullet, forcing it through, "Do you ever regret this?"

"I don't believe in regrets, only teaching moments."

"But I mean," You retracted yourself from his hold, watching as Hobie changed a great deal of colors, "Do you ever wish you hadn't become a hero?"

"I'm not a hero, not a proper one."

You groaned, growing frustrated with the way he effortlessly beat around the bush, answering your questions in fragments, straying from the substance. "I don't want to be a Spider anymore."

Now that piqued his interest. You could see it in the way his posture changed, hue following suit. In the way he slowly closed the distance between the two of you, the brush of his shoulder like a feather.

Within, he was triumphant, ecstatic. But he couldn't expose such feeling without first understanding the extent of your decision.

He opted for a simply response, "What's changed your mind?"

It was something you had to deeply consider, thinking into the depths of your subconscious. You didn't believe you'd ever wanted this title. No, that wasn't entirely true, was it? There was a point in time, the earliest years you took the mantle upon yourself, where you genuinely loved what you were doing. You felt as though you were making a difference, a genuine impact on your community.

Life hadn't been any better, until it wasn't

"It's a decision long time coming," You opted to express, "I don't think this is meant for me, not anymore. It's time someone else took up the title."

"Doesn't work like that, mate. You know that just as well as anyone."

"It's not fair, Hobie."

He nodded his head in understanding. "None of it is."

You slumped beside the tombstone, pulling your knees to your chest, Hobie watching from where you'd once stood beside him, unchanging. The gears in his mind were turning, pondering. "I think Miguel is lying to us."

What a way to bite the bullet.

"To some extent, that is."

You removed your mask from its place against your face, needing to look to Hobie without its obscurity. "Why would he be lying to us?"

Hobie threw his hands in the air, hue emanating a series of colors, confusion. "Hell if I know! He's proper professional with concealing his emotions, keeping to himself."

"What do you think he's hiding?"

"There's something off, something stressing him out. It was only recently that these anomalies started popping up like crazy. Something had to have caused them."

You nodded your head, supposing he was correct to some extent.

"What do you intent to do?"

"We're gonna find out what's going on with the Bossman, bring it to light, let chaos ensue."

"Are you doing this to do the right thing, or to fuck shit up?"

"Uh..." He tapped his chin, "Suppose the chaos is a perk."

Hobie had been a part of this much longer than you, witnessed things you couldn’t begin to understand, even as Miguel’s explanation rang true in your mind — canon events, moments in a Spider’s life that were intended to happen, had no choice but to happen.

Were the deepest parts of your misery nothing more than intentions divined by the multiverse?

How is that fair?

“Your choice, of course,” Hobie circled where you still sat with your knees to your chest, “But consider we’d be doing some good.”

“We’d be real heroes then.”

Hobie practically gasped as your proclamation. “No! No, absolutely not. I am not a hero, far from it, anything except!” He’d removed his mask in the midst of his ramble, confounded face on full display for your enjoyment — a laugh sounding from within.

“You really think the pair of us, a duo of delinquents, are capable of something like this?”

“I don’t believe in labels.”

“Is there anything you believe in?”

Hobie moved to speak, opening his mouth only to close it, a fish out of water. He had no idea what to say. “Y'know what let’s get back to that.”

Hobie’s fist extended towards you, looking down at you with an ever-present smirk gracing his features, “You in?”

“Like I’d let you take all the fun.”

taglist: @coralineyouareinterribledanger @l3laze @danit152

[matchibee]

would anyone like if i wrote for tasm!Peter? Ik i typically write for Miguel but it’d still be spiderman?? :>

[matchibee]

you write so beautifully 🥺

thank you so much, lovely person! I try my best 🫶

[matchibee]

Quit

enemies to loversish? not proofread

“You’re injured.” Miguel’s face contorted with concern as he looked at your battered state — dirt and grime sticking to you like a second skin. dried blood trailing down your face, indicating with undeniable accuracy where your injuries had been sustained.

