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dilfartist · 11 months

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A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

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Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

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periprose · 11 months

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Arachnid Anxiety

You're Spider-Woman, and you've been tasked with babysitting Mayday. Maybe you have a bit of stress that you need to vent about, and Hobie comes along quite conveniently for that purpose.

Genre: Fluff, reader having anxiety, Hobie giving her advice, very cute, reader is a Jessica Drew variant, perhaps mutual pining if you squint, takes place during the movie but before Miles arrives to the Society, terrible british slang attempts (sorry Hobie :'))

Word Count: 2.4k

Babies are hard to wrangle when they’re crawling up walls.

Of course, Peter B. Parker said that he needs a nap, just this once, and he needs someone to watch over Mayday while he sneaks away into the sleeping pods in the Spider-Society-System. Sometimes he and MJ don’t get sleep for days at a time, so you get it.

But Mayday is so curious, and you find yourself having to pull her prying hands away before she inadvertently tampers with things around Miguel’s labs and causes either a mass outage or a explosion or Miguel’s wrath. You understand why Peter is a little exhausted.

She’s a very cute baby, though, and you can’t help but coo at her as she clambers off the wall into your arms.

“Who’s a good Spidey? Who’s gonna be the best of us?” You shake her up and down and she giggles, wrapping her arms around you.

You instinctively flinch, feeling your Spider-Sense go off.

“Large statement to make. But I see where you’re coming from.” Spider-Punk comes up from behind you, and you turn to him. “She’s definitely punk.”

“Hey, don’t go claiming someone else’s kid as one of your own.” You joke, and Hobie scowls as he pulls off his mask.

“Don’t believe in claims. Or labels, for that matter.” He scratches his hair, looking effortless as he ever does, and you roll your eyes. “She is… who she is. Forgive me for using a descriptive word, Spider-Woman.”

“I get it.” You hold Mayday as she squeals at the sight of Hobie, and she motions in an uppy-uppy motion. She wants to be held by him, but he ignores her.

You never quite know how to feel about Hobie Brown. The Amazing Spider-Punk is revolutionary, known for being better than just his words– he holds himself to the very essence of anarchy. He practices what he preaches.

But you can’t quite get a read on the guy. You don’t know if he’s pulling your leg– or taking the piss as he would say– when he gives his bouts of advice while somehow simply being amazing through it all. He somehow knows what to say but he also isn’t the most comforting, and that in itself makes you drawn to him. He just happens to be kind of rough around the edges, and it’s because of that you know he truly means what he says.

No sugar-coating, ever.

But you hate yourself, because you’ve somehow managed to fall for him.

It’s not uncommon for Spideys to fall for each other. Peter Parker and Cindy Moon, Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy. But you know this is the one time it just wouldn’t end well for you.

You can already hear Hobie’s comments if he ever found out. He’d probably rebuke you even though you’d never try anything. Tell you he doesn’t feel that way and you’re delusional for potentially thinking that he would ever tie himself down. Spiders are meant to be swinging free and all that.

Even worse, he just happens to be beautiful. You’re positive that if Hobie wasn’t so anti-everything he would have stuck with being a runway model. His face is molded in a distinctive way that has you trying to catch his glance, even if he only looks at you with nonchalance, completely unbothered, not a hint of chemistry in his eyes.

It is with great displeasure that you find yourself wanting his bored attention anyways.

And so you’ve been swallowing your crush for the greater part of a year now. You’re sure it will pass like all things do.

Pavitr, as much as you love him, has told you many times about the “chemistry” between you and Hobie– and you have told him every time to fuck off. Not in an actual harsh way, because again you can’t help but love the guy, but because you don’t need false hope.

You’re just Spider-Woman. Another red-and-yellow suited variant of Jessica Drew, you might as well just be another Peter Parker. You know that’s not how you’re supposed to think of yourself, but it’s just how it is. Canon events brought you here, and according to Miguel, it’s not something you chose– you just happened to be there at the right time and place. You’re no Jess, who comes in on her motorcycle, raging heat and excitement on her toes– you are one of the many, instead of being exceptional like the few.

You’re not like Hobie, who is as far as you know, one of a kind.

“What’s on your mind, Spider-Woman?” Hobie asks as he picks through random tech on the desk in Miguel’s lab, taking what he feels is useful for whatever it is he does with the stuff. He’s never used your name, because he doesn’t know it.

You and a few other Spider-People have chosen to stay anonymous, for different reasons, and only Miguel and Margo know who you really are. Hobie has told you before that that’s pretty cool– he only chose to give up his name because it was easier to get along with people that way. Hobie knows there’s power in people.

“Just babysitting. Obviously.” You motion to Mayday, who takes this moment to thwip out a web and swing away from you– but you’re faster and you grab her back into your arms, and she pouts.

“Nah, nah. I mean that sour expression upon your lovely little visage, imbecile.” He pokes your masked cheek, and you find yourself blushing but pulling away from him. Hobie is like that– overly familiar and no real sense of space because he doesn’t care.

“It’s not lovely.” You retort, fully convinced of it because he has never seen your face, only your incredulous expression through the eyes of your mask.

You think that Hobie is again being sarcastic about your unknown appearance, and because his back is facing yours as he searches through random shelves now, you don’t catch how his face frowns at your response.

“Disagreements about your anonymous-but-surely beautiful face aside– not that looks matter, mind you– you’re clearly miffed about something.” Hobie turns and crosses his arms, and it’s with a little embarrassment and comfort that you want his advice. Even if it’s kind of to do with him.

“Well, I guess, uh… lately I’ve just been feeling kind of down. Like what’s the point of all this?” You bite your lip, knowing Hobie’s feelings on nihilism. “I don’t mean like nothing in life matters, Hobie. I mean more that I don’t matt– I don’t… anyways, I feel useless. I don’t have anything special about me, I don’t really bring anything to the Spider-Society that wasn’t already brought.”

"Whoa whoa whoa. Nah, lady, you've got your priorities all twisted." Hobie pulls your arms, bringing you kind of closer to him, and rests his hands on your shoulders, making you listen. "This inner hatred stuff– that sick urge to feel shame and then blast it inside of yourself, all that repression, yeah? It's a crock of shit."

"Huh?" You and Mayday both peer up at him. You behind your mask, and she with her crocheted one.

Hobie picks up Mayday, finally giving into her wishes to be held by him, and she immediately giggles. There’s a subtle smile on his face that warms him to you a little.

"It might feel good in the moment. It might even feel revolutionary." Hobie scowls, and scratches his jaw. "It's worthless. Notice, Spider, I didn't call you worthless. The very action is garbage, a visceral thing that brings no productive value– that's what they want you to feel."

"Ah, because then I'll never fight against the establishment, right, Hobie? I'll be too busy fighting myself." You say mockingly, taking on a fake-pretentious-Cockney accent, mimicking him, but Hobie gives you a chill look and nods.

"Now you're getting it."

"Aw." You slump and slouch and sit on the counter full of gadgets and gizmos next to him. "I know you're right, but… don't you ever get people getting mad at you?"

"You've lost me."

"Like… being so responsible." You roll your eyes as Hobie snickers and whispers the spider-mantra you all know so well. "Or just living by your own ideology so… efficiently. It's almost like a slap in the face to the rest of us Spiders. We don’t know how to cope, and here comes along Spider-Punk with all his personal assurance that even if things aren't alright, he'll make it alright for himself."

"Oi, trust me, it wasn't all that easy." Hobie sniffs and sits down next to you, holding Mayday close and then letting her go as she crawls onto the wall in front of you. "You really think I haven't had a bad day? I haven’t had my moments of self doubt, huh?”

“Uh… well. When you put it like that, it does sound kind of crazy.” You admit, and nudge him with your shoulder. “I didn’t mean any harm, Hobie. I just feel so… inadequate.”

“Just stop.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes, and you feel that yet again, he’s somewhat unreadable. “Don’t think those things. You’re not inadequate.”

“But I–”

“Stop.” He grasps your hands, and squeezes them tightly in his own, and you wonder if Hobie has ever looked this seriously at you, his eyes soft yet firm with affection.

You’re in trouble, you think. Your heart is pounding and you’re really glad he can’t see your face.

“I don’t think you know how important you are.” He utters so quietly, in that very deep voice that has you leaning in to hear him better. “You’re not nothing, Spider-Woman. You’ve done a lot of good for your Earth-257, I’m sure, and that makes you something special. Like the rest of us– you’re kind of irreplaceable, right?”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess.’” Hobie punches the side of your arm and you pretend to say ow, laughing a little. “If you didn’t exist, we’d all be poorer for it. Peter couldn’t ask you to chill with his baby, and I couldn’t be here talking your ear off.”

