#peter’s priority list:

[iamthepulta]

so what’s with “petyr rivend”?

OKAY. So Petyr is a character I knew needed to exist in Ellenville, but really solidified... *checks watch* ... two days ago.

((How much am I supposed to share for this ask game...? I'll allow myself to go off under the cut.))

TLDR: Petyr is an Elum miner/union organizer in my Ellenville story. He essentially fits the 'angry revolutionary with a tragic backstory' trope, and the story I'd write for him would just be his backstory since that has minimal effects on Ellenville-proper, but it'd really help worldbuilding for the country and geology.

He grew up in the largest coal mining town of northwest Marena, nestled in the valley between two mountains, and his parents were operators on the mine's south slope, situated upstream of the town.

As part of its normal course, the river began to undercut part of the mine's base slope. Petyr's parents and the other south slope workers voiced their concerns, but no changes were made. Eventually, the slope did fail, sending several tons of coal waste on top of the river. The town wasn't harmed, and Breichester & Co. actively mocked Petyr's parents and the other operators' fears.

However, 1. the coal waste in the river created acid downstream and 2. the poorly-consolidated waste wasn't enough to dam the water completely, but the restricted flow still created an acidic lake upstream.

The town and workers were upset, but the company claimed not only was there not enough money to fix the new problem, but naysayers were union plants so they could call in security. Once their vocal neighbor was silenced, Petyr's parents smuggled him to his uncle a few villages over with vague excuses to the company school. Only a few weeks later, the dam collapsed, burying the town and everyone not on shift in 15 feet of coal sludge and acid.

Petyr continued living with his uncle and worked in gold mining until elum was discovered near the capital city, (also called Marena), and miners flocked to their new Mecca. It didn't take long for Petyr to spot patterns in the families of miners and weavers who'd worked elum longest, and his brash nature quickly earned him credit with the other miners. On the run from company thugs, Petyr is well-known throughout Marena's underground, rallying to keep other workers safe, enacting vengeance whenever possible, and telling whoever will listen that something is wrong with the elum kids.

-=-

((His design is partly from songs "River's Rising" and "The City that Drowned", and partly from the Aberfan Disaster and dozens of other tailings accidents over the years. I also require at least one (1) angry!tragic character in everything I write. I love him. Shaking him like a wet head of lettuce ahhhh))

[tarjapearce]

Like Me Pt. 2

Tarzan! Miguel O'Hara x Scientist ! Reader

Art by Rendraws21 on X

WARNINGS: Mildly suggestive, power dynamics, emotional distress, endangering situations, Kraven being an asshole.

Summary: Your savior proves himself to be very much real.

A|N: Hope you like! I know you're waiting smut. Just bare with it! ;w; Reblogs and feedback are always welcome ❤️

Previous Miguelverse Main Masterlist

Kraven didn't dally and ordered the camp to be settled. The spot was rather good. A prime source of water and food next to you all, soil sturdy and perfect for withstanding the hard hammering of the tools that nailed the bases for the tents.

And after hours of bickering, russian cursing, more work and the crew doctor patching your arm up, the camp was settled and food served.

Each bite not only felt heavenly, but was scarfed down. You couldn't care less if Peter looked your way, mildly disgusted and surprised of your manners, or rather the lack of them while eating.

It was the least you deserved after surviving a ship sinking, getting lost in the jungle, being chased by a giant Jaguar and a man that left more questions than answers.

Who was he? More important, How had he survived all these years on his own?

After a second plate and extra slices of bread, one of the men approached and announced the readiness of your tent. One of the things you asked in your contract. To have your own, cause as much as you trusted Peter, there was nothing better than to have your own space and privacy in the midst of an unhealthy amount of testosterone surrounding you.

"We've eaten, replenished, and blah blah. What happened?" Peter mumbled while picking his and your plate together.

You shook your head softly as another crew member passed by. You didn't trust them, and Kraven had proved to be unpredictable.

One minute he cared for his crew and the other he was leaving you to fend for yourselves. But as long as you did your job, you wouldn't be part of the russian's guessing dangerous games.

"Kraven said we'd have to make do with the little tools we have. He spent a good time of the day trying to get some signal for the radio."

"Any luck?"

"None so far." Peter mumbled as he took your things inside your tent.

A hammock was the bed, a few boxes and other storage things were placed in a corner. A chalkboard and your investigation books in another corner and against all odds, a little broken mirror that acted as a poor attempt of a vanity ontop of another wooden box. Your hairbrush rested next to it. Whoever arranged it, at least had the consideration to make it as comfortable looking as possible.

In total, you had a couple of shirts and skirts left to use. The rest remained on the sea, floating and drifting away with unknown course.

Peter excused to go change himself and you seized the chance to do the same. Catching a cold in the jungle wasn't in your priorities list. Not with reduced medicine and victuals.

You put on a dry set and combed your hair out as much as you could. Peter joined you a couple of minutes later.

The fire cracked and sparked alive as the crew surrounded it. The day had been chaotic at best and everyone tried to soothe the nerves in their own way. Some drank, others sang, others talked and soon Kraven joined.

Others simply went to sleep. Too tired to keep up after a well deserved meal.

"So..." Peter started while sitting before you, a rag and some tubs on his hands. He was cleaning the remaining pieces of your equipment.

"Promise me you won't talk to anyone about this. And I mean it, Parker."

"I'm a geologist, not a snitch."

"I'm... kinda scared of what might happen if Kraven finds out"

"Now you're scaring me.  What happened back there?"

"I know... who killed the beast Kraven is skinning." A gulp rolled down your throat upon remembering the lurid scene displaying before your eyes

"Wait... you said, who?"

A nod from you and Peter paled.

"We're not alone, that's for sure."

Peter rubbed his hands against his face, an exasperated groan escaped him.

"He's taller than Kraven."

"Bullshit." Peter mumbled almost immediate, surprised at your words.

"I'm not bullshittin' you Parker!" You had to hush your voice and soon grabbed a sketch notebook and begun tracing and drawing.

"He's freaking tall, long hair and he's naked. Well, not naked but a loincloth is everything but clothes if you think about it."

Peter frowned suspiciously as his hand pressed on your skin, to see if your body temperature had increased. Jungle fever was one of the worst things a human could suffer when away from their homeland. Cause he refused to believe anything of the nonsense that came out of your mouth was true.

A man taller than Sergei? Impossible. He was tall, but Sergei had been one of the tallest and well built men he had ever came across with.

"What are you doing?" You pushed his hands away and frowned.

"I'm sorry, I do want to believe you but.."

"I'm telling you the truth, Pete! He had... This... red hue on his eyes and fangs!"

"Fangs?" The incredulity in Peter couldn't be hidden the more he listened to your apparent rave.

"He's fucking strong, Pete. He was holding that beast by his tail! and then fought body to body against it! and He's so damn touchy. No respect for personal space!."

"And what? He smashed the jaguar to death and then kissed you?"

"Yes!" You nodded but quickly frowned when Peter tittered on his seat, unable to keep the mirth away.

"Why are you laughing?!"

"I'm sorry. You know we've been friends since college, but you seriously can't expect me to believe that, Dally."

A short for Dalhberg. The surname that put your name out in the researcher's map in London, upon discovering and naming another type of daisy and named it after you. The Dalhberg Daisy.

"You believe in the freaking Queen but refuse to believe in this?"

"I believe in the Queen's acquisitive power, nothing else. Cause I've seen it!" He explained, skeptical.

You showed him the sketch and shoved it to his hands.

"Look at that! That's exactly how he looks like!"

Peter sighed and raked over his eyes on the semi-crumpled paper sheet. Sharp features, a strong jaw and deep eyes.

"Yeah, a haircut would make him look better though." he chuckled, "Look, I know it's been a long day for us... let's rest, ok? We've got another tomorrow."

With a frown you removed the sketchbook away and tossed it on the makeshift vanity.

"He's real." you pointed at the sketchbook

"Okay, okay. He's real. We can discuss it all tomorrow when we're less tired, alright?"  He held your shoulders, trying to ease your rising anger.

But you quickly removed his hands from you, hurt that your best friend didn't believe you. "Whatever. Goodnight."

Peter left with a defeated sigh and soon you cuddled in your hammock.

"I know he's real." With a huff, you pushed the pillow closer to your face, letting the day's weight to finally crash on you.

-----

The loud bangs of a gunshot echoed through the bright blue skies, frightening any local fauna that rested comfortably, like you, that nearly fell out the hammock from the initial jumpscare.

With a heavy exhale, and rub of your eyes you geared up for the day.

This time Kraven was thoughtful enough to give you a weapon. A small knife with enough sharp to slice and dice through anything weak enough to perish under the blade.

And soon everyone gathered to the morning structions. Kraven split up the crew in three parts. The first group of men would go to the beach to recover as much equipment as they could. The second group would be in charge to set up traps and hunt down for food. And the third one, meaning Peter, you, two more men and himself would go explore and study the jungle in order to gain any sort of information of new potential species.

You carried a small backpack, filled with your sketchbook, pencils, some essay and sample tubes and some snacks in case Kraven decided to return until dinner time.

And after a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruits, everyone left.

Peter walked behind Sergei, guiding the group whenever the mercenary asked him to. You were in the middle as the other two men trailed with their guns behind.

Morning slowly poured into hours. Tortuous, running at the speed of a snail. Each breathing felt like adding more to the waiting, bringing your nerves to a much annoyed stance.

But it quickly melted away upon finding your first discovery.

The grass laid pressed in a circular pattern on the ground. The leaves were placed strategically, as if used as cushions in great amounts. A couple of fruit carcasses laid next to them. Discarded and forgotten.

"Look at that" The excitement in your voice beyond evident. You crouched to see if there was any other clues to your growing suspicion.

Kraven and Peter stopped upon you crouching to the floor.

"What is it?" Kraven pulled his gun from it's holster and walked over you.

"These are nests!"

"Nests?" His brow quirked and you nodded vigorously, to then count the spots. Around six in total.

"You know what that means? They live in packs! Gorillas live in packs!"

"About damn time we found something." Kraven nodded, pleased as he helped you up to then mark a spot in his map.

"Good job, Dalhberg."

Praised the mercenary before moving.

--

When the sun got high enough and Peter discovered some other findings like rare minerals, the group decided to take a break nearby a lake.

The five of you sat down and ate whatever thing you got left from breakfast.

Once you were done, you took your backpack, pencil and sketchbook with you.

"Where are you going?" Kraven grumbled after gulping down the water from his canteen.

"Saw some specimens of plants Id like to register. Won't take long."

"You better return as soon as possible, understood?"

The mercenary warned and you nodded while walking away from the tree. Excited to partake in the things you were brought and paid to do.

Your first specimen was a moss plant, then a new type of orchid. A fish, some birds and more plants. Even though you studied everything alive, the plants were your speciality.

You put the little backpack in a a nearby trunk as you sat down to draw yet another orchid. The place seemed flooding with them.

Engrossed beyond wits to notice you had drifted off a bit too far from the group and a little too late a baboon sniffing and ransacking your backpack.

"H-Hey! Hey! -The baboon took the backpack away, excited and driven by the tinkling within "Get back here!"

The animal hopped on the trees before you could catch it, with graceful and effortless agility, to finally stop to a sturdy looking and serpent-like shaped trunk above the middle of a swamp.

As much as you wanted to let the monkey get away with it all, you didn't want to face Kraven's anger for losing the last bit of equipment and delay the investigation. You didn't know when the next ship would arrive. None did actually.

It's hoots and chirping only increased the more things he pulled out of your backpack. The tubs shattered as they fell off.

"Stop it!" you shrieked while hopping onto the trunk with wobbly and uneven steps.

The monkey hooted louder until it started shrieking, as if mocking you whenever your balance failed and you were forced to crawl over the top.

"God, I swear... if I catch you, I'm so making an article on how annoying you are!"

The baboon just screeched at your silly threat once more before leaving your backpack pending from a twig as he jumped way through the stretched branches that favored him like open arms, with your bag of seeds.

Your breath hitched when the trunk creaked and some cracking around the base perked up your ears.

Shit.

You couldn't stop and return crawling from where you came from, not when the backpack was oh so close to be reached and your nightmare to be over.

With a deep breath, you crawled closer and closer. Paused breaths turned controlled, but quickly grunted when the hem of your skirt stuck in a jagged branch.

"No, no" You whined and pulled away, the trunk creaked harder and you immediately hugged the trunk.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" with a firm yet calculated yank, you ripped the fabric away, freeing yourself although losing a good chunk of front coverage.

A thunderous crack made your breath hitch and you moved forward as the trunk stuttered midair. It was then your eyes actually considered the generous and dangerous distance from your position to the murky water. But the backpack dangling before you, edged you to take a risky decision.

Or you took the backpack and threw it on land, hoping to take the least damage as possible or jumping to that other branch to avoid falling to the water.

None of them happened as the tree dipped forward, and with a dying groan, the cracks widened, tearing the feeble base of the trunk, unable to support your weight any longer.

As in slow motion, you saw the murky water closer and closer and closer, until nothing but darkness swallowed you whole. Cold and muddy water hit you, suffocating your body with enraged water that fought hard to drown you.

Your hands were the only thing that made it out as they failed. The sub aquatic flora begun their tangling in your boots and legs, pulling you down.

Your lungs burned as some water seeped through, the backpack sunk deeper and deeper. Like a sacrifice in exchange of your life. Because a strong pair of tanned hands pulled you with a powerful yank by the forearm, out of the water before death and crocodiles owned it.

Your head too dizzy to actually understand what was happening. Your eyes could only see the landscape sliding smoothy underneath your feet, like if you were flying.

Am I dead? Dead people don't fly, do they?

You shrieked as soon as your eyes looked upwards. Powerful and solid thighs held tightly on the growing vines, that spurted from underneath the gigantic trees, as one of his hand took your arm gently to suddenly pull you up in the air and catch you in his arms.

Your instincts told you to hold onto him as the other survival mode blared with danger alarms. The massive wall of solid muscles he had for a body was warm, full of scars and plush hair that did nothing but welcome your dizzy head on his chest.

The man quirked a brow at your sudden state. He frowned and quickly got over the foliage of a tree, before the pouring rain trapped you both.

You were put with ease against the solid and definitely not rotting trunk, and your body lurched to the side to expell away the swallowed water, clearing your airways.

A firm slap from his hand made your lungs to finally get some air as you gasped and coughed, all the while he watched you curiously.

You were drenched, against a tree, clothes sticking way too intimately against your shivering body, breathing like you were a first born, raged and fast. Lungs burned less.

Eyes finally widened when recognizing the man before you. Some fresh scars littered his Greek-god type physique.

"T-Thank you." You mumbled through clattering teeth and forced yourself to take a deep inhale to control the rising anxiety.

He grunted and approached. One of his hands slid gently under your chin to take a hold of your cheek. Your head instinctively melted into his heavenly body heat, and your eyes dared to shut for a minute. Relishing in the irradiating warmth his calloused hands provided.

He's so warm.

As if sensing the good deed, the man rubbed his hands on your cold arms, mindful of the patches around your arm, a couple of times before going back up to your cheeks and neck.

You gasped as soon as his hands were placed on your chest. His hands gently palming your breast but quickly let them go upon feeling your hardened nipples. You quickly covered your chest

He watched his hands, as if inspecting them for any damage when he felt the hardened nub, to then return to your arms, prying them away from your chest.

"Wait!"

You shrieked and he took both of your wrists with one hand and hovered them above your head, squishing them against the tree, softly. His eyes raked and took in every feature of you, before stopping at your chest again.

Your breath hitched as he slid the other hand inside your shirt. Cheeks turned impossibly warmer when he took one of your breasts and pulled it out of their confinements.

He examinated the perky mound with puppy wonder-like curiosity and then looked down his own chest. He frowned. His didn't swell like yours did.

"Wh-What are you doi-" you bit your lip as he poked your nipple, sniffed it and licked it. Earning a short mewl from you.

The sound startled him and he let you go.

"T- That's not a polite thing to do!" 

You quickly put the breast back and swung your hand to slap him. You had to admit his reflexes were something else cause it caught it before it collided against his face.

"How dare you?!" You struggled to let your hand go, but stopped your outburst when his eyes watched your hands and brought them before his ever curious face.

His own hand reached up, and placed itself before yours, comparing the stretched and long digits against your smaller ones. They weren't the same size, that was much true, but the texture and lines he had were the same on yours.

His eyes shone brighter than any  bewilderment. His mind had finally clicked together at the sudden epiphany that flooded his brain.

You were like him.

He pursed his lips before letting out an excited grunt. He backed away to create enough space for his arms to move freely.

He pointed to himself and spoke with the deepest yet excited voice he could manage.

"Miguel."

Your eyes went wide and you approached. He tried again while pointing at his chest.

"Mi guel."

"Miguel." His nose flared proudly and his throat grunted happily.

"Oh! I see!"

His ears perked up upon hearing your name.

"OhIsee!" He repeated.

But you quickly corrected him, with your name as you pointed to yourself and then called his name as you pointed at him.

A buttery crawl rolled down your spine as he mumbled your name.

"Exactly." you smiled.

He cupped your face again and mumbled your name once more. However, the sound of a gunshot tearing through the skies disrupted his attention from you and stood at the edge of the branch.

"Kraven" You gasped. Completely forgetting about him and the group.

Oh no...

Trouble was a tiny word of the deep neck shit you were into. Another shot rippled through, frightening the birds in the ratio.

"Kraven!" He repeated, excited.

Extraordinary. There wasn't any word to describe him better. He took you back, trapping you in between his muscular thighs and swinging through vines.

The more you approached the camp, the clearer you saw this massive black and brown spots moving away from the settlement.

Your hearth thumped with violence upon finally standing before a small group of gorillas, sniffing and hooting softly upon seeing Miguel.

Your savior wasted no time in pulling you closer to them. You shook your head, rightfully frightened.

"No, no, no wait!"

The gorillas huffed to then sniff your head, your clothes. Some even pulled at your hair softly, others examinated the clothes you were in.

Another gunshot echoed closely this time and it was loud enough to spook out the beasts out that pulled Miguel with them. You could only watch him, wide eyed, expectant. But he left.

"Miguel..."

----

Kraven wasn't one for losing his temper with women. But you, had the annoying ability to make his patiece turn to dust in the least opportunes of moments.

"I asked you, where the fuck have you been?!"

He dragged you to the center of the crew and threw you on the floor.

"I told you, I almost drowned! Why do you think I'm like this?!"

