#Peter Singh

[bvrnesher]

*sniff, sniff*

i'm so in love with this man (he’s fictional)

[peterbparkeradoptmeplease]

[irisesforyoureyes]

morally grey characters are nice they are hot they are sexy BUT WHAT ABOUT THE GOLDEN FLUFFY BOYS THAT WANT TO SAVE THE WORLD yeah the brooding dark haired anti heroes would burn the world down for you but the morally white blinding white boys will try to make the world a better place for you. they would rather die than lose their faith in humanity even if humanity loses their faith in them and something about the pure good that thrives within them makes me go hshdhsjsjgdh “no nobody is dying I can save everyone” while bleeding to death themselves. enemies to lovers very hot. but I’m a sucker for chivalry and morals✋

[bink-boink-bonk]

every spiderverse character eating leaves

[vonev]

Hey there! Can you do a Miguel x spiderwoman reader where during a mission Miguel accidentally hurts you pretty badly while trying to get you out of the way of the anomaly, leaving you in a medically induced coma for a couple days while you heal? I wanna see an incredibly gentle, guilt-ridden Miggy visiting you when you wake up and treating you like you’re made of glass

Calling (just to save you, I'd give all of me)

Miguel O'Hara x reader Oneshot

Words: 6.06k (yeah i know)

Warnings: Graphics depictions of Violence, Angst, Blood and Violence.

Summary:

A mission gone wrong, some crying, more suffering, rocky relationships (emphasis on the rocky part)

And after all of it, you prevailed. With him.

Tl;dr: Miguel is a crybaby

It was a normal Tuesday night at the headquarters. 11 pm to be exact.

God knows why you stayed as long as you did—having to juggle missions upon missions the entire week because Miguel decided to loosely throw them at you.

Capturing what seemed like an endless sea of anomalies.

“You’re our most capable.” He had said, not even facing you when he once again sent you off on another job to fend for yourself. 

Trying to ask to be replaced was met with a sounding “No.” from the big guy himself, so you stopped trying altogether.

Less questions, more work.

Even if the side of your ribs were bruised from the last encounter with a previous anomaly.

Whatever. Bringing your injury up would just have you end up being demeaned and insulted like a school kid who skipped last week’s homework. At least that was what you assumed.

You grew tired of it eventually, wanting to have more than 6 hours of sleep per day and being able to actually live your life—the birthday cake for a friend sat comfortably inside the fridge of your apartment lingers on your mind as you swung through the familiar sight of the city; another rendition of New York, another variant of an anomaly. 

That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy the thrill and adrenaline that came with the job—no, you loved it. No one ever told you how fun being a superhero can be (aside from the decades of trauma you had to go through) and being able to propel yourself into the air with webs as the people below you gawked at your presence. 

The New York breeze hit your figure like a welcomed embrace, the moon winked at you behind fading beds of clouds. You continue slingshotting yourself down the streets, deja-vu splashed in your face with how eerily similar the roads were to the ones back home; shaking your head, you let out a soft sigh and relish in the cold night’s wind. 

Today’s mission: an unknown entity that plagued Earth 1610, the only information you were given via a loosely thrown together email from Miguel was that the entity could possess powers greater than we all understood—but with a limited amount of time, you would (hopefully) capture it just in time before it discovered its full potential. 

You’d think with how smart the boss-man was, he wouldn’t send a sleep-deprived Spider into such missions with how severe things could turn if everything went wrong.

“I’ll send him an email to complain later, for sure.” You promised yourself; because you were supposed to do just that days ago when tasks started rolling in for you without breaks.

Solo-tasks, might you add.

A cherry on top of the already spoiled cake, salt on the wound, a slap to the face. You grunted, and an alarm sounding from nearby caught you by surprise amidst the (somewhat) quiet of the city. In the snap of a finger, you flung yourself in a different direction, changing the tides in the waves while the wind that hit your face came to a halt once you landed on a roof belonging to a rather tall building. 

The viewing angle from above gave you a clear look into what had transpired underneath.

You squint, arms folded neatly in between your thighs as you crouched over the ledge of the building; from what you could see, nothing was amiss—everything looked to be in place. Letting out an annoyed scoff, you were about to turn on your tail before the ear-piercing sound of glass shattering into pieces hit your eardrums. 

You immediately snapped around, and panic ensued when the people on the streets started screaming, running amok like wild animals scattering away into their safe spaces. You, on the other hand, now have to clean up the mess—you had no clue where this universe’s Spiderman was, nor did anyone brief you on it.

Nonetheless you approached the bust-up shop with a wavy heart, praying to something out there that there weren’t any critically injured persons. As you stalked near the front of the shop, you could hear loud banters inside; curious, you stare into the messy excuse for an interior: broken decors, smashed up shelvings, and items sprawled out across the floor inside.

You took the opportunity and shot yourself up to the ceiling, both your soles and fingertips clutching onto the surface, cautiously crawling further into the shop. 

“Please—” a voice yelled out, “Just let me steal your ATM machine!”

Your lips part, dumbfounded.

“No! Ey! Get away from—” You finally managed to grasp the scene that played out in front of you.

The store manager was running around with a bat in his hands, and the other person that seemed to be wearing a costume with black spots, a jean jacket slung over his shoulders and a rather cute bucket hat. To your surprise, the man evaded the attack when a black hole had been summoned under the manager’s feet, causing him to fall into the portal and out of another one…

…Right above you.

You yelped at the sudden contact on your back, the manager’s weight had you both falling face first into the shards-filled floor; his body cushioned by yours.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” 

The man behind you rolled off, allowing you to take a step and collect yourself as you slowly stood up. Debris started filling up your senses, and the pain from having been cut by thousands of glass shards made you wince in response. You pushed it all down, needing to finish the job as soon as possible so you could flee from more missions when you go back to the headquarters.

You even considered retiring from your spot in the team.

