#I am so mean to Miguel in this chapter

[sunshiline-writes]

A Rose Amidst Thorns #15: A New Set of Rules

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Synopsis: Miguel gets a set of new rules. And learns exactly what he is in this hierarchy

CW: Dehumanization, like HEAVY dehumanization plz be safe, cigarettes, whumpee used as an ashtray, graphic description of mouth burns, EMETO (its kinda nasty so just.. be careful again), forced alcohol consumption, conditioning, altered state of mind, whumper POV

Something had to change. Everything was out of control. Solomon had tried to take his wife. Henrietta thought that somehow, that was fine. Miguel kept fighting back. All of them kept fighting back. It was getting exhausting. It was going to get worse if Xavier didn’t put a stop to it now. 

Separating the three of them had been the first step. Solomon was sleeping away his illness in his bedroom. Henrietta no longer had keys to any of the rooms in the house. Even if she wanted to visit him, the threat of death Xavier had loomed over him, kept her at bay for now. Miguel, was back in the hayloft, chained down like the dog he was. 

Solomon and Henrietta were easy enough to deal with. But Miguel was proving to be more and more of a problem. He was getting restless. Starting to test the waters as he always did. Xavier preferred him half dead or dissociated to the point where he was a shell of a human. Three days ago, he’d thrown the food he’d been given at Abraham, who’d been on food duty that day.  

Today, Xavier would be delivering Miguel’s first meal since then. It had been two weeks since The Solomon incident. After he’d carried Miguel’s unconscious body into the hayloft and clamped the manacle around his ankle, Xavier had deemed it better to leave the kid alone. He needed time to heal. If he looked at him, Xavier was going to smash his head into the wall. 

He was calmer now. Calculating. He brought up the tray of food to the hayloft, balancing it against his hip with one hand, grabbing the ladder with the other. Xavier wasn’t surprised to see Miguel curled in on himself, asleep on the cot that had been provided. He brought the tray of food next to the cot, leaving it on the floor. 

This had been Miguel’s first room at the Reede Ranch. Thirteen years old and all fire and fury. He had proved himself, gaining a nice cog in the closet in the hallway. Inside where it was warm at night. Where he could join them for breakfast at the table like a human. He had earned that respect. But now, he was back in the hayloft, the metaphorical dog house. Too much trouble. Too many mistakes had been made. Now corrections had to be made. 

Gently, Xavier ran a hand through Miguel’s hair.

“Wake up kid. We gotta talk,” he said as soon as Miguel’s eyes focused enough that he was sure the kid was listening. 

A frown lined his features as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. Bare feet resting on the wood floor. Good hand gripping the edge of the cot, his other hand resting in his lap. It was still healing. Stupidly slowly, but Solomon had said that it would. Still though, it was annoying. It had been two months, and that hand was still proving to be useless. 

“Are you hungry?” Xavier asked as Miguel glanced at the food. 

The boy nodded, eyes wary. Good. 

“You can eat in a moment. But right now? We’re gonna set some new rules for you. Yeah?” Xavier didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “I think you’ve forgotten your place here. The fact that you’re at the bottom of the hierarchy.” 

Miguel’s throat bobbed slightly. The bruising had faded to an ugly yellowish color, but it was still there. A testimony to when Xavier had lost a bit of control. Nearly killing the boy. 

“You’re the dog here. So here are the rules. You do what I tell you, when I tell you. This isn’t new, but I think you need a reminder. If I tell you to sit, you sit. If I say roll over? Fucking roll over.” Xavier took a deep breath, “I’m going to bringing your food everyday from now on. Unless I’m on business then it’ll be Jesse. When you see us coming up that ladder? You greet us on your knees.” Xavier paused, searching for a reaction. 

Miguel’s frown deepened, eyes widening slightly. He opened his mouth slightly, seemingly in an attempt to protest. But Xaviers glare must have been enough of a warning, as he snapped his mouth shut. The boy worked his jaw, gritting his teeth. 

Xavier smiled. Miguel at least knew better than to argue. 

“Why don’t you practice right now? On your knees mutt.” 