Kraven spat a few words in his native language under his breath and grunted

"You lost your equipment, didn't you?"

"I... I tried to get it back but I almost drown in the swamp, Sergei!" you explained with nothing but the truth

"You can't swim, don't you bullshit me.!"

"I'm telling you the truth!"

"Then how you survived!?"

Peter frowned as he looked at you.

"I was saved. Ok? A man saved me!"

"A man?"

"He's... Not like us. He's taller than you and he saved me!" you kept pressing, hoping the angered mercenary understood that you didn't do anything in purpose to upset him.

"He knows how to swing through the vines! And dropped me here! His name is Miguel. "

Everyone stared with derision at you and Peter seemed concerned you stuck with your story so bad to the point of risking your own neck and reputation.

Kraven' brows furrowed into a scowl and soon he pulled his revolver out and pointed at you.

Your face turned to panic, as your hands rose shakily.

"A savage named Miguel helped you?"

"He did! Otherwise you'd still be looking for me."

Kraven snorted without removing the gun's aim from your body.

"Funny you think I'd waste my resources to look up for a stupid woman like you."

"Please, you have to believe me! I saw gorillas around the camp!"

Kraven removed the safety pin from the revolver, as if peeved you'd waste his time and resources into being an idiot and not doing your work as he required.

Time was ticking and he still had no news, and for you to be fantasizing about savages and doing stupid things such as endangering yourself had proved you weren't reliable.

"You're not reliable, anymore, Dahlberg."

"No! Sergei listen to me-"

He pointed the gun once more to you "I can't keep unreliable people within my crew."

"I'm not lying!" You pleaded with all your might and tears in your eyes, "Miguel is-"

Before Sergei could push the tip of his revolver on your head and shoot, the earth underneath rumbled, as Miguel fell in between you.

Real.

Kraven stepped back as the imaginary savage was now fully standing before him. His head had to crane up to meet his burning ember eyes.

Miguel's lips snarled at him, showing his fangs and beating his chest. A clear challenge for him to fight him.

A collective round of gasps echoed through the men, but when Miguel bared his teeth, they all pulled their guns and pointed at him

"Stop!" You yelled and quickly scrambled to your feet to take Miguel's hand and shake your head with determination.

"Don't hurt him!"

Peter immediately got himself before you and rose his arms, showing he was no armed.

"I'm sure we can reach an agreement here without filling eachother with bullets, gentlemen"

"Shut up, Parker!" Sergei seethed and with a deep flare of his nose, pointed the gun at Miguel again, but Peter grabbed the weapon and the shot tore through the air again.

"Kraven" Miguel grumbled at the gun shot sound.

Said mercenary could only watch him, nonplussed for a moment. While you, again, stood your ground before the behemoth of a man. Attempting your best at protecting him.

"Have... we met before?" Kravinoff spoke confused.

"I told you he could speak! And he is real!"

Miguel remained glued at your side. Everyone slowly put their weapons down as Kraven approached to take a proper look at Miguel, fascinated by his sheer size and build.

Peter had to admit, that it was the last time he'd ever doubt your words.

"You said you had seen gorillas?"

Again, you nodded and Miguel repeated the word.

"Miguel knows them. He could help us."

"Help us? The man barely understand us, but... It's better than nothing I suppose."

Sergei scrunched his face in confusion as Miguel took strands of your hair and sniffed them, his senses awakening in pure adrenaline. Throat grunted approvingly.

"Yeah... kind of understand the personal space thing now." Peter cleared his throat behind you. The rest kept looking to see but quickly were dismissed by their leader.

"Oh, shut up." You grumbled nervously as Miguel pulled your head to his chest once more, to listen to his powerful heartbeats.

"Yeah, it's very very nice." You chuckled nervously with a soft flush creeping your cheek.

"Nice." He repeated.

Kraven could only watch but if he was the link towards the gorillas, he'd seize the chance in every way he could.

"He's way smarter than you think."

"We're running against time, how would he understand us, Dhalberg?"

Miguel moved to inspect Kraven, mimicking his gestures effortlessly. Earning a giggle from you.

"Leave that to me."

-------

Taglist:

@yhrlocalcyprus @nommingonfood @literatiastray @call-me-nyxx @gennirose @loonalockley @danubliat @marit332 @beabfleab @l3lazeit @lililapuce @prollyanvycchi @huehuehuehuehehe @nanamiscunt @ncj2837ndjcj @leviswifey-act62 @migueloharacumslut @migshusben @freehentai @animequeen4

@del-ightfulling @angel-of-the-moons

[webslingingslasher]

hi babeeee!!! idk if this is how requests work bc i never request fics but i was wondering if u could do something super duper angsty, like really angsty, and then hurt comfort with a fluffy end? it can be anything you want, but like that sort of timeline would be so so so good, if u could and if requests r open,, xoxoxox

it may have taken me 12 years but i did it bestie.

Peter Parker wasn’t the type of boyfriend to have rules. 

You were your own person, and should live as one. However, there were some things he was a bit more passionate about. 

Like: texting him when you get home (and he wasn’t around), calling him if you feel unsafe or nervous, keep him informed of your whereabouts so he could try and track you down if he needed to, and always, always, call him back. 

Peter had one rule, let him know you're safe. Always. Even when you’re mad at eachother, even at your most ugly, you’d let him know you’re okay. It was Peter’s one true rule, the other things he liked and he preferred you’d do, but this was his number one thing. 

And you’re not following it. 

The third time you ignored his call he felt frustration brew so deeply he almost slammed his phone to the ground, it would’ve done nothing to fix anything, and would’ve made a bigger problem, but the satisfaction of watching something break apart into a million pieces would’ve made him feel better. Even if just for a moment. 

It’s almost like you knew it’s pissing him off, you’ve never dug this deeply into a wound. You knew it would get under his skin in the right places, it was something that either of you didn’t play with. It was too serious for Peter, and knowing you were most likely safe and just doing this to try and get even with him made him furious. Because he can’t prove it. And because he can’t all he could think about how not okay you might be. 

Peter hates leaving angry voicemails but he can’t stop himself this time. 

‘This is the fourth fucking call you’ve ignored, I think you proved your point. I know you’re mad at me but this is just childish, you made this night go from a small hiccup to a massive fight because you won’t answer your phone. Just call me back, goddamn it.’ 

Peter’s never once gotten loud with you, he’s never once felt enough rage towards you he could ever buck up enough energy to yell at you. But all he wanted to do was scream about how inconsiderate you were. He understands he may have started it, he even tried to apologize but you must’ve had this in your heart for a minute because you couldn’t wait to bulldoze him. 

‘I’m so sorry, baby. I got caught up in the low-’ 

‘Whatever, I don’t care. I’m going home.’ 

‘Hey, no, no, no! We can still hang out! I haven’t ate-’ 

‘I did. I waited over an hour, Peter. I’m going home.’ 

‘I’m sorry, I really am, baby. I know tonight was important to you.’ 

And that’s when the night switched. 

‘No, Peter, this wasn’t important to me. This was important for us, this was about you trying to prove you still care about us.’ 

‘Woah, hold on, don’t you dare stand there and tell me I don’t care about you or us, that’s unfair and you know it.’ 

‘You know what, Peter? I didn’t sign up to date two guys. I was willing to accept the other because it was a package deal, but I’m tired of being picked last. You know I’ll always be waiting around and it’s so fucking tiresome just waiting around.’ 

‘Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were signing up for, you don’t get to act like this is new news.’ 

‘I’m always picked last! I understand who you are, Peter, who you share a life with, trust me, if anyone here knows best about understanding, it’s fucking me, but that doesn’t mean I’m always the last priority. I know sometimes I have to be on the backburner, and guess what, Peter? I fucking understand. But, tonight? What stopped you? Because it’s not like there’s a domestic attack on the city, so tell me, what was so fucking important tonight I was shot to the bottom of the list for it?’ 

‘Okay, I get it. I know you’re mad, but I think we both need to take a breath and talk about this at home.’ 

‘No! I want you to look at me and tell me what was so important NYPD’s finest couldn’t handle it for an evening.’ 

‘Baby, I really don’t-’ 

‘Fucking tell me! I want you to admit right now it was nothing important. Look me in the eye and admit you didn’t care about my feelings.’ 

‘It was a robbery. I have a responsibility to keep the city safe, a city you very much live in, by the way.’ 

‘Ah, the classic, ‘if you really think about it, I’m doing this for you’ line. Real original.’ 

‘Can we please just go home? If you’re going to be pissed at me anyways I’d rather it be in the comfort of our home.’

‘You can go wherever you want, but I’m not going anywhere with you.’ 

‘I’m gonna get a cab, hold on.’ 

‘No, I’m not going anywhere with you and I mean it.’ 

‘You can hate me at home, let’s go.’ 

‘No! I’m leaving, you can sit around waiting on me for once.’ 

‘Why are you doing this now? You’ve never been this persistent before, I moved in with you and you still don’t think it’s enough. What else do you want from me? I’m giving you all I can, fuck.’ 

‘You know what? I hope someone fucking kidnaps me, maybe then I’d be your first choice.’ 

‘Don’t, don’t you even dare go there. You know that’s a low blow.’

‘I do. I hope I’m fucking tortured with you on the line, too.’ 

Peter tried calling out for you, screamed your name even, but you walked across the street and were swallowed into the crowd. He tugged at his hair a few times before looking around, he wasn’t sure what to do. Get a cab, bus, train? Does he walk in the direction you went? It’s a start. 

Pulling out his phone he tried calling, you sent him to voicemail on the second ring. You’re pissed, that’s fine, he just needs you mad and safe. Peter dodged bodies on his left and right, checking each alleyway for you, assuming you’d stop to collect yourself and call him when you had a breather. 

No sight of you. He doesn’t know where you went from here, it splits two ways. He tries using his boyfriend intuition and attempts to channel you, he’s left hopeless. Like a hail mary he remembers you share locations, Peter’s hands shake when he reaches for the app, your name loading until a small circle appears in his. 

You’re close. He follows the road forward, he knows you took this way and his heart squeezes. You deliberately took the sketchy route, the one you told Peter you wouldn’t dare walk without him. It looks like he’s getting closer, but it’s impossible to tell when he has to wait for it to constantly reload. 

Peter swears he can see your jacket ahead, he calls your phone, picking up the pace and trying his best to catch up. You blocked his call again, but he saw you do it.

He knows you heard your name get called, because you started to walk faster, it’s useless, Peter’s quicker. The only option you had was to hide in the crowd, squeezing yourself in the middle and out through the front. Sighing heavy at your escape, and a bit unamused by the childish behavior. Peter looked down at his phone refreshing your name ‘find friends.’ 

His face crumbled into a thousand pieces when the notification appeared, ‘- stopped sharing their location with you.’ His response was to call you, this time you let it ring out, and he left a nasty voicemail. It was like he snapped, he pulled at his curls and exhaled a loud ‘fuck!’ before gripping his phone so tight he thought it’d snap, and that's why he put it away. 

If you wanted to play dirty so could he, you’re hard to find from the street but when he’s swinging from building to building you’d be out of luck. He was tired and hungry, he wanted this to be over. Fight about it like grown adults, at home, while he’s making a grilled cheese or something. 

Peter ran down a back alleyway, ripping his clothes from his body and pulling his mask from his pocket. The suit came in handy tonight after all. Taking a sharp inhale, he took a leap, screaming out when he took flight. 

‘Not you, not you, not you, not…. You? No, not you.’ 

‘Where the fuck did you go?’ 

You were nowhere to be found, still no answer on his calls or texts. He knows it’s irrational, but he’s terrified you’ve jinxed yourself and really are in trouble. He’s taken the route on a spin three times and he still hasn’t seen you, there’s three options, you either went into a gay nightclub, were kidnapped, or somehow snuck your way across the road and into… central park. 

Of course you did, Peter should’ve known that. He told you one time it was a weak vantage point, he couldn’t see through the treelines all that well, and didn’t have much to swing from. At least he has a general idea of where you are, he just has to do it on foot. 

Maybe you were right, maybe he just sucked at prioritizing you now. He doesn’t know when he became this way. He just feels so responsible, he got a great gift and it’s only right he shares it. He just hasn’t figured out how to share Peter with you and Spider-Man with the world yet. Both people need him at the same time. 

At last, sitting on the edge of the fountain, is the love of his life. Just looking terribly sad, he hates to know he caused it. He may have started the fight, but you said some terrible things, things that were only said to jab at the most vulnerable spots. 

Taking a seat next to you he sighs, his entire body deflating in one breath. You mimic the sigh. 

“Rough night?” 

You hum, “my boyfriend and I got in a fight. Maybe we still are, I don’t know. What about you?” 

Peter stretches his legs, red feet scrape the brick. “My girlfriend went nuclear, kinda deserved. But, she also really hurt my feelings.” 

“Did you hurt her feelings too?” 

“Does that make it deserved?” 

Silence. It didn’t. 

Peter watches you twiddle your thumbs, chewing on your bottom lip and sniffing. 

“I’m sure she’s really sorry, and she knows whatever she said hit a soft spot. It seems like your job comes with some downsides, and maybe she kept it all bottled up until she couldn’t anymore, because how do you tell a superhero you want their attention more than a city needs protection?” 

He knows what you mean, he knows how selfish it could sound, but it’s not. You’re allowed to want him around every second, because he does too. 

“You don’t.” 

Peter can feel your eyes, “you don’t tell the superhero, you tell your boyfriend.” 

Your throat clears, “what if he’s both? What if he’s already spread too thin and his whining girlfriend is his last straw?” 

“No. He’s not spread too thin. He was unaware of how you felt, he didn’t know how much it bothered you. He didn’t know how far he pushed you away.” 

“So what changes now he knows?” 

Peter breaks character, this is about real solutions. 

“We figure it out. We’ll go home and look at our schedules and work around it, and have a set day where it’s only us. Twice a month we’ll have a standing date, attendance mandatory. The police scanner gets turned off unless it’s a slow night, and from now on, unless it’s a domestic attack, nothing comes before you.” 

[miguel-ohara-wifey]

okay hear me out… headcanons for spiderverse men that’s like how they act when their s/o is pregnant

I know I said I’d focus on my cowboy!Miguel fic but I’ve been waiting for this request! Ask and ye shall receive

Spiderverse men when there s/o is pregnant headcanons

Tag list: @alliwriteistrash I figured you’d like this

Rating: 18+, hurt/comfort, fluff, Angst

Peter B Parker

-Peter and you have tried at a baby for ages, but stopped before hand because some new threat emerged for Spider-Man, career opportunities you had to make priority, or some financial problems came up. Overall it hasn’t been ideal timing whenever you two wanted to try.

-Your body had other plans however, after a few days in a row of getting sick in the morning. Food tasting weird and having a sickly feeling in your stomach. You had to take a pregnancy test just to ease your anxiety. Unfortunately it didn’t, it was positive. Your body immediately starts to shake, you throw up for an entirely different reason.

-the twitching under your skin from fear stopped when you threw up. But your mind was still fraught with catastrophizing thoughts. What if you need an abortion, what if Peter doesn’t want the kid anymore, how would you play this when he gets home? Is Spider-Man even meant to have a child?

-You knew you couldn’t hide it from him in good conscience, when Peter arrives at your home with the groceries like he promised. Joking about the latest villain of the week he took down. You can’t help but start sobbing right when you spot his brown eyes. Not even knowing why, when he huddled you gently. Wiping your tears away asking what’s wrong. You relent how you took a pregnancy test and it’s positive.

-Before your knee jerk apology can be made he embraces you, conscious of your stomach in the tightening of his body around yours. He whispers how great that is, all your fears laid dead before you. But you still kept crying, expect out of pure joy. Peter meet you eye too eye, clearly joining in on the sob parade.

“You’re gonna make a daddy honey…I can’t wait.”

Miguel O’Hara

-You knew it wouldn’t be pretty when you told Miguel you were pregnant. Especially because you were going to have the baby. Miguel was furious, you two have been casual for a long time. You knew of Miguel’s past with Gabriella, not like he makes an effort to hid it. For fucks sake initiates get the holographic slide show of his trauma.

-Miguel isn’t characteristically raving and violent in this rage, not like you’ve ever felt unsafe around him. However you’ve seen enough of his anger to know it burns hot. But this was the cutting chill of dry ice, he plainly told you he’s not going to be the kids father. If you want the kid, you’re on your own. You sob and scream at him how he’s an asshole.

-He doesn’t exactly argue against that point, in fact he doesn’t argue at all. Just nods and leaves as you sob in defeat. You knew this would happen, he’d break your heart in the end. Yet the smallest speck from the deepest crevice of your mind believed otherwise. Cause you want him close. Miguel would always assure complete low commitment and non-existent emotional entanglement when you two started dating. Work is his true love and he wouldn’t dare let you compete.

-The day after, you slept in till the afternoon. Not even wanting to make yourself breakfast even if it meant silencing the gargling of your stomach. You hear a knock at the door. You figure it’s a package that got sent to you by accident. So no matter how terrible you feel you get out of bed. Opening the door, you see Miguel with your favorite breakfast meal from Panera.

-You angrily squint at him asking if he thinks this’ll make up for ditching you. He says it doesn’t, his eyes reddened from crying. He just says he knows you probably haven’t had any food yet today because of your argument. But he is sorry, he’s going to be there for you and the baby. He was a fucking asshole, your entire relationship. He loves you and never wanted to admit it. For what it’s worth he’s here for whenever or however long you’d have him.

“It’s okay if you’re still mad at me…but I know you’re craving this so just have some food.”

Hobie Brown

-This was a shock to both of you, you’ve always been safe despite all the kinkiness you get into. You’ve always had protection upon protection on top of taking regular std tests.

-Despite this shockwave through Hobie and your lives, the moment you tell him you want to keep it. He’s on board, he gets a head start on baby proofing the apartment. Engineering makeshift baby monitors and safe toys for the baby to play with. He starts reading parenting books and setting up the baby’s room in his off time. Making the room a vibrant red, doesn’t matter if the baby’s a boy or a girl. You’re gonna raise them to be a punk.

-Also watches after you carefully. Even when it means leaving his station as Spider-Man for a day. You and the precious future you’re carrying matters even more to him. He’ll be sure to get everything you crave. Even if he has to teach himself how to make sponge cake. If that’s what his baby mama wants it’s what his baby mama gets. He didn’t exactly get it, but you appreciated the sentiment regardless.