You pushed him away, Miguel one to always do the same to you. No matter how desperately you tried to meet him halfway, he was always hesitant to establish friendship, the two of you drifting apart like leaves in the wind — a forbidden dance that mirrored the other, yet never seemed to come together. “I’ll live.”

Miguel grunted. “Obviously. You wouldn’t be here if I thought you’d die.”

The closet thing to a compliment you’d ever gotten out of him, and yet it was frame entirely like an insult, further reminding you of your place in his web of lies. A pawn in his game of chess, all his pieces on the board.

“I’m flattered.” With a hitch of your breath Miguel took hold of you, palms encapsulating your cheeks as he surveyed the damage, brows furrowing into an even deeper scowl as you winced in pain upon contact.

You pushed Miguel away, licking your thumb as you wiped away the grime that bothered you most, wiping whatever you could with the sleeve of your suit.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Miguel sighed as though you were a disruptive child, as though you were a nuisance to his very existence, a constant that didn’t cease. “You can’t go back to HQ looking like—“

“Like I failed a mission?”

He didn’t wanna say it, looking to the ground with conflict in his eyes, the very words you’d uttered raking through his mind as though reopening a new wound. It hadn’t been what he thought, not in the slightest, and the fact that your mind had drifted there nearly automatically left a pain in his chest.

You continued, throat unbearably dry. “You just don’t want them to know you made a mistake.”

“But you’re not—“ His voice trailed off, eyes turning to look anywhere except you. He feared that if your eyes met he’d say the wrong thing, perhaps reveal too much. And where would that leave him then?

Besides, Miguel didn’t care. He never did. He despised you just as you despised him, made you feel as though you were nothing in the face of his affections. He couldn’t love, refused to teach himself how to piece himself back together, and in the process any prospect of change slipped through his fingertips.

“We’ll get him ‘em time.”

“No,” You scoffed, opening up a portal with your watch, flicking the accessory off your wrist with little effort. “You’ll get ‘em next time. I quit.”

“You can’t just—“

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am!” Miguel’s voice grew in volume. “And as your boss, I’m telling you—!”

“Goodbye, Miguel.”

He grabbed your wrist as you dipped into the portal, half your face obscured by blinding lights as you turned back towards him. “Let go—“

“Don’t leave me.”

His eyes shimmered with your image, a radiance so ethereal he feared it be fiction, his mind blurred of all conviction. Miguel looked down at you with a pleading gaze and a heart that bled the color of your eyes. Your skin was what he saw when he closed his eyes every evening before bed, your voice like a melody a song he mumbled throughout the day.

But he hated you, despised you because no matter how badly he loathed to admit it, in another universe he’d lost you. When he first saw you in your own universe he’d been thrown in for a loop, hands oblivious of where to fall, mind begging for reason as his heart prepared to fall in love all over again.

So he did what any rational man would do, he ran. Like a thief in the night he made way with your thoughts, refusing to return them, refusing to even look in your direction.

Thought his body called your name, his heart sang a different song, one of longing and ache. An internal conflict that physically pained him, scorched his feelings of any semblance of continuity, leaving him a husk of a man that once was — a man that did not deserve to love.

You’d tried so hard to make him comfortable in your presence, rationalizing he simply needed a friend in these trying times. And in your efforts you were met with a cold shoulder, with a gaze that could kill and a voice that dripped with venom. Miguel wanted nothing to do with you, was the only voice of reason permeating through doubt, and as much as you despised to admit it, you simply knew you had no choice but to concede.

“I’m not gonna stay and let you treat me like shit. I’ve put up with more than enough of that.”

“I don’t mean it, you have to believe me. I’m so scared. Scared of who I was, scared of who I am when I’m around you.”

You shook your head, doing your best to slink further into the portal, but Miguel pulled you back as far as he could will himself, cradling you in his arms, begging the heavens not to take you away.

“I’m not who you think I am, Miguel. That person doesn’t exist anymore.”

