So this has basically become a fic rec account lol
And I feel like it’s worth putting out a friendly reminder to please respect the rules of authors whose works I reblog, and to share them as well if you like them!
Anyway, I digress, I’m working on creating a consolidated list of all the fics I’ve reblogged/recommend but until then, feel free to look through my page. I hope you find something you like!
Happy trails <3
P.S. Feel free to leave recommendations or ask random questions! If you’d like any recommendations for specific fandoms/characters as well, feel free to send me an ask! I’m always up for silly conversations :)
reminder: all works are tagged and contain appropriate content warnings at the top of each post; please be mindful of them if you do not wish to see something you could possibly be uncomfortable with.
IMPORTANT!! — a lot of the drabbles that are not in this masterlist can be found under the #biscuit drabbles tag!!
my rules can be found here.
reblogs are deeply appreciated, however only interact if you’re not a minor!!
geto who can’t help but love the feeling of just being balls deep inside you— having you laid prettily on your back as he‘s striking his hips against you again and again repeatedly, he loves this position mainly so he stare right into your eyes as he‘s filling you up for a third time—
his jaw tightens each time and he groans, his base slapping against you with each thrust. “f—fuck prin—cess,” he‘d choke out— pounding into you, his hips had a mind of its own almost, your legs were just dangling in the air, and his lip quivers a bit and his breaths grows heavy— he‘s panting and you see his muscles flex, his abs clench, geto looks so pretty—
long strands of his darkened locks ran down his face, covering his eyebrows practically as he moved at full speed.
“s—suguru—” you‘d babble, and he gets a good grip on your thighs, just driving himself, bullying his way inside of you— you’re clenching around him so good it makes him bite his lip and his eyes nearly roll back, a soft whimper leaves his lip once he starts to feel himself come close again. “m-more.”
“okay—” he huffs out in a short breath, chasing his own breath, still having your thighs within his grip. “f—fuck, woman you’re killing me— h-here.”
geto‘s balls deep— so much so his mouth starts to water, you’re milking him again and he leans into your neck, softly biting down to shut himself up— he‘s always hated his noises during sex, especially whenever he became whiny— but it was cute, your pussy gripped around him tightly, holding him and never letting go and his head‘s spinning and spinning like a merry-go-round.
“it‘s okay— you don‘t gotta be shy, suguru.” you nervously smile— brushing some hair away from his face.
he pants— dumping a thick load into you, he had to take a moment, his thighs ache yet it feels good, feeling you all full— a tiny grunt leaves his lips as he‘s still buried to the hilt, pausing his hips that’s stuttered for just a moment before you feel his warm breath down your neck— and it makes you throb.
“i’m— not,” he mutters in a low hushed voice, before bringing a hand up to your tummy— lightly pressing down on it and you whimper, only for him to start caressing your skin. “you- you always know how to take so much out of me, sweetheart.”
and he leans in to kiss you— it‘s incredibly sloppy, you kiss back, his tongue swipes against yours and he tastes sweet, his breath collided against yours and he moans in your mouth only before you feel him starting to start up again— deeper, despite his own cum starting to race down the side of your thigh.
“mhm—” he groans, breaking away from the kiss, watching the tiny glistening strands of spit depart, geto was just so pretty—
he was fucked dumb for sure, his eyes were half-lidded, yet so full of lust not to mention love—
his hips yearned for more of your sweet cunt, each thrust making your thighs just bounce and jolt against him.
your entrance was slick, oozing with his warm sticky seed, strong rough hands attached to your thighs and he huffs out again and again—
having a race with his own panting, his eyes mindlessly roll back again and the way you grip against him is just— mouthwatering.
“f—fuck you’re so messy for me aren’t you, baby. . . ?” he groans, his back muscles tensing and contracting— and it was sexy, beefy and bulky yet was a mess from your pussy, he couldn‘t get enough— he was addicted.
once geto came again— he groans, pulling out to smear his leaky pink tip on your folds, rubbing it against your slit and he‘s huffing and puffing— hair all in his face, licking his lips as he watches you just completely stupid— legs spread and mouth dumbly and slightly open— a soft smile spreads on his lips before he mumbled.
“are you full, princess? because . . i want— to make you fuller, ple—ase,” he stammers.
imagine being simon’s personally appointed handmaiden. a very uncommon practice for a king, but he was also unwed, uncommon for a king of his status and age.
a very gruff man with a hard exterior but over the years you two had developed a great rapport with one another. mostly waiting to be behind closed doors to really let loose when it came to both of your respective personalities. in front of the other staff and royalty you were quiet and obedient, but when it was just you and simon you could rib the masked king for days, feeling a thrill in your stomach whenever you got him to huff out a laugh. he could dish it right back though, pulling mind numbing puns from out of nowhere that you pretend aren’t funny. it makes him laugh even harder when you roll your eyes, your only acknowledgement of his “jokes”.
you two were very close, spending most of your waking moments with him. you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do when you were originally appointed to be the king’s sole handmaiden. the king was quite intimidating, the task itself seemed so daunting and you had just assumed that he would be using you for more nefarious duties. while a life of servitude may not have been what you pictured for yourself, a life of servitude for simon was definitely not what you had pictured either.
he was big and imposing and impossible to wake up in the morning. over time you had resorted to flicking water in his face when he was getting really close to sleeping through some of his important appointments that morning.
he liked his baths scalding hot. you would turn your back to him as he shrugged off his robe and submerged himself in the steamy water, pretending to futz with his towels. you always felt something in your heart settle when you heard his deep and satisfied sigh as he finally allowed his muscle to relax under the hot water.
he always wanted you to pick out his clothes. didn’t matter the ocassion either, he said you never lead him astray with your choices. you always felt a sense of smug, satisfation when he finally lumbered out of bed and pulled on the clothes that you had already laid out for him without a word.
the other servants talk, of course. whispers and rumors bouncing off the castle walls about all the time you spent with the king. you tried not to let it get to you, simon promising to get rid of anyone who spoke a cross word about you. he was a man of his word, having banished a knight the month prior who had made an awful joke about the little peasant girl keeping the king’s bed warm at night.
your relationship with simon had well surpassed just your duties, he was kind and although you would never say it to anyone because he’s the fucking king, you consider him a friend. but you can’t help but realize how many moments you two have had recently. moments that cross the bounds of your relationship.
you sat in your little stool behind the tub simon currently was sprawled out in. having just finished washing out all the soap from his blonde hair you sat back, relaxing your aching body for a moment before you would have to get him out and send him off to bed.