-Unfortunately now truly the worst of your pregnancy signs present themselves. You throw up almost every other morning, your favorite foods now don’t taste like anything cause your tastebuds have turned against you. And you’re fatigued easily so you have to take a few weeks off helping the movement. On top of the fact you always feel heavier and heavier as every day goes by.

-When your mood swings are at there highest to boot, you find an excuse to yell at him at any point. So he knows it’s best to leave the house for a couple of hours for you to cool off. Not to dismiss your feelings, but knowing his presence only exasperates your rage spike. So when he comes back with store bought sponge cake for you. You sob and apologize for getting mad at him. He takes it in stride, he knows this road will be bumpy as everything else is. But you’re in it together.

“It’s alright love, and don’t worry I won’t torture you with my sponge cake I bought you some…”

Spider-Man Noir

-Once you ask your darling to open the oven to take out what you were making. He saw a single bun on the rack, right after asking why there’s a bun in the oven. A second later he puts two and two together. He rushes over to you, via sliding on his knees against the wooden kitchen floors to your stomach.

-He sends pecks all over your gut while massaging it with his head. Almost already trying to hear your baby, his baby. Whispering as if your future child can hear you through its very tiny molecules. You giggle at this man’s infatuation with your stomach. Sure he’s always loved every part of you. But now he has two angels in his life.

-He unleashes all the parenting books he stocked up for just in case he’d ever be a dad. As well as makes you promise to quit work in a week to focus on yourself. He begins doing most of the chores you did around the house. Doting on you head to toe, not that you’re going to stop him. Especially when your mood swings begin to hit. You become extra clingy and needy.

-But his heart breaks when you say you’re sorry for not being as pretty anymore now that you’re starting to show. He’s devastated, he thinks you’re even more gorgeous now. The fact you’re carrying your soon to be family. His whole world, how could he not find you all the more irresistible? He corrects such by going down on you that night. “Having sex with a pregnant woman makes the baby a pervert later in life” be damned. You must know how much he can’t get enough of you.

-After such he cuddles you into him like he always does, his stringy brown locks mixed with sweat. As he can still taste your orgasm in his mouth. After you started to breath steadily again, you relent you believe him when he says he knows you’re the sexiest woman alive. He smiles so innocently despite the unholiness of the situation, he cloaks your body in a cool blanket. Kissing you on the cheek and telling you need sleep now.

“It’s never a labor to love you, and our family. Don’t forget that darlin…”

[baddestbittyontheblock]

tasm!peter parker fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

「❀」 earn it. by @3vergr3en fem!reader x tasm!peter parker | smut with little plot (public sex, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT), nipple play, orgasm control, peter has an obvious breeding kink, cream pie, choking, teasing, profanity, name-calling, humiliation, dirty talk, jealousy, established marriage.), 2.9K

-harry is hosting a birthday party for his best friend, peter. Everything runs smoothly until y/n’s best friend back in high school shows up and start flirting with the female. oblivious y/n doesn’t think much of it, being used to such playful manner. but peter can see through the man’s facade, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

「❀」 needy by @webslingingslasher tasm!peter parker x reader | angst

-peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings

「❀」 “stop it you’re being mean” by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-“If we’re really being honest here, honey, I don’t think that’s what it’s about, at all.”

「❀」 changed the wording around, still fits. by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-"why do you seem upset?" "why the hell do you think..."

「❀」 want you to be okay by @lovelyspooks tasm!peter parker x reader | fluff (at the start) but then angst with no comfort, uncommunicated feelings, 1.6k

-you're peter parkers main priority, he makes sure you know that but lately you feel second best to the city you both love

「❀」 smut blurb by @berrieluv peter parker x reader | mentions of sex

-peter and reader r having sex and he's really rough but at some point he hurts her bc of his powers he got after the spider bite. and then he just takes care of her and its cute and soft

「❀」 in the real world by @luveline tasm!peter parker x fem!reader | canon typical violence, bleeding, swearing, fluff, angst, hospitals, mutual pining, idiots in love, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, 5.4k

-you notice something about spider-man during a violent villain showdown, then you have to save his life.

「❀」 drunk!peter mini fic by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-drunk!peter and he’s all over reader telling her how he wants to marry her and being handsy

「❀」 honeybody by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader | fluff, friendship, idiots in love, falling in love, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, intimacy, the intangible breadth of the human experience or something similar, mentioned/implied past self-harm, 12k

-something about music makes you desperate to feel it. something about peter, pretty and magnetic and light, multiplies this immeasurably. or, you and peter want to try everything

「❀」 frat!peter by @withahappyrefrain frat!tasm!peter parker x reader | 18+

-frat!peter going from feral sex beast to passionate youre the only person that matter to me sex

「❀」 3 is the magic number by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader | smut (strong breeding kink, soft dom Peter, overstimulation, creampies, daddy kink, choking, did I mention breeding kink? also peter having baby fever.)

-you and peter decide it's time to start trying to expand your family

「❀」 peter mini fic by @bruisedboys tasm!peter x shy!fem!reader | 0.7k

-peter gets really excited for you when you do things for yourself like a dork. like ordering for yourself or asking for help at the stores finding something. it’s so basic but peter knows you struggle so he just gets really excited 4 u

「❀」 min peter fic by ^ tasm!peter x clumsy!reader | 0.7k

-you’re still in the process of patching yourself up when peter gets home, your knees scraped and a box of big band-aids waiting for you on the coffee table.

「❀」 tequila makes me sleepy by @cosmal tasm!peter parker x fem!afab!reader | drunk!reader, mentions of gross guys sexualizing reader

-pete comes to find you at a party after you call him.

「❀」 your girl by @lanadelreyscokewhor3 boyfriend! teter x girlfriend! reader | some swearing, and vomiting ofc. but petnames and lots of fluff:))

-“m’peter i’m done. no more.” you moaned, your body feeling weak and achey as you leaned against your forehead against the toilet seat.

「❀」 boyfriend! peter thoughts by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-always sitting on his lap. always. whenever you’re in his room and he’s at his desk doing work he pats his knee and you trot over and sit on his knee and he bounces it slightly while he explains his work while you just listen and nod

「❀」 ridiculous by @peterthepark tasm!peter parker x f!reader | 18+ graphic smut, not much plot, nsfw brainrot, blonde and fratboy peter parker, unprotected sex, kinda public sex, bathroom sex, mentions of smoking and party drugs, swearing as always

-peter parker was ridiculous, especially with that new hair of his. but deep down, you wanted nothing more than to experience one night with the douchebag of a blonde.

「❀」 extremely ridiculous by ^ tasm!peter parker x f!reader | smut (18+ graphic smut, rough sex, dirty talk, religious themes, partie, nsfw brainrot, blond peter parker, unprotected sex, mentions of smoking and alcohol consumption, swearing, sexualized halloween costumes, daddy kink, some roleplay, fingering, oral sex, slapping and pain kink, mentions of anal, just pure filth with 9k)

-ever since the bathroom incident, you’re the first person that peter parker looks for in every party. halloween is sinful, but so is the way you look at him from across the room. recommend reading the first part

「❀」 smut blurb by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader | graphic smut and stuff

-peter uses his webs to keep you still during sex

「❀」 peter parker imagine by @mareagirls  tasm!peter parker x reader

-peter and reader are on a date, but reader feels nauseous. but, reader doesn’t want to tell peter because a: they’ve both been super busy lately between spider-man duties and college and/or work and b: because even if reader won’t admit it, being vulnerable and being taken care of kind of scares them. but peter finds out/figured it out and wants to help and fluff ensues.

「❀」 i say i hate you with a smile on my face by @stylesparker college!tasm!peter parker x fem!reader | 4k

-peter is fairly certain he should not have come to this party. the “friend” that he came with from one of his classes, he doesn’t exactly remember which one, ditched him as soon as they got to the door.

「❀」 kiss me more by @spidernerdsblog tasm!peter parker x reader | 18+, smut, minors dni, 69 (m & f receiving)

-your dad is the chief of NYPD and isn't fond of your boyfriend's secret alias spiderman but that doesn't stop him from sneaking into your room at night for a few kisses and a little more.

「❀」 morning after by ^ peter parker x stark!reader | 18+, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

-last night after a drunk hookup you and peter aren't quite sure you used protection or not.

「❀」 size issues by ^ tasm!peter parker x reader

-you prank your husband by getting the wrong size of bra just to see his reaction.

「❀」 i'll crawl home to her by @embrassemoi  tasm!peter parker x f!reader | 18+, fluff, nsfw, oral (m), light sub/dom, soft smut, mentions of violence, injuries + blood, thigh riding, cleaning wounds, bit of plot (?)

-After a long day, all Peter wants is a bit of love and someone to take care of him.

[perotovar]

bloody kisses — part one: less than zero

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 5k content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, some angst, if i missed anything lmk! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @chronically-ghosted (ily ♥)

summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

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The kid was a fucking regular at this point.

Tim just happened to be in the station every time the kid got caught. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, who knows. 

And God help him, Tim sorta liked the little shit.

“Don’t you ever get tired of coming here, Shane?”

“I told you, my name is–”

“I’m not calling you that and you know it,” Tim sighed exasperatedly, rubbing a large hand over his face. “Why did you steal the magazine?” Tim’s voice was almost bored when he asked.

Shane stayed quiet, picking at the chipped black nail polish on his fingernails. He was looking down, chains jingling from how quickly he was bouncing his leg. Was he nervous? Tim didn’t think the kid was ever nervous. Or, well. Acted like it, at least.

Shane Morrissey, twenty-three, twenty-four next month, was found at a convenience store stealing an issue of Playgirl Magazine. Tim wasn’t judging, but his reading on the kid veered off in, well, the other direction. He had the vibe that Shane could go either way; either aggressively straight, or trying to cover something up.

“Look, I really don’t care why, kid. I’m not going to… judge you, or something–”

“Whatever, old man,” Shane sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away from him. “Can I just get my community service and go?”

Tim quirked a brow and crossed his own arms over his chest, standing tall behind the chair pushed into the interrogation table. Tim had asked Ron to turn the microphones in the room off. Tim knew the kid better than anyone here, and he knew Shane wouldn’t talk if he knew he was being recorded. Or he’d go off about aliens or “drones” or whatever other bullshit he came up with next.

Shane wasn’t an idiot, Tim knew that. Shane knew that. He just had a hell of a wall put up.

Tim sighed and pulled the chair out. He spun it around so he could sit on it backwards, arms perched on the top. “Kid,” Tim started. “Listen, I’m not going to do anything. It’s a fucking magazine and this is New York City. Your little theft is pretty far down the list of my priorities right now.”

Shane actually looked a little offended, looking at Tim incredulously.

“I’m going to let you off with a warning this time. And to be honest, I don’t want to see you back in here anytime soon, okay?”

“Aww, kicking me out? Thought you liked our little chats,” Shane batted his eyelashes, an exaggerated pout on his lips. He rolled his eyes after that and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, bored.

“I said I didn’t wanna see you back in here, Morrissey.”

Shane looked at him, big brown eyes squinted accusingly.

Tim reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, digging out a business card. He slid it across the table until it was next to one of Shane’s hands. He didn’t really know why he was offering this to Shane. Well, he did, but he couldn’t really say, ‘I see a lot of myself in you,’ without Shane taking it the wrong way. This wasn’t one of Shane’s normal petty crimes. Shane didn’t strike him as the type to steal this sort of thing. He’d vandalize the side of a building or go on joyrides. Things that were mostly just annoying. This magazine was… different.

Tim had his fair share of this sort of thing. He got into being a cop because he got caught when he was in his twenties. He was angry at the world because people didn’t accept him, so he lashed out. He got the feeling that Shane was the same way. Things were different in the 80s, so hiding this part of himself worked for Tim. He didn’t want Shane to feel like he had to.

“If you wanna talk, give me a call, okay?”

Shane rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but Tim held up a hand to cut him off. 

“I know, you don’t want to call a cop, but I promise I’ll be off duty. I’ll just be Tim when you call, not Detective Rockford.”

Shane blinked at him before a giggle bubbled out of his mouth. “Your first name is Tim?”

It was Tim’s turn to roll his eyes. He sighed heavily and got up, pushing the chair back in. “Or don’t call me, whatever, kid. I’m just saying, if you need someone to talk to about… anything, just. I’m all ears, alright?” He kept things vague on purpose. Once he was back at the interrogation room’s door, he turned back around. “Seriously, I don’t wanna see you back in here again, alright?”

Shane raised his eyebrows, eyes wide as a mocking facial expression crossed his features. “Whateverrr,” he sighed, standing from his own chair. He looked down at the business card on the table and picked it up as the door clicked shut. He rubbed his thumb over Tim’s name before stuffing it in the pocket of his leather duster.

He hastily left the interrogation room and made his way toward the exit, but was stopped by a secretary.

“Shane Morrissey?”

Shane cringed as he froze, staring at the older woman. He glared a little, but raised his arms in defeat. “Yeah? What?” He bit back at her.

“Detective Rockford said you had personal items,” she said sweetly, rolling her chair to the wall of lockers behind her.

Shane raised a brow. “I didn’t bring anything–”

“Here you go, sweetie. Don’t go getting into trouble now!”

Shane sighed and grabbed the black plastic bag from her. “What did this old man give me–?” He gasped as he looked inside the bag, cheeks burning. It was the magazine he’d stolen. The Playgirl magazine. He squeezed his eyes shut and got out of the station like a bat out of hell.

Honestly, the only reason he’d stolen it was because Peter Steele was on the cover. He was in that convenience store for a pack of smokes and saw the frontman’s face on the cover, bare chest on full display, with a large hand cupping the cock in his underwear.

He’d been staring at the cover for a few minutes too long, because the convenience store clerk waved his hands in front of his face. “You gonna buy somethin’, man?” The clerk’s name tag said “Dante” and he looked very bored. 

Shane shook himself out of it and looked up, the bright red of the magazine piercing the corner of his eye. “Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, digging into his baggy pants to pull out his wallet. “I’ll get a pack of reds,” he mumbled, pulling out a couple greasy bills.

Dante didn’t bother asking for his ID and just turned around, digging into a drawer below the case of cigarettes for the key to open it.

Shane’s eyes were like a magnet, pulling directly back to the magazine. He looked at Dante’s back for a second, and quickly rolled up and stuffed the magazine into one of the deep pockets of his leather duster. 

Dante pulled out the pack of cigarettes and locked the case shut again. He sighed as he tossed the pack onto the counter. “That’ll be ten bucks,” he said, voice monotone.

Shane handed him a ten dollar bill and turned to leave.

“Hey!”

He turned back, standing in the doorway just as the bell dinged above him, and saw Dante’s bored face now looking angry. “The fuck you doin’, man? Put that back!”

Shane raised his brows and looked down, the magazine poking out of his pocket. He looked back up at Dante’s face and booked it, running as fast as his legs would take him. 

His lungs burned as heavy boots thundered along the concrete, chains and jewelry clanging against each other. He turned down an alley and gasped for air, leaning against a dirty wall with his hands on his knees. He waited until his breathing was back to normal and checked his surroundings. When he figured the coast was clear, he took a step out of the alley. 

“‘Scuse me.”

Shane whipped his head around and saw a cop standing there. “What?” He frowned, voice having a little more bite than was probably necessary, but well, Shane hated cops.

“You just come from a convenience store down the road?” The cop pointed his thumb in the direction behind himself.

“No. Can I go back to what I was doing?”

“What were you doin’?”

“None of your business, pig,” Shane rolled his eyes and turned to leave, but the cop grabbed his arm and cuffed him. “Hey! Fuck off!”

“No can do, kid. Clerk called about a kid matching your description with a, uh… well, an interesting magazine in his pocket,” the cop grumbled, tugging on the Playgirl poking out of Shane’s pocket.

Shane’s cheeks burned in embarrassment and shame, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck.”

“C’mon, fairy boy.”

“I’m not–!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Before Shane knew it, he was in the back of a cruiser and was headed toward the station.

He couldn’t even look at the magazine now. Shane laid in his bed, in the middle of his messy bedroom, and stared at the ceiling. The bright red of the magazine cover was just out of sight. The heavy guitars and vocals from his shitty speakers pierced the silence of his room, soothing his anxious thoughts. His mind drifted off to Detective Rockford. Or Tim, he guessed. He leaned over his bed and dug through the pile of clothes he’d discarded when he got home.

Tim’s business card now in hand, he laid his head back against the pillow and stared at the embossed text. The first thing that came to mind was Tim’s gravelly voice saying, “If you wanna talk, give me a call, okay?”  

What would he even say to someone like Tim? Tim was a cop. He wasn’t exactly Shane’s first pick in literally any scenario.

Shane sighed and tossed the card onto the pile of clothes. He looked over to his left at the magazine laying next to him on his wrinkled sheets. Peter Steele’s come hither facial expression stared back at him. 

He’d had these… thoughts for a while now. Feelings he had no answers for. He wasn’t gay. He couldn’t be. Shane liked women, he liked pussy. He did.

Did he?

He picked up the magazine and started looking through it. Of course, there were photos that went along with the cover, of The Green Man standing in front of a mirror without a shirt. He stuck his large hand down the front of his pants, lips parted and eyes closed. Shane adjusted how he was laying, feeling a minor stirring in his pelvis. Obviously Shane was looking at the woman Peter was heavily making out with on the next page.

The photos started to get a little more risqué as he went. They started out pretty tasteful, with Peter laying on a bed, fully clothed, and a hand gripped around his cock through his jeans. But they quickly became… less tasteful.

Shane stared at a photo of the singer sitting in a chair, completely naked, with a large hand wrapped around an equally large, hard cock. Shane’s own cock twitched in his boxers as he felt a light sheen of sweat at his hairline.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself. He slammed the magazine onto his sheets and stared at his tented underwear. There was a small wet spot where there was precum already gathering. He started to breathe unevenly and worriedly looked up at his ceiling. He couldn’t even hear the music in his room from the rushing of blood in his ears.

He leaned over his bed and frantically searched for Tim’s business card. He didn’t even know what he was thinking, but he was terrified. He grabbed the landline on his nightstand and stared at the bland text on the white background.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn’t call Rockford when he had a fucking boner.

An image of Tim’s face flashed behind his eyelids and he gasped, cock twitching in interest. His eyes snapped open and he frowned. “What the fuck?”

He looked down the tent in his boxers and felt betrayed. It was bad enough that he was hard when thinking about a man, but a cop? He couldn’t fucking believe it.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. He refused to entertain his dick at all.