Should he speak, Miguel might as well have been condemned. But he gave himself a final opportunity, perhaps the only opportunity.

“I don’t want that person, don’t you understand? I want you, I-I think I always have.”

The words that fell from his lips invaded your mind, kissed the very essence of your soul. But that didn’t make the way he treated you right, that didn’t mean he had any excuse for the way he tossed you aside as though you were nothing.

“I’m not the man I was. I’m broken, scared. I don’t like this feeling, this way you…” He searched his mind for the words, languages jumbling within his mind in the midst of such unrelenting emotion. “The way you make me feel isn’t like anything I’ve felt before. Not with friends, family… Not even them.” His mind drifted to you, that variant of you that he would’ve moved heaven and earth to please. But in Miguel’s heart he came to realize he would condemn creation itself, make a mockery of its efforts as he placed stars of his own design in the sky for everyone to see, stars that twinkled with the glimmer of your eyes as his pressed his lips to yours.

And when he pulled away, hands cupping your face, your injuries still on full display, he hadn’t the faintest idea what to say — what you would say in response.

“You’re broken,” You whispered, pressing your palm to his chest. “Because the multiverse took your love for granted.” Miguel wrapped his hands around your gesture, nodding his head as tears beaded in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you.”

You nodded your head. It was perfect, this wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

“I know, Miguel.”

[matchibee]

Situationship

angst? angst. minor injury (reader), arguing

not proofread with my eyes, but in my heart it’s perfect.

Miguel's fingertips trailed the skin covering your ribs, claws sending a shiver as the whispered across your skin like a specter. He was always so painstakingly gentle with you in the mornings, a man whose heart swelled with love.

But then afternoon would come. You'd watch from your place beneath the covers as Miguel ripped away from your embrace, pulling denim over defined legs and a t-shirt over tense muscles.

"You could stay." Your voice was always a whisper, Miguel tensing at the sound, shaking his head in denial - in an effort to rid your voice from his mind, convincing him to stay just like you'd been able to all those times before.

"You know I can't."

Because staying meant Miguel fell further and further into an abyssal attraction, one he fought his mind to remain unnamed.

Love.

And loving you meant staying, staying meant Miguel couldn't pull himself away. He'd run his fingers through your hair, feel the warmth of his lips against his own. Miguel would trail his palms down every surface of your body, worshipping your skin as though it were gilded in glimmers of gold. His lips would trail your skin until they burnt from your warmth, and he'd conclude the time spent with your fragility pressed to his chest.

A paradoxal issue that Miguel couldn't seem to pry himself away from.

He didn't want to pull away, he realized one painful evening, watching as your chest rose and fell in hushed breaths. This was everything he wanted, all he yearned for.

"We shouldn't do this anymore," Miguel croaked. The confession, one he knew would never become a promise, was spoken nearly every time he stood to leave. But this time it was different. This time his voice was laced with determination. "This was a mistake."

"What?" You rose from your plush sheets, a thin blanket draped over your most intimiate places, face contorted into one of fear.

Miguel hated that look. He hated it when he'd seen you in harms way all those months ago, hated it when you first saw him in the suit, and he especially hated it now.

"You deserve better," That much was true, and Miguel knew it. He knew that you could do so much better if you'd just look, if he'd just

"You are better."

"I'm not. You know that."

"Do I?" You approached him so hesitantly it hurt him to gaze upon you. It burned when your palm pressed to his cheek, stung as you pressed your forehead against his chest. "I love you, Miguel."

Three words he'd sworn never to speak, made you swear you'd never even consider. And yet here you were breaking the promise while Miguel broke your heart.

"I can't."

"Don't do this," Your hands fell from clutching the sheets to clutch the fabric of his shirt, blanket pooling at your feet. His hands hovered your back, over the ins and outs of your body, a mind-numbing spiral of uncertainty as he experiences your hopelessness all over, as though for the first time. "Not again."