“long day, ah?” he commented.
all you could do was hum in affirmation, eyes closed enjoying the quiet of the king’s large bathroom.
“here,” he murmured, not wanting to disrupt the quiet tranquility you two had created, “pop your feet in.”
you cracked an eye open to see him start sitting up in the tub, turning back to you. “what?”
once he saw he had your attention he settled himself back down, shoulders against the basin of the tub. “slip your shoes off and just,” he motioned to his shoulders, voice dipping low. you could picture his eyes slipping shut again.
you hesitated for a moment, realizing the gravity of what he was asking of you. but he was also your king and even though you two had an unconventional relationship, you dare not go against his wishes.
you slip your shoes off and bunch your skirt up in your hands, pulling it over your knees as to not get it wet. you did as you were instructed and pulled a leg over each of his shoulders, shuddering at the hot water alleviating the tenderness in your feet.
“feel good?” simon pondered.
“yes, very much so,” you can’t help but smile, “thank you, simon”
he laughs to himself, just a little breath huffed through his nose, “anytime.”
you slipped your eyes back shut and allowed yourself a moment to sit and breathe and relax. the feeling of movement snaps you out of your reverie, simon reaching up a hand to loosely hold around your ankle. you see his head shift, his stubbly cheek resting against your calf. you had asked him if he wanted to shave before his bath, but he declined, cranky from his long day and just wanting to get into his bath.
you’re shocked at the touch, not as if you and simon hadn’t shared casual touches before but this seemed. emotional. intimate.
you dare not upset your king, but you know something like this can’t go on for much longer. “should probably get you to bed soon, your highness.” you know he hates it when you use his title when it's just the two of you, but you feel the need to have a degree of separation between the two of you, if not you fear you might do something stupid like reach down and get your fingers through his hair.
simon sighs against your skin and you burn at the way you can feel his lips moving, “just a little bit longer, please?”
you can never deny your king, but you never want to deny simon.
Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist • ao3 • want to be tagged? • Status: Ongoing
Part One: “Sorry I’m late! It’s so good to see you!” You were speaking a fraction too loud and Steven had never seen you before in his life. A frown began to form on his features, knitting his eyebrows together. He wasn’t sure if he could take one more thing today, first Gus, then two missing days and now whatever the hell this was.
Steven Grant’s day is going poorly to say the least. He’s lost days, missed his date and now a stranger has sat down opposite him who seems to know him? It would be nice if our favourite Gift-Shopist could catch a break.
Part Two: This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea. An awful, terrible, horrendous idea. You were bordering on stalker behaviour. He would take one glance at you and call the police, ‘hi, there’s this person I saw one time who basically invited herself into my meal and now she’s at my workplace.’ He would get a restraining order. You’d go to jail. This was the worst thing you have ever thought of.
After the events on Sunday night, you can't get Steven out of your head. But with no way to contact him, you form a plan to see him again.
Part Three: You squealed as he grabbed you around the waist, shifting the food to his other hand and holding it out so that it didn’t get in the way. He kissed you repeatedly, soft quick pecks on your mouth and cheeks and chin, until you were giggling uncontrollably.
After a date at the cinema you invite Steven back to yours.
i'm so excited to be posting for my man tsu'tey, because he is criminally under-rated. (look at that gif! i'm going feral).
this is part one of this series, which will contain nsfw material eventually. i hope you enjoy! ♥️
pairing: tsu'tey x fem human reader
word count: 4k
warnings: she/her pronouns for reader, alien courting rituals, misunderstandings, mentions of vomiting (not too graphic, but a warning all the same!)
read it on ao3 here
masterlist
part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part four (nsfw)
Life is not going how Tsu’tey had intended.
It starts with the arrival of Jakesully, the demon’s acceptance into the clan, the ensuing war against the Sky People, and Tsu’tey’s own uncomfortably close brush with death after falling from the human’s large flying machine. His whole life has been disrupted, his plans and motivations, his hopes and his expectations. Jakesully is a moron, but he is Tsu’tey’s brother now. Bonds have been forged in fire and blood as they fought together against the demon invaders from the sky, and Tsu’tey has no choice but to accept his fate. It will take time to become accustomed to his new role within the clan, no longer as a future leader but always as a protector, but he is adjusting as well as he can.
While he has suffered many blows to his pride in recent months, not least his grievous injury that has prevented him from taking part in his usual routine with the rest of the clan’s warriors, he is still a blooded male of the clan. Now that Neytiri has mated with Jakesully, Tsu’tey himself is free to pick a mate of his own, unburdened by the expectations of leadership. It’s both a liberating and humiliating thought, and he has to admit that it does his wounded pride some good to be on the receiving end of mating interest from so many attractive prospects within the clan.
Any of the Omaticayan women that have shown interest in him so far would be perfectly respectable choices. Txisma is one of the best weavers among the People, her creations sturdy and reliable while also colourful and beautiful. Ninat is the best singer of the clan, her voice bright and clear as her songs bring joy to all who listen. Even Saeyla, ever so consistently loyal despite the fact that he has already rejected her, would be a perfectly respectable choice as a mate.
But the real, ultimate indignity of it all is that Tsu’tey can’t manage to drum up any interest in any of them. No matter how much they smile at him so coyly and prettily, no matter how impressive their displays of skill are, no matter how quick and deadly and proficient they are at fighting, he can’t manage to force himself to look at them with anything more than detached appreciation.
Perhaps the Sky People had injured him beyond repair when they had hurt him and pushed him from their enormous metal bird.
That is the only reason he can think of to explain why the one person who has captured his thoughts so wholly is you, the little human demon that is constantly lurking around the Omaticaya camp.