But his dick wasn’t listening, hard and starting to throb underneath the thin material.

He sighed in defeat and looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom. “One time,” he breathed. “I’m doing this one time. No one ever has to know.”

Before he knew it, his boxers were thrown onto the messy pile on his floor and his hand was curled around his cock. He moaned at the relief he felt, thumbing the head teasingly. He shut his eyes, Tim’s face appearing behind his eyelids again. He groaned. Whether from frustration or arousal, he couldn’t tell and honestly didn’t care at this point.

He slowly built up a rhythm, stroking himself steadily. He bit his lip and sunk further into his sheets, feet planted flat on the bed. He started fucking his fist, lifting his hips off the bed. The cool air coming in through the window gave him goosebumps all over and made him whine weakly. He was thankful the music was turned up enough that he couldn’t hear himself.

“Good boy.”

Tim’s voice whispered in his ear. His imagination started to run wild, imagining Tim sitting on his bed and watching him. 

“Show me how you get yourself off, baby.”

Shane groaned, the steady beat of his fist on his cock speeding up. The cool metal of the jewelry he wore on his hands had grown warm, giving him a delicious friction. It grounded him, telling him it wasn’t actually possible for it to be Tim’s hand around him. 

“Want me to touch you?”

Shane nodded to himself, eyes shut in bliss. “Please,” he whispered. He slowly removed his hand and gripped himself with his left hand. It was a little awkward, but it was enough for him to imagine that it was someone else. That it was Tim. 

“Fuck,” he huffed, rubbing the head with his thumb. “Gonna–”

“Come for me, Shane.”

Shane nodded to himself and sped up his left hand. Precum dribbled out of the tip, easing the way as he fucked his fist. It felt like only a few seconds had passed, completely lost in his own world. And maybe it had been only a few seconds.

“F-fuck!” He whimpered, balls drawing up. He groaned, stroking himself through it as he came hard, thick white cream covering his hand. 

He came down slowly, panting hard as he kept his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at his chest. He was completely covered in his own spend and he felt heavy. That was probably the most intense orgasm he’d ever had alone.

He picked up Tim’s business card and shut his eyes in defeat.

“Fuck.”

One Week Later

Shane had no idea how he got to this point. He was laying on the concrete outside of a club downtown. His face was throbbing and he was exhausted. The faint sounds of people shouting kept him conscious as he rolled onto his back. His vision was blurred and the buildings towering over him started to spin.

“Hey! Get the fuck back up! I ain’t done with you.”

Shane groaned and tried to look up at whoever was yelling at him, but his body felt too heavy. That didn’t last for long, though, because the next thing he knew, he was being hauled up by a man twice his size.

“You gonna try that shit again, faggot? Huh?” The brute’s breath smelled like shit as he spat in Shane’s face. Shane twisted his face in disgust, his head pounding even more with all the yelling.

“Nah,” Shane smirked, eyes barely open. “I’ll suck your cock before I do that again.”

The brute squawked in disgust and punched Shane square in the jaw. Shane laughed shakily, suddenly feeling more alive than dead. He was past the point of feeling any of the pain.

“Aww, c’mon, you don’t like it when someone sucks your cock?” He taunted.

“Alright, break it up, you two,” the bouncer for the club barked, pulling the brute off of Shane. Shane sagged against the wall he was pressed up against, head hanging low. “You okay, kid?”

Shane snapped his head up, but groaned in pain before he could react. He could’ve sworn that it was someone else’s voice for a second… 

“Kid?” The bouncer shook his shoulders and handed him a plastic water bottle. “I said, are you okay? You got somewhere to go? Someone you can call?”

Shane drank from the bottle with shaking hands and looked at the bouncer, eyes half-lidded. The man was big, had dark skin, a beard, and thick ropes of hair cascading down his back. He was really handsome, in Shane’s opinion. He didn’t have the energy to fight with himself about it right now.

“Y-yeah. There a phone nearby?” He croaked, licking his dry lips. The bouncer nodded and hauled Shane up onto his feet. Shane lost his footing at first and fell into him, gripping onto the man’s thick waist.

“C’mon, man,” the man grunted, basically carrying him to the club’s phone. Thankfully, the bouncer brought him to a quieter area of the club. “Can you call them yourself?”

Shane’s throbbing head moved to look up at the bouncer. He nodded slowly, opening and closing his eyes like a cat falling asleep.

“I’ll be in the hall if you need me, okay? I’ll get you another water.”

Shane hummed and picked up the club’s phone, gently pressing it to his ear. He dug into his duster pocket and pulled out Tim’s business card. It was all rumpled up and dirty, but he could still read the numbers, surprisingly. He’s pretty sure it takes him far too long to dial the numbers, but the faint sound of the phone ringing tells him he actually did it.

Tim picks up on the third ring.

“This is Rockford.”

A shiver travels down Shane’s spine at the familiar gravelly voice.

“Th-thought you were ‘just Tim’ with me,” he says weakly, a faint smile on his face.

“Morrissey? Didn’t think you’d actually call me, shit. Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” he grunted. His voice sounded pinched when he said it, his face curled up in pain again. He’s pretty sure the brute split his lip because that’s throbbing now too.

“Where are you, Shane? I hear music.”

“C-club downtown. Got–” he paused, swallowing around a lump of pain in his throat. “Pissed someone off.”

“Shit, kid. Do you need me to come get you?”

Shane groaned in pain as an answer and nodded, even though Tim couldn't see him. The bouncer came back, putting another plastic water bottle in front of him. Shane made eye contact with him and nodded in thanks. “Can you–” He gestured to the water bottle, asking for the large man to open it for him.

“Is someone there? Give them the phone, kid.”

Shane didn’t answer and just handed the phone to the bouncer. He didn’t hear the one-sided conversation and just laid back in the swiveling office chair, the now opened bottle in his hand.

The bouncer hung up the phone and chuckled down at Shane. “You got friends in places I didn’t think you would, man.”

Shane smiled, eyes shut. “We’ve got history,” he said vaguely.

“I’m sure you do. He’ll be here soon.”

Shane had no idea how much time passed, but the sound of Tim’s low, soft voice in his ear woke him up. When he opened his eyes, Tim’s tired, handsome face greeted him, making him smile softly. 

“You came,” he said softly, genuinely a little surprised, and tried to stand on wobbly legs.

“‘Course I came, kid. Said I’d help you out. You okay coming back to my place?” 

Shane hummed and wrapped an arm around Tim’s broad torso, fingers fiddling with the tank top’s material. He was wearing one underneath a button-up. He probably just got off work.

“Take that as a yes,” Tim sighed. He looked to the bouncer, and nodded in thanks. He led Shane out to his Caprice and buckled him into the passenger seat. “Keep drinking that water, okay?”

Shane mumbled in response and lolled his head against the back of the seat.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, kid, Jesus.”

“Hit ya real hard, didn’t he?” Tim grunted, pressing a wet washcloth against the cut on Shane’s cheekbone.

“More of a lovetap.”

Tim sighed and cupped Shane’s face in a large hand to hold him steady. Shane held his breath, eyes glued to the focused expression on Tim’s face. He studied every detail, never getting a chance to be so close to him before.

“Why were you at the club, Shane?”

Shane sighed and looked down at Tim’s broad chest underneath the tank top. He’d taken off the dress shirt when they walked in the door of Tim’s apartment. They were sitting at the bar in Tim’s kitchen, Shane’s chunky boots on the bar of the stool Tim was sitting on. He looked at the slacks pulling at Tim’s thick thighs and forced himself to look elsewhere, inadvertently giving Tim room to clean up the blood on his split lip.

He hissed in pain at the sting and mumbled, “Wanted to get out of my apartment.”

Tim gave him a look that said, ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

Shane rolled his eyes and shrugged. “I dunno,” he sighed. 

“That was a part of downtown I didn’t think I’d find you in, to be honest,” Tim said softly. He picked up another damp washcloth and cleaned up some of the dirt on Shane’s neck. “Couple more blocks and you’d be in the… more colorful side of town.”

Shane froze, eyes wide. “What are you saying?” He asked defensively, eyebrows furrowed.

“‘M not saying anything, kid. Just making an observation,” Tim shrugged back. He removed his hands slowly and nudged Shane’s chin with the knuckle on his index finger. “There ya go. Lookin’ good.”

Shane blushed a little and looked away. He crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled, “Thanks for getting me.”

Tim smiled softly. “Sure, kid. You got anyone to let them know where you are?”

Shane shook his head and didn’t say anything.

Tim nodded and didn’t press any further. “Well, I’ve got a couch if you want somewhere to sleep for the night. Sorta late now.”

Shane turned up his nose at first, but deflated, too tired to keep the mask on. He didn’t say anything else and just walked over to Tim’s couch. He laid down on his side, facing the back of the couch and hugged himself.

Tim’s eyebrows turned down in concern, but he left it alone for now. He got up and took his shoes off, quietly making his way into the kitchen. He got Shane some water and left it on the coffee table.

Tim looked at Shane’s sleeping form one last time before he turned and went to bed.

Shane’s entire body ached. He turned his head and groaned in pain.

“Awake?”

Shane opened his eyes and immediately shut them, the light from the window blinding him. He tried again, looking over at Tim standing in his kitchen. He was wearing that same white tank top from the night before and some plaid pajama pants. His normally put-together hair was ruffled and starting to curl.  Shane’s heart pounded at the sight.

“Sorry, I know it’s bright. Want something to eat?” Tim asked gently, holding up a pan and spatula.

Shane turned his body but couldn’t, legs getting all tangled in a blanket. When did he get that? He looked down and noticed his jacket and boots were off. He looked up at Tim and raised a brow.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t want you getting dirt on my couch,” Tim grumbled, turning back to his cooking. 

Shane felt… something in his stomach. Were those butterflies? He didn’t get butterflies in his stomach. Least of all for a cop.

“You like eggs?”

Shane looked up again and nodded.

“Think this is the quietest you’ve ever been around me, kid,” Tim chuckled, cracking an egg into the pan. 

“Sorry,” he croaked, voice still scratchy from sleep.

“Don’t be, it’s alright,” Tim hummed. He transferred the eggs onto a plate and grabbed a fork, bringing it over to Shane. He sat on the edge of his coffee table and handed the younger man the plate. “Eat, please.”

Shane looked at the plate of scrambled eggs and almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time someone did something like this for him. He took the plate and started eating quietly.

“How you feeling?” Tim asked softly, taking a drink of his coffee. He held the mug in both hands between his thighs, Shane’s eyes glued to the sight.

“‘M alright. Sore,” Shane mumbled around the eggs.

“I’m sure you are,” Tim snorted. “I mean how are you feeling, kid.”

Shane shrugged, chewing silently. “Fine.”

Tim sighed and got up, walking back to his kitchen. Shane frowned to himself as he finished off his eggs. He set the plate down on the coffee table and stood up. He really was sore, but pushed through it as he walked into Tim’s kitchen.

“You wanna know why I was at that club?” 

Tim froze at his opened refrigerator and slowly turned toward the younger man. He shut the fridge door and gave Shane his attention, leaning against the counter to the bar.

Shane shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He kept his eyes downcast as he spoke, staring at the hole in his sock. “I was at that club because I wanted to… I dunno, see more people like… like that.”

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, listening intently. “Like what?”

“Like–” Shane sighed in frustration. “Gay people,” he mumbled. “Got the address mixed up, so, this–” he gestured to his face. “Was the result.”

Tim smiled internally. There it was.

“I felt– I’ve been,” he paused, looking for the words. “I don’t really know. I don’t,” he sighed in defeat.

Tim hummed in response, unsure if Shane wanted his advice or not.

“If you’re gonna be a dick, I can just leave. I don’t wanna hear what you have to say,” Shane frowned, looking up at Tim with a hard expression on his face.

“How do you know what I was gonna say?” Tim replied, shrugging easily. Shane stared at Tim’s bulging biceps, the tank top revealing more skin than he’d ever seen.

“Well–! You’re,” Shane frowned, cheeks warm. “You’re a cop. You guys are always saying shitty things to guys like me.”

“Sure, some–”

“Don’t ‘not all cops’ me, Tim.” 

Tim’s eyes widened at the response. Not necessarily the words, but the fact that Shane actually called him by his name. “Alright, I get it,” he said softly. “I know you’ve had a lot of bad experiences with cops, I’m sorry.”

Shane huffed in response, but didn’t retort. 

“I mean it, though. I wasn’t going to judge you, Shane,” Tim said, stepping closer to him. 

Shane’s breathing picked up, looking at Tim’s large hand on the bar’s countertop. “You weren’t?” He asked shakily.

“No, kid,” Tim chuckled. He cupped Shane’s face and gently rubbed the pad of his thumb along the split in his lip. “You can’t keep getting into trouble over this sort of thing. There are other ways.”

The air left Shane’s lungs, big brown eyes staring at Tim’s handsome face. He was so close now, Shane had no idea what to do. “L-like what?” He breathed shakily. He stared at Tim’s lips, subconsciously licking his own.

Tim looked over Shane’s face, trying to read his body language. Not yet. He took his hand away and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. “Talking about it, for one,” he said quietly.

Shane exhaled a heavy breath and looked down. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought he was going to pass out. Was Tim about to kiss him? He looked at the back of Tim’s head, eyes looking over the curls intently.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Shane said quietly. “Not right now anyway.”

Tim turned around, face unreadable, and handed Shane the water. “What do you want to do now, then?” He asked, leaning against the bar’s countertop again.

Shane set the glass down and stepped closer into Tim’s space, eyes glued to the older man’s lips. He looked up at his eyes, then back down at his lips. He surged forward and pressed his mouth to Tim’s, kissing him roughly.

Tim grunted into it, arms raised at his sides. It took a second for his brain to kick in and he pulled back, turning his head to the side slightly. 

Shane’s cheeks burned and he felt like an idiot. He turned away and grabbed his jacket that was hanging over the back of one of Tim’s dining room chairs.

“Shane, wait,” Tim started, but Shane ignored him, roughly pulling his chunky boots on.

“Don’t,” Shane snapped. “I’ll be out of your hair.” His face was hard and left no room for argument. He stormed over to the door of Tim’s apartment, heavy boots thundering loudly across the hardwood flooring. 

The last thing Tim saw was Shane’s retreating form and the sound of his front door slamming, the sound echoing throughout the apartment.

[chiliger]

*stands with hands on hips, staring at the floor* Look, I know we love to have the Command Batch be close brothers in art and fics. I am a staunch lover of the trope myself.

But what about, like in real life, where the people we grew up with or went to school with, they just fall out of contact. The friends made in high school don't always remain lifelong friends.

Yeah, they can say "we'll call each other and message everyday," or "we should hang out when our leaves overlap." But the war gets in the way of everything, like it tends to do. Slowly but surely the messages in the group chat peter out. There are too many things to do, and duty takes first priority over keeping contact with the people they knew as kids.

It's not for wont of trying, the commanders would still send little messages to each other, but it could be hours, days or weeks before there's a reply because of conflicting zones, lack of signal, or other messages pushing the chat further down the list.

There's also just the fact that the commanders find their people. Meaning, through time and shared experiences with their battalions, other clones click right into place, possibly even deeper than their batchmates. The camaraderie in surviving a massacre with only two of your men surviving is different than the experience of constant dehumanization on Coruscant.

It comes to a point where the Command Batch become, for lack of thinking of a better word, almost strangers to each other. They still keeps tabs on one another, just to make sure they're still alive, but that's pretty much as far as it goes now. Maybe they'll chitchat when their battalions work together, but the mission has to come first, so most of the talking is planning and strategizing. Even when their leaves do overlap, the thought of messaging for a meet-up might feel like a nuisance, because surely your batchmates are exhausted and don't want to be bothered.

So it goes, the commanders may have been close once, but that connection has been stretched and warped by war and time. They still have love for each other and it won't ever be forgotten, because how can anyone forget the people you grew up with. They were the right people they needed back then, but they're no longer the right people now.

[wyvernest]

Miguel vs very angry reader? Miguel is usually the one who is grumpy and broody but for a change has to deal with his usually cheery lover being unbelievably Moody and angry!

lo siento, mi alma

pairing: miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader

warnings: angst, comfort, fluff, happy ending, miguel kinda being a dick

summary: coming to miguel for comfort leads to a fight, his duty coming right between you

Usually, you would feel so happy and excited about visiting Miguel at HQ. You'd find yourself smiling so stupidly on the way there, surprised with your reflection in a nearby skyscraper, instantly reminded that you're so in love with him. 

But today wasn't one of those days.

Today, your monthly hormonal storm has decided to mess with your mood and patience in a way you weren't looking forward to. Usually, you'd feel more clingy and emotional, yearning to be close to your boyfriend, to be held by him, to cry in his arms because you were out of your favourite snacks. 

But then again, today remains odd among the usual habits.

Today, you felt anger boil in your throat, ready to burst at the slightest inconvenience. And plenty have already tested it. Miles scared the crap out of you by swinging an inch from hitting you, right before scurrying away with an echoed "Hello!" that rang so stridently in your ears. Peter also intercepted your wish-to-be-hidden trip to HQ, unsolicitedly informing you about the last thing Mayday ate, how cute she looked, and how she's been learning to use her webs with more agility. You held back your bubbling nerves, deep down knowing he only meant well.

Finally inside Miguel's extensive laboratories, you look up to spot the platform he usually inhabited empty. 

Great. Fucking hell.

And because expecting something good to happen and then having it snatched from you like a chocolate from a toddler makes you unfathomably angry, you feel hot tears sting your eyes.

You had wanted the comfort of his embrace so bad. It was the only thing that could've soothed your mood. So you found a flat surface to sit on and wait, probably one of the many machines and equipment he spent his whole time creating and testing instead of giving you the attention and love you craved so much, you thought.

It wasn't long before a long, sharp, red blade cut through the fabric of space, followed by the familiar silhouette of your beloved boyfriend. His mask dissolved away, revealing a terribly tired face, hair messed up and cheekbone slightly mauve with a forming bruise. 

He sensed you in the room, not bothering to offer you anything more than a turn of his head in your direction to meet your eyes before sprinting to his platform. Layla also glitched into the room, relaxed as usual. 

You squint, making out "canon divergence RESOLVED" on one of his screens, some hope blooming in your heart at the thought that maybe now he'd have time for you. But before you can inhale to speak, he opens up another portal.