His palms held your shoulders, pushing you back, maintaining eye contact no matter how badly he wanted to dip below the surface. "You really do deserve better." Your name fell from his lips, tears flowing from your eyes.

"Then be better." Your voice was desperate, cracking at every opportunity. You want this, wanted him. Too long you'd dedicated yourself to his eternity, even longer you found you loved him.

"I can't be the man you need me to be."

"You can't?" You wiped the tears from your eyes, fingers coated in liquid sadness. "Or you won't?"

That struck a nerve and you knew it, but the words fell from your lips before you could even consider the consequences. You loved him more than you loved the summer sun, needed his touch more than you needed to breath. In Miguel's absence you only knew uncertainty, suffering at the hands of a mind that betrayed you. He was the only thing right with this cruel world and he wanted to strip you of the right.

"I- Both. Neither." Miguel growled, pressing fingertips to the bridge of his noise. "You're putting words in my mouth."

"Yet you still can't say the right thing to say."

"What do you want me to say?" Miguel bounded towards you, a predator on the prowl. "You want me to tell you I fucking love you when I don't?"

"Yes!" You threw your arms up in exasperation, pressing your hands against your eyes in an effort to stop the tears from falling, one by one gathering discarded articles of clothing, gradually returning them to their rightful place against your frame. "I'd rather you tell me a lie than this bullshit back and forth we always go through - everyday, every night - I can't win with you!"

"I'm not going to lie to you. I don't want to do that to you!"

You walked away from your shared bedroom, bare feet padding into the kitchen as you prepared yourself a coffee.

"Don't just walk away from me!" Miguel's voice was shrill, more pitched than you'd ever heard it previously. "I'm talking to you, damnit!"

"Why?" You slammed your mug against the kitchen island, eyes stained red with regret - regret for letting this get so far, for letting him make you feel like a fool. "You're walking out anyways, Miguel. Why the fuck can't I walk away?"

His mouth snapped shut, eyes that once held the world becoming your own personal hell. "I'm not trying to be your enemy-"

"Really? Because it seems to me you only come and go when its convenient for you. And you expect me to think its nothing personal?"

"That's why I'm trying to fix this!"

"For who?" The sound of coffee falling into the ceramic filled the kitchen. "For your ego? For your conscience? Or am I actually meant to believe you're doing this for me?"

Miguel slammed his against in the counter, the vibration knocking you off balance. "For once in your life will you just-!"

You groaned in pain, Miguel's gesture having spiraled into making you spill hot coffee all over your hand that held the mug, Miguel watching with regret as you moved towards the sink, running your hand beneath the cool stream in an effort to calm the ever-present throbbing.

In your pain Miguel saw everything he hoped to shield you from - the pain and suffering of this cruel world, the one that cast the both of your aside, dooming you to an existence of eternal damnation. He saw the care he felt for you at every waking hour, though his mind refused to admit it. The love you let blossom in his heart, a garden of your very creation.

"Ay, Amor-"

"You don't get to call me that." Despite your condition you proved more than capable of rational thinking. "You don't get to act like everything is alright."

"I-I'm sorry." Miguel fell to his knees beside you, his face pressed into your stomach, hands clutching at your clothing just as you'd done moments before, if not more desperately. "I didn't meant it. You know that, don't you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore, Miguel. I thought you loved me. I thought you cared for me. But obviously I was wrong then. Why wouldn't I be wrong now?"

With every passing second you drove a stake through his heart just as he did yours. In your palm you held the very essence of his being, his love and all its ability fitting neatly within you. Yet, even in your grasp, Miguel could hardly hope to express the words that plagued his mind.

I love you.

But he couldn't say it.

I love you.

But Miguel was terrified to love again.

I love you.

But he was scared if he'd allowed himself this vulnerability, you'd disappear too. Miguel couldn't stand to lose you, couldn't stand to lose the first good thing in a break from all these years of torment.

I love you.

A blessing, a curse and a promise.

"You know this isn't good for us, you know I'm only hurting you."