There was a moment, a precious moment of Miguel, staring up at him. Eyes wide. Cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. At this moment, he didn’t know if Miguel would surrender, or follow the order. Not until slowly, the kid lowered himself to his knees. Head hanging on his chest. Teeth grinding against each other so hard, Xavier could hear it clearly. 

Xavier reached down to grab Miguel’s chin, forcing him to look at him. 

“Look at me when I talk to you. You’re so pathetic. Look at you. Groveling at my feet,” Xavier can’t help himself when he laughs, thumb idly tracing Miguel’s jaw. “You look better like this. Okay, back to the rules. If you mention Solomon or Henrietta to me. I will beat their names out of your thoughts. They don’t exist anymore. Not unless I say so. You’re not going to see them for a long, long time. So better get used to it. If I see their names in your hands, I’ll break them again. Nod if you understand.” 

There were tears in Miguel’s eyes, making them shine in the dull light. Slowly, he nodded. Bottom lip quivering. Since when has Miguel been so pretty when he cried? Xavier watched as the tears overflowed and slowly started down Miguel’s cheeks. He leaned forward, licking them away with his tongue. 

“Don’t cry.. it’s fine. All you need is me anyway. I own you. You’re mine. You were never Solomons, or Henrietta’s. Or even Jesse’s. You’ve always been mine,” Xavier stated plainly. He let go of Miguel’s jaw. Watching him idly. “If you’re ever in the house again, you don’t sit on the furniture. You’re only allowed your cot in here. Otherwise, you stay on the floor where you belong.” 

Xavier sighed, pulling out a cigarette and a match from his shirt pocket. Then he lit it. Taking in a puff and relishing in the wave of relief that coursed through him. He leaned down and blew out the smoke in Miguel’s face. His nose scrunched and he coughed. Xavier laughed. Taking a seat on Miguel’s cot with a creak. 

“Come here,” he called to him, waving him over to the spot in between his legs. There was a moment of hesitation, Miguel’s expression twisting into one of apprehension. “I said come here Miguel.” 

Slowly, Miguel shuffled on his knees in between Xavier’s legs. “Whenever Jesse comes in? You do what he says. If you fight, or hurt him in anyway, I’ll take your tongue. Not like you need it anyway,” he said as he took another drag. Blowing it again in Miguel’s face. Again, Miguel nodded, adams apple bobbing up and down. Xavier was half hard in his pants. But.. he wasn’t here for that. Not today. 

“Open your mouth Miguel.” 

Another moment of hesitation. The boy swallowed thickly, before slowly opening his mouth. “Close your eyes and stick your tongue out, mutt.” 

A whimper came from the back of the boy's throat that sent a heat to Xavier's core. Still, Miguel complied, eyes closing and tongue sticking out. His breathing was hard. Miguel was panting like a dog too. 

Xavier took one more drag from his cigarette, then promptly put the burning end out on Miguel’s tongue. One hand grabbed Miguel by the throat, the other on his shoulder to hold him still. His eyes shot open and he screamed. Closing his mouth shut and accidentally taking the cigarette into his mouth. Xavier slammed a hand over his mouth and nose. Growling. 

“I didn’t say you could open your eyes, or close your mouth.. so now you have to swallow it.” 

Miguel shook his head, trying to free himself of Xavier's hand. Falling backward, Xavier followed him, straddling him and only pushing the hand harder on his face. 

“Swallow it or suffocate your choice kid.” 

The boy whined, tears starting to flow freely down his face again. Xavier wrapped a hand around his throat, gently squeezing. Finally he saw the boy swallow, felt it slide down his throat. Then he let the boy go. Stepping off him and watching Miguel roll on his side and cough harshly. Miguel started to retch, good hand holding onto his stomach. Xavier watched with disinterest until the boy finally stilled for a moment, pressing his forehead into the hay covered floor. He retched another time, and this time bile, ash, and the cigarette was in a puddle on the floor.  