You can't believe it. He didn't even speak to you, like you aren't his heart and soul, as he had told you so many times. 

So you snap.

"Miguel!" You shout, quick and harsh, wanting him to feel a fraction of the frustration that's gutting you right now.

He doesn't flinch.

"I'm busy. Wait for me at home." He speaks with authority and the confidence of a man who knows it wouldn't take much to make you listen to him.

You feel your pulse quicken, heart stuttering with anger and bewilderment.

"That's how much my emotions matter to you?" You shout up to him after a second of weighing his words. "That's the support and consideration I get?" Your voice cracks and you hate that he now knows how affected you are.

"I'm not even a fucking priority at this point. I'm at the bottom of the list."

"I can't deal with this right now. I still have the damage the last anomaly has done to deal with." He raises his voice at you, the words vibrating through the laboratory.

"So I'm on hold until Miguel O'Hara is fucking available? Will you also notify me so that I can present myself back to HQ, sir?" Your tone is dripping venom, sarcasm and sour tears threatening to burst into streams down your cheeks. You do, consider, in the back of your mind, that you're exaggerating. But the way he dismissed you is not an easy thing to get over. No greetings, no emotion, no nothing.

Just "I'm busy.".

No excitement to see you after a mission.

How are you any different than any other spider-person bothering him then? Where is the love he has for you when he's working?

He grinds his jaws together, not wanting to say something he doesn't mean, that he'll regret later. He knows you're particularly sensitive today, but he can't allow himself to soften right in the middle of a job. It's not how he works. He gets distracted.

"I said go home, cariño." He doesn't even face you as he speaks, as if you're a child throwing a tantrum.

You feel small. Irrelevant. He isn't even touched.

"Oh I will." You yell through a sob, your pain arrowing right through his chest.

"Only not to your home." 

You storm out without looking behind. Your ego soared and anger kept rising to your senses. 

You knew you wouldn't break up, or even move out. You just wanted him to feel something. 

You wanted to see him want you. To see him make the slightest gesture towards wanting to keep you by his side.

But the doors closed shut behind you, and you found yourself walking slower, just to give him some time to run after you.

He didn't.

You did your best to hide your teary eyes and runny nose, not wanting to deal with any unwanted attention, any questions, anyone knowing that you and Miguel just had a fight.

You didn't want anyone else's attention but his, and it killed you to acknowledge that.

You got home, finally breaking into tears. You let yourself fall face down into his pillow, still seeking the comfort he never gave you. The smell of him, the imagined, simulated warmth of his embrace.

He had a duty, you know he did. You just wanted to be more than a chore to him. You wondered if this relationship really was for you, head spiralling into the hormones, stress, and wrath. 

You, a needy, extremely loving girlfriend, with a man like him, with a full time job that entire universes depended on. You loved him, you really did. But you loved yourself too. 

The train of thought drifted towards sympathy as the flames of rage ran cold within you. Maybe you were too hard on him. Maybe he really did have urgent things to tend to, and was just trying to keep cool. He hasn't always been the best at showing emotions. 

You whine softly into the pillow, the scent of him flooding your already fluttering heart.

You don't know how much time has passed. You felt your tears dry on your cheeks and your eyes puffy. A creak of the bedroom door makes your heart beat right out of your chest, yet you attempt to stay calm. Heavy footsteps near you, before you see his shadow engulf your shape on the white mattress. 

He hesitates, looking at your quivering body, knowing he should haven't arrived earlier.

If only he could.

Your brows shoot up in surprise at the sight of a bouquet of roses he places on the bed next to you, but you don't get to think of what to say as he kneels at the edge, encircling your waist in his arms, placing his head on your shoulder, close to your own.

"Lo siento mucho, mi alma. Forgive me."

You snivel, humming a fragment of his name. He shuffles closer, seeing no retreat from you. He brings his lips to your stained cheeks, pecking over the salty traces. 

You instinctively shift into his warm embrace, chasing the comfort and touch you had wanted all day. 

"I'm sorry," you begin, "I shouldn't have-"

"Shh, no need" he stops you, pressing a sweet kiss shy of your lips. "No need, mi vida."

His arms tighten their hold around you as he pulls you to his chest. You grab at his biceps, pulling him on the bed. 

"The roses-" He whispers, hurriedly.

"Miguel!" You whine, entrapping his waist with your legs. He complies without another word; suit on, flowers still on the white sheets. With his massive body wrapped around you, finally content, you drift into a sweet slumber.

"Lo siento."

His voice rings low and quiet in your ears as you fall asleep, head on his chest.

translations: Lo siento mucho, mi alma - I'm terribly sorry, (my soul)

a/n: before yall beat my ass for the angst this is the best depiction of miguel x reader x anger issues from both that came to my mind, really hope you like it😭

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

THE BEST OF DANIEL BRÜHL

It’s dumb, honestly.

You get this seemingly brilliant idea of turning to foreign films so you’re forced to read subtitles and focus—a problem you’ve been noticing of late—but in doing so, you end up with a more destructive distraction.

“Who’s that guy, again? The one in all those international productions?” That’s how I found myself on my Daniel Brühl marathon-turned-obsession.

It was his role as the cute Nazi in Inglorious Basterds that first put him on my radar. Over the years, I would see him in The Fifth Estate, Burnt, Woman in Gold, The Zookeeper’s Wife, and The King’s Man. Midway through All Quiet on the Western Front, I was like, “All this needs is that German actor…” and I had to chuckle when he later appeared on screen. I also checked out the first season of The Alienist because I was intrigued by what he and Dakota Fanning as leads would do with such a spooky-looking show.

Adorable as he was in his breakout role in Good Bye, Lenin!, it was his performance in the critically-acclaimed Rush that caused me to spiral. Similar to when Benedict Cumberbatch took on the modern version of Sherlock, it was like seeing Brühl with new eyes. His playful take on Helmut Zemo in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier was the final nail in the coffin. I don’t imagine it’s all too different from what Tom Hiddleston did to fans of Marvel as Loki.

I’m actually at the tail-end of this obsession now that I’ve seen everything I can get a hold of—around 39 films, two TV shows, a documentary, a music video, countless interviews, a bunch of ads, and a handful of fan cuts—but he has a lot of works worth recommending so I thought I would share them on here. This will mostly be a subjective list with priority on projects I found most interesting which showcase his range best. Like, I enjoyed The Bourne Ultimatum but he was on screen for a total of 2 minutes so I wouldn’t include that here.

RUSH (2013) This biographical sports film written by Peter Morgan—the man behind The Crown—centers on the rivalry between Formula One drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda in the 70s. Not a fan of F1 or sports in general. I have nothing against either, just zero interest. But this character-driven film, much like Ford vs Ferrari, had me at the edge of my seat the entire ride. And it surprisingly has one of the best meet-cutes—and accidental wingmen—I’ve seen yet.

Brühl delivers an Oscar-worthy performance in this role. For someone who needed a lot of convincing he could do the character justice, he truly went above and beyond. For one, he befriended and studied Lauda, the iconic F1 figure he was portraying. No easy feat considering Lauda being, well… Lauda. In interviews, Brühl recounts the story of the memorable invite he got from Lauda to meet in Vienna. This would be their first meeting and Lauda told Brühl outright that he should only bring hand luggage so he can piss off if they don’t like each other.

He would end up staying a few days and buying additional clothes.

He also spent a month in Vienna to nail the accent, making sure to capture the arrogance and irony innate to it. And although he got driver training for the role, he also considered the tiniest details like which went on first: helmet or gloves? There was also the tricky business of looking graceful entering a tiny F1 car—a bigger challenge for Chris Hemsworth who plays Hunt—but an obstacle all the same.

All the hard work paid off. It was well-received by audiences, critics, and the F1 world. The first time Lauda saw the film he went, “Holy shit, that’s really me”. Lauda’s friends thought he did voiceover work for it. Director Ron Howard was so pleased with Brühl’s performance that he went out of his way to show an unfinished cut of the movie to the producers of The Fifth Estate (2013). This gracious act would land Brühl the co-lead role opposite Benedict Cumberbatch.

GOOD BYE, LENIN! (2003) Can't tell if it's just because the two films have the same composer and were created around the same time, but this tragicomedy set in East Germany reminded me so much of my beloved Amélie. This is definitely more dramatic and political but it has that same mix of whimsy, heart, and charm. With its budget, it was meant to be an indie film, but the story of a son who would recreate a faux-socialist world to keep his mother alive captured the heartstrings of audiences, not just in Germany but also worldwide. Brühl plays the son and his success with this film was a double-edged sword: although it would open doors for him internationally, he would also be typecast as the “nice guy” in his home country.

INGLORIOUS BASTERDS (2009) This has one of the best, most intense opening sequences in all of cinema… and one of the greatest villains. In this wild alternate universe from Quentin Tarantino, he rewrites the ending of World War II. It’s the right balance of dark, hilarious, and entertaining—my favorite from the auteur’s works. Here Brühl plays a cute and charming Nazi, which is very confusing to the senses.

Aside from Brühl, it was also my first introduction to Christoph Waltz, Michael Fassbender, and Melanie Laurent—all fantastic European actors who’ve crossed over to Hollywood after the success of this movie. “Crossing over” seems ubiquitous now but, at that time, giving most of the lead roles to then relatively unknown actors must have been a risk. But for this, it was necessary. Language plays a huge part in this trilingual film and casting native speakers grounded it in authenticity. Tarantino originally had Leonardo di Caprio in mind to play Hans Landa. Whether he meant for him to learn German or to speak English with a German accent, who knows. Either way, it’s safe to say that would have been a different film.

THE EDUKATORS / DIE FETTEN JAHRE SIND VORBEI (2004) This anti-capitalist film, which has become a cult classic, captures the spirit, idealism, recklessness, and angst of young revolutionaries who just want a better world. Where one stands on the measures taken, or even their sentiment, can be considered a litmus test. With or without reference to this quote from the movie—“Under 30 and not liberal, no heart. Over 30 and still liberal, no brain.”—is up to the viewer.

There needs to be a suspension of disbelief for the series of events that takes place but the setting is necessary for the clash of worlds to happen. It’s not a perfect movie but the issues they debate about in length… they’re still discussions we’re having nearly 20 years later.

p.s. this has my favorite behind-the-scenes of all of Brühl’s projects. Though he hasn’t lost his sense of humor, he seems to have become more reserved as he got older. HERE, at this period in his life, he’s a total goofball bordering on loose cannon.

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) Though I’ve enjoyed quite a few MCU movies, I’m not invested in the universe at all, so watching this wasn’t a priority. In fact, I was ready to settle on YouTube compilations made by devoted fans of all the scenes Brühl was in. Upon seeing clips, however, I got intrigued by his character so I still ended up watching the miniseries and also Captain America: Civil War (2016).

Both were better than I expected. Civil War is more serious, while TFATWS is more playful, but both face relevant issues along with formidable foes. Brühl’s villain in Helmut Zemo is fascinating because he tears the mighty Avengers apart with mere patience, fury, and intelligence… and his motivations are understandable. He lets his character loose in TFATWS—at one point, on the dance floor—and it’s magnificent. His mission is still the same, but this time he does it with a lot of charm, humor, and fabulous Sokovian style. A Turkish delight, personified.

ME AND KAMINSKI / ICH UND KAMINSKI (2015) Brühl’s Sebastian Zöllner is a repulsive and sleazy journalist who has greasy hair and wears too much cologne but I can’t get enough of his chaotic energy. His magnum opus is hitched on a legendary artist dying and his fantasy is to turn the orphaned daughter into a sugar mommy. It’s all kinds of messed up but he plays the hell out of the smarmy dirtbag so it’s a lot of fun. This is Brühl’s second collaboration with Wolfgang Becker, who directed Good Bye, Lenin! Daniel Kehlmann, the writer whose eponymous book this film was based on, would later write Brühl’s directorial debut, Nebenan.

NO REGRETS / NICHTS BEUREUEN (2001) This is reminiscent of the slightly problematic but highly enjoyable teen comedies and coming-of-age films of the 90s. It’s like an edgier Can’t Hardly Wait: boy goes through cringe-worthy measures to get the girl he’s long been pining for, his two closest pals have nothing but dumb advice to offer, yet he still ends up on the path to self-discovery. It’s awkward, chaotic, frustrating, and beautiful—but such is adolescence.

Brühl and his co-star Jessica Schwarz fall in love on the set of this film. And although they would break up years later, the tenderness between their scenes together is palpable and there’s something rather bittersweet about seeing that captured in perpetuity.

For a more straightforward rom-com, he has Lila, Lila (2009). It’s about a guy who passes off a manuscript as his own to impress a girl and the hilarity that follows. It’s on YouTube for those who need a fun and light watch.

THE ALIENIST (2018 – 2020) Based on the novel of the same name, this moody psychological thriller set in late 19th century New York follows a psychiatrist—then called an Alienist—who investigates a series of grisly murders with methods still considered new and controversial at that time, such as psychology and fingerprinting. He gets by with a little help from his friends, John Moore, an illustrator for the New York Times, and Sara Howard, a society woman who works in the NYPD.

In the lead role of Dr. Laszlo Kreizler, Brühl plays the dark, complex, and mysterious Alienist whose study of mental pathologies and deviant behaviors reveals much of himself and his past.

LESSONS OF A DREAM / DER GANZ GROßE TRAUM (2011) This film is loosely based on Konrad Koch, an educator and pioneer who brought football to Germany in the late 19th century. In the movie, the sport is used as a means to pique students’ interest in the English language and culture—both considered barbaric by the Germans at that time. A heartwarming tale of a teacher who overcomes insurmountable odds and inspires students along the way, it’s the German equivalent of Dead Poet’s Society.

ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT (2022) This story, the third adaptation of the 1929 novel, “Im Westen nichts Neues”, conveys the futility of war like no other. There aren't as many films on World War I as there are on World War II, fewer ones that tell it from a German perspective, so this is doubly unique in that regard. Powerful watch but 10/10 not like to relive it again. Apart from producing it with his company, Amusement Park, Brühl plays Matthias Erzberger, the German State Secretary who pushes for armistice talks with the Allied forces.

An ideal companion watch to this would be Joyeux Noël / Merry Christmas (2005), another WWI movie Brühl stars in, which depicts the unbelievable Christmas truce between French, German, and Scottish soldiers in 1914. His linguistic ability shines here as he shifts between German, French, and English effortlessly. (Half German, half Spanish, Brühl speaks a total of five languages: those three plus Spanish and Catalan.)

The Zookeeper’s Wife (2017) and Alone in Berlin (2016) also recognize the bravery of defiance at the height of tyrannical regimes. Although between the two, I would skip the latter.

JOHN RABE (2009) This biographical film set in China tells the incredible true story of a German businessman who uses his Nazi Party membership to create an International Safety Zone in Nanking. This was in the late 1930s, during the Rape of Nanjing. In this six-week carnage by the Imperial Japanese Army—which includes sexual assault, mutilations, and killing contests—upwards of 200,000 Chinese are brutally murdered. The protective zone manages to save around the same number of civilians.

Brühl doesn’t play the titular Rabe, but his character, Dr. Georg Rosen, is one of few Westerners who decides to remain and protect Nanking even as conflict escalates. Dr. Rosen was a German Diplomat instrumental in the creation of the safety zone.

p.s. with all these heroic roles in his catalog, I’m convinced Brühl would be a frontrunner to play President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, should a movie be made about him and Ukraine’s conflict with Russia. You heard it here first.

NEXT DOOR / NEBENAN (2021) This is Brühl’s directorial debut. Here he plays a darker, fictionalized version of himself. Definitely not for everyone but quite enjoyable if you’re familiar with his major works and public persona, appreciate the ingenuity of one-location movies, and delight in British-style meta humor.

Pre-requisite viewing for maximum enjoyment: Good Bye, Lenin!, Captain America: Civil War, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 8

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here. Also, I know way more than I intended because of comments and reblogs on previous posts, so I'm in the know now.

Kim looking at Kenta's face right before the elevator closed is the only thing keeping me from losing it. If Kentana doesn't save Kimberly, what is the point of this?! What is the point of Kentana?!

Are y'all a couple now? Y'all are starting to color and outfit coordinate, and it feels very gay.

I don't know what to do with these two.

I'm pretty sure I'm just not seeing pink on Pete, which means he has connections to the red, and Way refuses to stay blue, so I'm sure he is still planning some corrupt red nonsense.

JUST BE BLUE! Just be in love with each other. Accept his love, Waymond!

I never thought I'd write this, but be like Jeffrey, Waymond. Turn blue. Commit to the blue. Fall in love!

Look at him! No matter what connection he has to the red, he is beating the allegations. Peter is a GOOD MAN! If Waymond doesn't fall in love with him, somebody else will. Guaranteed.

Not going to read too much into that red stripe at the top of the room, but this is a red's room. Is this Kimberly's?! Why is there so much blood?!

When you take people's superpowers, yet have no idea how to use the superpowers. Apparently, Babe without superpowers is still better than everyone else. At least Charles is no longer a lying blue.

I think Big Red knows something is different with Babe, and even though Jeffrey still has that damn red bag . . . IS THAT WAYMOND?! No, Waymond, no! Do NOT work with Big Red. You have Peter RIGHT THERE! Quit your bullshit, Waymond!

WTF, Kentana?! If I have to pick between you two, I pick Peter. No contest. Kimberly, Peter, and Alan above everyone else. Kentana, you better stop it! You are still on my shit list!

Hold up! Do you two know each other? Like biblically? What is this tension? What are these looks? Why does this feel very personal? I ain't mad at it, but Kentana still needs to save Kimberly!

Jeffrey, why would you go there in that red and blue flannel shirt?! That won't save you, buddy!

Kentana, the ONLY thing that will redeem you is saving Kimberly. I didn't like Jeffrey, but now he is matching with Alan, so they are in love, and you can't break Alan's heart! You are just fucking up left and right today, and I hope you get punched in the throat before this episode is over.

KIMBERLY IS DYING! And y'all are about to have sex in the blue after tending wounds which is pointless because you have superpowers that will heal you!!!!!! Y'all continue to amaze me by the lack of priorities. Save Kim Possible!

Why is this shot in the mirror? Why is there a barrier between you two? This is odd. More lies?

Who takes a shot like that?! A KILLER! Barbara, get it together! This isn't an episode of Dead Friend Forever, and you are no longer a red.

Everything about this scene is ridiculous. Charles in blue. SONIC in blue. North and Waymond in black. AND EVERYONE IS DRINKING RED SODA! This not looking good for the blues. Whatever they are talking about, the reds already won.