In the beginning, his fixation is driven by aggravation and fury. After the destruction of Hometree, the People move as one to a spot just south of the Well of Souls and set up a temporary encampment there. When the humans that remain after the RDA have left his planet are invited by Jakesully to their new settlement to spend time with them in a show of tentative co-operation, Tsu’tey spends the whole time scowling in your direction. Jakesully had proven himself a good leader and has earned Tsu’tey’s respect, which is perhaps the only reason that he initially accepted the presence of these Sky People in their new home. Even with his reluctant acceptance, he meets the tiny demons with suspicion and hostility. You, especially.
You infuriate him. Too small, terribly soft and squishy, unable to hold a bow or wield a spear or do anything useful. You came here with the rest of the Sky People, but you are not a warrior like Jakesully. Instead you spend all of your time reading books and studying the plants of his planet. But you don’t even study them in any useful way! You sketch them and take notes, and make frequent exclamations about how wonderful it all is, but you don’t do anything useful, at least as far as Tsu’tey can see.
It had taken him a terribly long time to realise what was happening.
In the beginning, his eyes had cut towards you with animosity and mistrust – your interest in the plant life and the world around you had seemed so odd after the destruction the rest of your people had caused, and he watched you intently for any signs that you meant to cause harm to the People. But those signs never come.
You were polite, interested in his culture, and awed by nature and Eywa all around. You even learned the language of the People, though admittedly with a heavy accent. It’s… more endearing than it should be.
It takes a while for him to realise that he’s watching you far more than he watches the other little demons that study his people. It gets even worse when you decide to practise your clumsy language skills with the clan – somehow, it leads to you targeting him. Not even his fiercest scowls seem to discourage your attempts to converse with him, and soon he finds himself honestly looking forward to seeing you, to speaking with you.
It is an illness. Some sort of infection that has taken hold in him since his injury in the war against the Sky People. That can be the only reason that he is more preoccupied with you than with the very real mating prospects he has among the People.
He has come to terms with it. At first, he kept his shameful little fixation to himself, but he’s never been the most subtle of men. Others soon notice the direction of his stares, the amount of time he spends with you, the way his ears flick and his tail coils whenever he’s around you.
Everyone, it seems, except you.
“Hello, little demon,” He murmurs as he approaches you one afternoon, his tail coiled low around his ankles.
You’re sitting close to the edge of the forest, beside one of the large anìheyu plants. All your silly little notebooks are surrounding you, and though your head is ducked as you sketch its likeness in your book, you look up when you hear his voice.
You laugh at his customary greeting, as unbothered by his gruff demeanour as ever. He is grateful that you are not offended; he has never been good at being soft, though he tries.
“Hey, big guy.” You call back, a wide smile beginning to spread across your face. “What are you up to?”
Tsu’tey’s fingers twitch. Your face may be alien, but your features are not so dissimilar from that of the Na’vi. He finds you… attractive, in your own way, though it pains him a little to admit it.
“I wished to join in on the hunt today,” He murmurs as he comes to a stop in front of you, “But Mo’at has forbidden it.”
He is still recovering from his wounds, and he has found himself with an enormous amount of free time to spend; courtesy of Mo’at, who has been borderline vicious in her vehemence that he rests from his duties to heal. It stings his pride, but he respects the Tsa’hik too much to question her orders.
Your eyes drop to his battle scars, and he finds himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.
“That’s probably fair, right?” You ask, tilting your head. “You’re still healing-”
“I am still strong.” He interrupts, a little more forcefully than he had intended to. It’s important that you know that.
You just smile, little white teeth poking out as you bite at your lower lip. “I know that.”
That pleases him, and he rolls his shoulders back before sinking down into a crouch in front of you. Your eyes dart from his face to his torso to his legs and then back up again, and he feels his stung pride inflate under the weight of your shy gaze.
“I will not join the rest of the warriors on their hunt,” He murmurs, his gaze resting on your face as he tries to read every expression that flickers across it, “But I still wish to go on a hunt of my own. You.. are welcome to join me.”
You are difficult to read. You do not respond to his more coy flirtations; you never seem to notice when he communicates micro-expressions, his ears flicking back or the playful movements of his tail. And yet you perk up at his invitation, your eyes bright and interested as you carefully set your notes aside.
“Really?” You ask cautiously, your eyes flickering towards the longbow resting across his back.
When Tsu’tey just nods, you shove yourself to your feet with an eager little laugh. It feels like a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer – though he manages to keep his expression neutral, he can’t control the anticipatory little flick of his tail.
This is an opportunity he is eager to take advantage of; as he leads the way into the forest, he makes a point of keeping you in his sights at all times. You’re so small and useless, and it’s good to feel as though he can protect someone after his close brush with death.
Marching through the jungle is slow-going. You insist on stopping several times to peer at some of the plants that you’re curious about, and Tsu’tey just stands and waits each time. He wants to display his patience, though it’s admittedly never been one of his strongest virtues.
“Come, small one.” He says, his tail flicking impatiently even as he tries to accommodate your curiosity. Patience, he thinks to himself.
“What is this?” You ask in your broken Na’vi, your accent heavy and clumsy.
Tsu’tey’s ears twitch. He likes the sound of your stupid accent more than he should.
“Utral utu mauti,” He murmurs, stepping closer to you before saying in his own accented English, “Type of fruit tree.”
You make a soft sound of understanding, before nodding. “I’ve read about these! They grow utumauti fruit, right?”
Tsu’tey hums confirmation, though he’s not looking at the plant. He’s too busy watching your face.
“Come,” He murmurs, “You will watch me hunt.”
The two of you continue on through the jungle. Tsu’tey tracks prints, and you watch him. He adds more flourishes to his tracking and stalking than are entirely necessary; he is hyper-conscious under your curious eyes.
You are so much smaller than him, barely reaching his navel, so he keeps his pace slow and even to ensure you can keep up with him.
When the two of you finally catch up to a wild yerik, luckily separated from the herd, Tsu’tey feels his heart beating eagerly in his chest. This is a chance to display his physical prowess. To prove that even injured, he is a fearsome warrior and hunter.