His hand was rubbing circles on his chest as he sat himself up on his knees. Xavier didn’t care about that though. He moved to the front of Miguel, crouching just in front of the vomit on the floor. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” 

Every part of Miguel was trembling, his eyes glassy. Xavier reached out to him, gripping at his hair, before slamming his face downwards. He held his face down in the vomit. That was what people did to bad dogs right? Shove them in their own sick? Miguel was fully sobbing now, but he wasn’t struggling, instead he just laid there. There was a feeling of satisfaction at that. He let Miguel’s hair go. Watching as Miguel slowly let himself sit up again.  “I’ll bring you a bucket and a towel to clean yourself up.” 

With trembling hands, he signed a simple ‘thank you’ to Xavier. 

“When I come back, your food better be gone. And you’ll be on your knees waiting for me right?” 

A sniffle and a nod is what he got in response. It was good enough. Xavier stood up and left. He took a little longer to get the supplies he needed. It would give Miguel a chance to collect himself, to breathe. Sometimes with Miguel, leaving him alone was just as useful as spending every moment with him. The kid was someone who tended to get trapped in his own thoughts. Spiraling lower and lower if left alone in the right environment. Xavier’s sister was similar in that way. When they were younger, she’d follow him around because her thoughts were always too loud. 

When he came back, Miguel was already on his knees, chin against his chest. His plate of simple sliced apples and goat cheese was gone. He didn’t think that anything heavier would sit well in Miguel's stomach. His eyes glanced up from the ground and met Xaviers. Xavier smiled, dropping the bucket with water next to them. Miguel jumped a little when it landed.

Slowly, he reached out to grab the towel and squeeze the excess as best he could with one hand. Miguel started with his face and neck, being careful over sore spots, still trying to get everything off his skin. He didn’t dare look at Xavier as he did so. The only noise for a few minutes was the sound of the rag being dipped into the bucket, squeezed and rubbed against Miguel's skin. He didn’t stop until Xavier waved him over, between his legs again. “Open your mouth for me,” he ordered. 

This time, Miguel did not hesitate as he opened his mouth. Xavier could see it there, the blister on his tongue. White and bubbled. His whole tongue was red and irritated as well. Xavier grabbed Miguel’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting his head up slightly to look more clearly. 

“Does it hurt?” Xavier asked, slowly, enunciating clearly for the boy to see. 

The boy nodded, swallowing thickly. His breath was shaky, hot on Xavier’s hand. His free hand went to his belt, where his flask was. Lately, he’d been carrying it around more often. He twisted it open with his teeth. First, he held it over his mouth, about to tip it in. “If you spit it out, or if any drops. You’re licking it off the floor.” 

Then he poured it inside Miguel’s open and waiting mouth. If Miguel could scream, Xavier was sure he would have. But he was forced to let the alcohol coat his mouth. Swallowing with a choked gasp. Everytime Miguel swallowed and tried to take a breath, Xavier poured more down his throat. Making sure it coated his tongue. Miguel’s face was flushed red and his eyes glazed by the time Xavier poured the last bit down his throat. Finally letting go of Miguel’s face. “Repeat the rules back to me.. All the new ones. I want you to remember.” 

Miguel squinted up at Xavier’s lips, whimpering slightly. Xavier waited. Watching him carefully. The boy swayed slightly from his position on the floor. He shook his head and groaned lightly, resting his head on Xavier’s knee.  

“No no..” Xavier said, cupping Miguel's face and once again making the boy look at him. “I need you to tell me. It’s best you do it now. Once that whiskey really kicks in, I doubt you’ll remember your own name. You’re a lightweight,” he finished with a chuckle. 

Miguel blinked a few times, Xavier could see him thinking hard through the fog of the alcohol. He could be patient, he could wait for him to answer. This was just a test. Finally, after a moment and a short grunt, Miguel lifted his hand to finger spell a rule. 

“It’s okay if it’s not the whole rule, you can just sign the basics,” he assured softly. 

Miguel nodded and shut his eyes tightly, probably hit by a wave of dizziness. But the boy was starting to finger spell the basic rules. 

Always listen, no hurting Jesse, knees when you come in.

“You’re forgetting some Miguel,” Xavier whispered softly. Miguel swallowed thickly again, resting his head in the palm of his hand. He shook his head, whimpering. “You can do it sweetheart.” 

No Solomon. No Hen. No furniture.