Barbara continues to be touchy-feely with Waymond. Why can't he just let Waymond brood in peace? Barbara knows Waymond loves him, yet gives Waymond no space. Go tend to your boyfriend's fake injuries, Barbara! Waymond is working with Big Red and not falling in love with Peter, yet you have me feeling bad for him, Barbara. I should hate Waymond! BUT I CAN'T BECAUSE YOU WON'T LEAVE HIM BE!

These two have to be sleeping together. Cooking Crush had the Chicken Bite product placement too and Prem and Ten definitely want each other in that show, so North and Sonic have to want each other too, yes? Yes. Now why are they watching Whiny Winifred while flirting IN THE BLUE?! They finally are both wearing blue at the same time. Thank, Baby Jesus.

I was worried seeing Waymond in the red doorway, but he has Charles and Barbara. But they aren't saving Kimberly. Why does nobody care about Kimberly?!

The kid is blue. Is he the insider informant? He is a child!

Why are there so many red kids in the world? Big Red, why do you need an army?! Overthrow your shitty kidnappers with your superpowers, kids! REVOLT! Sí se puede

KIMBERLY!

North and Sonic are going to save Kimberly! They are finally in the blue and saving my favorite red! I never doubted them!

WHAT THE FUCK?! THEY DIDN'T SAVE KIMBERLY?!

Southwest Airlines and Vegas' Hedgehog did NOT save Kimberly! Kentana watched as Kimberly got taken, then had the audacity to have chemistry with Peter. Jeffrey walked right into the reds like that was gonna save him instead of saving Kimberly! Whiny Winifred kicked Kimberly. Waymond is working with Big Red and not saving Kimberly. Charles and Barbara CANNOT prioritize and are talking to a blue kid and giggling at each other instead of rescuing Kimberly.

AND BARBARA IS FIGHTING PETER NEXT WEEK!

These men need to get their shit together! The ONLY things that needed to happened this episode were 1) SAVE KIMBERLY and 2) ACCEPT PETER'S LOVE! Neither happened. Honestly, Kentana and Waymond could die and leave Kimberly and Peter to be the power couple of Alan's company. They both wear too much black, and unlike Barbara, they aren't the title character, so either commit to the blue Waymond or Kentana, or else I'm gonna start thinking y'all are disposable.

[wheredostarsgowhenyoudie]

Once upon a Monday night after patrol...

Peter (swinging in through the window in the spidey suit, taking his mask off): Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark! Guess what! Guess what! Guess what!

Tony (who is in the middle of fixing Dum-E paused his tinkering at the whoosh, lips twitching to a smirk which he hid by drinking coffee): What, what?

Peter (beaming so wide): I made three friends today! Well four if you count the elusive one who approached me but shied away from the others. I named them Stephy, Stacey, Gwen and Michie!

Tony: Aha, and what are they this time? Birds? Bees? Iguanas?

Peter (still smiling, brings out a phone to show him a photo): They're cats Mr. Stark! And they're so cute, I love them so much! See. One white, one cream, one grey, one black. They're all cat colors!

Tony (shuffles the kid's hair): Hm-hm. Nice going Underoos. Looks like a menagerie.

Peter (suddenly goes shy): Uhm, could we- I mean if it isn't too much, sir, and only if it isn't! Err, could we maybe, if it's alright with you, go to the petting shop for my birthday?

Tony (felt his eyebrows rising automatically, looking at the camera, knowing Friday is already making a list of pet stores he could acquire): You want a pet? Is that your wish?

Peter (looks down): Ahm, no, I just...ahm, I just thought it'd be fun to pet some cats and dogs with you. It'd be a memorable experience, but uhm, you don't have to if you're busy or if...if you'd rather not. No pressure Mr. Stark! I mean, I just thought I'd ask.

Tony (face softening into a smile): Of course. Tell you what, meet me outside your apartment 10AM tom. We'll get breakfast, go to the pet shop and then the other three places I planned to take you to.

Peter (eyes widen): Really? You'd spend the day with me Mr. Stark? But aren't you busy or something?

Tony: Nope. Not at all. All free for my favorite spiderling.

Peter (is unable to hide his excitement and went for a hug): Thanks Mr. Stark!!

Tony (finds himself squeezed by his favorite half arachnid child, not really complaining and patting his kid in return): There, there, Underoos. There, there.

.

.

Later, several people will receive a meeting cancellation and request to reschedule.

President Elis, Nick Fury, Steve Rogers and the entire board of Stark Industries.

And when they reach out to Pepper Potts to ask what the heck, her polite and professional answer would be simple and concise.

"Code S," she would say, and they would all perk up into a knowing smile, understanding and accepting the code for what it is.

Code S. Reserved for one specific boy from Queens who happens to be Friday's, every Stark employee's and every affiliate's and partner's top priority over everything as per the mandate from Tony Stark himself. Everything else will be put next in line if the code is triggered.

There's even a video/threat attachment to the email to discourage anyone who dares disobey or violate the terms and agreement.

Officially, it stands for Code Superior. In front of Tony and Peter, the avengers sometimes call it Code Spider-man, even if Peter has no idea about the mandate and signed agreement that anyone who needs Tony Stark/Iron-Man to work with or for them has to sign. But they all knew it meant something else anyway.

Code S, in Friday's coding and among Tony's closest relations, could only stand for one thing. Code Son. A spot unofficially but exclusively reserved for one clueless Peter Benjamin Parker.

[tarjapearce]

Bad Teachings (Pt. 3)

Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

WARNINGS: Sexual language, Adult situations, mild fluff, relationship building, slow burn, mild fluff, Miguel being a sly mf.

Word Count: 5k

Pt. 4

If there was something that came on Miguel's mind to describe teaching life was chaotic. What initially started for shits and giggles, was soon consuming all of his time. Peter B. Parker, someone that reluctantly had earned a spot in his life, had convinced him that he was good enough to teach and that college was under staffed.

He wasn't wrong, however Miguel had underestimated how much of a headaches he'd be constantly having . Students cried for a second chance, some classes were a pain in his ass since half the students, female mostly made sure to always pull at his patience strings.

Something he was sure he ran out in those few semesters he worked teaching. And then sexual content started to appear in his institutional email, direct number. Sure some of the students were bolder than others, but mostly unremarkable.

It had turned more annoying than anything. He had changed his number twice, even changed his teaching methods to have a bit of peace. It worked for a semester, but it got back at him again. His blocked contacts list was bigger than his own true contact list. One of the reasons he turned even more strict.

He had to take some weeks off to rearrange personal matters, The administration department called in last minute for him to cover up Peter B. Parker the last couple weeks of the semester, due his wife being on maternity leave.

It was kinda surprising for him to find a few couple senior students in the class. You among them, grades excelling in mostly of the classes, theory and some workshops specially, but average in those that implied maths and of course his class. He chuckled at the thought that you would eventually would ask for his help.

He counted the days as he had noticed you making up your mind in whether approach or not. It took you a week to stay after class and finally ask him. For once someone wasn't ugly crying before him with a made up-last second excuse. He could see honesty in your eyes, and of course sleepless nights.

He could see how you refused to crumble before him, wich amused him to no end. Of course he had said no just to test your determination. Five extra was a measly thing you had asked for in comparison from other students. And when he found you at the library, about to breakdown, he had waltzed in like a savior, and you gladly took the chance like a heaven sent gift.

Your happiness suited your features, it made your cheeks rosy and you to look a bit more alive. He more than anyone understood the sacrifice that college implied. And for you, social life seemed the perfect tribute. He rarely saw you on the parties in the common area.

It wasn't like you were some sort of special snowflake, or not like the other girls, hell, he had also sacrificed the little social life he had when he was practically a few weeks away to finally finish college. You had your priorities set, and that was something he admired in someone.

His train of thoughts however stopped at the sight of you, leaning against the wall as you made out with a student that certainly was up to no good. Maybe you were celebrating a small victory in another class. Kissing seemed natural on you, your lips melded so well with the young man's. It was odd to see you acting like a carefree student.

And then the video happened. He was on his bed, ready to sleep when his phone chimed in with a new message. His eyes squinted upon reading the caption 'For your eyes only' as the video uploaded. Your name on the top made him swallow thick, he pressed play.

His eyes widened as the video kept going, he cleared his throat as the tightness in his sweatpants grew enough to trap his manhood. It was a side of you he never thought to be a witness off. Of course alcohol was the culprit of your mistakes, and the whole show you were giving.

You taking your slicked fingers to your mouth was the breaking point for him to replay it again, girth in hand. Disappointment disappearing with each stroke he gave himself, pumping at the rhythm of your moving hips. But it wasn't enough.

You avoided him like the pest itself, and as much as the thought of confront you about it sorta displayed, he didn't press the situation further. Your attempt to make things right merely had entertained him, but he mentally praised you for being sincere. His restrain for actually indulging on the power that you, without knowing had invested him in, was hard to keep.

He didn't know if you were actually teasing him or you seemed oblivious at everything, as you waltzed in with a suit that made him throb. His eyes drifted Ocassionally to the pair of thighs you had caged in a skirt that snugged your figure. Plump, supple that looked perfect as ear mufflers.

He wasn't blinded to your female charm (Something you didn't dwell too much in), he just wanted to see past that to see what kind of person was underneath  the outside.

You were stubborn to a certain level, kept your moral compass in check, persevering, attuned with what you wanted, ambitious, polite, a good girl. He felt terrible for such thoughts. Almost ashamed of himself. But once you granted him permission there was no turning back.

It all was way too tempting, too forbidden to ignore, not when he had the biggest moral proof before him. He failed miserably. You made him sin in a way he never thought on doing at his age. Never he had felt so empowered, so desired, so needed, so in control.

And then you left. You left him, or so he had thought. He seeked relief in others but it didn't sate the feeling. Something was off. But eventually he learned how to live with it. He quited college and returned to Alchemax.

A couple months later the universe seemed to listen as he released a breath upon seeing you, trying to reach for a cereal box. He couldn't help but wriggle an explanation on why you had been gone out of his radar for such a long time.

"I was robbed. Lost a bunch of information, including your contact."

He didn't see any hidden lies, just a feeling of contempt to see him again, among nervousness of course. He loved the way you flustered whenever he was too straight forward. Your charm and beauty had only increased, to his eyes. And when you showed up in his home, he'd be lying if he didn't want to take you right in the spot.

The feeling he had missed for a long time, returned. But contrary to the previous encounter, he wanted to savor each moment. Take the time to indulge you. Something that you weren't used to, evidently, by how fast you were drinking your share of wine and how rosey your cheeks grew with every gentle and complimenting word that came out his mouth

Endearing

The way your body reacted to him, gave him a new dose of what his body had ached for. Contact, warmth from something else that wasn't his hand. You never failed to amaze him at what he could provoke on you.

You were the first one in falling asleep. Unkempt hair sprawled all over his pristine beige pillows, absorbing his scent to be replaced by yours.

He couldn't help but to snap a picture in case his memory forgot such image of you in the new sea of stress approaching on his work. Waking up to find your back facing him made him chuckle as his eyes roamed your figure. You made sure to not trespass his own intimate space and remained on your side of the bed, tangled in his sheets.

Such vulnerability displayed before him made him smile with a bit of fondness, relax even. You trusted him enough to fall asleep on his own bed. He got up to prepare your reward, for gifting him such thing as your time. It had been a while since he ever woke up like this.

Gorgeous woman next to him, naked, a wonderful night spent, and a delicious breakfast to enjoy with the promise of a next time.

---------

After arriving from Miguel's home, you parked your car in it's usual spot and got through the elevator. A lady jumped in with you, holding a box with some kitchen gadgets, as she gave you a discreet look but smirked to herself

Of course she'd stare, your hair was damp, and you were dressed just like you had escaped from a millionaire's affair.

You pressed the third button, keys tinkering at the action.

"Good night, aye?" She mumbled, and your cheeks flared up. Her British accent chirping in the air. She was black, Her dreadlocks neatly combed in a large bun as some white strands poked out. She wore combat boots, black sweatpants and a large hoodie, her left wrist adorned with a mild studded leather bracelet.

You just cleared your throat, unable to look at her in the eye. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, she was the first one in leaving. She opened the door of the first apartment, some boxes littering the entrance. A tall, black, slender young man with the funkiest hair you'd ever seen, peeked out to retrieve the box from the lady's hands and then closed the door.

New neighbors

You followed at the end of the hall, and finally, the privacy of your apartment welcomed you. Going to your room, you immediately wiggled out of the dress and put on sweatpants and an oversized thick shirt. Then, blow dried your hair.

Just got home. Thanks for everything.

You pressed send to Miguel. The seen confirmation appeared in.

The little emoji made you smile.

----

Work had been the so ever good distraction through the week from your plaguing thoughts about certain grumpy-looking geneticist. Besides the always mind blown gut rearrangement you had from him, you had actually enjoyed his company.

The way he had treated you, listened intently at your storytelling about the robbing, and other mundane things, The way he was always calling you Hermosa in that smooth spanish-speaking voice, made your skin crawl. But there was something that didn't add up.

As your teacher, Miguel O'Hara was brutal, He took no shit from anyone, hated the class clowns, and his due dates were always respected. He didn't leave much homework but every assignment always costed a good chunk of the grade. So ever serious with a scowl on his face. Why he'd help you out was still a mystery even to you.

You had arrived to your dorm room soaked, Legs feeling like jelly, shivering from the pouring weather. It was as if the rain itself had washed away the remnants of your previous sins. For once you were glad your roomie stuck to her own business and didn't question anything. Just giggled mirthful at your current state.

You chuckled at the memory

After the graduation ceremony he had gone out of sight, despite you giving him a blowjob an hour ago, you wanted to properly thank him and bid your farewells. You spotted him talking to the Suma Cum Laude students' parents, as your own called to celebrate.

You didn't know anything of him but two months later, against all your reasoning as to why he'd keep you in his contacts, you got a text from him.

"Hey, princesa"

And things just snowballed from there. There was a pattern in his text you could figure out, the longest and spiciest conversations you had were around finals, probably he seeked relief from the constant stress he faced. You had sent him enticing photos, even got you a set of lace and tulle lingerie in lilac for him to see.

You had liked, a bit too much his attention, admittedly.

He had told you how he was being considered by the higher ups for a higher position in college. Then, you got robbed and lost all contact from him. Some numbers had been saved in the sim card instead of the cloud storage. His was in the sim card.

The phone was blocked and soon you got another one temporarily. Took you a couple of months to finally find a job an hour away from your parent's home. The first months on your own almost deterred your mental health since you were busy trying to furnish your apartment with the basics, paying rent, paying phone bills, and when you had what you considered enough, you started saving up for a car.

Your 27th birthday gift

And now, not only you had found him in the same isle in the supermarket, but the two dined and wined together, only to fuck to your hearts contempt later. And so a new dilemma was born. Would it be too much for you to ask him out for lunch?

Now that he had retired from teaching to go back to a super job for really smart people, it was like he was someone else entirely. He was flirty yet managed to keep his so ever serious composure, demanding within reason, quite the gentleman and polite, but he wouldn't hesitate to put anyone in their place or call out someone on their bs.

Paycheck was around the corner, and you could afford to splurge a little. Besides, you wanted to know why he had helped you among some other things you actually never had the chance to really speak about.

What's your favorite food?—

You sent the message, something you had debated ever since the morning you got to work. And almost four hours later he replied

—Not a picky eater, actually. Why?

You sighed as your fingers prepared to type but stopped as he was writing again

—Oh, you wanna take me out?

Your face flushed, as you dropped the phone to hide yourself in your hands. Thankful that he wasn't around to see your embarrassment.

Fuck.

Sighing, you gathered your bearings and typed.

Actually, yes. I do. —

—Cute. What's the catch?

Of course he is fucking clever.

No catch. Just us eating and catching up. —

—Thought we did that already?

Shit. Your heart gave a sudden twist and your lips pursed.

Of course it was too soon for that...

It's fine if you don't wanna. Truly. Just wanted to know a couple of things I never got the chance to ask. But never mind, Read you later . . —

With a sigh, you put the phone away, and kept working, trying to keep your mind busy from what it felt a blatant rejection. Your phone however, buzzed an hour later.

— Such drama. Where you wanna meet up?

You blinked a few times and did a double check on the number before typing. Almost feeling stupid.

Saturday at Magnolia's, 1 pm.—

-Make it at 2. Have some extra paperwork coming in.

Gotcha. See you then. —

He had agreed. Gulping down a squeal, you finished work and went home.

------

Usually, during the weeks you barely talked since work consumed each other's lives, It was mostly you spamming him with random things to either annoy him or make him laugh. He occasionally reacting to terrible science puns.

This weekend felt different, special even.

It's just lunch.

Your mind reprimanded you, as you were picking an outfit. You liked to dress up, mainly for yourself since your first post debt paycheck was splurged in clothes from a popular shop online, to change your old and borderline tomboy-ish closet.

You liked to think it was a post college sort of glow up. Exploring your own femininity ended up being fun. Fashion sense wasn't top notch but you made sure to always look good. Something your job required from you as well.

You decided for a pair of brown, high waisted pants, cream ankle boots, matching cream button shirt, and a brown gingham jacket. Along a white handbag. Some makeup, and perfume.

Clock ticked 1 pm, and soon you went out the door. You saw the same young man from before closing his own door, then heading for the elevator, you rushed to get in, he prevented the doors to close completely.

"Thanks."

He nodded your way.

You smiled up politely at him, Now that you actually had a proper look of him, You could see he had an assorted set of piercings in his face. You had wanted to pierce your ears some time ago, but due busy life the idea escaped.

"You new here?"

The young man nodded, a guitar on his back, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

"The Boss' idea." His tone flat

You blinked at him

"Mum, I mean."

"Oh! Heh, well, hope you enjoy your stay. Neighbors stick to themselves mostly of the time but are willing to help if you need them. Just avoid the Karen in the 3C."

He chuckled

"Thanks for the tip, runway girl."

"(Name)"

"Hobie."

"Love your style"

"So do I" You both chuckled

"See ya."

You waved as he got off the elevator and you headed for the basement, to get your car.

----

You arrived fifteen minutes early, got seated near the balcony on the second floor, in the further table. You went for a rose lemonade in the meantime Miguel arrived and took a look at the menu. Your phone buzzed five minutes before two pm.

—Where are are you?