"Then why are you still here?"

Miguel knew, he knew why. Yet he couldn't say it, couldn't think it without his mind running rampant with possibility. In your love there was comfort, a familiarity he craved no matter how badly he denied himself. But Miguel wasn't allowed to love, not in this lifetime. If he tried, he feared he might break you in the process.

But couldn't he see that's what he was doing, anyways?

"Let me make it up to you."

But you didn't respond, didn't even look at him. If he wanted to bring an end to the only good thing you'd known in such a long time, far be it from you to hold him back, far be it from someone so seemingly insignificant to keep Miguel from what he truly craved.

If loneliness called his name, you didn't want to piece together broken parts that yearned to escape from you, fled at every opportunity.

And when Miguel woke up the next morning he knew nothing but pain, your body nowhere to be found, taking any semblance of ever loving again along with it.

[matchibee]

Proposal

Miguel proposing? not proofread.

He was terrified, rightfully so. In all his years of living he’d never felt so helpless, so uncertain for the imminent future, a man swinging on the precipice of ruin.

“Will you… No.” He’d been rehearsing his speech in the mirror a million times over, double checking his appearance, smoothing out the wrinkles that’d formed in the frenzy of his panic.

Miguel was worried, a man teetering towards certain insanity, and it was all because of you.

You, who brought a blinding light into his life. You, he seemed to right every wrong that plagued his mind. With your smile you cast aside the shadows of his self-doubt, and with your love you reminded him what it meant to exist.

You deserved everything, more than he could possibly give you. Miguel knew it, loathed it, despised the fact that no matter how diligently he worked to be the best man he could possibly be, it would never be enough for him.

Because you deserved more than his feeble mortality could ever hope to offer, a man who was nothing if not yours.

Which was why he was so terrified for your answer.

“You’ve been together, what, four years?”

“Lyla.”

“I’m just saying! Elevated pulse and breathing pattern, excessive perspiration. You’re nervous.”

Miguel cleared his throat, fiddling with the fabric of his tie he’d watch tutorial following tutorial learning how to tie — he could simply never get it right. “I’m not nervous, Lyla. Not that that’s any of your concern.”

“So it doesn’t bother you they might say no?”

Of course it bothered him.

Ever since Miguel came to the conclusion he wanted to marry you, there was nothing that ruined his domestic longing more than the prospect of your refusal. In Miguel’s eyes, you were the very embodiment of Elysium, a real he could only hope to traverse in his wildest dreams.

And yet you stood beside him at every waking moment. When he was ill, ridden with heartbreak, and even when he’d stumbled into your apartment on the brink of death adorned in the symbol of the midnight vigilante Spider-Man.

Miguel was, and will infinitely remain, the being that lays dormant in your heart. The very flame to your spirit, the twin flame spoken of in childish prophesy.

And yet he’d made such fairytales a lovestruck reality.

“They’ll say yes.” Miguel looked to his reflection with determination, a smirk gracing angular features as he rationalized there was no need for doubt — if it wasn’t your intention to be his, you surely would’ve slipped from his fingertips by now. And while the thought ailed him, only heightened the tension between his ribcage, he did his best to remain optimistic. “I love them, and they love me. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.”

“Wow,” Lyla’s voice was dripping with sarcastic prowess. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Please shut off for the day.”

Miguel’s hand was pressed firm on your waist, possessive as always, keeping you away from the public eye of those who could potentially catch your attention, pique your interest.

“Where are we going?” Your voice was one laced with laughter as Miguel led you down the sidewalk of the park, both of you dressed in casual attire — as casual as Miguel would allow in the frenzy of choosing his outfit, meaning he was suspiciously overdressed.

“In a minute, querida.” The nickname brought a smile to his lips, knowing it was one reserved between the two of you, something nobody in this world or the next could possibly take away from him. “We’re nearly there.”

When bramble and bush cleared, thicket foregone for pristine greenery, your hands flew to your face in a gasp.