Xavier grinned, all teeth and fondness. It seeped through everything. Miguel did know how to listen apparently. Despite the obvious issue with his hearing, he was a good listener. His eyes were fluttering shut, full body weight on his hand now. The only thing holding up Miguel's head was Xavier at this point. “I’m gonna ask you to do one more thing, just one more question for me sweetheart, can you do that?” Miguel groaned, a choked sound coming from him. “I know you’re tired. Just one more thing.” 

His eyes drooped but he lifted his head higher to look at him. “Good boy. What are you?” 

Miguel made a face of confusion, brain moving slowly, face contorting with realization as he shook his head. The immediate regret of that action, making him groan and his eyes roll backwards for a moment. Xavier removed his hand from holding up Miguel, and the kid slumped against his knee, slowly sliding down his leg. He made the sign for ‘please’ clumsily. Xavier stared down in contempt, kicking Miguel onto his back. He resting his spur on his shoulder, pressing it into the skin there.  

“What are you Miguel?” 

A sob emitted from the squirming thing beneath his boot. Coming fully from his chest as he lifted his good hand to grab at Xavier’s boot. He sighed, pressing the spur harder into Miguel's shoulder, a small pinprick of blood started to surround the spur. Miguel groaned and turned his face away from Xavier. But finally, he answered, signing, “Dog”. 

Xavier laughed, standing up from his seat and straddling Miguel. Grabbing his face, and leaning forward, they were so close he could smell the whiskey he poured on the boys breath. 

“Again.” 

Dog. 

“Again.”  

Dog. 

“One more time sweetheart.” 

Miguel was fully sobbing now, tears streaking down his face. Snot running down his lips. Truly pathetic. Just how Xavier liked him. He gently leaned forward again, pressing a soft kiss to Miguel’s forehead. 

Dog. I am a dog.  

“Good boy Miguel. Good boy.” 

Now they could start again. Fresh. New rules, new dog. It was a whole new start. 

Everything was going to be different now. In a good way. In the best way they could be. Because now, all each of them had was him. That was all they were ever going to need from now on.

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[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

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Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ���vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit. 

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

-

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location. 

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck! 

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot. 

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed. 

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored. 

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless. 

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location. 

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department. 

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought. 

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong. 

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home. 

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

 You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right? 

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono! 

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again. 

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’ 

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in. 

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes. 

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun… 

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

-

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance.  “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” 

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment. 

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!” 

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased. 

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.” 

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be. 

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

-

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will. 

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north. 

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans. 

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead. 

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone. 

Something just isn’t adding up. 

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you. 

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face. 

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up. 

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

-

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected. 

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment. 

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

[spideyheart]

not for us

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

summary: miguel o’hara found the face of the woman he had loved (and lost) in his office, donning a spider suit with a warm cup of coffee in hand for him. he knew there were no second chances, not for the both of you. still, he couldn’t help longing.

warning: a shit ton of angst… i just cannot let this man be happy, can i? death of loved ones (an alternate you and gabi).

note: fun fact! i wrote this feverishly under my covers at 1 am. enjoy while we wait for me to finish ripping my hair out over chapter two of my miguel series <3

miguel o’hara masterlist. | gif credit. | ao3 mirror.

You were dead. Miguel knew this.

When he looked up and saw you, smiling with a warm cup of coffee in your outstretched hand, he thought he had been hallucinating.

He thought that maybe Lyla had been right— his lack of sleep and refusal to take care of himself for the sake of work finally caught up to him, but no.

You were real.

Standing there, donning the same spider emblem so many others did. His weary eyes traced over your face, taking in every detail his worn out state allowed for him to. He felt almost selfish for the first thought that came to mind.

You looked as beautiful as the day he lost you.

His heart lodged up in his throat and his eyes stung with tears as he heard the sound of a slight laugh fall from your lips.

“Well, are you gonna take the coffee or what?”

He swallowed quickly, picking his head up off of the desk he had fallen asleep on in a flash. Instinctively, he stood up straighter and brushed back his hair, some part of him still wanting to look good for you.