“But I’m not– I don’t really compare to her, you know?” You say without thinking, and then immediately squint at your own stupidity.

“Who’s her?” Hobie is wary of how your expression is shifting. “Stacy?”

“Uh, no.” You inhale, exhale, and then decide it’s time to get it over with. “Jess.”

“Jess? Jessica Drew, huh?” Hobie smirks a little. “You don’t want to be adopted by her, do you?”

“More complicated than Gwen’s weird fantasy.” You shift on your spot on the counter, and pull off your mask after a minute of tribulations. “I’m… also Jessica Drew.”

You feel incredibly shy as Hobie takes in your face, wary of his every move as you feel yourself sweating, and he grasps your face gently, peering into your eyes and taking a look at your features, as if he’s really trying to remember them.

“Huh.”

“What is it?” You say a little too defensively, and he shrugs.

“You do have a lovely visage, you silly little sod. Even if it’s completely different from Jess’ face.” He laughs as you shove him away, covering your face in your hands. “No, don’t do that.”

He’s tracing your jaw, and he murmurs. “Maybe you could use a few piercings… a tat or two… ever thought about it?”

“No.” You shut your eyes. “I’m not cool like you.”

“Oh, shut it.” He leans in imperceptibly closer, and you blink, eyes open. Maybe Pavitr had a point that Hobie and you have something, because there’s not really another explanation for that look in his eyes. “You’re plenty cool, Jessica Drew. It was just a shit suggestion of mine.”

You think Hobart “Hobie” Brown is sweeter than you previously thought. You have half a mind to tell him about your feelings.

You and Hobie both look up, Spider-Senses tingling, and sure enough, Mayday is cooing from the ceiling– she leaps into your already waiting arms. She giggles at your expression.

Oh well, you think. There’ll be some other time to work up the courage to tell him.

Hobie half-smirks at her. “Way to interrupt us, Mayday.”

She looks at him all confused, tilting her head in a “huh?” motion, and you feel the same way, not entirely sure what Hobie meant by that and not willing to assume either.

He answers you by pulling your face in a sudden, swift motion, connecting his lips to yours, and in between the two of you, Mayday shrieks and laughs. She crawls off to the side of you, no longer smothered between your torsos.

Hobie is weirdly insistent– you feel like he’s been wanting to do this for a while, maybe longer than the length of your conversation (you don’t know if this is just a funny little fling for him, but you’re fairly sure it isn’t) and he’s a lot taller and lankier than you, so he really has to tower over you to reach your mouth better. He’s grasping your jaw and neck and the back of your head with a lot of intensity– you feel wildly dizzy when he pulls away.

“Uh.” Peter B. Parker is standing in front of you both, mouth wide open, and you look back at Hobie and he grins rather coolly, not really giving a damn. It’s enough to make you snort. “Wait, who are you?”

“Oh. Spider-Woman from Earth 257.” You remember Peter has never seen your face, either. “Jessica Drew?”

“Right, right.” Peter raises his hands in a whoop-de-doo motion, like he should’ve known that. “Nice to know what you look like behind the mask. Not nice to know that you’ve been avoiding your babysitting duties. Why are you two fooling around like prepubescent children? What happened to responsibility?”

“Ahhhhh, please, Peter. Live a little.” Hobie stands up, his full length of height drawing him to about the same height as Peter if not an inch taller. He picks up Mayday and hands her off to him. “Let’s not act as if you and MJ weren’t shacking up in the sleeping pods last week, yeah? Does Miguel need to know about how irresponsible you were?”

You think he’s kidding, but Peter pales and you clap your hands over your mouth, trying not to laugh. Miguel would absolutely throw a fit if he found that out.

“Uh…” Peter swallows. “At least that’s not an interdimensional tragedy-in-the-making like you two.”

“There’s no rules against that, I don’t think.” Hobie shrugs. “And if there are, fuck them. Miguel doesn’t know it all.”

“He really is punk to the very end.” Peter groans and leaves out to the hallway with Mayday.

Hobie flashes a smile at you as he sits back down, ruffling your hair.

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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Frat Peter and he's all cocky, but he gets really shy when you're around and his friends keep teasing him about his little crush and how he's putty in your hands and you don't even know?

god i love him so much

“Your girls here, parker.”

Peter rolls his eyes, as much as he denies no one believes him. You’re not his girl, not by a long shot but god does he wish you were. The jab still couldn’t stop him from swiveling his neck, sure enough you were laughing with friends, your wide smile made him smile too. You looked so pretty, he’s never seen someone fill out clothes the way you do.

He needs to find a way to talk to you, it started as group partners and he may have played a little dumb to get you to study with him, just for some one on one time. Since then you’ve gotten closer, and everyday he feels more and more like a lovesick puppy. He’d do anything you ask, just so he can prove he could make you happy.

“Pong, let’s go, parker.”

Peter wants to whine like a toddler, he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you. Not that he needs to, and definitely not to scare off a potential suitor, he just wants to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. He looks you over again, you’re with friends and he thinks you’ll be alright.

Right before he can turn back to his brothers your eyes flicker up, meeting his you send a grin. Peter’s been caught, he’s been looking over you for a minute and that smile said ‘caught you,’ it made his cheeks warm, a faint blush coats his cheeks and you can’t help but watch as his friends hoop and shake his shoulders, causing him to nearly run to the garage for a game of beer pong.

Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been playing. He knows it’s been about three games, and he’s trying to act the perfect amount of buzzed. What he does know is that time stopped when you came looking for him, his ears picking up on your fluttery soft voice pushing for apologies.

“Do you know where peter is?”

Wasted white girl looks appalled you asked, “who the fuck is peter?”

“Oh. Um, parker?”

Wasted white girl drags out an ‘oh,’ then points in his general direction, you raise on tiptoes, looking over the shoulders in the cramped room, catching sight of his snapback, turned backwards. You started to make your decent, politely excusing yourself and apologizing when you rub up against someone.

You think about tapping his shoulder, but you’re a menace. You tug at his hat, pulling it off his head, before you can complete the task his hand grips your wrist, a dull tone comes from his mouth.

“Don’t do that.”

Your hand drops, you didn’t know there was a boundary there.

“I’m sorry!”

His head whips to yours, wide eyed and flushed.

“I didn’t know it was you! You can do that, you have my permission.”

His teammate, Ethan, if you remember correctly, coughed into his hand, one word slipping from his mouth made Peter jerk his shoulder into his. “Simp.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “peter’s not a simp, that’s mean. You should say sorry.”

Ethan is having fun, “oh trust me, if you knew what I know, you would call him a simp too.” Peter, in a panic, rips his hat off his head and throws it on yours, it falls over your eyes, you fix it with enough time to watch Peter mumble out “watch it,” before directing all his attention on you.

“Looking good.”

You do a spin for him, “think I can pledge next year?”

“You have my vote.”

Ethan had to bite back another simp comment.

“Can you do me a favor?”

Rushed, “anything.”

Ethan can’t help his snort, he tries to hide it behind clearing his throat.

Peter wants to kill his friend.

“I’ve been ditched and I really have to pee, so would you mind watching my drink?”

Peter holds out a hand to take it, his palm covering the open mouth. “It would be my honor.”

You smile at him, “thanks, be right back.”

“Five minutes and I come looking.”

That was new, it was protective. It made you feel warm and safe inside, he was a really good friend. You promised you would be back, but the line was longer than you expected and you were unable to complete the task in just a few minutes.

Peter kept count, and like he said, went looking. Ethan’s pissed that they’ve now lost the game to a forfeit, all because Peter was head over heels in a gushy crush. You bound down the steps in time to see Peter getting aggravated by his friend, you couldn’t help but overhear.

“You know this is super entertaining, right?”

“Shut up, Ethan.”

“It’s adorable. The way you run after her, bending to her will. Who knew parker had a bitch in him.”

In one quick motion Peter had him pinned to the wall.

“Don’t ruin this for me. I’m gonna make a move, alright? She makes me nervous and I’m not used to this, okay?”

“Ask her on a fucking date, I’d put a thousand on the line she’d say yes.”

You wonder who he’s talking about, you have more than an inkling it’s you but Peter’s never seemed interested, just a good friend. It must have been someone else.