Speaking of spots…

You peered up, eyes catching onto the odd appearance of the man in front of you, who was still attempting to find a way to escape with the ATM. If you hadn’t been as irritated and grumpy as you were, you’d have found the situation hilarious.

“You gotta let that go, big man.” He whipped his head around, eyes darting around before locking in on you. “I’m sorry, I can’t—wait, you look different from my Spiderman.” His head tilted in confusion; you only rolled your eyes in retort, not wanting to drag your already long day out. Webs shot out of your wrists, launching them toward the direction of his foot.

Watching in disbelief as another hole appeared right where his foot would’ve been, the webs flinging into the black void and you felt the substance land on your back, knocking your balance forward.

“What the,” confused, you feel around for it, your fingers finding the source, tracing the substance behind you. “How did you fucking do that?” You glared him down, seeing his stature falter and hands thrown up into the air in defense. 

“Whoa whoa, language!” He wagged a finger at you, giving you his head shake of disapproval. 

“Shut up.”

“That’s just plain rude, young lady—hold on, you’re a lady right?” Your eye twitched in annoyance. 

“Has anyone ever said you’re way too chatty?” 

He was fidgeting with his hands, looking away and feeling nervous, unsure of how to respond to your jab. Before he could get another word out, the bottom of your feet connected with his chest, sending his body back against the wall with a loud ‘thud’ watching as he fell on his backside.

“Oof.”

 He let out a soft grunt, rubbing the sore spot on his butt; right before you did a chain-attack, he caught your foot with another one of his black holes, your foot now appearing on the other side of the store and out of sight.

“That wasn’t very nice. Listen, I just need some money, let me go and—” He threw the ATM onto a pile of cans and started rolling it out of your way, pushing the huge machine as fast as he could. Pulling back your foot in time, your calf connected with his face, making him trip over the cans comically with his arms flailing in the air.

You quickly reached down to fetch your trap to secure your win.

That would be too easy, though. 

Side-stepping a portal of void that almost ate you up, you winced at the pain that shot through your ribs due to your rapid movements. Biting through the pain, you maneuvered to where his body laid and tackled him to the ground once more when he tried to stand up; from then on, it was a cat fight. With you trying to get him detained and him attempting to pry you off of him.

Suddenly, another hole manifested beneath the two of you, watching in horror as you both fell through and landed harshly on top of the rooftop you originally occupied prior; the back of your head collided into the concrete ground; a poor excuse for a cushion.

It fucking hurt.

You were pretty sure you smelled blood.

He tried to get up, but you tumbled the two of you near the ledge of the building; in the midst of all the actions, he found dominance over you when he had your upper body hanging off the ledge with his grip on the collar of your suit. Blood thumped through your eardrums along with the loud horns of traffic, your heart racing in a million miles, if anyone looked up, they'd think you were insane for getting yourself in the situation. 

Maybe you are. 

Call for backup.

It would be so easy; the gizmo hugged your wrist, just one push of a button and someone will be here—

Too late, his grip on you wavered and you plummet into the air.

Fuck.

You quickly attempt to shoot more webs to find purchase on something, anything. 

But terror washed over you the second you realized you had conveniently run out of webbing fuel—being the dumbass you were, you had completely forgotten to get it refilled before the mission at the station back in headquarters.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the impact; your body going limp to soften the blow.

You let out a loud yelp when something flew out of the air beside you and clashed against your body, but you don’t feel the shock at the contact—instead, the warmth of a large arm wrapped around your midsection and you feel the cold wind whiplash you.

Opening your eyes, you were (pleasantly) surprised to find that Miguel caught you just in-time, right before you could suffer any more blunt injuries. You almost cried at the sight of him, his name teased the tip of your tongue, wanting to wrap your arms around him for a hug; you pulled yourself back just in time before you could react on your impulse.

You were still mad at Miguel, you have to act like it.

Before you know it, he came to a halt around a corner into an alleyway and swung down to place you down gently on the ground, your feet now free from the feeling of being dangled in the air. His eyes flickered over your face, then down your body; his arm still pressed into your waist as he squeezed your flesh out of instinct. 

Bad move, the squeeze, no matter how gentle, pressed into your bruised rib. The pain sending a wave of shocks throughout your torso, you immediately pushed him away with a small hiss. You couldn’t see it, but hurt flashed through his eyes when you forced yourself out of his grip, his arm falling back to his side; unknowing of its purpose.

He wouldn’t willingly admit it, but the rare moments he would get to feel the heat of your body against him sent him to heaven: like that one time your shoulder pressed into his at the cafeteria, the times your naked fingers would brush over his skin, when your back used to press up on his during missions back in the days he went with you. Sinfully, he would recall that specific time your chest pushed into his torso during a stealth mission, the temptation to take you right there and then a devilish thought that circled his mind.

(Don’t ask what he had done in the shower after the mission debrief.)

That was part of the reason he had stopped frequenting jobs with you, even when you came into his office and invited him; you were met with rejections after rejections, soon enough, he noticed that you stopped trying—and the painful gnaw at his chest reminded him of your growing distant attitude with him, too. Miguel refused to let his personal life interfere with his business, and the last person he would want to hurt was you. 

Unknowingly, he had done exactly that whenever he would gradually push your presence away.

Having meals weren’t the same anymore, not when you stopped showing up to his office everyday with his favorite food like a routine, he’d eat less and less as the days passed by; without you there to continuously pester him, he found himself reverting back to his old habits—working after late hours, not sleeping enough, not eating enough, barely talking to anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He had came to the realization that somehow, long ago, your presence had become such a grounding part of his life; the gentle yet persistent reminder that he deserved love and care too, to stop hogging all the responsibilities alone and share his burden with someone who he can trust, and it all manifested into you.

Miguel recognized he royally fucked up when you both barely see each other face-to-face anymore, you stopped showing up to debriefings, the only time he’d get to remotely speak to you was when he sent you off to missions.

He knew he was harsh, yes, but he fully believed in your capability to handle yourself—but while he was relentless, he still cared. 

Hence why he arrived and interjected your mission, wanting to extend a helping hand.