Miguel grabbed the coffee from you with a tentative hand, almost afraid that if he touched you, you would fade to nothing.

(Just as you had a year ago.)

He had never been more grateful for the dim lighting of his office. If it had been any brighter, he was sure you would be able to see the way his eyes glassed over, as you spoke, filling to the very brim with solemn pain.

“I’m Y/n,” You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

He almost flinched. He knew that.

“Y/n L/n.”

His chest squeezed. It had been O’Hara, once.

“Peter B. recruited me this morning and I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Of course he did. Miguel made a mental note to have a chat with his least favorite Peter Parker.

At his lack of a response, you fiddled nervously with your hands. “Um, anyway, I’ve heard that you’re a huge workaholic. I mean, you’re the one who started this whole thing, right? I just… thought you could use a little pick me up.”

You gave him a smile so warm it burned.

His face shifted with an expression that was unreadable. Too many feelings were festering inside of him. Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too many unspoken words.

His voice came out gruff. “Thanks.”

(He didn’t mean for it to.)

The smile didn’t leave your face as you nodded, taking backwards steps out of his office. “Of course, anytime. Take care of yourself, Miguel. It was nice meeting you.”

His door clicked shut and Miguel fell to his knees.

You were lying. Probably. Most likely.

The only word he said to you was thanks, that too in the least thankful voice he could have ever mustered. (God, he was an idiot, wasn’t he?)

Still, your answer was typical of your character.

You were a kind person. Someone that always sought to see below what met the eye.

You had also always been a caring figure. One that doted, poured love onto whomever you could, even in the smallest of ways.

You had been that way with Gabi— gentle hands, a guiding voice. And you had been that way with him in a way, too.

Slipping him snacks in his work bag, knowing his habit of forgetting meals. Pulling blankets over his slumped form if he ever fell asleep at his desk, knowing his tendency to drown himself in work. Giving him all the kindness you could offer, reminding him of how much you loved him, knowing his self-doubtful ways.

You were being that way now, bringing him coffee at even hearing that he overworked himself. You didn’t even know him… and yet…

Miguel’s heart felt like it was being crushed and he swallowed back a sob, eyes squeezing shut.

Seeing you alive and well was all he wished for, but he hadn’t thought about the pain that came with knowing that he could never show up at your doorstep, begging for forgiveness for what he had done to you. To Gabi. To your world.

Because you weren’t his. This version of you didn’t love him, didn’t even know him.

(He supposed the other version of you didn’t exactly love him, either.)

“Lyla,”

His voice came out choked. He placed himself in front of his monitors almost robotically, hands moving absentmindedly to pull up and replay the same old home videos he tortured himself with for hours on end.

“Send out a message that I am not to be disturbed.”

𓂅

It had been an odd few months.

Miguel had spent more time with this… alternate you than he wanted, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was partially his fault.

He had made himself promise after promise, swearing to stay away from you— but you…

You were magnetic.

He was drawn to you the way planets and moons were drawn into their orbits — by a force so fundamental there was nothing that could be done to help it.

In the many missions he went on with you and in the small moments he had spent with you back at the society’s Headquarters, he had observed that you were different.

This version of you had a body that was littered with small scars, eyes that carried the certain pain that every version of Spiderman knew.

You were different, but so eerily the same.

You still laughed the way he remembered, with your whole heart, nose crinkling and eyes screwing shut. You still worried the same, always rounding into his office some way to another to check up on him. You made the same jokes, seemed to love the same things.

If anything, the small changes this new version of you possessed made him fall even more in love with you.

(He hadn’t thought that was even possible.)

Miguel had always known you were strong. But seeing that this version of you had remained softhearted — despite the many, many hardships that could have turned anyone bitter — attested to that trait even further. You were more resilient and kind than he had thought you were, and he adored you even more for it.

With the you that he had loved, he had known every nook. Every cranny. He had memorized every curve, every dip, every single part of you.

He had seen and touched and loved it all wholly, and now, some sick part of him was itching to do the same once again.

Miguel wanted to trace your scars, hear where they came from. He wanted to see every new part of you that was unfamiliar to him now, wanted to know if you still like being held the same, if your hair still smelled of lingering jasmine shampoo.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this. It was wrong. He knew it. You weren’t for him, not in this universe or any universe.