“I’m not betting on Y/N, I like her too much.”

Oh fuck. He is talking about you, and it makes you warm and fuzzy all over.

Ethan is right, you would say yes.

You duck your head down, pressing against the bars on the stairway.

“I’m okay with you betting on me, take the grand and then take me out on a nice date.”

Peter’s eyes blew up, he wanted to punch Ethan. He also wanted to thank him.

“It’s not like that!” Peter feels his brain melt, stop talking, why are you talking?

You frown, “it’s not?”

Ethan tries to push his head against the wall, his chin poking up high to get a view of you crouched down. “It is like that, you heard him.” He gags when Peter presses his forearm against his throat, it’s not meant to hurt, just silence.

“Well, if it is like that, and I make you nervous, there really isn’t a need cause I would say yes.”

Peter’s arm drops, “come here.”

Ethan takes this as his moment to escape, you watch the stairs as you follow them down, narrowly missing a spilled beer. Peter meets you at the bottom of the staircase, he hands you over the drink he’d been watching.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You blinked at the boy, he stood there and looked at his hat on your head. You waited until it started to get awkward.

“If you don’t ask, I will, then I’ll have ripped the rights from you. You’ll have to tell our grandkids you chickened out.”

That doesn’t sound bad to him, but he thinks the least he can do is get the words out.

“I would really, really like to take you out for dinner, is that okay?”

You chew your cheek, “what’s your policy on kissing before the first date?”

“It should be a thing.”

You bite your lower lip to hide your smile, it didn’t work.

“Wanna make it a thing?”

#peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter fluff #my writing #frat!peter

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angelltheninth · 11 months

Text

Spiderverse Characters + Love Language

Pairing: Peter B. Parker, Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, Miguel O'Hara, Hobie Brown, Pavitr Prabhakar x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, gift giving, sharing clothes, protectiveness, cuddles, kissing, flirting, blushing

A/N: When will I have enough of them? Never.

PETER + QUALITY TIME

Peter gives you his full attention when you're together. He doesn't let anything distracting from you, how you look at him, how you walk up to him and sit in his lap, a smile adorning your lips when you see him after a long day of patrols. There's no need to fill the silence when it settles between you two, there's the background noise of the tv but it's mostly tuned out due to you being focused on each other and little else.

MILES + WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

This doesn't just apply when you're together and he's complimenting you or telling you he loves you, Miles also does this over text. On patrol he'll stop for a moment to throw you a quick text and maybe a few kissy faces as well. This can surely come off as very flirty when he includes the winky faces but when he's in person he sticks largely to many compliments for you, telling you the many things he likes about you and whispering how lucky he feels to have you in his life.

GWEN + ACTS OF SERVICE

Gwen believes that her actions can speak loudly, loud enough for you to know exactly how much she loves you when he knocks on your window first thing in the morning with a bag of your favorites or when she brings you school notes when you're sick and tries her best to make you feel better when you're down. It doesn't matter if the task is big or small, her spider powers give her pretty good stamina so she doesn't tire easily, not when she has your sweet kiss as a smile.

MIGUEL + PHISICAL TOUCH

Oh you just know you're gonna get cuddled to death when Miguel gets his hands on you. He is so clingy you have to beat him away with a bat when he shows you physical affection. He is never subtle about it, always lifting you up in his arms and pampering you with a barrage of kisses and playful bites on your neck. Sure there will be a time where his hands may... wonder, but he will always keep it respectful unless you tell him you want otherwise.

HOBIE + GIFT GIVING

When Hobie gives you gifts its all things he's made by himself. Sure he could just by you little thigs but when he makes you things he gets to put his whole soul into them, slowly decorating your home, filling up the shelves with all the things that remind him of you. Almost every time you go out he'll come out with something thematic to give you before or after depending on how the date went. Even just a simple new ring that he engraved, and put around a string for you to wear as a necklace is more valuable then any expensive present.

PAVITR + PHISICAL TOUCH

Pavitr is very easy going when it comes to affection but that doesn't mean he's sparing with it, more like he's soft and slow with the way he'll wrap his arms around you when you're together, how he'll let his head rest on your shoulder and rub your cheek against his before kissing it. There's no rush, no emergency, he can hold your hand, kiss you, or rest his head in your lap and let you play with his hair and just let all your worries melt away with him.

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sacharinee · 10 months

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more sleepy!peter pleaseee!!!

pairing: peter parker x reader

w/c: 800+

a/n: i had the roles reversed this time lolol - this post is based on x and abt one office reference!

peter loved sleeping next to you.

your bed was always so comfy and you were always so warm.

but sometimes it had its downsides

it could just be the frustration getting to him, but the poor boy couldn’t seem to sleep.

maybe it was the fact that you two were practically sleeping in a freezer. you always told your boyfriend you couldn’t ever fall asleep in a hot box.

or maybe it could just be you, sleeping so peacefully, without a care in the world, unmoved and unbothered, all while being the world’s biggest blanket hogger.

he also knew he shouldn’t have drank that extra cup of coffee earlier in the evening, however in his defense, he was exhausted, and he needed that extra boost to get through his last few classes of the day.

as he looked at you, a shiver ran down from his neck and to his spine, feeling goosebumps scatter around his arms.

the dim lamppost outside shines through your window and onto your relaxed face. peter’s jealous of the sweet slumber you’re in.

“y/n?” he reaches out to poke your puffy cheek.

you’re dead asleep.

you were tucked away across the mattress as he tries tugging the blanket away from you, attempting to spare some for himself. your loose grip allows peter to find comfort in the heat the warm sheets bring when he wraps it around his shoulders, tucking his feet inside and tangling it with yours.

peter feels himself finally dozing off, his heart rate slowly decreasing. he's halfway asleep when you disrupt him, feeling you gradually snatch the blanket away, stripping him of the toasty covers.

“y/n/n,” he groans. the boy is now restless as he begins to lightly poke your cheek again, “c’mon please?”

this time, when he reaches for you once more, he feels you quickly wrap your hand around his pointer finger.

“touch me one more time, parker and i swear-”

“i just wanna sleep” he whines. he’s frowning at you with those big eyes, wishing you would turn around to face him.

“you’re gonna be sleeping by yourself for the rest of your life if you don’t-”

“please,” his voice cracks. peter's desperate to rest and the least you could is to help out.

you heave a sigh, “peter just,” you turn towards him, keeping your lids shut, “close your eyes”

he’s quick to do so tightly, shifting around to get more comfortable, “take some deep breaths.”

peter follows your instructions, “slow your heartbeat down,” he takes a few moments to focus on the task and he begins to feel more at ease than he has the entire night. he waits a bit longer for you to continue.

“and then what?”

silence.

“y/n?”

no answer.

“y/n!” and he’s shaking your shoulders, “you can’t sleep now!”

you groan in annoyance, “just go to sleep, peter”

“you don’t think i would if i could!?” he huffs.

“well, what d’you want me to do?”

“umm,” he takes a few moments to ponder before he suggests, “ask me about my day.”

you blink one eye open at him, glaring, “it’s 2am... and you want me to ask you how your day was?”

peter blankly blinks in return, offering you a toothy grin, “mm, yea!”

you could only stare back at him blankly as he waits for you, and slowly you ask, “how was your day.”

he’s instantly giddy at your question (which definitely didn’t sound like a question), and breathes out a relieved sigh.

“i’m so glad you asked,” he shakes his head, “it was so tiring.”

he began to ramble on about how eventful his day was. and no matter how hard you tried to fight off sleep, there was something so calming about peter’s voice that puts you to sleep.

“-and she bought me a churro, so that was nice. oh, and you know howard? that homeless man on 31st?”

“mhmgh.”

gradually, he subconsciously moves closer to you, playing with a loose thread of your blanket and tucking himself in, snug against your body.

“he told me that he lost his pet pigeons when he got kicked out and he asked me to go help find them for him. i never realized how hard it was to swing while holding a couple of birds. but anyways, i still have-”

peter takes a look at you as you doze off and whines your name.

he’s shocked when you surprisingly move towards him, bringing an arm around his torso and tangling your legs with his.

at last, the boy seems calm down after awhile, focusing his breathing to follow suit with yours. talking did seem to help. now he’s finally warm, laying in bed next to the girl he loves most. and you’re pleased with your effort to help him sleep.

it's only a matter of time until he pipes up again.

“hey y/n, if I was a worm in a top hat who could only communicate with you telepathically, would you still love me?”