“Fuck—what are you doing here?!” You shouted over the loud traffic, emotions taking control of your mind, before Miguel could protest, screams broke out from beside you both. “Shit, let’s get this over with, big man.” 

You paused, momentarily forgotten that your webbings ran out of fuel and mentally slapped yourself in the face.

As if he read your mind, he fished out a tube from behind him and threw it your way. You caught it just in time and practically rushed to throw the lid off, tipping the mouth over to allow the liquid flow into the web gadget integrated into your suit. You threw a mumbled “thanks” his way and chucked the tube out of sight.

“Come on,” you nod toward the opening of the alleyway with an arm raised and pull yourself upward with your web. 

It was supposed to be an easy job: brawl with the anomaly, win the brawl, capture it.

But this one was starting to grate your nerves—and you were sure Miguel felt the same too, you could sense the rage radiating off of his huge stature like sirens; chasing down the guy who had re-introduced himself as the Spot when you caught up with him earlier, unintentionally finding himself falling in and out of accidental portals he materialized. 

“Stop running!” Yelling, you proceeded to jump into the portal he went through, he was always barely a hair away; yet as clumsy as he was, managed to get away every single time.  

“Stop chasing me!” Spot shouted back, tripping over the back of his foot and almost falling into one of the portals entirely. 

He managed to barely swerve out of the way when Miguel lunged at him from behind, his claws swooping in the air where Spot used to be. It became a constant back-and-forth; you would shoot yourself closer to him and Miguel would come from his back, essentially cornering him, then Spot would narrowly escape; rinse and repeat. Exhaustion crept up on you eventually, nagging the back of your mind as you tapped into your adrenaline to stay awake and alerted of your surroundings. 

Miguel noticed it, too, and he went even harder—the intensity of his ferocity grew when he realized he had to end things soon before someone gets injured; he prayed to God it wouldn’t be you. 

Somehow, more portals had opened up, and all you could do was avoid falling into them; the possibility of coming face first into the asphalt roads were too high for you to take the chance. Miguel almost got caught in one; hardly dodging a portal that conjured on the wall he stuck to. But unlike you, he was willing to test out his theory, reeling his body back to prepare launching himself into the portal. And he did just that—his reward? A high-five of his face with another set of walls. 

He grunted, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted you latching onto Spot’s back; desperately trying to push him down onto a solid surface. You both spun into another portal and crashed on a different rooftop, Miguel rushed over with claws ravaging the innocent bricks he crawled on; when he went up, he saw the two of you gasping for air on the ground. 

You clutched the side of your rib, an indescribable amount of pain overtook your senses; you were pretty sure your ankle was broken when it was caught on a pole. Spot got up earlier than you, and was about to speed off before he felt a large hand tugging at the back of his shirt. 

It all happened so fast: reeling in a punch, the adrenaline pumping in Miguel’s veins, Spot’s utter shock at the face of Death himself, the supposed impact of the fist with the other’s face…

…Only for the force to be directed to you in the heat of the moment when a portal happened to manifest where Spot’s face would’ve been.

It was an accident, really, an unintentional line of actions from Spot— he was way too out of it when he figured he was about to go through his final moment; his portals shot out in panic, lucky for him, it was the reason he evaded Miguel’s death fist.

Unlucky for you, the other end of the portal had been right in front of you the whole time; yet in the midst of you processing your surroundings, you hadn’t realized quicker that your senses were screaming for you to dodge out of the way.

The conclusion? You, having just been punched in your guts, falling down a building amongst the New York you shouldn’t have stepped a foot in if you knew the outcome at all. The gust of wind pumped in your ears as you fell, and fell.

No worries—you’ve got your handy-dandy webs, right? 

Oh how you wished you hadn’t been wrong.

Miguel had snatched a random refill off of his own shelf when he was about to depart, not bothering to check for its content after his recent use; just shy of a quarter, barely enough to last an average Spider’s fill an hour of webbing. In his defense, he had been distraught when Lyla popped in earlier to warn him of your vitals: most specifically your injuries. He would’ve never sent you out in the first place if he knew you suffered from broken ribs.

But all you knew was that you somehow fucked yourself over.

Panic ensued.

And now, you suffered the consequences of his actions.

“Miguel!” A call for help; he was your last hope.

The fall wasn’t a particularly long one, and you normally would breeze through the impact and pain like a champ—except you have never fell from a building with ribs that squeezed your organs tight, ankle that would most likely not support your landing even if you tried, the adrenaline you lived off of now benched on the side leaving you stranded for some form of strength to pull yourself together in the span of a few seconds.

Your shoulder hit the ground first, then your head; the harsh impact created a string of reactions to your already abused body: pain shooting up your nerves, the corners of your eyes dimming despite the bright lights flashing around you.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, policemen started showing up once someone reported a supposed break-in at the shop you investigated; the sound of blaring sirens filled your eardrums like honey whilst the flashing of red and blue assaulted your blurry sight. 

Barely able to distinguish what was happening in front, you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbow; but the more you tried, the more lights started diminishing in your vision. Breathing has never felt so difficult, either.

Miguel was a step too late when he came to you; after having realized what had occurred, he dropped Spot in an instant like a hot potato, prioritizing saving you instead of proceeding with the mission’s objective. He was aware of the policemen being present at the scene when they started noticing your slumped body in the middle of the road, crowding together to watch as you struggled to lift yourself up—they all stood and observed, no one reached out to help, none.

He was by your side right away, his one hand supporting the weight of your head while the other clutching at the hem of your mask, lifting it over your eyes.

His hand felt…wet.

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse: he watched the stiff expression on your face contorted with pain, you seemed to have recognized him as you slowly reached a weak arm out to caress his face, your thumb gently glossing over his cheekbone, your touches light like feathers. His mask concealed the despair in his features, the hues of red and blues still shone on his back as everyone else stayed aside and spectated. 