Because even the you that he had grown to love wasn’t meant to be his. He wasn’t the man that had raised your daughter, the man that had married you.

Still, what was more human than longing for what you cannot have? He had to remind himself over and over that he had tried that once.

He had reached for a happiness that was not written out for him. And the consequences…

His mind drifted to you. To Gabi.

To the way you had been close enough to touch, the way his beloved daughter had been in his arms. To the way you had both been so close and then gone like you were never there in the first place.

…The consequences had been devastating.

He would not make the same selfish mistake again. No, he wouldn’t. Happiness wasn’t for everyone, and he would force himself to live with that.

(Even if it hurt. Even if he longed for nothing more than you, you, you.)

𓂅

The mission had gone spectacularly downhill, and Miguel was in worse shape than he had ever been.

His body ached, but he bit back the pain.

He clumsily patched himself up and forced himself to carry on.

Miguel was in his office as he usually was, hunched over his monitors when you barged into the room.

“Miguel!” your voice was panicked as you made your way up to him. “Shit, shit, shit, I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

Your eyes were wide, swimming with worry, and Miguel had to force his gaze back to his screens.

“I am alive, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant, I-” You let out a frustrated breath. “God, Jess told me you were almost killed and now you’re just… on your computer again!?”

“I have to file a mission report.”

“Nope. Not now.”

Before Miguel would even process your words, your hands were already looping around his arm, pulling him away from his work with all the strength your smaller frame could muster.

“You are going to rest. Now. Where is your room, do you have a bed here? Take me there, now.”

Being a man of his size and strength, Miguel could have easily resisted your pulling, but some small part of him wanted this.

(He missed being cared for. He missed your hands on his skin. He missed you and he hated himself for it.)

“Why are you doing this, Y/n. It’s the middle of the night, you should be at home.”

“And you shouldn’t?”

Fair point. That silenced him.

You stopped in your tracks, heaving in small breaths before turning to him. “C’mon now. Open a portal into your room. You need a bed and a good night’s sleep for once.”

If this were anyone else, he would have told them to get lost. Go home. Crawl back to whatever universe they had come from, but it was you.

Miguel swallowed thickly and did as you asked.

He could almost hear Lyla’s snickering. Hear the teasing remarks she would always pester him with about how down bad he was.

(You made a comment once about how the cafeteria should serve Spiderman themed burgers, so he discreetly made it happen. You said something about how you liked his webbed cape, so he made sure to always put it to use if you were around. You could probably ask for the sun as a joke one day and he just might be lovesick enough to give the impossible task a try.)

He could also hear her reminder that it was incredibly unhealthy for him to let this version of you be a temporary filler for the hole left in his heart after he lost the woman he had loved.

(The woman he was never meant to have.)

Still. He had opened the portal. Betrayed his promises to himself yet again and let you take him by the hand into his room.

His bedroom looked untouched. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen asleep here, so it made sense.

You walked over to his bed, pulling Miguel with a small hand around his wrist, and stopped to point to the bed with a stern finger. “Change into some pajamas. Then get yourself here.”

The man grumbled, face flushing as he trudged over to his closet to grab a snug fitting cotton t-shirt and a pair of sweats. He flicked the light on in his small bedroom bathroom and went in to change.

When he came back, pajamas and all, you were sitting on his bed, having drawn his covers back.

You caught sight of him and bolted up with a smile.

“You look nice! Er, comfortable, I mean.”

Miguel felt his heart flutter. (Was it stupid that you still had that effect on him? Probably.)

You cleared your throat and laughed nervously before giving his bed a small pat. “Sleepy time.”

Miguel didn’t know why the action felt embarrassing, why he suddenly felt shy.

He laid his head down on the soft expanse of his pillow stiffly, body rigid as he heard you shuffling around to pull up his covers.

You just about pulled them up to his shoulders when you took notice of how uncomfortable he looked.

“You look uneasy, is something the matter?”

“No.”

“Would you like a blanket instead? Or, or, a blanket with your covers?”