“dammit, peter”

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pokiona · 9 months

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I’m too sleepy rn to update my masterlist bug I also write for task force 141 now and I need requests 🙏🙏

#pokiona #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #peter b parker x reader #task force 141 x reader #ghost cod #soap cod #gaz cod #price cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #price x reader #captain price x reader

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moon-rivr · 2 months

Text

easiest thing

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman reader

contents: reader who thinks they’re hard to love and miguel who loves them so easily, mentions of death at the beginning, reader goes to therapy, somewhat angsty and fluffy?

author’s note: pls don’t take the characterization for ‘you’ srsly, this was purely self indulgence 🫡

word count: 4.3k

"Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

You'd given up on romance despite that you still had the lingering desire of wanting someone's eyes to sparkle everytime they looked at you and of wanting someone that just understood you in a way that nobody else had access to. You were a hopeless romantic with a shitty life in general, to say the least. If it wasn't the fact that you ended up getting ghosted time and time again or the fact that every talking stage you had ended up flopping like a fish out of water, it was the only best friend that you'd had dying. A part of you shut off the day you were forced to kneel down next to your Peter Parker, every sliver of hope in you fading away at the same rate that the life faded away from his eyes.

You knew that you weren't responsible for Peter's passing, but a part of you wished you could've done more than just watch the life from his body fade within your very eyes. You'd felt like the strongest person in the world up to that moment, being able to lift vehicles and pieces of rubble with ease, but in the moment, you were just as vulnerable as anybody else. You wished that you could've taken note of the strange behavior he elicited beforehand, that you weren't so caught up in your own issues to take note of what burdens he was struggling with. But now, all you could do was just linger on what you could've done, should've done, and what you wished you'd done differently.

You forced yourself to try to go through the motions of living without Peter, every task seeming more and more difficult with each day that passed by. Showering seemed like a tedious task, the almost borderline sting of the boiling water doing nothing to distract you from the pain that lingered in your heart. You'd even considered giving up the mantle of being Spider-Woman, the red and blue spandex suit collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe. Not even a year had passed by when you'd lost your Uncle Ben, the words from his dying lips ringing through your head. "With great power comes great responsibility," you murmured quietly to yourself, deciding to put on the suit after you'd failed to show up for New York time and time again these last few months.

You'd thought that coming back would be like riding a bike, that you wouldn't forget it no matter how much you willed yourself to try. But clearly, you'd been mistaken seeing as how you were currently dangling off the edge of the Empire State Building. You'd shot a web to cling onto the side of a building, finding yourself coming up short as nothing came out of your wrists. "Come on," you murmured to yourself, trying to stick your fingers in different positions to get the web to come out. It was almost like your body was giving you the consequences of neglecting it for far too long, refusing to work with you when you needed it the most. The grip that you had on the building loosened, the stickiness from your fingers no longer there as you dropped to the floor.

You frantically stuck your hand out to try to stick a web as you rapidly began your descent, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You weren't sure if it was the humidity in the air or the sheer nervousness that was coaxing your body at the moment. Most likely the latter, but you didn't have time to think too hard about it as you willed for just one measly web to come out before you face planted onto the pavement. Your body was running strictly out of fear now as you got dangerously close to the floor now, your mind starting to accept the situation for what it was. While you'd completely given up on trying more than surviving after Peter had died, all you knew now is that you didn't want to die. You really didn't.

A shaky breath of relief escaped from your lips when you stuck to a building near you, the web that you'd been hoping for so badly coming into fruition. You looked down at the floor, silently thanking the web sticking to the side of the building after realizing just how close you'd gotten to actually hitting the floor. After that near-death experience, you'd decided to get back into training your body before you went out to patrolling the city like you used to. Forcing yourself out of bed was less difficult as the days passed, finding a purpose to get yourself out of your house everyday. Your body wasn't the fighting machine that it used to be but you were willing to work to get just a sliver of what you used to have.

It wasn't long until the citizens of new york city started noticing that Spider-Woman was back, met with some disapproval but overall, everyone just seemed thrilled over the comeback. The city had been buried in a cesspool of chaos and robberies after you'd left. A few of the small fry were smart enough to drop their sketchy business before they got caught, an instant relief felt in the small businesses throughout the city. You couldn't help but feel suspicious as even the villains that found joy in threatening the city had gone under wraps, your mind running through all the possibilities of what they could possibly be planning. Your feet swung off the building you were monitoring from, your eyes shifting to every little noise elicited below you.

Your feet sprung up to action faster than you'd expected when you heard the sound of rubble crumbling underneath you, the sound of screaming ringing through your ears as you swung throughout the different buildings. You went to the scene of the danger, a distinction from the people that were fleeing from the scene while screaming at the top of the lungs. You approached the scene, watching as Rhino destroyed every building that he had access to. a malicious smile on his face as he controlled the metal suit, taking pleasure in the way that the city panicked under his control. You weren't one to make any ceremonious entrances, simply swinging into action as you wrapped a web from underneath him to tie his feet together.

You'd taken a couple hits from the fight, your body still not used to the strain of these fights after only week of training. Despite the fact that every muscle in your body was begging for you to stop, to give into the exhaustion, you refused to give up just yet. "Just a little longer," you mentally assured yourself, the muscles in your legs starting to burn as you ran over to the Rhino. You wanted to separate him from any of the citizens that might've stayed to watch the fight, unable to take even just one casualty tonight. You rendered the suit useless after tying it up to the wall, punching through the thick glass of what seemed to resemble the eyes. You pulled out what seemed to be a cheap copy of the original out of the suit, your eyes widening at the realization that this was all a decoy.

Miguel was watching your fight intently through the monitor, watching your movements as you tied the villain down. It was everything that he would've done in your situation, every movement graceful as you kept the villain away from any civilians. "Thinking about her as a new recruit?" LYLA asked from beside him, popping up into view as she took in the sight of your reflexes. "She'd be a nice addition," Miguel uttered quietly, entranced by the way that your body moved under the spandex. He'd been overlooking your universe for quite some time, finding a couple things that elicited some red flags in the system during your absence. He found it impressive the way that you'd managed to put your pain to the side for the greater good of New York City, willing to come back and fight despite the fact that you had no one to be personally fighting for.

Blood leaked from the side of your mouth as you received a blow from the actual Rhino, half your ribs bruised from the sheer impact of his metal fists pounding into your body. His suit was nearly indestructible, you were unable to take him down but you were able to tie him. Almost as if sensing your plan to restrain him, he avoided every single one of the webs that you'd struck out at him and landing a couple hits in the process. You were reeling on the floor, clutching your stomach as the man mocked your position on the floor. Every little comment escaping from his mouth serving to belittle your position as Spider-Woman, of doubting your ability to protect the people of New York City. You hated the effect that his words had on you, every single little utter only serving to deepen the insecurities that you already felt about yourself.

Your eyes widen a bit as you noticed the man in front of you glitch, making it all too evident that this wasn't your Rhino. You had noticed that it was taking you a bit longer to get past his defenses. You were thinking of giving up, giving into the pain and exhaustion coursing through your body when you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up like a soldier on command. An orange portal appeared by the side, the swirling waves almost distracting you from the task at hand. You'd managed to briskly avoid a punch thrown by the robot, your legs barely sustaining you as you stood up. You expected for the portal to show some of the goons that the Rhino called for assistance, but you were instead met with people that were all too similar to you. They all wore the spider emblem on their suit, their movements synced to precision as they fought against the villain.

You'd joined the fight to the best of your ability, helping them tie down the villain until one of the members captured the man in a trap. You were approached by a rather tall man just as you were getting ready to leave, his figure imposing over yours as he looked down at you. The mask on his face disappeared with one tap of the watch he had on, his gaze showing no emotion in it as he looked over at you. "I want to formally invite you to the Spider Society. It's where spider-people from different universes come and gather to fight against anomalies, I'd recommend for you to give it a thought," he spoke up, his hand extending a watch similar to the one he had on over to you. "This should teleport you to the building whenever you're ready."

You looked down at the watch as you realized it was nearly a week since it'd been given to you, the decision still not clear to you despite how long you'd looked at it. While there was nothing here for you in this universe, no prospect of friendship, family, or romance, a part of you didn't want to leave out of how comfortable you were at the moment. You'd gotten used to the cycle of the crime rates in New York, of fighting small time criminals and the occasional villain that tormented the city. You thought to yourself about what Peter would do, trying to convince yourself that he would be assuring your decision to stay stuck in this spot. With every attempt that you tried to rationalize your decision, you were only met with more reasons as to why you should go. Your finger pressed the button on the gizmo hesitantly, looking at the portal appearing inside of your apartment.