In the midst of golden hour greenery — sickeningly sweet honeysuckle, lovely lavender and trees that encapsulated the two of you in your own private existence — a picnic had been made up atop of a thick blanket woven with woolen fabric.

“Miguel, is that your cobija?” The very one he set out for the both of you every winter, ensuring that neither of you grew chilly in the midst of nipping cold.

“Si, amor. I thought it was perfect for the occasion.”

“Con tigre y todo?”

“Especially, con el tigre.”

You smiled up a him, pressing a kiss to lips, standing tall to reach his majesty. Slowly, his hands found yours, leading you to sit on the plush of the cobija, the fabric perfect for cushioning your descent.

He truly always thought of everything.

Beside him, a basket of your favorite delicacies— within reason — to be shared between you.

“Ay, Miguel.” You brought your hand to your heart, his mind swirling with your adoration. “This must’ve taken ages.”

He shrugged his shoulders, feigning passivity, when in reality he’d been a stressed man at the grocery store — gripping the cart with an iron force, a dent in the handle — onlookers terrified as an enraged man stomped from isle to isle in search of everything that would ensure the perfect late-afternoon. “It was nothing, amor. Anything for you.”

Shared giggles and looks of longing were passed between you the entirety of your time spent in each other’s presence. Slowly, painstakingly, the sun dipped below the horizon, a promise of an evening with stars that kissed the sky.

Miguel took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms on the fabric of his trousers, a mantra in his mind like music to his heart — you can do this, you can do this.

“It’s hard to believe we’ve been together for so long.”

Smooth Miguel, so smooth.

You nodded you head in confirmation, looking to the stars that glimmered in your eyes, galaxies reflected in your vision. It was everything Miguel saw in you, an eternity of love in a galaxy of possibility.

His hands reached deep into his pockets, a smile on his face as he held eye contact, the tension building like a balloon prepared to burst. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time, amor. A question that’s been on my mind since I first met you.”

“It seems like we met so long ago.” You took a moment to reflect on when you’d first met him, bumping into him while picking up your nephew from school, his own daughter in the same class. He knew then and there he couldn’t live a life without you in it, couldn’t stand mortality if it meant expiring without your hand to hold his. “I’m so glad mi sobrino ended up getting sick that day.”

“No hablas así, vida.”

“Lo siento.”

The two of you fell into fits of laughter, falling into each other’s embrace once more, only pulling away when Miguel’s previous words ran rampant in your mind. “What were you gonna ask me, Miguel?”

“Oh!” Miguel dug his hand deeper into his pocket, sure the ring was there, only to find nothing but lint in his touch. He tried the other, only to come up with the same result, his blood running cold.

“Where’s the ring…?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Ring? What ring?”

“M-My uh…” Miguel surveyed the area, his eyes landing on his keychain. “My key ring! Can’t get home without it!”

“…Okay.”

Miguel could feel tears prickling in his eyes, throating itching with worry as he tried to retract his steps, thinking to every possibility. When could he have possibly lost it? How could he do something so juvenile.

Your fingertips brushed something cold against Miguel’s cobija, a silver band glimmering in the moonlight, you hand clutching your chest. “I think someone left their—“

“You found it!” Miguel was desperate as he practically leapt on top of you, fumbling to grasp the ring between his fingers, sighing as he made contact with the band he’d thought to be lost forever, his perfect moment overshadowed by idiocy.

And when he looked to you, your eyes filled with all the love this world had to offer, glazed over with sopping tears of admiration and joy, Miguel knew he’d made the right choice.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Yes!”

“Vida, I have to ask first.” His lips were curled into a smile, the ring held impossibly close to his heart, an extension of his love to rest on your finger until time called your name. And even then, even when Miguel’s heart could no longer beat, it would forever sing a song of your love.

“Will you marry me?”

[matchibee]

lowkey rlly wanna write a Dad’s Best Friend Miguel x Reader but idk if anyone would be interested