“No.”

“Is it too warm in here? Too cold?”

“No.”

“Did you clean yourself up right? Did you take meds for the pain?”

“No.”

“Aha! I knew it was something. You really have to start taking care of yourself, Miguel. Where do you keep your medicine? Oh! And do you have a nighttime version? It could help you sleep.”

Miguel let out a sigh, sitting himself up. He made a vague gesture towards a desk, one he hadn’t touched or used in months.

“There’s a drawer in that desk…”

“Perfect.”

You walked over, pulling the drawer out to rummage through the contents of it. “Shoot, looks like you’re out of pills. Guess you’ll have to settle for the liquid kind. Do you have a spoon?”

“Kitchen.”

“Which is… where?”

He forgot. You didn’t live with him, you didn’t know this home.

“If you open the door here and, uh, walk right.”

“Okay,” You nodded, giving him a soft smile before walking out. “be back in a sec.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quietly to himself as soon as you were out of earshot. Dios, he felt stupid. How could he forget?

Maybe you were right, maybe he did need to start taking care of himself. His head felt foggy. His back was tight, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

You returned with a spoon in hand, clicking his bedroom door shut as you walked towards him.

“I don’t want to spill any, so I’m just gonna…”

You were in front of him, pouring the medicine into the spoon, and then your hand was on his shoulder, steadying yourself so you don’t let it spill.

He was sure he’d scold himself in the morning for what he was doing, but just for now… just this once… he let himself melt into your touch.

His muscles visibly relaxed as he downed the tart tasting liquid. He let out a sigh as you pulled the spoon back from his lips. (Hand still on his shoulder, he noted.)

You bit your lip, brows knitting together as your eyes traced over his face. “I’m serious, Miguel, you need to start letting yourself rest.” You gave his shoulder a small squeeze and his heart was beating so hard he could hear it thumping in his ears. “Work is important, but so are you, okay?”

In that moment, Miguel almost felt like you loved him, like you were the woman who had been his wife.

Maybe if you stayed one night, if you curled up beside him and let him hug you from behind just this once, you could love him again, you could be his the way he would always be yours and the two of you could be happy.

Stay,

He wanted to say.

Please, stay.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to.

There were no second chances, not for the both of you.

Instead, he let himself say the things he so badly wanted you to hear in a way you wouldn’t understand.

“Perdóname, querida.” His voice was a mumble, barely above a whisper. “Te decepcioné, lo siento mucho, cariño.”

“S-Sorry, I don’t know much Spanish.” Your voice was almost self-conscious.

He gave you a small, tired smile. Eyes fond as they met yours. “Thank you.”

His voice was soft, almost gentle. He said it in a way that actually sounded thankful, this time.

You smiled and retracted your hand from his shoulder, assuming that those two words were what he had said to you in his native tongue.

“I said anytime, remember? You don’t have to thank me.”

You walked over to his desk and set down both the spoon and medicine bottle on its surface, sparing him one last look up and down before fiddling with the device around your wrist, opening up a portal. You looked at him one last time before swinging back into your dimension.

“Good night, Miguel.”

And just like that, you were gone. His room was once again cold, devoid of your warmth, and he was once again alone.

Miguel let himself fall back onto his bed. Limbs heavy, heart heavier.

He shut his eyes, and just as he always did whenever he let himself drift off into a rare slumber, he dreamt of Gabi.

And he dreamt of you.

translations. please note that i do not speak spanish! i found these translations and words using the internet. if there are any errors, please please let me know! <3

Dios (God) , Perdóname (Forgive me) , querida (beloved or darling) , Te decepcioné (I let you down) , lo siento mucho (I am so sorry) , cariño (darling, dear, or honey)

[madschiavelique]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after the mission, all you can think about is Miguel, up to the point where you can't sleep because of all your thoughts. so you go to the strength and conditioning centre to try and exhaust yourself. but miguel pays you a visit there, and the training takes another turn...

content warnings : mentions of blood, (if there are any others please do tell so i can add them !), reader is obsessed, no use of y/n word count : 3,9k

note : this is dedicated to the beautiful @gollygothgal , with tension and hot miguel hehe. here's the 2nd part of the miguel 3shot thingy ! i hope you'll enjoy it. i am currently thinking about opening up requests for miguel, so if anyone has got a juicy idea they'd like to see written, don't hesitate to send it !! <33

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

One punch.