You were awestruck as you walked into the Spider Society, overwhelmed by just how many different universes you'd been so blissfully unaware of. There was a Spider-Cat, Spider-Dino, and even a car version of Spider-Man, interacting like it was normal. The building itself was also impressive, a modern design to match those of the buildings outside of it. You'd thought of flying cars as a figment of your imagination but here they were, a common sight as they moved through the sky. "You're the new recruit, right?" A small orange holographic woman appeared in front of you, waiting for your confirmation before she led you inside. "Grab one of the bracelets on that table over there before you start to glitch out."

Before you got the chance to ask what she meant by 'glitch out,' you felt like your body was struggling to even mobilize. The atoms inside you seemed to be defying the building you were in, some of them morphing you into a different shape before it stopped. You quickly pulled the bracelet onto your wrist, following the holograph into the room that she led you in. "He'll be down from his platform in a second. That thing usually takes a while to load," she informed you, fading away just as soon as she'd arrived. You looked up at the platform as it started to lower, every second of waiting only making you feel more nervous about the situation. It was the same man that had given you the watch beforehand, the leader of this whole organization if you had to assume.

Miguel took one look at your expression, your eyes holding so much pain buried within them even if you were trying your best to plaster a smile on your face. Even that seemed to be crumbling under his very eyes, though, your smile not quite meeting your eyes as it wavered with every second that he spent looking at you. He knew the pain that came with being Spider-Man, knew of all the sacrifices that the people in his society faced once they took on the role. He'd seen this story play out multiple times, whether it be with Ben, Gwen, or with Peter. But for some reason, unknown even to himself, he couldn't handle seeing you so upset. "Welcome to the Spider Society, I'm Miguel O’Hara. Allow me to show you around."

Miguel took you along through the different areas in the society, taking in your reactions of everything that it offered. You couldn't help but notice that every member that the two of you passed seemed to look at him with awe, immediately scrambling to find something to do. "If you ever want or need someone to talk to, we have a licensed therapist on the first floor. Everything's confidential so you don't have to worry about anything getting out," he spoke up once he was finished with the tour of the facility, his red eyes meeting yours for the first time this evening. The orange hue in the background only accentuated how beautiful they truly were, the intensity that his gaze held.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't want you to turn out like had, so consumed in your own pain that you'd become a shell of the person of who you used to be. A way for him to prevent yourself from delving in too far in your pain, the way he had when he neglected to speak his native tongue because it just reminded him time and time again of how his mamá had failed to show up for him. You weren't a bunch of sunshine and rainbows from what he could tell from the few clips that he'd seen from you in your element, but even he could tell that you were hiding the pain you felt. He wanted to be the helping hand he wished he could've had when he was struggling with Gabriella’s loss, the helping hand he wished he could’ve just had in general.

“I don't really need therapy but thank you," you assured him, thanking him once more for welcoming you as a member before making your way out of the room. While subconsciously you could feel that there was something wrong with the way that you were perceiving the world and reacting to the things happening in your life, you didn't want to feel like too much of a burden. You didn't want to take that help away from the people that could need it, despite the fact that you could tell within yourself you were slowly starting to wear down from the events happening in your life. Before you could go to get help, you had to acknowledge that deep within, you truly did need someone's help during this period of your life. But for now, you would just keep your head down and prove your worth in the society.

You'd made your way into therapy after you decided that maybe it wasn't as bad as you imagined, that admitting to yourself that you needed help hadn't been the end of the world. You'd managed to work out through your feelings of grief about losing peter and Uncle Ben, learning that it was okay to miss them just as long as you didn't let your life stop from the grief that you felt. Despite the fact that you'd made some progress with that aspect of your life, you refused to touch any topic that covered the progress of your romantic life. Maybe because you knew that it would delve into further issues, knowing that it would make you think about why you felt unwanted. You weren't ready to deal with those issues just yet, unsure if you would ever be ready to divulge.

You were slowly starting to come around to being the version of yourself that you used to be, of getting back into doing the things that you once enjoyed doing. You'd picked up a couple books from the library at the society, spending some of the time that wasn't training or going out on missions reading about silly romance novels. If it wasn't that, you'd found different activities that you found yourself enjoying. You realized that you wouldn't have tried them out if it weren't for the state of your life right now, having lived in a state of doing whatever was comfortable between Peter and you. You were finding things that belonged solely to you, finding memories that weren't involved with missing anybody.

Miguel wasn't too obvious with the way that he presented his feelings towards you, but if you'd looked a little closer, you would've noticed the little details. How the grumpy boss who avoided making meaningless conversation with everyone else seemed to present an interest in everything that you had to say, asking you questions of how you were adjusting to the Spider Society and asking questions about things that you showed an interest in. He knew that you were still coping with your problems so he didn't want to push you too far, didn't want to push you too far away from him. He was happy to keep talking to you in a platonic matter, just getting to hear that little rise in your pitch whenever you were excited filling him up with a sense of peace and tranquility.

"LYLA, can you log into her amazon account for me?" He spoke up to her, unable to decide what to get you for your birthday. He'd had months to plan out what he wanted to gift you, but every gift seemed to be dwindled in quality when he compared it to the type of person that you were. You were worth more than the complimentary pair of socks he was so accustomed to gifting the members of the society whenever they had a birthday. LYLA’s confusion was evident across her features but she complied with his request, hacking through your account to pull up your cart. While you had some necessities on there, you also had a list of the books that you were planning on getting in the near future. Perfect.

To say that it was the easiest purchase he's made in his life was a bit of an understatement, he was waiting anxiously to see the excitement on your face once you opened his gift. You'd even joked that he seemed more excited about the gift opening than you were. He watched as you opened up the gift carefully, trying not to rip apart the wrapping paper that he'd chosen for you. Your eyes practically sparked up with excitement at opening up the box, finding the catalog of books you were putting to the side until you were able to buy them. You were rendered speechless for a bit, your eyes shifting from the books over to Miguel who was standing to the side, gauging for every one of your little reactions.

"Thank you!" You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him as you enveloped him into a hug. The action was foreign to him, something he hadn't bothered to practice in a while. but every thought of that went out the window as his arms came to your back, rubbing small circles as he looked down at you. "I hope this means you liked your present," he spoke just loud enough for you to hear, an intimate scene set between the two of you despite the fact there was a crowd of people partying around. "I love it, thank you so much," you told him, the tightness of your embrace speaking for all the words you couldn't get out of your mouth at the moment. He let you cling onto him as long as you needed, unwilling to deny you anything.

Miguel wasn't planning on acting on his feelings, but eventually decided that it would be better to get a rejection straight up than stay wondering 'what if?' He ran different scenarios of how it would go, some of them resulting in the two of you going out on a date while some of them resulted in you ignoring him throughout your duration at the Spider Society. He tried hard not to focus on those thoughts too much, letting himself have a false sense of positivity despite the fact that you hadn't reciprocated his feelings at all. He ran different approach methods in his mind, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to you but every thought in his head seemed to be rendered useless just by taking a good glimpse at you in your natural state. Curled up on the couch with a book in your hand, the faint glow from the sun shining through the window illuminating your features.

"Hey, do you mind if I talk to you?" He came up by your side as you were reading one of the books he'd gotten for your birthday, a small smile appearing on your face as you looked over at him. "Yeah, for sure. What's up?" You asked him, scooting over on the couch to give him space to sit down. He sat down next to you, almost seeming nervous in front of you as he twiddled with his thumbs. It was a sight to behold, the man usually in command of every room he walked into nervous at the prospect of getting rejected. "I wanted to ask you out on a date. If you don't want to, I completely understand. I just hope it won't ruin what you've built here at the Spider Society," he finally spoke up after what seemed to be a couple minutes of silence, his eyes hesitant to look into yours as he waited for you to process the information.

You'd been oblivious to these signs for months, unable to even fathom that someone would see you in that way. You were so convinced that you weren't someone that people saw as date-worthy, that you were only a placeholder until they were able to find someone better. You blinked slowly as you tried to let his words sink in, the look on your face vulnerable as you looked up at him. "You're not joking right?" You tried to confirm, hoping that you weren't being used as the butt of a joke this time around. You'd started to grow comfortable around Miguel, enjoying being around his company and even envisioning him whenever you had your nose buried in a book. "No I’m not joking," his voice was gentle as he assured you, his hand holding yours as he rubbed circles on the back of yours.