Your eyes are trained on him as he nocks an arrow and prepares to loose. Your gaze trails along his bicep and his chest, and he feels his pride flare all over again. When he looses the arrow, it finds its mark with ease.
He leaps from the cover of the trees and rushes to the fallen animal, snatching his knife from his waist and bending by the yerik’s head to murmur the customary words of thanks before ending the creature’s pain.
Cautiously, you step out after him and stare with wide eyes.
“Wow,” You murmur, stepping close to him. “It’s so big.”
The yerik is not so large or impressive as other prey, such as a talioang, yet your awe pleases Tsu’tey greatly. He can’t suppress the smug expression that grows across his face as he secures his prey with a rope to prepare to haul it back to the village.
He pauses halfway through tying a knot around the yerik’s middle so that he can look up to you, a self-satisfied sort of lazy smirk curling around his mouth. “I told you I am still strong.”
A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth, and you avert your eyes all of a sudden. You’re staring down at your feet, your fingers fidgeting together, but he can see that your mouth is smiling.
“Yes,” You say quietly, “Very strong.”
That night, Tsu’tey’s catch is prepared and roasted over the cook fire alongside the catch from the larger hunt. The village is alight with celebration – the People sing and dance, children running around screaming with laughter and younglings leaping about together. The light-natured atmosphere is infectious, and Tsu’tey finds himself feeling more cautiously upbeat than he has in a while now.
“I should probably head back to the science outpost,” You mention at some point as the village fills with laughter and chat and the smell of succulent meat cooking. “I don’t want to intrude on-”
“Stay.” Tsu’tey interrupts without thinking.
You pause, obviously surprised. He’s been most outspoken about how the small demons should not be allowed to intrude upon the People’s customs or private rituals. No doubt you’re confused by his sudden change of heart – he can’t explain it himself.
But you agree, a tentative smile blooming across your face.
Tsu’tey is not oblivious to the glances that the two of you get as he settles next to you – you’ve chosen to sit a little bit away from the large fire around which the rest of the tribe gathers. No doubt you feel self-conscious of the fact that you don’t belong here, but Tsu’tey is feeling bold tonight. He is content as he settles next to you, despite the curious glances he receives from his People.
In his hands, he carries two portions of yerik meat from his kill wrapped in a leaf – it is a wholesome, healthy meal, and he hands a portion to you with a pleased flick of his tail.
You accept your portion politely, but he notices that you don’t immediately move to eat it. Instead, you spend a moment peering at it as though inspecting the meat carefully.
The longer you go without trying the food he has caught for you, the more antsy he becomes. He bites into his own dinner, casting frequent sideways glances your way as he chews. Was it not cooked to your taste? Did you not like the way it was wrapped in the leaf? Was it the meat itself that was the problem? Perhaps you didn’t even like yerik meat. Was this your way of turning him down?
“You do not like it?” He asks at last, unable to contain himself any longer.
You look up at that, apparently a little startled. “No! I mean, yes! I like it just fine!”
And yet, you haven’t touched it.
Too late, Tsu’tey realises that you’re still wearing your strange face covering that you need to breathe. Ah, how foolish of him. You aren’t able to take it off to eat.
Embarrassed now, Tsu’tey feels his ears flatten back. It was an obvious oversight on his part, a stupid mistake. How could he not have anticipated this problem? Such a mistake makes him look inconsiderate.
“Ah. Your face covering-” He begins, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.
“No big deal!” You blurt hastily, sitting up straighter.
You’re so much smaller than him, dwarfed by his stature as you blink up at him. The size difference is going to Tsu’tey’s head – he can’t stop looking at the way your much smaller hands are wrapped around your food, at the way you’ve pressed a little closer to him.
He watches as you rip some of the meat out with your fingers, before taking a deep breath. You push the mask up for just a second, just long enough to push the food into your mouth before quickly reattaching the mask over your face again. Through the strange clear material protecting your face, Tsu’tey watches as you chew. The sight settles something inside of him, and some of the tension leaks out of his shoulders as he watches you eat his offering.
He’s not the only one watching you eat. The sight of him offering you food, and of you accepting it, has caught the attention of several members of the clan. The connotations are obvious, whether Tsu’tey chooses to think about them or not – if the sight of one of the clan’s foremost warriors participating in tentative courtship rituals with a Sky Person is shocking or disturbing in any way, they hide it well. It’s mainly surprised curiosity in the eyes of their observers.
“It’s good.” You murmur, sending him a quick smile. “The spices are different from anything I’m used to – it’s interesting.”
Tsu’tey’s tail lashes with gratification, satisfied with your acceptance of his advances. He should have known you would be interested in the spices used to cook the food, too. You’re such a curious little thing, always wanting to learn more. Your intelligence is commendable, and sets you apart from the rest of the tawtute.
You take another few bites of food, stuffing little handfuls under your mask quickly before replacing it back. Tsu’tey feels his chest puff the more you eat, his pride assuaged by the sight.
“You are hungry?” He asks, ducking his head a little closer to you. “You would like more?”
“No,” You murmur, but you give him a soft smile to soften your refusal. “Thank you. This is plenty.”
Tsu’tey settles back, his tail flicking in contentment. You may be a little demon that came from the sky, but having you sit huddled at his side eases the knot in his stomach that’s been present since his injury. He tries not to think too much about it.
A quick glance around shows that the eyes that had been watching them have shifted away, and he relaxes a little further. It’s mortifying enough to be offering such advances to a tawtute without the eyes of the clan watching.
You cough, and clear your throat. The sound draws his attention back to you, his eyes flickering carefully over your face. You appear a little flustered, and his brow draws down in a frown.
“What is wrong?” He asks carefully, narrowing his eyes as he watches you.
“Nothing.” You say hastily, but he sees the way you shift next to him. Your expression has changed a little, but he can’t quite interpret it. You lack the long ears and tail of the Na’vi, and so he finds it difficult to analyse your micro-expressions, but even still he can tell that something has changed.
“Tell me.” He demands, shifting to face you head on. “I will fix.”
You smile at him again, but this one seems more forced. It’s almost a grimace. Your hand moves to your stomach, and he follows the motion with a frown.