Second floor, balcony on the right. —

Minutes later he showed up, beige button shirt, rolled by his forearms, green vest snugging his torso, lenses on his face and green dress pants with a black belt. A white lab coat on his hands. He put a small briefcase in the lone chair and sat across you. You couldn't help but notice some women glancing his way, some discreetly, others unabashedly.

"Hello"

He grunted in response as he sat. He looked grumpier than usual.

"You ok?"

"Just tired."

"Right. Sorry to make you come here after work."

"You apologize too much."

He asked for a simple mint lemonade and rubbed his face.

"I wasn't sure to invite you actually."

"Being brave, are we?"

"I didn't want to look, uh... clingy or desperate."

He raised and eyebrow and chuckled

"Qué adorable"

"But, seeing you here makes me feel glad I did."

"Place looks nice. Some things have changed."

"Wait, you've been here?"

"Had a couple of work meetings before, and some dates too, steak is great."

You gulped and sipped your lemonade. His eyes were set on your form and the sudden, brief tension you went on due his words.

"Good dates, I hope"

He shrugged

"They could've been better. Anyways, you look good. As usual."

"Thanks" it was a bit too curt than you actually wanted it to be, but sighed.

"Well, how was work?"

"What do you wanted to know?" His tone impatient. Surely had been a difficult day on his end. It kinda made you guilty for inviting him over.

Awkward

You rubbed your neck, and tore your gaze away from him. The waiter brought his lemonade and you both ordered. A well done steak with veggies and mashed potatos for him, a mushroom soup for you.

He sighed quietly and straightened up. His frustrations sometimes got the best hold of him, and they lashed out as too straight forward questions or anger. Clearly it had bummed you a bit. You were just trying to have a good time with him. He was making it difficult. He rubbed his neck and looked at you.

"Guapa"

"I just wanted to know a couple of things, if that's ok. You can go after"

He frowned and rolled his eyes

"Kinda concerns me the type of men you're mingling with, if you think I'll leave you here alone and be an asshole about it ."

"Well, you aren't exactly the most patient man on earth. Plus you kinda look uncomfortable by being here."

"Let's just, start over ok?"

"Fine." you shrugged

"How are you?"

"Ok, I guess. It has been a busy week."

"Same. New projects need to be classified, everyone is depending on me, it's a mess."

"I bet. Did you missed that from this work?"

"Not really. Things would be easier if everyone would do their part.".

"I can relate. Team is good but there is always a few ones that rely too much on us."

"They think you're a good leader. That's why they depend on you."

"Not really, they're just lazy"

He chuckled and sipped his lemonade.

"What do you wanna know?"

"Uh, well, to starters, something I've been wondering for quite a while. Why did you decide to help me back then, on college?"

"Cause you deserved it."

"Oh?" you swallowed as your eyes fixed on him.

"I always checked on my student's records whenever I used to take on a new class. Most were unremarkable, but you tried your best. You had spark. And didn't cry when you needed help."

"So basically you helped me because you were impressed I didn't cry when I asked you for help?"

He snorted, the previous tension melting away

"No, I helped because you were honest and you gave your best till the end."

"And me thinking it was because we... eh, fucked in your car."

He smirked and shook his head

"Not really, that was a bonus. But no, you passing that class is entirely your doing"

Your cheeks burned a little at his praising. It made you feel better knowing that he actually had taken in count your efforts.

"Well, that leads me to a second question."

"Shoot it."

"What did you think when you got the video?"

He gave a low whistle and leaned back in his chair.

"Me gusta que no te andas con rodeos" he nodded with a smile "Well, in all honesty, I wasn't expecting it from you. Many other female students did send stuff, claiming it was accidentally. Thought it was another video of a student showing off her breast for me to see. But when I saw your name on it, and what you did on the video, Dios mío, something had to be done about it."

Nervously you sipped your drink.

"Did you, sleep with any other students before?"

"No. Not my thing really. Not before, neither after you."

You almost grinned and his eyes squinted

"What?"

"Nothing, just feel like a legend. Or I just got too carried away in the moment. Still debating on it."

He laughed softly

"What about teachers?"

"A couple, but nothing too serious."

Your eyes widened softly at him with a mischievous smile.

"Desperate times, huh?"

"Semantics. Do you regret it?"

"No. Sure, it took me by surprise when you made an advance, but no. I don't. How about you? Do you regret what you did?"

"Not a single bit. Or we wouldn't be here."

"Cheers for zero regrets, then." Your glasses clinked and his eyes softened at you.

"Anything else?"

"I actually wanted to say my farewells to you after the ceremony but you were busy. And as much as that one on one session in your classroom was... great, I wanted to be civil enough and thank you. You were a hell of a teacher. Kinda owe my current job to what you and Miss Lyla taught me actually."

Your smile genuine, his breath hitched at your honesty.

"Glad to help."

"Im not buttering you up or stuff, I mean, you were demanding as fuck, a bit too pushy but, It was worth it."

He took your hand and kissed it softly.

"Thanks."

"Now, I wanna know though, What you thought when I stopped replying?"

"That your morals had won you over and that you grew bored of texting me. We didn't talk much really, so it wasn't that much hard to process."

"I did everything I could to get your number back, plus I wasn't sure if you were still at college and I didn't want to compromise your reputation as a teacher."

He crossed his arms and glanced your way

"Bold of you to assume that I care what people think of me."

"It's odd. Just I saw you as my teacher for a time, and it's kinda hard to get rid of that title. I mean, I'm still getting used to call you by your name."

"You better be, guapa. Hate formalities once a line has been crossed"

"Is that so? What if I called you Miggy?"

"Por Dios, No. I'd block you"

You giggled, and soon food was brought.

"Thanks." you smiled at the waiter

"Enough on me though, anything new in your life, or something interesting that happened in this week?"

"Besides new neighbors and a new client for the team, not really. It's boring."

"New neighbors are good?"

"Reserved, but good. yeah. Although the lady's quite perceptive."

"Hm?" he munched on a chunk of meat

"She saw me in the elevator, after I got home. Walk of shame." He smirked

"And they're British. She was all 'Good night, aye?'"

He nearly choked but managed to laugh softly. A sound that made your stomach flip.

"Jesucristo..."

"And today I met her son. Cool looking guy. I'll take my guess and say he works either in a band or a tattoo shop."

"Sounds like a punk."

"Hey, be nice, you haven't even met him yet."

"Neither have you, for real. Anyone I should know about?" He started on his vegetables

Your head shook softly.

"Nope. I was too busy trying to survive on my own the first couple months. I mean sure I met a couple of guys but ended up being ghosted" You shrugged.

His phone buzzed and he groaned in annoyance.

"Hold on." He typed something quick and put the device on silent, before rubbing the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

"Everything alright?"

"Don't worry your pretty head over it."

"Not to be nosy or stuff, but you mentioned that you had extra paperwork incoming"

"Puras mamadas,but yeah."

"What do you have to do?"

"Classify, organize and divide archives."

"That sounds awfully alot like Office Automation."

He stared at you, curiously.

"W-What? Miss Lyla gave me that class. It's also part of my job actually." you gulped, "I was one of the top three. So if there's anything I can help with, count me in."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, You could send me the files so I can work on them at home-"

"That I can't do, some are confidential."

"Ok, uh, what about you give me the disclosed ones, and you work on the confidentials?"

His eyes bore into you, but then he huffed.

" What about tomorrow? "

"You have a due date?"

"Tuesday. But the longer ones are halfway done."

"Do you want me to help tomorrow? We can meet up at your place so you can explain me and do corrections if needed. I'll bring my laptop."

His eyes softened and smiled little.

"Sure, but I can't guarantee you that there will be breaks for fun time."

Your eyebrows raised as you blinked, cheeks flushing

"I-I wasn't planning on it, actually. I promise."

"Eso veremos"

"What?"

"Nothing. Tomorrow then."

"Of course. " You smiled and indulged your food.

-----

"Thanks for the lunch, hermosa"

"Anytime. I'm glad you enjoyed. And thanks for being honest."

"Tu compañía es muy grata, no tienes nada que agradecerme."

You blinked confused

"Uh, What?"

"Nothing" He pinched your cheek softly with a knowing yet lazy smile.

"In any case, I'll let you know the hour for us to meet up"

"Ok. Sure See you."

He opened the door for you and took your hand in his once more, to give a small kiss on it.

"Have a good evening" Your cheeks heated bashfully and you got into the car. You could see his smirk growing as he closed the door and you drove off.

He had a good time as well, your hand's warmth remained on his. He sighed, a new test for him approaching.

"Dame fuerzas para mañana" he mumbled to himself as he made his way towards his car.

------

Qué adorable - How adorable

Me gusta que no te andas con rodeos - I like your straightforwardness.

Dios mío- My God

Por Dios, No. - Oh god, no.

Jesucristo - Jesus Christ

Puras mamadas - Pure bullshit

Eso veremos - We'll see

Tu compañía es muy grata, no tienes nada que agradecerme. - Your company is enjoyable, you've got nothing to thank me for.

Dame fuerzas para mañana - Give strength for tomorrow.

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

Hope you liked! Still kinda nervous about this chapter. Going from absolute filth to the start of something deeper is sure a challenge. Thank you for reading <3. If you wanna be on the tag list for future works lemme know!.

[rmoonstoner]

18+ content. You have been warned!

Okay, so, the top 3 fics I am working on at the moment:

***

# 1 - Cream & Sugar - Complete LINK

One shot, currently sitting at 12k words. Story part done, now I need to add more nasty to it. Orgasm denial and overstimulation for Peter. P in v sex, cream pie, Peter is tied to a lawn chair and you have your way with him, breeding kink, he begs a lot, blah blah blah.

Sub!Spider-Man Noir x Dom!spider!fem!reader (I think it's soft Dom, but you decide.)

***

# 2 - Just A Taste - Part 2

Second part of Just A Taste. Peter takes you on a simple date. Yes. More sex. I was thinking public sex, maybe they get caught by someone? I dunno. Haven't decided. Story part is done, just whipping up the nasty. More creampie monster fuckery.

SPIDER-Man/Man-Spider Peter Parker x Sorceress!fem!reader

***

# 3 - Poisoned Empanadas - Chapters 5 - 10

So much more story. Real people sex! You get nothing more out of me.

Spider-Man 2099 Miguel O'Hara x fem!spider!reader

***

Runner ups:

***

# 4 - No name as of yet, might be chaptered, might not be

Tiny bit of story, monster fucker sex with a magic man that looks like a demonic tentacle demon. Much nasty.

Eldritch Horror/Watcher/Supreme Doctor Stephen Strange x Watcher's Assistant!fem!reader

***

# 5 - Decent into Madness

This is pure filth and crack for me. Written by me, for me, and I am sharing for others to enjoy. I am counting this as a size kink, breeding kink, monster fucker (because it's MOTHER FUCKING BEAST FROM THE X-MEN! I DON'T DO REGULAR HUMAN HANK, SORRY.) and it's nasty.

Dark Beast x Mutant!fem!reader

***

I am also working on other various fics and projects and requests, but they aren't as high up on my priority list at the moment. If have seen some requests, don't worry, I haven't forgotten. My muse to write is saying do these now.

❤️ 💙

[heliads]

Andrew Peter x Gn reader, simple headcanons if you haven’t done this already 🩷

bless bullet points

masterlist

Even without the fact that he’s Spider-Man, dating Peter Parker is an absolute dream come true

First of all, he is quite possibly The Sweetest Boy in Existence

I’m talking flowers on every date, walking you to your door after each outing, everything you could want and more

He’s also a little lovesick over you (and who wouldn’t be??) so you know he’s practicing his photography by making you his main muse

“It’s not my fault I keep taking photos, you should stop distracting me with your beauty”

You get the drift. He’s obsessed, as he should be

But then… factor in the fact that he’s a literal superhero…

Whenever he saves the city, you are his first priority. End of discussion.

It doesn’t matter how many people are in danger, he’s finding you first and not resting until he knows you’re going to be alright

You are what matters most, not the city, you

Peter’s kind of a vigilante anyway, he’s not lawfully obligated to treat everyone fairly

If he lost you, he would never forgive himself, so Peter ensures that there will never be a situation in which that happens

Outside of danger, though, your boyfriend being Spider-Man is still totally the coolest thing ever

He likes bringing you up to random rooftops so you can sit and look at the skyline for hours

You always forget how cold it is up there, which is of course just an excuse for Peter to ply you with his jackets

When he’s out the next day and sees you wearing his clothes… he is losing his mind I can promise you that

Basically, your relationship with Peter Parker is top tier, and there’s absolutely nothing you would change about it <33

requested by @fadedver

marvel tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @mycosmicparadise, @ellobruv, @callsign-scully, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @23victoria, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @gods-fools-heroes, @w1shes43, @deafsuperhero, @/fadedver

[42-clocks]

💚 a zine on aromanticism 💚

^an informational zine on aromanticism I made for Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week

feel free to share/print!

(pages and image IDs after the break)

Image ID 1: the front and back cover. The front cover reads, “informational zine — Aromantic: What Does That Mean? — by Peter Z.”

there are two simple arrow shapes between lines of the text pointing in opposite directions.

The middle of the page has a long stripe with the colors of the aromantic flag, which extends to the back cover. the back cover side lists what each of the colors represent: green — aromanticism; light green — the aromantic spectrum; white — platonic and aesthetic attraction; gray — gray-romanticism and demi-romanticism; black — the sexuality spectrum.

The back page reads, “more resources!

TAAAP.org

Aro Spec Week.com

gsrc.princeton.edu (SAM)

aromanticism.org (AUREA)

Elizabeth Brake (aromanticism)

Aggressively Aro Spec Tumblr

Aromantic Guide.com”

End text. Two gray silhouettes of lily flowers act as embellishment. End ID 1.

Image ID 2: pages 1 and 2 of the zine.

Page 1: “Aromantic — or just ‘aro’ for short — refers to someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction to anyone — or experiences it in a different way than others. Alloromantic is the opposite — one who does have romantic attraction.” The text is green and dark teal with light green boarders around the sections.

Page 2: small letters says “this might help to understand” and arrow points to the title “Split Attraction Model” — “a way of understanding attraction by separating it into types: sexual, romantic, platonic, alterous, aesthetic, etc.

“Sexual Orientations: bisexual, heterosexual, asexual. Romantic Orientations: biromantic, heteroromantic, aromantic. — sometimes they match, sometimes they don’t! Words like biromantic and heteroromantic commonly refer to both S. O. and R. O.” End ID 2.

Image ID 3: pages 3 and 4.

Page 3: titled “A-spec Community”. Below is a Venn diagram, the left circle labeled “aro”, the right circle “ace”, the overlap space “aro ace”, this is all within a larger circle labeled “a-spec”.

“Aromantic is not the same as Asexual (little to no Sexual Attraction to anyone at all). The identities and communities are related but distinct”

Page 4: titled “Myths” with dark teal flower silhouettes on either side. Myths include “hates all romance, childish “late bloomer”, not LGBTQ+, unemotional, wants to be alone, can’t be in a relationship, afraid of commitment, can’t also be gay/hetero/etc” End ID 3.

Image ID 4: pages 5 and 6.

Page 5: “Are you aro? some common experiences: made up crushes, flirting doesn’t make sense, hard to identify romantic feelings, dating isn’t a priority, don’t like romance heavy media, dating because you’re “supposed to”, rarely if ever “fall in love”, don’t have celebrity crushes. *these are not exclusive to aros though!”

Page 6: the top of the page has the shape of an umbrella, the text inside reads “the Aromantic umbrella”. The body has four microlabel examples;

“Gray-romantic — romantic attraction rarely or weakly.” Next to it is a small rectangular flag with 5 horizontal stripes: green, gray, white, gray, green.

“Demi-romantic — romantic attraction only after a bond has formed.” Rectangular flag with a wide white stripe, narrow green, and wide gray stripe, and a black triangle on the left side.

“Allo-aro — allosexual and aromantic, no romantic attraction, has sexual attraction.” Rectangular flag with even horizontal stripes: green, light green, white, yellow, dark yellow.

“Aro-ace — aromantic and asexual, no romantic or sexual attraction.” Rectangular flag with even stripes: orange, yellow, white, light blue, dark blue. End ID.

[kamaluhkhan]

i'm not wanting anything (but your loving, your body, and a little bit of your brain)

pairing: shuri x fem!reader

summary: being an avenger doesn't leave you much time for college life (let alone a girlfriend), you and gwen stacy accidentally show up to a halloween party in a couple's costume, and shuri is determined to prove who you really belong to.

warnings: allusions to PTSD and death, mentions of alcohol and partying and smut - fingering (both shuri and reader receiving), oral (shuri receiving), thigh riding....

song inspo: "thats what i want" by lil nas x

a/n: hello!! this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr and im so nervous but very excited because shuri has been on my mind for the longest time. reader is an avenger in her senior year of college and best friends/roommates with peter parker. this is set before black panther: wakanda forever, and after endgame but some things are different (the blip was only a year, steve and tony both died in the final battle with thanos). anyways, please enjoy!!

before the blip, you had the whole work/life/superhero thing (mostly) down to a science. now, everyone was still processing the absolute mindfuck of half the universe being snapped away by a mad titan, only to be returned by a group of heroes one year later.

in the midst of it all, the girl you'd travelled across time and space for somehow ended up low on your priority list, but you found comfort in the fact that it was mutual. you were busy in new york, with college (senior year was kicking your ass) and avengers work (trying to keep the city safe with half the team gone and the others scattered across the universe was exhausting) and your internship at oscorp (basically unpaid labor, but you needed the credit to graduate). shuri spent most of her time catching up on what she missed, working on scientific and technological developments in wakanda whenever she wasn't travelling with her brother around the world for united nations or wakandan outreach reasons. there was only so much calling or texting that can be done before your relationship started to feel like an afterthought.

tonight was supposed to change all that.

harry osborn was throwing a 'halloween in january' party. shuri was in new york with t'challa, but she'd promise to keep this night free, and you promised the same. you were looking forward to being surrounded by a crowd of drunk 20-somethings, taking shots, dancing to music that was way too loud, feeling shuri next to you.

normally, you didn't dress up for the holiday - wearing a supersuit all the time kinda takes the novelty away from wearing a costume - but if halloween could be in january, you decided tonight would be the exception. you'd decided on a red lace bralette with a matching vinyl skirt, fishnet stockings, and a headband with devil horns. you didn't normally show this much skin. it was supposed to be a surprise for shuri, and the hope was that the outfit would drive her crazy. you had finished decorating your face with glitter and were about to swipe on some red liquid lipstick when the text signal rang from your phone.

shuri ♡

i won't be able to come to the party tonight - brother wants me to join him at an ambassador's dinner. i'm sorry. love you.

you knew that there had been one too many times when you had done the same to her - needing to attend to your avengers duties instead of spend time together, cancelling at the last minute on plans you were both looking forward to. you would see each other next time one of you happened to be in the same place, which started to feel less and less likely. that was just the way things were. you were fine with it. totally fine.

after you send shuri a quick no worries! i understand, you finish applying your makeup, taking one last look in the mirror, ready to party even if you didn't have your girlfriend by your side.

harry osborn was shirtless, wearing only a red and gold tie, jeans, and round glasses. you were pretty sure peter choked on spit when harry walked up to you, chest sparkling with a mixture of sweat and glitter under the disco lights.