Your hand soon dropped to your side, unmoving, your head now heavier than ever in his hand.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Miguel held your small, delicate hand into his, the tears teasing the corner of his eye as he watched your life slipped by those eyes of yours he’d grown to adore.

-

“You can’t live like this, Miguel.” 

Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, trailing Miguel’s tiny movements on the desk. His fingers delicately move across the keys on the keyboard, imputing password after password for locked files. 

“Seriously,” Lyla sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re starting to worry me.” 

“Nothing to worry about, Lyla, get me the decoded files from yesterday.” Miguel ignored her pestering, choosing to focus on his work and his work only.

That was his routine for the past 5 days or so.

After the entire slip-up in Earth 1610, Miguel had been busting his ass to hunt down the anomaly for every hour he was awake; granted, he did take care of other responsibilities too—babysitting Mayday on Monday, depatching teams to bring back more anomalies, and visiting you every day. 

And also dealing with that kid he found out to be the Spider-man from Earth-1610.

He hadn’t missed a single day of visiting you, who still laid in the hospital bed at the infirmary he cleared out for you. 

Everyday. On the clock. 5 am when he woke up, when lunchtime struck, and in the late hours of night when he should be spending on getting enough rest.

Lyla had been there through it all, watching Miguel’s tormented back every single minute he was awake as he continuously starved himself off of the bare minimums. 

Food, water, sleep, you name it all. 

And as his assistant, his well-being was her number one priority—hence the constant pestering that would be swatted away, food that went cold despite Peter having brought them in hours ago upon Lyla’s request and his growing concern for his friend in the chair. Jess’s occasional visits to check up on Miguel, wondering if the day she stepped in would be the day she would see his lifeless body on the desk with how much neglect he reflected on himself. Even the new recruits dropped in to say hello, just to see that he was doing…okay in his book: which was not okay in everyone else’s.

Everyone was worried. 

About you, of course, and him too.

The situation had clearly taken a heavy toll on him.

But Lyla understood more than anyone else that it wasn’t because of his work, his dwelling traumatic past, or how he barely had any rest for the past 120 hours. 

No one else knew of his infatuation with you except for her—and that was only because she snooped through his things, finding the little knit-knacks he kept from all those times you came and dropped it off: the tiny Miguel plushie you made when you impulsively decided to take up knitting that one time, the shirt of yours you had forgotten to take back when you visited his office at late hours, soaked from the rain outside and sneezing everywhere. 

“Hey Mig—“ sneeze. “I came to see y—“ sneeze. “I—“ and you sneezed. 

“For the love of God,” Miguel turned around, seeing your soaked clothes that cling to your body, and having to turn away for just a tiny moment to compost himself when he caught sight of your curves. 

Groaning, he pulled out one of his drawers and shuffled through and fished out a new shirt—undoubtedly his with how large it was. 

His shirt was a sight on you, fitting perfectly yet still draping over your thighs just slightly when you went to get changed. 

The image of you that night burned into his head, forever engraved in his brain. 

Then there was the polaroid picture of the two of you when you had forced Miguel to “take a selfie with me!” when you picked up a weirdly shaped camera from a thrift store in your universe (something something you saying to be smart and conserve money). “It’s called InstaX, it—here, let me show you” and snapped a picture. 

In the picture, his expression was one of annoyance, and you were squeezed against his shoulder with a toothy grin on your face. 

Lyla saw how Miguel would come back with tiny frames that he thought would frame the film perfectly, but ultimately was defeated when he decided to just stick it in-between the pages of his files labeled: Classified.

She was the only one ever to know the content inside: mostly pictures of Gabriella’s (poor) baking, first day at school, when Gabriella won her first competitive soccer match; and then there was you.

She knew how important you were to him; yet to her complete and utter confusion, Miguel always kept to himself about his little (big) crush—even though she could clearly tell you were just as interested as he was, too. 

He was the densest man you had the pleasure of knowing. 

He never made a move; and now, he might never get another chance to.

Now you were reduced to a sitting duck, once a shell of what you were; your body laid in the bed he frequented more than his own, the lively demeanor that you carried with you before turned into a tune of stable heartbeats beeping from the machinery installed next to you: the only indicator you were still alive. 

Guilt was the only thing he knew for a while; when he’d step into the shower as the cold water bit the skin of his back, like he was willingly punishing himself for allowing that incident to happen. 

Everywhere he went, whatever he did, he was only reminded of your face.

“If only I had been there sooner.”  

He’d say to himself while he peered down at your figure, not there but, there. You were barely hanging, and part of him knew that it was your determination to fight through whatever battle was going on inside your head during the coma. 

“Por favor,” his hand held yours, careful to avoid the IV’s that pricked your skin, forehead sticky with sweat after having just come back from a specifically tough mission that day.

“Concédeme este deseo.” 

He would whisper sweet-nothings to you, praying to himself at night by your bedside that you’d wake up one of these days with that smile he yearned for. And for someone to finally share the extra empanadas he would always bring in, to hope that one day, you’d get to share this joy with him. 

The joy of eating together again.

So imagine his surprise when he walked into your room tonight, and found you sat up with the metal frame supporting your back. 

You were awake.

And most importantly, you were alive. 

He had never sprinted so fast in his life; the warm pack of empanadas he brought from the cafeteria drop to the floor, the gentle ‘thud’ catching your zoned out self by complete surprise, your face softened once your gaze landed on Miguel; who was frantically patting your face and checking your vitals to confirm that yes, you are here. 

Your hand reached up to palm his that lingered on your cheek, his eyes finally settled on you, slowly taking in the fact that you were now right there in front of him. 

“Miguel,” a small knowing smile tugged at your lips, your eyes the most gentle he’d ever seen. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

He was still so afraid, so afraid that you would just slip by his fingers again; so he held onto you for dear life, fingers gripping your one cheek and hand with the others. 

“Estoy tan contenta de que estés aquí,” You whispered. 

A soft quiver of his lips; barely there—that was when the dam broke, and his tears started flowing down his sullen cheeks. 