“It’s nothing, I just…” You wince. “It didn’t occur to me before, but.. I’m not sure how well humans can digest Pandoran meat.”
Tsu’tey’s frown only deepens. “I do not know this word. Digest. What does it mean?”
“It-” You begin, but you cut yourself off as an odd tremor moves across your face.
In a move that startles him into rearing back, you leap to your feet and make a run for the woods. It only takes a moment for Tsu’tey to recover from his surprise, and then he pushes himself up to his feet too. Ignoring the heads that have turned in his direction thanks to the commotion, he takes off after you.
It doesn’t take much effort to catch up to you, considering the difference in the size of your legs. You’ve only just managed to reach the treeline before falling to your knees, and by the time he catches up to you, you’ve torn your breathing mask off to allow you to retch into the vegetation.
Tsu’tey’s ears flick back, watching uneasily as you vomit. He has never been very good at providing comfort, but he reaches out to touch your shoulder all the same.
You retch again, then fumble to put your mask back on so you can breathe.
“Oh no, don’t look at me,” You practically wail, ducking your head down so he can’t see your face. “This is so humiliating.”
“What is wrong?” Tsu’tey asks insistently, lowering himself to crouch beside you as his tail twitches anxiously. “I will call for Mo’at-”
“Don’t you dare!” You gasp, reaching back blindly to grab at him even as you gag again.
Tsu’tey bares his teeth in frustration, growing increasingly more restless. He hates feeling helpless, and he doesn’t understand what is happening with you. “You are sick.”
“No,” You gasp. The worst of the gagging seems to be over, and you push yourself back to sit clumsily on your behind. “No, it was just… I don’t think Pandoran food is compatible with human digestive systems.”
His tail flicks again as he watches you, growing uneasy. “What does this mean?”
“I can’t eat the same food as you.” You say, before ducking your head and groaning a little as another wave of nausea hits you.
Tsu’tey goes still, watching you close your eyes and wince. The food he had provided you with has made you ill. Humiliation settles low in his stomach. So this is why you were reluctant to try it – you were unsure if it was safe for you to eat.
His attempt to impress you has ended up making you sick. The only thing that saves him from total disgrace is the fact that you’re very visibly flustered and apologetic about it.
“I’m sorry,” You insist, clearly mortified as you raise your head to squint at him through streaming eyes. “Really, it was very nice-!”
His ears twitch low and his tail wrapped tightly around his leg in contrition. “I did not know-”
“I know you didn’t,” You interrupt hastily. It’s clear that you feel thoroughly embarrassed about the situation – you can hardly meet his eyes. “Please, don’t worry about it.”
Your reassurance helps, but only slightly. He still feels entirely humiliated, and he watches with dismay as you finally push yourself to your feet.
“I think,” You begin without making eye contact, “That I should probably get back to the outpost.”
His stomach plummets, and his pride with it. This has gone so terribly wrong. He’s not even really sure what he was trying to do here – what was he even thinking?
“Yes.” He says stiffly. “You should.”
Your expression shifts a little, and you nod. The air between you both has changed slightly; gone was the easy camaraderie that you have both worked so hard on for the past few months, to be replaced with an awkward tension.
“I’m sorry,” You say again, your voice low and embarrassed. “I.. the meat was very nice. Thank you. I’m sorry about… you know.”
That… is slightly more promising.
Tsu’tey stands, then reaches down to offer his hand to help you. For a moment, you just stare at his outstretched hand as though you can’t figure out what he’s doing. He draws on his patience, and is rewarded for it when you reach out and take his hand, allowing him to guide you back to your feet. Your palm is warm and dry against his, your hand so small and soft that he gets momentarily distracted.
You smile at him again, and finally this one seems more genuine, though it’s a little abashed. Tsu’tey’s ears flick towards you cautiously, testingly, and you keep smiling.The knot in his stomach loosens a little.
Perhaps his chances aren’t entirely decimated after all. Next time, he will try gift-giving instead.
go read all of her works. right now. on demand. on the double. stat.
fell in love with her writing, and i’m also amazed at both the amount she writes and the quality of her writing, genuinely the best works i’ve ever read for avatar.
miguel saving you from a burning building and you both click…
as the city's blazing inferno raged on, miguel swung through the burning buildings, his nanotech suit emitting a faint blue glow as he searched for survivors. the heat was intense, causing his skin to glisten with sweat and his red eyes to flash with determination.
and then, through the thick smoke, he spotted you. a look of panic on your face as you struggled to find a way out. without hesitation, miguel swung down towards you, his web-shooters launching a lifeline to whisk you out of danger. he pulled you close to his chest, shielding you from the flames as he carried you to safety.
once the danger had passed and you were both out of harm's way, miguel gently set you down, concern etched on his face. he took a moment to catch his breath before speaking.
“are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry. "you had me worried there. you should be more careful."
“you nodded, a mix of relief and gratitude flooding through you. "thank you, Miguel. i don't know what i would have done without you."
he smiled softly, though his eyes carried a spark of mischief. "well, lucky for you, i seem to keep running into you. accidents or not. maybe fate is trying to tell us something."
a blush crept onto your cheeks as miguel’s words sunk in. he was asking you out, plain and simple. and you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.
“if fate insists, who am i to argue?" you replied, a playful smile curling up the corners of your lips. "so, how about that dinner date? you know, when you're not busy being a superhero."
miguel's grin widened, his eyes glimmering with newfound joy. "sounds perfect. and who says being a superhero has to be a hindrance? i assure you, i’m a multitasking expert."
with that, the two of you walked off into the night, headed for a night of sparks and possibilities.
…
a/n: my own lil spin on it and i was inspired by them: @mayzeoflife 🔥💆🏽♀️🩷
Miguel O’Hara: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?
Reader.: It was autocorrect.
Miguel O’Hara: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me."?
Reader.: Yes.
•
Miguel O’Hara: Sorry I’m late, I was doing things.
Reader: Hi, I’m ‘things’.
•
Miguel O’Hara: Y/n, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?
Reader, naked in Miguel O’Hara's bed: No, I absolutely do not.