"magic harry potter, right?" you guessed, glimpsing the lazily drawn lightning bolt on his forehead.

harry grinned and did a little spin to show off his costume. "hogwarts student by day, stripper by night," he said, voice strong over the pounding music. he gestured to your outfit, eyes lingering at the top of your bralette. "you look amazing. and you...." he looked peter up and down. "damn."

peter was wearing an earlier model of his spiderman suit. you'd told him it might not be the best costume to wear when he was still very much clinging to the whole secret identity thing. he didn't particularly care, though: apparently, he overheard a certain heir to the oscorp dynasty gush about how hot spiderman must be under the suit, and how much hotter it would be to be tied up by his webs. needless to say, by the way harry looks equally entranced by peter as peter is by him, your guess is that his eavesdropping paid off.

"come on parker, let's dance." harry didn't wait for an answer, only pushed through the crowd of people. he turned around and locked eyes with peter, a flirtatious grin on his face. you spotted a bar in the corner, and bartenders dressed up as various halloween creatures who walked around with trays of bright neon shot glasses. when a skeleton offered you some, you grabbed a few before they moved on to a trio dressed up as the powerpuff girls.

"i don't have to go if -"

"go," you interrupted, handing peter one of the drinks in your hand. "one of us should get laid tonight."

even though the flashing multicolored lights made it difficult to know for sure, you guessed that peter was blushing. you clinked glasses, downed the shots. peter kissed your cheek.

"love you!" he said before disappearing into the crowd to find his wizard with shining abs.

you smiled, and made your way to the bar. next to the bar was a table of halloween themed snacks - candy, sugar cookies in the shape of ghosts, orange cupcakes and more - so you popped a few pieces of candy corn into your mouth before ordering a drink. you took another jello shot while you waited, this one sweeter than the last and neon green. looking around the room, you were impress by how decorated it was: orange string lights, pumpkins, ghosts and bats floating from the ceiling. you wouldn't have guessed that harry osborn would be into this kind of thing, assuming that he was a trust fund kid used to parties at yacht clubs, but as "monster mash" played through the speakers, you had to admit you were pleasantly surprised.

you scanned the room to see if there was anyone you recognized. you spotted a mermaid making out with a pink power ranger; a group of fairies doing body shots; someone wearing a zombie captain america costume (steve rogers version) and another in a zombie iron man suit, both of which felt more than a little insensitive. it hadn't even been a year since they were gone, and you didn't need the reminder. you glared at the zombies from across the room, and the captain america actually noticed you, offering some sort of awkward salute, like you were a war hero. somehow, that made everything worse and the room suddenly felt suffocating and you just needed some air -

that was how you found yourself on the balcony, overlooking the manhattan skyline. there were heaters outside, thank the gods, so it wasn't too cold. you could still hear the chaos of the party from behind the glass doors, but other than that you were alone - or so you thought.

"you look hot."

you turn around to see gwen stacy in all her glory, wearing an almost perfect replica of claire danes' angel costume from romeo + juliet. the two of you were co-workers more than friends, both working at oscorp along with peter and harry, but it was comforting to see a familiar face.

"and you look amazing," you complimented.

"here, you looked like you might need this." she handed you a sugar cookie decorated with orange frosting and black sprinkles, which you gratefully accepted.

you split it in half, handing one back to gwen before devouring your own. you washed it down with the neon orange drink you'd ordered earlier, before offering a sip to gwen.

"god, is that --"

"vodka and orange crush," you explained. "apparently harry osborn likes to color coordinate his parties like he does his lab notes. at least this makes sense."

gwen laughed, angelic and carefree. "you wanna go back inside? i've always wanted to dance with the devil, and i was hoping this would be my lucky night."

you'd been around long enough to know that gwen was flirting with you and even if you were totally, completely committed and in love with a certain wakandan, you were feeling a little tipsy (probably more from sugar than alcohol, it was hard to tell), and it felt nice to be complimented, to be noticed, to be touched. so, you let gwen lead you to the dance floor, your bodies close together. you let her flirt with you, and maybe flirted a bit with her back. you let people compliment your accidental couples' costume. you weren't sure how long passed, after a while you heard your name being called over the sound of "somebody's watching me" by rockwell. ironic, you knew.

instantly, you recognized the familiar accent and lilt of her voice. you turned around to see shuri, wearing a black satin suit lined with dark burgundy, the shirt underneath long gone, revealing only a black lace bra and a gold body chain and gods she looked so fucking hot right now, it felt like your entire body was on vibrate.

"shuri!" you exclaimed, voice an octave higher than usual, a little thrown off by her sudden appearance. "um, this is gwen."

"hey! it's nice to meet you. i like your vampire costume --"

"i'm not a vampire," shuri interrupted gwen before dragging you to the bar. she leaned against the counter and ordered a whiskey, draining it in one sip before practically slamming the glass back down. "what in bast's name was that?"

"we were dancing," you explained.

"it looked like the two of you were about to rip each other's clothes off," shuri snapped. "i didn't realize that was how you danced in america."

you bristled. shuri was the one who ditched you tonight, and now she was mad at you? "it's a party. we were just having fun. you're overreacting!"

"i showed up to surprise you, but maybe you'd rather go to bed with that angel over there."

"that's bullshit."

"no, what's bullshit is me walking in on my girlfriend grinding on someone else while wearing this outfit." her eyes grazed your body dangerously, and from the clench in her jaw you could tell she had to restrain herself. "so don't pretend you need me here. it seems like there are other girls you'd like to fuck instead."

shuri ordered another drink, but before it arrived, you dragged her to the nearest bathroom. one of the zombie avengers from before - iron man - was about to enter, but you beat them to it, effectively closing and locking to door behind you. you ignored the subsequent banging on the door. harry's apartment was huge; you were sure there was at least one more bathroom, and you couldn't bring yourself to care about whether that asshole got a uti or not.

while shuri remained standing, pacing back and forth on the marble floor, you leaned against the counter, watching her.

"what the fuck was that?" you asked, arms crossed over your chest. "you walk in here accusing me of what - wanting to cheat on you? do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"you have to admit, it couldn't have looked good from where i was standing. you grinding on some blonde girl, wearing a couple's costume. don't think i didn't notice that, too."

your cheeks felt warm, knowing that shuri might have a point. "in my defense, the costumes were a coincidence and the grinding.... maybe that was less of a coincidence," you admit. you walk over to shuri, placing your hands on her cheeks to get her to finally look you in the eye. she gently pushed you away, looking down instead, but stayed in front of you. "look, i get that it probably looked like --"

"like you wanted to have gwen's babies."

you took shuri's humor as a good sign, continuing with a soft smile on your face. "please know that i'm 110% committed to you. i would never want to do anything to make you think otherwise. but...i'm not going to apologize for dancing, and having fun, because shit's been....fuck, shuri, it's been hard."

"you don't think it's been hard for me, too?" she scoffed, finally meeting your gaze. "i was gone for an entire year, and the world just moved on, and - and maybe it doesn't need me anymore. maybe you don't -- " she let the words get caught in your throat, and she broke away from your gaze once more.

oh.

what you thought was a burst of jealousy was actually...something else.

"hey." you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger, turning her head to look at you. "hey. i don't care how many dates either of us miss, how many oceans or time zones separate us, you are my person and i'm yours, okay? i will always need you." you moved to drape your arms around her neck, and she instinctively grabbed your hips, hands dangerously close to your ass. your bare torsos touched, the cool metal of her body chain brushing against you and sending shivers throughout your body.

you could tell that her eyes were slightly glazed over, and wondered if she was about to cry. your heart ached as you placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, as if to let her know: i'm here, and i'm not going anywhere anytime soon.

she didn't say anything, but instead closed the gap between your lips. it was such a rush kissing her, after all this time. her lips tasted like whiskey, mixed with sugar from the candy you'd been eating. when you pulled apart you felt dizzy.

"shuri." you whimpered. she lowered her head to the side of your jaw, placing a kiss just below your ear before whispering:

"tell me what you need from me."

"so much," you answered. "i need you on top of me, under me, inside me."

shuri's lips ghosted yours, the hint of a smirk.

"come on, sithandwa," she taunted, letting her xhosa slip out. "you can do better than that. be specific."

"fuck," you groaned. you found yourself being pushed back against the counter, the marble cold against your bare skin. shuri didn't stop kissing you everywhere, her hands exploring your body. "i - i don't know. something, anything, everything. any time i try to get off i need to think of you, but it's never as good as the real thing. and now that you're here now...." your words trailed off into a sigh. right now, you couldn't make a reasonable argument, let alone a logical sentence, even if you tried. you just wanted to relish in the moment - to enjoy her.

you throw your head back when you feel her thumbs brush underneath the vinyl of your skirt, the slight pressure reminding you that she was here, with you, for you.

"fine, i'll decide," she said sternly. she gestured for you to sit on the counter, and you did just that. shuri adjusted her body between your thighs, spreading them wider. she shuddered seeing the red lace thong you wore, the lack of fabric covering you, and met your gaze once again, eyes darker than before. "you don't get to come if you don't stay quiet. so be quiet for me, yeah?"

you bit your lip and nodded. anything, everything. she smirked, pushed the fabric of your panties aside, and sunk two of her fingers into you, knowing you were ready for her. even after weeks, months, apart, shuri could always read your body, know what you needed, how you needed it. the answer was simple, really; like you said, it was always her, her, her.

she kissed you, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as her fingers brought you closer and closer to your release. shuri pulled your bottom lip with her teeth before moving to suck on your collarbone, your jaw, your neck. she bit down on your skin, right at your pulse point.

"i thought - i thought you weren't a vampire," you attempted a joke, but that was a mistake. you'd let a low groan tumble from your lips. another when she let her tongue soothe over the sting from her bite.

"i don't appreciate the attitude," shuri replied, her voice steady, but the corners of her mouth, slightly upturned, threatening to turn into a smile, gave her away. she was loving this. "and, i told you to be quiet."

she removed her fingers from your cunt and promptly shoved them past your red lips. you groaned again when she kissed you roughly, the taste of you dancing across your tongues.

"we'll try one more time to see if you can follow instructions. make me come, and maybe you can finish after."

she swapped your positions and unbuttoned her pants, pulling them off along with her briefs, as you got on your knees before her.

there was a joke here about the devil worshiping an angel, but you were too focused on her. her smell, gods, her taste - it was too overwhelming, and all you wanted was more. you'd spent your whole life on your knees for shuri if you could: worshiping her body, worshiping her.

you draped one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access. shuri tugged on your hair slightly and you moaned, sending vibrations up her body.

"bast, that's it," she groaned. you added a finger, while your tongue worked her clit. "fuck. i missed you."

you brought her to the edge, stayed with her as she came. she probably expected you to get back on your feet right away, but you stayed, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moaned your name.

you pulled away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promised. "can you do that for me?" she nodded furiously, and you went back to work.

when she came once more, you kissed her ankle before releasing her leg. shuri pulled you up to your feet, sucked the taste of her off your tongue.

"i missed you, too." you pull away, breathless, heart racing. "do i get to come now?"

shuri hummed. her thumb wiped the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studied you, admired you, like you were a fucking work of art that belonged in the met, like you hadn't just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a rich kid's upper east side apartment while michael jackson's "thriller" played outside the door.

"take off your thong." you did as instructed. she pulled you towards her, and lodged a leg in between yours. your cunt brushed against the skin of her thigh, back and forth as shuri guided your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up like this. absolutely sinful. and these...."

her hands moved to your thighs, nails digging into the flesh and dragging across your fishnets, effectively ripping them.

"shuri!" you protested, though it sounds like a moan.

"i'll buy you more. now, are you gonna come for me?"

the sound of her voice, the feeling of her skin against your heat, the smell of the two of you intertwining, it was too much. your orgasm crashed into you, and you were grateful that shuri held you through it. you kissed her once more before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.

"where are my...."

you looked over as shuri tucked your red thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.

"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for those, too."

she flashed you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulled up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. the thought of her walking around, leg sticky with you, made your pussy clench.

the sound of someone banging on the door brought you out of your post-orgasm haze.

"holy fuck! hurry up!" they shouted.

"given your costume, i would say that was an unholy fuck," shuri joked, adjusting your headband for you. you nudged her playfully, rolling your eyes.

"how about we stay for a few songs, steal some cupcakes and drinks, and then head back to my place for round two?" shuri nodded.

"perfect."

before you opened the door, you shot her one last devilish grin. "oh. and this time, i'm in charge."

the next morning, shuri woke up to an empty bed and the smell of burnt cinnamon.

you were sitting on the small window bench in the corner of your room, a tangle of purple yarn on your lap and crochet needle in your hand. even though there was frost on the window, you only wore a pair of boxers printed with the word 'sunday' and cartoon suns, and an empire state university sweatshirt.

"sithandwa? the bed would be warmer with you in it."

you turned to look at her, snuggled under your brightly colored duvet, eyes half open.

"this should help."

you walked over and wrapped a purple scarf around her neck, sitting cross-legged in front of her. shuri sat up, but kept the duvet wrapped around her. there was still glitter decorating your face from last night, and shuri reached out to brush some away.

"you made this for me?" you nodded.

"rhodey taught me how. said it would help with...." you trailed off, not wanting to go into the details of your insomnia. "anyways, t'challa mentioned at our last team meeting that you're going to vienna after this. we went there once to take down a hydra base and gods, it was freezing."

shuri kissed you, pulling you into her blanket cocoon so that you were inside as well, straddling her waist. you broke apart, and she put her hands under your shirt. you shuddered at the sudden contact, her skin cold. her thumbs rubbed circles under your breasts.

"it gets pretty cold in new york, too, doesn't it?"

"yeah, but i can just make another one," you explained, letting your finger trace the details of her face, her sharp jawline. shuri took your hands in hers.

"no, i mean....i can still wear the scarf you made me when i stay in new york."

you brightened like one of those cartoon suns. shuri staying in new york for more than a day, more than a night, hasn't happened in so long. you yearned to wake up next to her regularly, kiss over coffee and bagels, take the subway together, show her the tourist sights you yourself haven't been to since you were a kid - the statue of liberty, coney island, the works.

you stopped your daydreaming there, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself. life is busy. plans change. people leave, for a little bit or forever. it happens.

"like for another day?" you asked, clearing your throat to subdue the excitement in your stomach.

shuri shook her head. you knew it would be too good to be true.

"like for me to move to new york. to live with you."

wait, what.

"shuri. wakanda's your home just as much as new york is mine. i know this long distance thing has been tough on us, but i would never ask you to leave your home, your family."

shuri said your name softly and gently brought her palms to your cheeks.

"you're not asking. i'm offering. the dinner i had to attend last night was to convince the UN to greenlight our wakandan outreach centre in new york," she explained. "if it goes through, my brother suggested that i be the one to lead it. on site."

"and that's what you want?"

"what i want to be wherever you are. i want to be part of your routine. i want to meet your friends, skip work and spend hours in bed together. i want to be here for you - for parties and movie nights and graduation."

at that word, you put your hand up. "i'm going to stop you right there before you send me into an existential crisis."

shuri grinned. "but yes to the rest of it?"

"yes. yes, of course." you pushed her onto the bed so that you were both lying down, facing each other, your legs tangled together. "so...when is this happening?"

"probably in a month, maybe a month and a half. there are still hands to shake, contracts to sign."

"bureaucracy," you sighed. shuri giggled, and your heart fluttered at the thought that you would get to hear that sound on a regular basis in person, not just through cellphone frequencies.

"i am, however, staying for a few more days while my brother takes care of things in vienna. so you're not getting rid of me just yet."

"now that is great news." you kissed her once, then twice.

suddenly, there was a knock on your door.

shuri readjusted your position so that the length of the duvet covered both of your bodies. "come in pete!" you said once she was done.

the door opened and peter parker's face came into view, along with a plate of those ready to bake cinnamon rolls that must have been fresh out of the oven.

"there's extra if you want," he offered.

"that'd be great, thanks." you gratefully accepted the plate, swiping some icing from the edge and licking it off your finger. "what's the special occasion?"

peter cleared his throat. "no special occasion."

you glanced the hickey on his collarbone. "oh, so harry stayed over last night and you wanted to make a good impression on him. breakfast in bed, domestic husband, sort of thing."

"that's not --"

"that's exactly it!" a voice from the kitchen interrupted.

"good morning, harry!" you replied, smiling tauntingly at peter.

"harry, i don't think we've met!" shuri added. "peter has told me so much about you...."

peter groaned and flipped you both off before shutting the door.

"thanks for the cinnamon rolls!" you shouted.

there was a pause before the door opened slightly. a curt, "you're welcome," was offered before it was closed once again.

you got up to put on a record as shuri devoured a cinnamon roll.

"you know, i'm really happy you're staying for a bit because i actually need your help with some things." you ripped off a piece covered in frosting and stuffed it in your mouth.

shuri raised her eyebrow, waiting for you to explain.

"my electric toothbrush has been weird - i can't figure out, for the life of me, what is wrong with it - and i've asked peter to fix it one too many times at this point," you continued, ticking off checkboxes in your head. "i wanted to talk to you about some potential upgrades for my suit that i would love your opinion on. oh, and i'm pretty sure i also broke my vibrator." you grinned sheepishly. "i didn't even bother to ask peter about that one because we don't need to be that close."

shuri stiffled a laugh, muffled by a mouthful of cinnamon and cream cheese frosting. she swallowed. "how do you even break a vibrator?"

"i don't know!" you exclaimed. "that's where you come in."

"baby." shuri wrapped her arms around your torso. "if i'm staying around for a while, you won't need a vibrator."