"Then yes. I'd like to go out on a date with you," you finally accepted his invitation after no recording crew had come out to expose themselves.The two of you spent a couple seconds in silence before he spoke up again. "Pudiera escribirte un libro como esos que tanto te gustan nomas hablando de cuanto tu presencia me alumbra la vida y aun no seria suficiente para describir el amor que siento por ti, preciosa. You make me forget every word in my repertoire just by looking into your eyes," he murmured, his Spanish coming out nearly perfect despite the fact he hadn't bothered to speak it aloud in a couple years now. "Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

(I could write you a book like those you really like, just talking about how much your presence illuminates my life and it still wouldn't enough to describe the love I feel for you, precious)

Despite reading and re-reading all the romance books stacked up on your shelf at home, you'd never actually imagined that you'd be the one in the main character's position now. You lived vicariously through those books, all the romantic moments that you longed for merely described as words on paper. You remembered picking out books with the male's pov just to get that glimpse of what adoration sounded on both sides, of getting a picture of what you wanted someone to think about when they saw you. You'd seen multiple people in your life getting into relationships, assuring you empty promises that you'd find the person for you when the time was right, and you’d dismissed it all as pure bullshit. But all that waiting seemed worth it at the thought of going out with Miguel.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies taking flight in your stomach at the realization that Miguel, one of the smartest people you've ever met who seemed to have a response for everything, was rendered speechless just by having you around. The feeling was almost overwhelming as you slowly started to let your guard down around him, letting him love you the way he wanted to love you. You realized now that maybe you weren't as unlovable as you thought you were, that you weren't too broken to be the object of someone's love and admiration, just that you'd been seeking those things from the wrong people. All you wanted was to express the same love that he’d expressed towards you despite the lack of experience.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

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cherienymphe · 10 months

Text

Basic Training XIII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Peter was at work.

It had been some weeks since the inevitable had happened, waking up to find Peter putting on his uniform. You had expected it at some point, but definitely not so soon. Or, at least, soon for you. It had been hard to hide the disappointment on your features when the dark-haired man had glanced at you, his own face falling some as he neared you.

“Hey,” he’d softly said, cupping your face as he leaned over the bed. “It’ll be okay.”

You hadn’t responded, only blinking, and Peter continued.

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, just to get both of us back into the swing of things. I’ll be back in no time,” he’d assured you.

He’d been right, of course. He had only been gone for a few hours that day, but what felt like no time to him felt like an entire day to you. You’d gone through every task like it was indeed nothing more than a chore, merely trying to find some solace in your cleaning and cooking and gardening, trying to find some way to keep your mind off of Peter’s absence.

In truth, all you’d accomplished was counting down the minutes until he returned.

You’d been in the middle of helping Pepper with lunch when familiar hands had settled on your waist. It had startled you, at first, before the familiarity of them set in, prompting you to stop what you were doing. You hadn’t hesitated to turn and wrap your arms around him, feeling so much more at ease with him home.

“What’ya making?” he’d asked after briefly acknowledging the other woman in the room when she’d done the same.

“Thor wanted subs,” you’d told him. “Pepper’s toasting the bread.”

He’d smiled at that, and it was something you did often, now. Unable to hide your relief at having Peter home, telling him about your day, and listening when he did the same. The town struck you as so small, from what you remembered anyway, but you were always shocked by just how much crime and mess Peter and the rest of the station had to deal with.

The day he’d come home with a bandage on his arm was burned into your memory.

“It’s nothing,” he’d kept reassuring you. “Just some asshole trying to rob a bank with bad aim.”

You hadn’t laughed at the joke as Peter had, and he’d quickly swallowed his chuckles down. He’d reached out to touch your face in the hallway, but you’d been intently focused on the light blood that had bled through a bit. He’d been right, of course. It was nothing, a flesh wound, a graze, but it hadn’t stopped you from worrying all the same.

The heaviness in your chest had shocked you. After all, you liked to think that Peter meant nothing to you, but that wasn’t entirely true. You’d hesitantly reached up to graze his arm just below the white gauze, eyes burning. Peter could’ve been seriously hurt, he could’ve died, and that had worried you for more reasons than one.

“Peter,” you’d softly started once in the privacy of your room moments later. “What would happen to me…if something happened to you…?”

Surprisingly, it was a thought that had never occurred to you before. These men were mortal and human just like anyone else, and considering their professions, the possibility of any of them dying should’ve entered your mind at least once or twice. However, as you’d stared at his arm, you realized that this was the first time you’d truly given it some thought.

You’d heard him sigh.

“Don’t think about that,” he’d tried to coax you away from the thought, making you look at him.

“…but you’re a cop…and clearly this town isn’t as boring and safe as I’d initially thought.”

You had multiple reasons to come to that conclusion.

“What if something does happen to you?” you’d quietly asked him.

Peter had stared at you for a while before slowly leaning in and brushing his lips against yours.

“That won’t happen, pretty girl,” he’d slowly assured you, continuing before you could say anything. “…but if that ever were to happen…you’d just still be a functioning part of the household with no title to your name.”

You had frowned at that. So, you’d still be doing as you did but just without Peter around. The thought had terrified you for one reason above all else, and his name was Steve. You didn’t even want to imagine the kind of trouble you’d get into without Peter around to protect you, and you had thrown your arms around him before you knew it.

He’d rubbed your back, making soothing sounds, but you’d shaken your head, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I think I’d rather just die.”

You had said it so quietly you were sure Peter didn’t even hear you, but if the way he’d paused was anything to go by, he’d heard you clearly.

You couldn’t survive in this place without Peter, and he had to know that. You felt like you were barely hanging on when he was around, and God knows that thread only became thinner when he went to work. If you had to face the reality of never seeing Peter ever again, you didn’t doubt that you’d lose all reason under Steve’s wrath and stern discipline.

“Don’t say that,” he’d whispered. “Besides, it’s not going to happen.”

You had to believe that because the alternative wasn’t feasible to you.

“You don’t know that,” you’d murmured back, fingers digging into his side and the uninjured arm.

“You wouldn’t want to live without me…? Even if you had something to remember me by?”

You’d stiffened at that, understanding dawning on you as to what he was hinting at.

Peter didn’t bring up the possibility of kids often. He probably didn’t want to scare you, but you knew what was expected of you…you knew what he wanted. On the off chance that Sharon or Laura brought their sons around or Steve or Margaret stepped out with Sarah, you were no fool. You saw the smile that lit up Peter’s boyish features. You saw the longing in his deep brown eyes, the desire to have children of his own someday…with you.

Of all the men here, if any of them deserve to have a kid, you supposed that it was Peter.

However, you wondered just how true that was. The man had kidnapped you, after all, and clearly had no qualms against his brothers and whatever methods they chose to punish their wives with. Peter wasn’t a good guy, no matter how good he made you feel these days, and so maybe he didn’t deserve any children.

…but you yourself had wanted kids someday…but not like this.

The thought of subjecting your future sons to the same fate as their father or your future daughters to the same fate as you made your eyes water. It seemed like such a cruel thing to do, but giving Peter children was inevitable, you supposed. It’s not like you had any means to protect yourself against the possibility, and since Peter had first had sex with you, he had never not come inside of you.

It was honestly only a matter of time.

“I…don’t know,” you’d honestly answered his question.

Without Peter, any child you had would be far better off with any of the other wives than with you. You doubted that you’d even be able to look after yourself, let alone a whole other person who’d completely depend on you. On the other hand, though, you didn’t know if you could trust your hypothetical child’s wellbeing with anyone but you. Especially with Steve around.

Someone had to make sure they didn’t grow up completely messed up by all of this.

…but then again…maybe you weren’t right to be that someone either.

After all, Peter had kidnapped and raped you, and you greeted him when he came home from work each evening. You smiled as you told him about your day. You clung to him in the dead of night and welcomed his kisses. Even then, as you held him and fretted over his safety and the danger you had never considered he’d be in before…

You yourself were already so messed up by all of this, so how could you keep the same from happening to anyone else?

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl.”

Peter’s soft encouragement went straight to the pit of your stomach, adding to the heat that was already there. The water in the bathtub jostled slightly, small ripples in the water from your movements. Peter’s hands were pressed firmly into your waist, and you could feel his gaze on you.