Miguel O’Hara, already taking off their clothes: Fuck... Me neither.
•
Reader: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.
Peter B. Parker: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.
Reader: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.
Miguel O’Hara, on a walkie talkie: This is Miguel O’Hara, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.
•
Peter B. Parker: This totally sucks, man.
Miguel O’Hara: This is horrible.
Peter B. Parker: Yeah, I know, I mean look at today’s news.
Miguel O’Hara: No, it’s not that, it’s Y/n.
Miguel O’Hara: It’s just like, I can’t get them out of my head and every time I look at them I have this pains in my chest, and I just know it’s their fault, that bitch!
•
Reader: *yawns*
Miguel O’Hara: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring.
Reader: Then you must be exhuasted.
Peter B. Parker: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.
•
Peter B. Parker: We have a problem.
Miguel O’Hara: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps making them.
Reader: Ha!
•
Miguel O’Hara: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.
Reader: Aren't you forgetting something?
Miguel O’Hara: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Reader's forehead before running out.*
Reader: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?
•
Miguel O’Hara: I love you.
Reader, not paying attention: What was that?
Miguel O’Hara: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-
•
Peter B. Parker: Is this your plan B?
Reader: Technically, this is plan P.
Peter B. Parker: Plan P? Is there a plan M?
Reader: Yes, but I marry Miguel in plan M.
Miguel O’Hara: I like plan M.
•
Peter B. Parker: I didn't drink that much last night.
Miguel O’Hara: You were flirting with Y/n.
Peter B. Parker: So what? They're my partner.
Miguel O’Hara: You asked if they were single.
Miguel O’Hara: And then you cried when they said they weren't.
•
Reader: Would you like something to drink? *opens the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-
Miguel O’Hara: Spiders?
Reader: Spiders it is then.
Miguel O’Hara: No, that wasn't-
* But you were already pouring them a brimming glass of spiders…*
•
Reader: I made tea.
Miguel O’Hara: I don’t want tea.
Reader: I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.
Miguel O’Hara: Then why are you telling me?
Reader: It is a conversation starter.
Miguel O’Hara: That’s a lousy conversation starter.
Reader: Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.
•
Reader: Must be hard not being able to laugh
Miguel O’Hara: I do have a sense of humor you know
Reader: I’ve never heard you laugh before
Miguel O’Hara: I’ve never heard you say anything funny
•
Reader: What's a word thats a mix between 'sad' and 'mad'?
Miguel O’Hara: Disgruntled, miserable, desolated-
Peter B Parker: Smad.
•
Reader: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?
Miguel O’Hara: *turning to Peter* How tall are you?
•
Miles Morales: How did none of you hear what I just said?
Reader: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.
Peter B Parker: I got distracted about halfway through.
Miguel O’Hara: Ignoring you was a conscious decision
•
Reader: Yo is Miles sleeping or dead?
Miguel O’Hara: Hopefully dead, I hated their guts.
Peter B Parker: Yeah, so did I.
Miles Morales: Okay first of all, fuck you-
•
Reader, setting down a card: Ace of spades
Miguel O’Hara, pulling out an Uno card: +4
Peter B Parker, pulling out a Pokémon card: Jolteon, I choose you
Miles Morales, trembling: What are we playing
•
Reader: Why is Miguel so sad?
Peter B Parker: They took one of those “Which Character Are You?” quizzes
Reader: And...?
Miguel O’Hara: I got Miles Morales.
•
Reader: I think we're missing something.
Miguel O’Hara: Teamwork?
Peter B Parker: Cohesion?
Miles Morales: A general sense of what we’re doing?
•
Reader: I think Miles Morales was right.
Miguel O’Hara: I'm surprised they haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'
Peter B Parker: They wouldn't do that.
Miles Morales: You're right, Peter. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.
Miles Morales: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Miles Morales Told You So' on the back*
•
Reader: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.
Miguel O’Hara: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.
Peter B Parker: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-
•
Reader: I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.
Miguel O’Hara: It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and Peter Parker isn’t
•
Reader: In my defense, I was left unsupervised.
Miguel O’Hara: Wasn't Peter with you?
Peter B Parker: In my defense, I was also left unsupervised.
•
Reader: HELP! I TOLD PETER I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK!
Miguel O’Hara, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?
•
Reader: You look nice, I want to kiss you.
Miguel O’Hara: What?
Reader: I SAID IF YOU DIED, I WOULDN’T MISS YOU.
•
Reader: As top in this relationship, I think we should-
Miguel O’Hara: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.
•
Miguel : Y/n and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-
Reader: Sentences.
Miguel : Don't interrupt me.
•
Miguel: In light of what you did for me, you can hug me for four to five seconds.
Reader: FORTY FIVE SECONDS?!?
Miguel: No! Four to five seconds!
Reader: Too late!!!
•
Miguel: I'm so tough, I'm on alert even when there's no danger!
Because just think about it, he has all the right qualities, he’s so perfect for that AU. He’s broody, sad backstory, a bit monstrous, big softy deep down, 10/10 could use a hug, wants needs a little love.
I don’t even know how i would go about this but the idea came to me and it won’t go away but also I don’t really know what to do with it so it’s just ramble time i suppose-
p.s. also i can so clearly picture peter b. as Lumiere lol
I don’t have a tag list. 😅Please follow @astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new! 🥰
All my writing can also be found chronologically under the tag: cici writes and shorter drabbles in cici drabbles
MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST
Highlights
Red Flags | 🔞 Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector | Part: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08| 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | {AO3} | co-written @thirstworldproblemss
Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way. Or alternatively: You get to use that ankle restraint on Steven and sit on his beautiful face.
Fit to Burst | 🔞 Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector | 3.5k words {AO3} | co-written @thirstworldproblemss
Marc decides to teach you a lesson when you mistake him for Steven.
Gift of Min | Part 2 | 🔞 Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector| 8.2k words {AO3}
Marc brings back a trinket from his trip that may or may not contain an ancient sex god/aphrodisiac. Either way, Marc’s not telling, and it’s for you and Steven to find out.
Moon Knight Smut Anthologies | A collection of smutty one-shots.