You panicked, wondering if you had butchered your Spanish so bad you shamed him to tears.

“I’m…I’m sorry?” You tilt your head in confusion and worry. Miguel only shook his head, a small chuckle emitted from him; as if he knew what you had been thinking. 

“Don’t be sorry, silly.” He looked up at you with those earnest eyes of his; ones that melt your heart and warm your soul. You’d taken a liking to him early on; though you weren’t sure when it started, only where it started: during a mission, when the two of you grew physically close, so close.

His breaths fanning down your face, your breathing grew heavy with each and every second; that was when you knew you were in too deep. 

You would know it’d take heaven and hell to pull you apart from this man. 

There he kneeled, lips on the back of your hand as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, enjoying the way hues of red spread out on your cheeks. 

There was no way of escaping it now: the pent up tension of a confession teasing the air around you both, and soon, one of you was bound to crack.

“I have something to tell you—“

“I have something to say—“

Only that you both did it at once, together.

Miguel stared at you, lips slightly parted with the ghost of his words and eyes widened, then he cracked into a fit of roaring laughter—and you joined in.

Laughter filled what was once a room only occupied by the sound of your heartbeats on the machine, the two of you clutched each other’s hand, the high soon dying down to mere giggles; as if you two were high-school sweethearts with muffled chuckles thrown at each other in the back of the class. 

You two were in your own little world, a bubble that secured around your bodies, forever molding the shape of what once was and what will be. 

Wiping away the happy tear in your eye, you stared at Miguel’s devilishly handsome face, and the gorgeous smile you oh-so-rarely get the privilege of seeing. The muted rhythm of his chest rising and falling, in sync to yours, like two lovers on the dance floor—not even the sky could stop your love for each other. 

“I love you.” 

You blurted out; sure, you were 98% certain Miguel reciprocated your feelings, but that small node of anxiety still tugged at the back of your mind, terrified that you misunderstood his gestures all these times.

But wouldn’t the words he whispered to you during your sleep be all washed away if that was true? 

It was a risk, and you took it; it was now or never. 

“I—“ Miguel stammered, his heart screaming at him to just lean in and—

—kiss you.

His lips were nothing like you’d ever imagine; it was all the best parts multiplied by infinity: soft, full of all the love he had to give, and passionate. 

The kiss lasted for what felt like eternity—part of you wished it did, and you’d be content to die like this, your lips forever engraved on his. 

Miguel swore he heard the choir sung to him, albeit with crooked notes; but maybe because he did.

He slowly turned around, and you, who also does the same.

His colleagues had been quietly watching all this time from behind the doors: Peter with Mayday in tow as she cooed at the sight, Jess and that motherly smile of hers—Miles, Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr all stood with heads peeking through the gap of the doors. Even Lyla was there, although she simply floated over Peter's shoulder, joining in on the choir; their mouths agape with barely harmonized tunes of a holy song slipping out of their mouths. Amateur at best, unbearable at worst. 

Pavitr carried with the vocals, as always. 

They only stopped once they realized they had been caught; thinking that you two were in too deep to notice that there were more guests coming. 

“What…are you guys doing here?” Miguel asked, his tone more of a threat than a genuine question.

“We got some food—“ Peter perked up, but was instantly cut off by Hobie.

“‘o watch some sappy romance, ‘ey boss man?” Hobie high-fived Lyla's glitchy hologram, the latter wearing a smirk too wide for her face and nodding aggressively.

“Do the shoulder trick!” Miles yelled out; Gwen looked at him in horror then back to Miguel, this time, it was her who was shaking her head aggressively while crossing her arms into a giant X shape. 

Miguel snarled at Miles, not appreciating the cheesy suggestion of a pick-up line while everything went so well for him before they all busted in. 

“Remember to host a Sangeet bro! Oh Gayatri is super good at doing Henna—“  

“Hey I wanna be the flower girl!” Gwen piped up. 

“No, Miguel told me long ago Mayday would be—“

“She’s not even old enough, Peter, can she even throw a fistful of flowers?” Gwen crossed her arms in protest.

“I’ll have you know she’s an extremely capable baby, right, Mayday?” Peter looked down, only to see that Mayday had once again been chewing on his pink robe like always, blabbering with spit foaming at her mouth. 

“Oh Christ—“ Jess chuckled at the absurdity of the sight, a hand on her hip and the other tracing soothing circles on her belly; just as Miguel had been doing it with your hand the entire time.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh knowing that the special moment between the two of you had been ruined by a bunch of nosy gremlins. 

Your hand went up to remove his hand from his face, and even with how (incredibly) noisy the room became with banters and bickering thrown around; it was all quiet with him, only the stable heartbeats of you both reached your ears.

For once, your life was complete.

Miguel glanced into your eyes, the adoration swarmed your orbs; behind them, he could see far into the future where you both exist, always beside each other like glue to a paper—with you on his hips and his on yours.

And at last, Miguel had found what he had been missing from his life. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: Thank you so much for this suggestion Anon, it's my first one ever and I hope i did not disappoint u.u, I LOVED writing this and it got me tearing up reminiscing some fictional (sexy) mexican man. Hope u enjoyed!

ps: pls excuse the spanish i only have spanishdict as my holy grail (pls also DO correct me if needed!)

[artfulacrostic]

had my second high definition viewing of atsv in the theater today and here are my favorite details that i missed due to being overwhelmed on my first viewing:

LONG AF POST:

-gwen is literally wearing a rainbow shaped trans pride pin on her jacket with her prom outfit. she's soooo so canon trans <3

-captain stacy HAS A TRANS FLAG PATCH ON HIS POLICE UNIFORM JACKET?????? when i'm telling u my eyes popped out of my head 😳 SHES SO CANON TRANS!!!

-poster outside miles's guidance counselor's office reads: "visions sciences: telling you your story".