“So good,” he whispered, leaning up and brushing his lips against yours.

You felt so…full, much fuller than you did when Peter was covering your frame with his own, pressing you into the mattress and pushing his cock into you with a pace that had your breath shortening. Now, you were the one on top of him, lifting and lowering yourself, sliding up and down on his cock with every movement.

A simple bath had turned into something more when Peter’s hand dipped between your legs, a noise of mischief escaping his lips as you’d tried to shy away. He’d been smooth in sliding you back onto him, a hand resting on your back before he’d expressed his desire to see your face.

Peter pressed kisses along the expanse of your throat, tasting you with them and his tongue. Your bare chest brushed against his own with every rise and fall of your hips, your hands pressed into his shoulders to steady yourself. Sex wasn’t new to you, but you’d always thought of it as a chore more often than not. You’d thought it was just one of those things that wasn’t for you.

Peter’s presence proved that the fault lay with bad boyfriends.

Granted, it’s not like Peter gave you the choice to refuse sex, therefore forcing you to engage in something you’d always thought of as meh. He didn’t even allow you to disassociate as you had in the past, forcing you to be present and engaging and taking pleasure that you weren’t all that familiar with. You both hated and loved it.

Peter moaned into your mouth as he kissed you, a wet hand massaging into your back, and you kissed him back, hot and wanton and just as hungry for your climax as he was his. Every time you sank down onto him, your walls stretched, and with Peter’s hand on your hip, rolling it over his, you had to pull away and gasp.

The first time you came around him, you were in the tub, but you were in the bed when you stiffened around him for the second time. Peter talked you through it, whispering sweet nothings to you as explosions burst behind your eyes, one hand twisted with yours and the other tracing patterns into your thigh.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured into your neck, his chest pressed to your back as you lay beneath him. “We both have to wake up pretty early, though.”

He sounded sad as he said that, pulling away from you. You were still catching your breath when you turned to face him, eyes fluttering closed as he reached out to brush his fingers over your face. You were tired, but you still found the strength to stare back at him. Peter was pretty, you’d noted before, but it was something you hadn’t wanted to linger on then.

Your eyes drooped a bit as his hand danced towards yours, taking it and playing with your fingers. It was moments like this that made it so easy to pretend. It was dark outside, and in the room, the only light coming from the glow of the moon outside. The rest of the house was quiet, and the only sounds in the room were that of your labored breathing.

It was moments like this that made it easy to pretend as if Peter hadn’t kidnapped you, as if his brothers hadn’t killed your friends. It was easy to pretend like you were the only ones in this whole house, just basking in each other’s presence and the afterglow of taking pleasure in each other’s bodies under the cover of darkness.

Like a normal man with a normal job simply coming home from work and making love to his normal wife.

Peter’s fingers touched your ring, and you were brought back to reality.

“Not every couple has done it…but some of the others have…had ceremonies…”

Your brows rose at that, and Peter’s gaze remained on the thorned ring around your finger.

“I would really like it if we had one too,” he murmured. “I… I want to declare my love and vows to you in front of the whole family…and have you do the same to me.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that, and so you merely frowned. Your eyes met Peter’s when he finally glanced up, and his tongue darted between his lips.

“…because I do, you know.”

When you didn’t respond, your confusion must’ve been evident to him because he continued.

“I do love you.”

That word made you feel faint, and you quickly sat up. Peter followed, a hand on the back of your neck and the other still playing with your hand.

“I do,” he reiterated, making it hard to swallow. “You’re so open about what’s on your mind, and you’re never afraid to ask me anything you want.”

You hesitantly looked at him, pulling your gaze away from the sheets.

“…and now that you’ve finally settled here, I can see how caring you are. I see how worried you get when you think Jane is straining herself or when you think Margaret might be too tired on her feet. I saw it when you were more worried about your mom than…”

He trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish it. Maybe it was silly at the time to worry more about your free mom than your captive self, but you couldn’t help it.

“I knew I chose right, but it’s something entirely different to have it confirmed every single day,” Peter whispered, taking his hand and resting it under your chin. “…and you may not love me yet, but that’s okay because I know you will…just like I love you.”

Peter’s words were so…heavy. You found it hard to believe that he loved you, but then again, Peter had nothing but all the time in the world to observe you and watch you and take note of every flaw and quirk. Who were you to tell him what he felt? No man had ever told you that before, and there were layers to the fact that the first one who did was the same who’d stolen you away.

Something stirred in your chest at that.

“I want to make every promise in the world to you, and I want to do it in front of our family.”

Our family.

That was so strange to hear, but wasn’t it the truth? You had long accepted that you were never leaving, and despite what you personally wanted, this was your family, now…weren’t they?

“You don’t have to give me an answer, now,” Peter assured you, laying back down, fingers grazing over your lower back. “…but you know what I want.”

Yes, but what did you want?

You cared about Peter more than you wanted to admit. The thought of losing him in any way made your chest ache, but that wasn’t love. You knew what it really was, but your heart couldn’t decipher real feelings from ones brought on by circumstances and a means to cope. Your heart only knew that Peter was now in it, and his fingers on your skin and his devotional words made you feel things that you were ashamed of.

He pulled you back down to lie with him, resting your head on his arm as you clung to it. You looked up at him as sleep fought to claim him, his own lashes fluttering as he stifled a yawn. You were going to be with Peter forever, that was indubitable, and declaring that in front of the whole household wasn’t going to make it any more true than it already was.

You tilted your head back down, pressing your face into the arm of the man who loved you.

You had just got done taking the dish out of the oven when a familiar voice outside drew your attention. Peter’s laugh was loud, and you hurried to set the heavy pie and get your gloves off. He had been gone when you woke up, and Sam had told you that he’d had to go in early with Steve. You thought that meant he’d be home earlier, but no. This was one of those rare days where he was gone almost the whole day, and you’d been so anxious.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Christine called as you dashed out of the kitchen.

No other effort was made to stop you, and you practically tripped over your feet as you hurried down the hall. If Peter was having some important conversation with Steve and Tony, he put it on the back burner in favor of catching you as you flew into his arms.

“Woah, hey,” he chuckled, arm tight around you as he held you to him.

“I haven’t seen you all day,” you murmured. “You were gone when I woke up.”

You pulled away just a tad, hand twisting into Peter’s dark uniform as he gave you an apologetic smile.

“I know,” he sadly said. “This one screwed up some paperwork with a guy we arrested, and we had to go in pretty early.”

He jerked his head towards Steve as he said this, and you’d forgotten about the blonde’s presence entirely. Tony too. You barely spared them both a glance, only acknowledging them as evenly and respectfully as possible without putting in too much effort. You were already turning back to Peter when they returned the acknowledgement.

“Jane told me your favorite food,” you told him, pulling and forcing him to come with you.

He threw Steve and Tony a backwards glance as he waved them off, signaling that they’d continue whatever they were talking about later.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I made a cherry pie,” your tone was hopeful, nervous, and Peter’s gaze lit up.

“Really…?” he wondered as he stopped, more excited, now. “All by yourself?”

You nodded.

“It hasn’t been tasted yet, so I hope you like it,” you worriedly said.

The other man softly chuckled, and you briefly glanced up as Natasha walked by.

“I bet it’s perfect,” Peter assured you, kissing your cheek. “…and even if it isn’t, I’ll love it anyway. You made it, after all.”

You weren’t able to linger on his words like you wanted to, worriedly gazing at the redhead’s back.

You’d been worried for her ever since that day she’d told you she thought she was pregnant. She hadn’t brought it up since, and neither had you, too afraid of being overheard by the wrong person. You didn’t know if she was or wasn’t, and if she was, and Bucky knew, the whole house would definitely know by now. Thor had made a whole day of it when he found out Jane was pregnant, and considering what Natasha had told you about all of their efforts, you doubted that Bucky would be any different.

However, there was no word of it, and while Natasha didn’t seem as mopey as she had been, she was still…off. Quieter. She smiled more, now, especially at Bucky, and you’d found yourself wondering if she’d made peace with what he did to your friends so quickly. It seemed…unlikely but considering that she was in the same boat as you, with no chances of leaving, it’s possible she wanted to make peace with it for her own sake.

You wouldn’t fault her if she did.

None of this was easy, and especially so considering her own history with Bucky, so you felt no anger or disgust when their intertwined hands rested on the table between them. You didn’t blame her for the smiles she threw his way, or the soft kisses on her cheek that she didn’t turn away from. After all, you yourself had cut the first piece of pie for Peter, anxious to see how the brunette liked it.