SPIDERVERSE MASTERLIST
Highlights
Every You Every Me | Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader
Multi-chapter: You are falling from the 44th floor of the Chrysler building when you’re saved by the unfriendly neighborhood Spider-man: Miguel O'Hara.
Rainy Night Patrol | 🔞| Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader
Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.
Superhuman Stamina | 🔞 | Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader
The dangers of dating a man with superhuman stamina.
Stitches and Claws | 🔞| Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader
You find yourself in a compromising position on your knees when you help stitch up Miguel’s wounds.
TRIPLE FRONTIER MASTERLIST
Highlights
Homecoming | 🔞 Santiago Garcia x female reader x Frankie Morales | {Ao3}
Multi-chapter: Santi comes home to Frankie and his wife– this time to stay. a.k.a. The polyamorous adventures of Santiago Garcia with Frankie and wife™.
Telltale Heart | 🔞 Frankie Morales x female reader | 14.9k words {Ao3} {Playlist}
Oneshot: After Frankie comes back from Colombia, maybe the right decision would have been a divorce.
Don’t they know it’s the end of the world | 🔞 Joel Miller x female reader | 3.5k {Ao3}
Oneshot: There are many things Joel would like to forget, you hope you’re not one of them.
Kill me softly | 🔞 Dave York x Female reader | 8.5k words {Ao3} {Playlist}
Oneshot: This man in front of you is not your husband.
Versus | 🔞 Frankie Morales x female reader
Multi-chapter: Dave York is assigned with a name on his list to take care of, one that hits a bit too close to home for Frankie, yours.
I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVEN’T REBLOGGED THIS YET WTF IF WRONG WITH ME 😭😭
anywayyyyyy much joy and love to you all, if you see this, go binge her works, right now. i swear she only produces top tier quality and every update is a colorful blessing in this bleak world we live in 🙏🙏
Pt 1: Pink Pastels the meme
Pt 2: O'Hara Household
Pt 3: Back at Your Apartment 🔥
Pt 4: Miguel's Day (sorta 🔥)
Pt 5: The Street at Night the meme
Pt 6: Field Trip
Pt 7: Inside the Zoo
Pt 8: Through the Daisy Chain🔥 the meme
Pt 9: The Sports Bar
Pt 10: Rooftop🔥 the meme
Pt 11: Your Classroom
Pt 12: Sick Day
Pt 13: Your New Apartment
Pt 14: Your Balcony🔥
Pt 15: Gabi's Bedroom
Pt 16: The O'Hara's Livingroom
Pt 17: Clubbing to Your Apartment Building
Pt 18: Nightfall in Nueva York the meme the other meme
can i plllllleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase have a bubbly reader offering miguel a hug (as a joke bc hes grumpy) and he says no at first but later on when hes rlly upset abt whatever he puts his pride in his pocket and asks for one??? i know tht man is touchstarved a good hug might fix him
wait shut up. this is adorable :((
✫ ;: .. A HUG? / miguel o’hara
fluff; that’s literally it; maybe a bit of angst??
“And why are you so grumpy?” You slid across the bench, as Miguel sat, minding his own business and eating. He doesn’t spare you a glance as you just rested your hands on your elbows, tilting your head with a smile.
“What is she doing?” Gwen asks, from her farther seat, next to Hobie, Pavitr, Miles, and (occasionally) Peter. They are all staring at you and your bubbly nature.
“Ah, let her figure out how antisocial he is.” Peter shrugs, adjusting Mayday’s spider beanie.
“I think she already knows.” Miles says.
“That’s probably why she’s over there. To “cheer” him up.” Pav adds.
“Good luck with tha’” Hobie lightly chuckles, resting back against Pav as he swings his legs up, watching what he’d call a “show”.
“You look like you could use a friend.” You say, finally making Miguel look at you. His expression was the definition of ‘indifferent’. Your smile didn’t fall. “Or maybe an acquaintance you can talk to?”
Miguel’s expression doesn’t shift. You nod. “Imma have you figured out soon…I promise.” Your eyes slightly narrow in an inspection of him. Then he turns back to his food.
“It’s going well.” Pav sarcastically comments back at their table, making Hobie scoff.
“You know…” you say, fingers lightly tapping the table. “There’s things that can help with being moody.”
“I’m not moody.”
“Ah huh!” You softly cheer. “You spoke. Progress.”
Miguel looks exasperated as he shuts his eyes. He just wanted to enjoy his empanada.
“But you wanna know what will help?”
“I’m not…moody.” He repeats a little slower, to make sure you heard.
“Yeah you are. But it’s okay. Cause you wanna know what will help?”
“You clearly want to tell me.” Miguel breathes out.
“Mhm.” You smile. “A hug.”
Miguel shifts his gaze to you, blinking a few times.
From the farther table, the spider gang is still thoroughly invested. “Oh shit, he looks annoyed.” Miles comments.
“What do think she said?” Gwen asks, resting against the table.
“Tha’ he looks like a wannabe gangster.” Hobie says, now rocking his leg slightly back and forth as he watches.
“A hug would help. It helps me.” You are saying, still staring at Miguel, smiling.
Miguel clicks his jaw, before he’s standing, muttering to himself.
“Let me know!” You call to his leaving form with a chuckle.
;;
Later that night Miguel is pacing his office, just back from a mission that went terribly. The anomaly got away. And Miguel is beating himself up inside. How could he let that happen?
You’re walking down HQ’s hallway, looking for something you had dropped. As you scanned the floor, you hear muttering that reminded you of earlier today. Miguel.
You stopped by his slightly cracked open office door. You carefully knock. Miguel swings it open, sighing upon seeing you. “Now’s not a good time.”
You smile. “Don’t worry. I just want to ask if you’ve seen a pen.”
“A pen?” Miguel’s brows furrow.
“Mhm. I lost it.” You reply. “You look stressed.”
“I’m not—“ he takes a deep breath. “I’m fine. And no I haven’t seen your pen.”
“No worries.” You begin to back away. “Let me know if you see it though. It’s got a weird blue design on it.”