-parallel of miles's and gwen's dad kicking things out of general exasperation towards the beginning and end of the movie respectively

-when miles as spidey is talking to his dad and giving him advice (for himself) there's a reference to miles possibly reading vonnegut? (maybe in class??) "if this isn't nice what is" is a collection of kurt vonnegut's commencement speeches. (literally subtitled "advice to the young". the writers were extremely clever for this reference. if not reading it in class, miles has been searching up life advice on his own)

-i barely caught this but i'm PRETTY sure that in miles' room near his door there's a MICHELLE OBAMA presidential race sticker??? was president obama in the earth-1610 dimension michelle obama?? iconic if so

-fedex on earth-1610 is REDEX

-gayatri seems like they took elements of both gwen (police dad) and mj (young model) for her background as i believe i caught her visible on a "zomato" ad billboard (which appears to be the earth-50101 version of ubereats)

-i spent all of hobie's scenes trying to pick up the details of his many pins; but the only one that i could really make out with the quick shot changes besides the union jack pin was the one right above it, which is a three-leaf clover. i wondered if maybe it had some kind of significance to maybe irish independence or smth but i couldn't find anything online that backed that up so not sure what it means. if u know pls drop it in the replies.

-hobie's boots are definitely NOT ladder laced. i KNOW there is concept art and poster art of him with ladder laces but in the actual movie they are 100% crossed. also unlike the poster art, both boots have blue laces, not one blue, one yellow/orange. i wanted to be all on board the ladder lace code train but i'm pretty sure they just made his laces blue so that they could contrast against the red boots and be spidey colors. they probably abandoned the ladder lace part of the visual when someone realized what blue ladder laces meant in lace code. "HAS hobie killed a cop," you ask? given his comic backstory i'd say the odds are HIGH. but i would bet they didn't want people to think that since he's gone through canon event asm-90 ("a police captain close to spider-man is killed by falling rubble during a battle with a nemesis") that there's any possibility THAT was the cop he killed and he's proud of it (since it's supposed to be all abt character development from the ✨trauma✨ of the event)

-during the whole "intervention" scene, while all the other spider-people are facing directly in towards miles and miguel from wherever they are standing in the circle, hobie is the only one whose back is turned. he watches most of the scene over his shoulder. also, during a couple shots facing miles before the entire society of spiders show up, hobie is separated in the shot from all the other main spiders (Peter B, Gwen, Jess, etc) BY MILES. he is visible over one shoulder and everybody else is visible over the other. these two details are great signals of hobie having already MORALLY turned his back on miguel's authoritarianism, as well as giving a nice inverted "devil/angel on the shoulders" nod.

-peter b asks miguel to take a picture of him and mayday since it's her first chase; miguel brushes him off but mayday understands and uses her webshooter to click the camera button on peter b's phone and take a selfie without him noticing 😂😂😂 shes everything to me

-when miguel is pinning miles to the train, after gwen and peter b have caught up, there is a very fast moment when miles calls for help ("PETER!!") and peter doesn't reply to him, but calls out to miguel to calm down (smth like that) instead 🥲 peter for the love of god step up your mentor game and look out for this kid i can't handle it anymore

-when gwen takes the watch hobie made her out of the box, the screen is briefly visible and reads "project botleg". bootleg -> bot -> "botleg"; I SEE YOU HOBIE. people think he's so cool (and he is!!) but he's also just as much of a dork as all the other spiders. what a goofball

-in miles-42's room, a speed bag/speed ball/maize ball is attached to his wall near the door. there are other substantial differences to their rooms, but i think this is clearly a reference to uncle aaron-42's large presence in miles-42's life, given the association from both movies of aaron with the punching bag and miles getting guidance from him/looking to him for support.

-in addition to all the miles-1610 vs miles-42 prowler vs spidey reflection imagery in the end credits, guess who else has several moments of flashing from spider-man colors (red and black at least) to prowler colors (purple and green)?? miguel, that's who. miguel and miles-42/uncle aaron-42 team-up in beyond the spiderverse? or just an extra parallel for the antagonists sharing goals/possibly methods?

OKAY ANYWAY if ppl want i can try and dig up images of some of these but i figured that would make this post long af so that's all for now folks!! go see across the spider verse again and marvel at how much more fine detail you find like me 🕸🕸🕸

[pedroam-bang]

The Cell (2000)

[saraakpotter]

Requests

Hi guys! i was thinking about doing this some time ago, i'm completely out of ideas and requests are open! so, here are the fandom's i write for but before requsting please remember theses stuff:

i don't write smut, NSFW and things like that.

i only write 'x reader'

i only write 'female!reader' becasue i'm more comfortable like that :)

i don't feel comfortable writing about (male x male) or (female x female)

now for the characters:

(by the way you can request for the actors\actress's of those characters too)

❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎❀❄︎

MCU:

Romantic and platonic:

Tony Stark\ironman

Loki Laufeyson

Stephan Strange

Wade Wilson\deadpool

Steve Rogers\captain america

Peter Quill\starlord

Thor Odinson

Clint Barton\hawkeye

Bucky Barns \winter soldier

Sam Wilson\falcon

Pietro Maximoff

platonic only:

Natasha Romanoff

Yelena Belova

Kate Bishop

Wanda Maximoff

Gamora

Stranger Things:

Romantic and platonic:

Mike Wheeler

Will Byers

Steve Harrington

Jonathan Byers

Lucas Sinclair

Eddie Munson

Platonic only:

Jane 'Eleven' Hopper

Dustin Henderson

Jim Hopper

Joyce Byers

Max Mayfield

Harry Potter:

romantic and platonic:

Harry Potter

Ronald 'Ron' Weasley

Cedric Diggory

James Potter (marauders)

Sirius Black (marauders)

Remus Lupin (marauders)

(i may add the Slytherin boys later btw)

platonic only:

Hermione Granger

Luna Lovegood

Ginny Weasley

Lily Evans

Marlene McKinnon

Alice Fortescue

Mary McDonald

Sherlock:

romantic and platonic:

Sherlock Holmes

John Watson

Greg Lestrade

RDJ Sherlock Holmes

platonic only:

Mary Morstan

Jim Moriarty

Eurus Holmes

(i mostly write platonic for John and Greg tbh, but feel free to request both :)

AGGGTM:

romantic and platonic:

Ravi Singh

Sal Singh

platonic only:

Pippa 'Pip' Fitz-Amobi

Cara Ward

Connor Reynolds

[berrrydameyve]

Spider gang actor AU but they're a bunch of students making their own psychological horror movie but the movie is my oc lore and i think it'd be a good scenario for their film

[celluloidrainbow]

CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA (2005) dir. Harmage Singh Kalirai Jimi, a doctor in Lancashire and the only son of loving Indian immigrants, is spineless. When his parents and grandmother arrange his marriage to a young woman, he hasn't the courage to tell them that he's already in love with Jack, a man they think is his best friend. To make things worse, Jack's niece Hannah tells the bride-to-be that she's Jimi's daughter. Jimi's family decides to make the best of it by marrying Jimi to Hannah's mother, the hard-drinking, foul-mouthed Vanessa. Jimi begs Vanessa to go through with it so he can be with Jack. Is another resolution possible? (link in title)

[garciafamlover500]

Spiderverse HC’s!

(These are all just my personal opinions)

Miles Morales: Transmasc (FTM) Pan (He/Him)

Gwen Stacy: Transfem (MTF) Demiromantic Bi (She/Her)

Hobie Brown: Agender Intersex Unlabeled/Queer (Uses any/all pronouns)

Pavitr Prabhakar: Pan Demiboy (He/They)

Margo Kess: Enby Polyromantic Asexual (She/They/It)

Peter B Parker: Transmasc (FTM) Bi (He/Him)

Mary Jane Watson: Transfem (MTF) Bi (She/Her)

Miguel O’Hara: Achillean/Queer (He/Him)

Spider-Noir: Transmasc (FTM) Bi Aroace (He/Him)

Spider Ham: Enby Gay Aroace (He/Him)

Peni Parker: Transfem (MTF) Asexual Lesbian (She/They)

Jessica Drew: Sapphic/Queer (She/her)

Ben Reilly: Gay (He/Him)

Gayatri Singh : Girlflux Bi (She/They/Xe))

Ganke Lee: Genderfluid Gay (He/She/They)

Miles G Morales: Transmasc (FTM) Pan (He/Him)

[brokehorrorfan]

The Cell will be released on 4K Ultra HD and Blu-ray on January 21 via Arrow Video. Peter Savieri designed the new cover art for the 2000 psychological horror film; the original poster is on the reverse side.

Tarsem Singh (Immortals, The Fall) directs from a script by Mark Protosevich (I Am Legend, Thor). Jennifer Lopez, Vince Vaughn, and Vincent D'Onofrio star with Marianne Jean-Baptiste, Jake Weber, and Dylan Baker.

The theatrical and director's cuts have been newly restored in 4K, approved by Singh, with Dolby Vision. An alternate version of the theatrical cut created by director of photography Paul Laufer is also included.

Special features and limited edition contents are listed below, where you can also see more of the packaging.

Disc 1 - 4K UHD:

Theatrical cut (107 min)

Director's cut (109 min)

Audio commentary with film scholars Josh Nelson & Alexandra Heller-Nicholas (new)

Audio commentary with screenwriter Mark Protosevich & film critic Kay Lynch (new)

Audio commentary with director Tarsem Singh

Audio commentary with director of photography Paul Laufer, production designer Tom Foden, makeup supervisor Michèle Burke, costume designer April Napier, visual effects supervisor Kevin Tod Haug, and composer Howard Shore

Projection of the Mind’s Eye - Feature-length interview with director Tarsem Singh (new)

Between Two Worlds - Interview with director of photography Paul Laufer (new)

Disc 2 - Blu-ray:

Alternate version of theatrical cut - presented in 1.78:1 aspect ratio with alternate grading from a 2K master created by director of photography Paul Laufer (new)

Interview with director of photography Paul Laufer about the alternate version (new)

Art is Where You Find It - Visual essay by film scholar Alexandra Heller-Nicholas (new)

The Costuming Auteur - Visual essay by film critic Abby Bender (new)

Style as Substance: Reflections on Tarsem

8 deleted/extended scenes with optional commentary by Tarsem Singh

6 multi-angle visual effects vignettes

Theatrical trailers

Image gallery

Also included:

Collector’s book with new writing on the film by critics Heather Drain, Marc Edward Heuck, Josh Hurtado, and Virat Nehru

When serial murderer Carl Stargher (Vincent D’Onofrio) falls into a coma with his latest victim still trapped in an unknown location and waiting to die, the FBI turn to psychologist Catherine Deane (Jennifer Lopez) for help. Using an experimental technology she enters the dark dreamscape of Stargher’s mind, attempting to learn his secrets before it’s too late. But his unconscious is a twisted nightmare, a labyrinth that threatens to trap her inside his terrifying world forever. To save a life, she’ll have to risk her own.

Pre-order The Cell.

[isiririsi]

Fictional characters are so good I whis men were real😔😔😔

[aloevhello]

Dana D’Angelo & Gwen Stacys of the Spiderverse

During the flip-through of Miguel’s comic in ATSV, a panel showing Dana’s death scene appears (this scene occurs in the comics’ Venom 2099 arc). Since Dana is Miguel’s only love interest to have died, this puts her on par with Gwen Stacy, Peter’s only love interest to have died, potentially making Dana D’Angelo a variant of the Gwen Stacy character. Considering that this panel and other panels from the Venom 2099 arc has been shown in the flip-through, it’s likely that this event has already occurred and will be integral to Miguel’s backstory.

With ATSV introducing the idea that Gwen Stacy dying as a result of being in love with Spider-Man is a canon event, this serves as meta-commentary on how much this storyline defined various iterations of this character. The film further comments on this through Gwen (Ghost-Spider) as she grapples with her own feelings towards Miles while knowing that these feelings could lead to her death. However, with Gwen learning that her father prevented his own canon event, this sets the stage for Gwen actually getting to be with Miles and defying the canon event that afflicted previous Gwen Stacy variants.