“It’s great,” he hummed.

You’d been skeptical, still unsure of your own cooking skills, but Peter had assured you that he wasn’t placating you. He’d even fed you a piece, and you’d been shocked at just how good it really was. You and Peter had mostly been in your own world throughout dinner. After all, you hadn’t seen him all day, something that only strengthened your animosity towards Steve, and you felt like you had so much to tell him.

So, when dinner was over—and Natasha and Laura were cleaning up—you were disappointed as Peter stood too. The other men were heading towards the den to talk about work and the household as they did every evening after dinner. Peter’s hand was on your lower back as he walked you towards the stairs, and you knew your hesitation was evident.

“You’ve been gone all day,” you whispered, almost afraid to voice your desire to have him come upstairs with you. “…and who knows how long that will take. I don’t want to be asleep when you finally come up to bed.”

Peter tilted his head at you, studying you in a way you couldn’t place. His other hand reached for yours, fingers threading through your own, and you watched his tongue dart between his lips. There was a furrow between his brows, like he was thinking deeply about something before he glanced over his shoulder.

“Do you want to sit with me?”

You hadn’t expected that.

You didn’t quite catch what he meant at first, and then it was your turn to frown. You blinked at him, confusion and apprehension filling you.

“I can…?”

You couldn’t swallow down the small relief you were starting to feel. It would be different—unfamiliar—but at least you’d be with Peter instead of alone in your bedroom.

“Am I allowed to?” you wondered. “I didn’t think any of us could.”

Peter gave you an encouraging smile.

“It’s not common,” he honestly answered, pulling you along. “…but sometimes little Sarah can only be quieted by Steve so Margaret will bring her, or now, with Jane being pregnant and hormonal, she gets her way if she wants to rest in Thor’s lap.”

He chuckled at that.

You’d cleaned the den a few times. It was a large room with no windows, only brightened by the low light of lamps. The furniture was all dark wood and leather, and it had a bar that you’d never been tempted to use. You’d always been able to imagine the men sitting around and discussing police paperwork and what household business needed to take priority over others.

As Peter led you into the room, you realized you’d be witnessing it tonight.

“Peter…”

Steve’s stern drawl of his name reached your ears, half warning, half question.

“She’ll be good,” Peter lightly promised.

There were just enough seats for the men, and you realized why Peter had mentioned Jane sitting in Thor’s lap when she got in one of her moods. You didn’t hesitate to sit by Peter’s feet, curling your legs up underneath you as he took your hand. Truthfully, you didn’t care what they had to discuss, even if it was interesting and consisted of the mention of some woman who’d broken into a house.

You just cared about being next to Peter.

As you’d guessed, you were tired, and you were right to worry that you would’ve been asleep by the time Peter joined you. At some point during the meeting, your head drooped, and you did the right thing in leaning it against the side of Peter’s leg, your cheek resting on his thigh. Your hands curled around his leg, holding onto him as you fought sleep. Your lashes fluttered, and it was easier said than done…

Especially when you felt Peter’s hand on your head.

His fingers gently pressing into your scalp was soothing, and you slowly blinked, fighting fatigue. You were pretty sure Thor was talking, now. Or was it Stephen? Either way, it didn’t help, and you shifted, tightening your arms around Peter’s leg. The feel of his hand in your hair was going to put you fast asleep…if it weren’t for the feel of an oppressing gaze.

When you glanced over, your eyes met familiar blue ones, Steve hardly paying attention to a thing Stephen was saying. His cold blue irises were focused entirely on you. For a moment, you worried that you did something wrong, and you clung to Peter even tighter, and the brunette made an inquiring humming noise. You only shook your head in response, looking away from the blond and desperately wondering why he seemed to hate you so.

It was hours later when sleep evaded you. It was strange. You’d been so exhausted downstairs that you’d passed out almost immediately when you crawled into bed. However, your body had betrayed you in the middle of the night, waking and refusing to go back. Peter’s arm was comforting around your waist when you stirred, and you’d simply laid there for a few moments, basking in the feel and sound of him before making your way to the window.

The moon was only half full, and you used the glow of it to look down at your ring.

You thought about what Peter had said, about a ceremony, and you touched the thorned metal. You had never given marriage a lot of thought before, but you had never imagined it would be in the backyard of a large and beautiful country house, decorations and everything homemade.

You had also never imagined it would be to the man who’d kidnapped you either, but…

You sighed, shifting the ring a tad and blinking. It was true that your friends would want you to be happy, and that your mom, wherever she hoped you were, hoped you were okay. In a lot of ways, you weren’t, but in some ways…you were. No one in your life would’ve wanted this for you, that was sure, but you were in a bad situation, you were never getting out of this bad situation, and so why not make some good of it?

You glanced up, eyes running over the yard briefly, and you were about to look back down at your ring…

…when you saw it.

Movement in the yard made you blink, and it was so late, you almost wrote it off as some animal. You were out in the rural Midwest, hidden away amongst the trees, and so the odd animal here and there wasn’t uncommon. Jane had left a towel on the clothesline one night and something had dragged it off by the next morning.

However, looking closer, the figure was too large to be some animal.

They were moving across the yard, slowly and carefully, as if they were trying to go undetected. There was a sinking feeling deep in your gut, and you took a step closer to the window. You could feel yourself frowning, worry coursing through you as you watched some stranger figure move about. You were just about to call for Peter when the glow of the moon glinted off of hair.

Beautiful red hair.

Your lips parted at the sight of Natasha in the yard. It was too late for anyone to be outside, let alone her, and when she looked over her shoulder, her green eyes lifted right towards your window. You could tell that she saw you, her face falling just a tad, and you both blinked at each other. It didn’t quite click at first, unable to understand why Natasha was outside so late, but then your eyes fell to her clothes, clothes that she wouldn’t be caught dead in in the house.

Bucky’s clothes.

You felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had washed over you, and you placed your hand on the window, your gaze almost pleading. You silently begged her to come back, to turn around before she was caught. You shook your head, disbelief and horror and confusion tearing through you. You shook your head at her again, glancing at your door, trying to silently convey that you’d help her come back inside and lie if need be.

Anything to keep her from being thrown in that basement again.

However, Natasha silently refused, her only response being to step away slowly and continue going. You sharply exhaled, feeling frozen, and you didn’t know what to do. She didn’t look back again as she ran across the yard, and you pressed your hand to your stomach just as a familiar voice reached your ears.

“What are you doing up?”

Peter’s voice was groggy, sleep coating his tone, and you flinched. Blinking, you looked over your shoulder, heart in the pit of your gut as he rubbed his eyes. You stared at Peter with parted lips, eyes burning with tears, but you didn’t know why. You were confused. You were scared, but why did you want to cry?

Was it because you had to tell Peter that Natasha had managed to sneak out somehow, making a break for it? That her entire demeanor this past month had been a farce, a way to be sure Bucky wouldn’t be suspicious? That the discovery of what he did to her friends had indeed been too much for her and had pushed her over the edge to bring all of them down?

Were you crying because you had to tell Peter Natasha had escaped and therefore get her into more trouble than she probably ever had been in before?

“Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Peter had seen your face, now, sitting up with concern in his eyes, and you glanced over your shoulder. You could just barely make out Natasha on the other side of the pond, so close to the trees, and you exhaled.

Or were you crying because if Natasha succeeded, your time with Peter would be numbered? Peter was the reason you were here, the sole reason you were in this place, and yet, the thought of him behind bars and forever separated from you was too much to wrap your head around. The man was your sole comfort. Peter was who you clung to, the thought of being away from him enough to send you into a downward spiral.

Peter was all you had, now…

…and yet…

With all of that being true, your eyes finally met his again.

“I… I had a nightmare.”

The lie was said so softly, you almost couldn’t believe you’d said it. You watched his face fall some, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching for you. Like an obedient lamb, you walked right into his embrace, and more tears spilled over before you could stop them. He shushed you, rubbing your back and soothing you, but you couldn’t be consoled.

The moment to stop Natasha was gone. Who knows how long it would be before Bucky discovered her absence. If Natasha was caught, you did not envy what awaited her, but if she succeeded…you did not envy what awaited the you in the future. You did not envy the version of you that would have to watch Peter be arrested and separated from you forever.

You didn’t envy the version of you that would have to learn to live without him.

You wrapped your arms around him and let Peter pull you into a kiss.

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