Miguel’s mind is whirring for some reason, as he finds himself calling for you to stop and turn back around. “Did you mean it?” He muttered it so quietly that you almost missed it.
You’re now walking back, eyeing him. “Mean what?”
Miguel’s tongue pokes out against his cheek, feeling his entire body drenched with exhaust and self pity. And putting his pride away he says “A hug.”
“A hug?” Your smile has widened. “I thought you weren’t moody?”
“I’m not. I just— you know what forget I asked.” Miguel goes to turn away feeling stupid, but then you’re reaching forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, with a smile.
At first Miguel doesn’t know where to place his hands, but you stay put, just resting your body against his, as your cheek slightly squishes up against his shoulder. Then Miguel slowly—very slowly—wraps his arms around your midriff, and hugs you back.
Miguel doesn’t what to admit that his body has instantly relaxed upon feeling yours against his. Your hand had begun to softly soothe the top of his back. Just drawing in slow circles, that makes his muscles stop their tensing.
And that hug wasn’t the last time it happened.
Now Miguel would secretly search for you. Big on the ‘secret’ part though, because he can’t have anyone else knowing he likes to hug you. No that would cause too many implications and destroy his well thought out ‘in control’ demeanour.
So when he’d find you walking alone—something he noticed you did a lot. And after he’d make sure that you were both in a desolate enough place, he’d softly grab your arm, pulling you somewhere even more desolate before he’s wrapping his arms around you in a much needed hug.
You didn’t mind. Hugs had always been your love language with family and friends alike. Though you were surprised by how often Miguel would now seek you out, just so you could rest your head on his shoulder and draw patterns on his back.
He claimed it was just for relaxation and that you shouldn’t have offered him a hug if you would’ve asked so many questions. So you let him, his own hand having gradually drawn its own patterns on your waist.
He liked hearing and feeling your breathing. Your breath by his ear sent almost cleansing shivers through him. And the feel of the rise and fall of your chest against his own made his usually racing heartbeat calm down to match with yours.
He liked the calmness your body gave him. And deep down he knew he now craved it.
;;
You were all in a different universe. Gwen, Miles, Pavitr, Hobie, Peter, Mayday, Miguel and you. Jess had to take care of another mission so Miguel very clearly claimed how he’s stuck with you all, his scowl very present.
It was midway through trying to catch this anomaly when Miguel’s gaze gets caught up in a man and his baby. And as you stopped, noticing his focused gaze first, you identified the man and baby as Miguel and his daughter.
You didn’t know much about Miguel’s daughter. Just that in his universe she had died. And now as Miguel watches a variant of himself with a variant of his daughter he can feel his body tensing.
He’s never had the misfortune of seeing variants of his family before. And now really wasn’t the time to dwell and sink deeper into his mind but he just can’t help it.
“Is he okay?” Whispered Miles to Peter.
Peter shakes his head. “But there’s nothing we can do about it. No one can take him out of episodes like this.”
Because everyone could see that inside Miguel was fuming, so close to exploding that everyone had almost taken a step back.
You stared at Miguel, watching as his chest heaved with a racing heart.
You remember one time he had muttered to you, head in your neck. You weren’t sure if you were actually meant to hear it or not. But he had said how your breathing slowed his breathing. Or something along those lines. Because after he had said that he had drawn you in tighter, keeping his large hands around your body.
So now you edge closer. And this could be a terrible idea, you realise that. Your friends seem to as well.
“Y/n!” Gwen hisses quietly, watching as you edged closer to the ‘beast’ or how everyone else was treating him like.
You all needed Miguel to focus to capture this especially dangerous anomaly. You couldn’t have him trapped in his mind teetering on the edge.
So you continued to walk forward, and as everyone stared in shock, you carefully wrapped your hands around his neck in a hug. You did so very lightly, to give him any room for rejection. You were actually waiting for the rejection.
But then, to everyone’s shock, Miguel wraps his arms around your waist, just like every other time. And he’s found you fit against him so nicely, it felt so comfortable. Your heartbeat was against his now, and the slower tempo made Miguel sink into your neck, his arms now engulfing you.
Shocked now isn’t a big enough word. Because you were hugging Miguel. And it wasn’t the ‘you’ part everyone was surprised by. It was the ‘Miguel’ part. He was clearly eager to hug you back, and they all watched as Miguel practically became putty in your hold.
Yes. Miguel craved your hugs now. And there was nothing you could do to stop him from bringing you in and keeping you close. You were now his comfort and he a wasn’t going to let that go so easily.
please, i am BEGGING you!!! go check out this persons works!!! they are all amazing and there are so many of them! i’ve been on a BINGE for the past three days or so-
me, liking as many of a creators posts possible without spamming:
me, reblogging the posts of works i really enjoy and recommending all the works posted by the creators :
also me, coming back to reread said posts only to realize i never followed the original creators and wallowing in absolute stomach dropping embarrassment while simultaneously following them and crying on the inside :
(gif not mine, all credit goes to its original creator)
description: Just Peter Parker falling for you and coming up with the silliest plan to talk to you more.
word count: 1.8k
warnings: some Spider-Man Homecoming spoilers, Peter being a dork lol
a/n: Hello! This is my first time writing for Peter and I’m such nervous posting it, but I adore him and thought the origin story of how my bf and I got together suited Peter so well. Lol. So enjoy!
step one step two step three step four step five step six
step seven step eight step nine 1.3k words
— miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.
contains: I’ve gotten some help with my Spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the Spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; Spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’
Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.
He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.
You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.
He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.
So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.
You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."
Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.
When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.
Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.
"How's your bloody boring shit going?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.
"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.
He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."
You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"
Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start calling you boss, and kissing your boots?"
Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."
Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."
Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.
You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.
You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.
Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)
You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"
He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.
He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)
"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.
"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, chaparrita. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”
You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"
"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.
"To prove I'm helpful."
"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"
"Of course."
"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.
"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"
He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."
"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.
You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.
;;
You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.
Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.
'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.
You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.
"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.
Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."
You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."
Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."
You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.
"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.
"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.
Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.
You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"
"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"
You nod.
"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."
You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."
He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working for me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."
You eye him. "Like what?"
"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."
You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.