The idea of Gwen Stacy not having to die is a new concept that prevails for the younger generation of Spiderpeople as exemplified in Gwen and Miles. This is also shown through Pavitr, who has been Spider-Man for 6 months thus far, considering how Inspector Singh’s canon event was prevented and how this could signify that Gayatri Singh (another Gwen Stacy variant) does not have to succumb to her canon event either. Meanwhile, the movie’s creative team often refers to Miguel to being part of an older generation of Spiderpeople, due to him being an adult and his comics having originated in the 90’s, thus making Miguel’s story about losing Dana be part of a larger preexisting narrative of Spider-Mans losing their Gwen Stacys. It’s just interesting to see how these three dynamics clash with Pavitr likely never having to face this tragedy, Gwen and Miles actively fighting against it, and Miguel dealing with its aftermath.

[starwarskawaii]

Spider Wedding

A Spiderverse/Ghostflower fic

I can't name things ok??

Fic by me and @ridiculous-hibiscus

Summary: It's Gwen and Miles' wedding day, set about 9 years after BTSV. Cuteness ensues.

Cw: fluff mostly, brief allusions to parental loss and child loss, truly so fluffy, so tooth rottingly fluffy

It was a perfect day. Peter B was officiating, Mayday was the flower girl, Spidercat the ring bearer. Miles' half of the wedding party was Ganke, Pav, Noir, Penny, and Ham. Gwen had won Hobie as her Maid of Honor in a game of rock paper scissors a few weeks beforehand. Gwen's half had Hobie, Gayatri, MJ, Margo, and Jess. On Miles' side of the aisle sat Rio, Jeff, a memorial for Aaron so he could be there in spirit, Miles G, his Peter's Aunt May, MJ from his universe, and various other Spiders. Gwen's had Captain Stacy, her Peter's Aunt May, various Spiders, and Miguel O'Hara.

Before the ceremony, Miguel had pulled Miles aside. Some awkward mumbling about treating Gwen right and being a better partner than he had been to Xina, Dana, or any other woman. It was painfully awkward, and incredibly sweet.

"Thanks Miguel. If you don't mind, I kinda have somewhere to be." Miles said awkwardly, slightly wishing he could evaporate to escape Miguel's sweet but wildly uncomfortable gesture.

"Uh, sure. Good luck Miles." Miguel replied, equally as awkward, silently wishing he would have made queue cards or had Lyla write something.

During the ceremony, Miguel and Captain Stacy were misty eyed and played it off. They're grown men, after all. They were both far too old to get emotional at some wedding that they had known was coming from the moment each had seen Gwen and Miles in the same room together. But as they sat there, each felt pangs in their heart. George was watching his baby girl, his only family, take her final steps out of the nest. Miguel was watching the closest thing he had to a daughter since he lost Gabriella truly become an adult in his eyes. Not to mention, Miles and his kindness and stubborn hope reminded him of Gabriel.

After the ceremony, as Gwen and Mikes went off for photos and people talked before heading to the reception, a few Spiders had asked Miguel how long he and Mr. Stacy had been together. He blinked. He blinked again. Then he scowled and informed them that he and Gwen's father were not in a relationship. If he was honest, as much as the idea of George was wholly unappealing to him, he was relieved that people thought of him as capable of being in a relationship. He had worked hard to get to that point.

Peter B sang at the reception during the first dance. Gwen had her first dance with George, Miles with Rio, the second together. After their first married dance, Gwen went to the corner that Miguel was alone in. She tapped him on the shoulder.

"Miguel, I'd like to do something, that is, if you're willing."

"What is it, Stacy?" Miguel tried to sound gruff. But honestly? He was nearly moved to tears again by Gwen thinking of him at all on her big day.

"You've made a lot of mistakes, but you've been there for us too. You're special to me and Miles, but especially to me. You were the dad I needed when I couldn't talk to my own. If you would be willing, how about father-daughter dance?"

Miguel stared for what felt like an awkward eternity while Gwen fiddled with her fingers and wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut. Finally, he nods yes, and steps forward.

It was a perfect day. Miles and Gwen were married, and everyone knew what they meant to each other. The love in that wedding, romantic and otherwise, was unprecedented and pure.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙂𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙚

Content: ATSV characters as dumb things I've done

Miles Morales got caught doing a graffiti by his kindergarten teacher, who recognized him and tried to start a whole conversation while saying she hoped better for him

Gwen Stacy started greeting a guy in the hallway without knowing who he was, even had sort of a secret handshake for over year, then the guy disappeared, she never knew his name

Pavitr Prabhakar still remembers the full government names of the kids that stole his littlest pet shop at preschool

Peter B. Parker was so depressed he wanted to drown his sorrows and took half a bottle of tequila he found laying around. Then he was told that shit wasn't tequila, it was vinegar

Hobie Brown made a friend who was in first grade and motivated him and his other classmates to take down the corrupt class president who was elected by the teacher and not popular vote and acted like a little prick. The kid got jumped by the other children at recess and they called his guardians to answer for his "antisocial behavior"

Gayatri Singh scratched her own face multiple times with her long ass nails that she refuses to trim because they're natural and she took a long time to grow them, she tells people it's her cat to spare the embarrassment

Miles G. Morales got bullied for reading comic books so he started practicing moves from the comic characters to beat the bullies. It sorta worked

Miguel O'Hara doesn't know how to open cans or use can openers and violently stabs them until he can cut them with a knife

Jessica Drew tripped in high heels near a person she wanted to impress and pretended she fainted/her knees failed from hypoglycemia

Ganke Lee created a fake account to stalk people and they actually started believing the account was real and started telling stories about how they knew the guy and went to concerts and shit with him

Margo Kess "doxxed" a guy he was arguing with online, but she just recognized him as one of her friend's neighbor and posted a photo of his house