He did it to help you, nothing more, there was nothing behind it, nothing unprofessional, nothing at all.

Two punches.

No, nothing, not even when you pulled on his hair and the moan in his throat vibrated into the bullet that was lodged in your flesh.

Three punches, the bag rocks.

Surely you're not the first person he's done this to, right? Dealing with this kind of wound in the middle of a mission must have been part of his daily routine after all.

Fourth punch, the impact spreads across the knuckles of your hand.

What if it wasn't? What if he'd deliberately decided to give you the special treatment of losing his time on the mission to take care of you?

Fifth blow, you were breathing hard. You stood back, your hands aching as they sponged your sweaty forehead with their backs.

It had only been a week since the last mission, and all you could think about was Miguel. Every five minutes the whole thing would start up in your head, sometimes so strongly that you felt it defined you. The spadassin of your logic kept chasing your imagination brazenly, it was trying to foam hollow ideas about him.

Was this scene really intimate? Or in your cruel lack of physical and sentimental affection had you simply imagined meanings for certain gestures that were pure delusion?

After the mission, while the anomalies were being properly stored, you went to the infirmary. There, you were asked questions that were still stuck in your head.

"What's that bite?" they asked about the two incisions Miguel had left in your skin, "and why is it all blue here? There's more ruptured blood than there should be..."

Apparently, the nurses had very rarely seen incisions of this kind on the bodies of other spider men or women, the only cases so far being on Miguel himself. The news had a strange effect on you. As for the clouds of bruises Miguel had left around the impact, the mere sight of them turned you into a red poppy.

So Miguel had never bitten anyone else on a mission to administer his painkiller... nope, let's not jump to conclusions!

Maybe gunshot wounds just weren't frequent on missions, haematomas or cuts were commonplace here.

After that, you were brought together with the others to report back. You hadn't been much help to the mission, apart from freeing Miguel from that foam. And after that? Too little contact and far too many thoughts.

The few times you saw Miguel, you only had time to say hello before he went about his business. The few words he'd say were "How's your wound?", and then he'd be off, busier than a minister.

And every day, as if you were watching the sky for a shooting star, you hoped. You hoped for a twinkle, a smile, just the possibility that your eyes might meet.

And every night, you would go over and over these tiny things that seemed gigantic in the eyes of your heart. And tonight, the same thing.

It was the hour when memories flood back, just when sleep goes on strike. You were trying to sleep, but you were tossing and turning, your mind replaying the whole scene like a power-point with multiple explanations attached to the images.

Just an focus, on the too pale clichés of a love story, on the state of mind of a woman without an alibi who dreams every night of a man whose existence you didn't even know existed until recently. Just a focus, for a little wink of survival, for all the fools, the love-sick, for all the victims of romanticism. Just a little wink, a focus.

You were tired of this perpetual propensity of your thoughts to redirect themselves to Miguel. There was nothing you could do, it was like trying to stop the sun from rising and setting. Because even with adamantine force, you can't stop the natural from happening.

You're more insignificant than the dust under his fingernails, you thought. Pull yourself together! Miguel has to look after a company of at least seven hundred people like you.

And it was true, Miguel had much better things to do than have anything other than a professional relationship with you.

You huffed and puffed in bed, sleep really not coming, so you put on your everyday clothes, prioritising comfort, and headed for the Strength and Conditioning centre.

If sleep didn't come, you'd wake it yourself. And so you found yourself boxing a sandbag. And honestly? It was harder than what you'd seen in the movies. Or at least, you felt some pain in your fingers as you punched, knowing full well that something was wrong, but not knowing what. The job of Spider Man wasn't new to you, but you had to admit that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, you missed some of the basics.

You glanced down at your hands, their knuckles reddened, and for a few seconds you remembered the ridiculously large size of Miguel's hand resting on your waist, then how it had felt when he had held your thigh in place, and you could have sworn that at that moment his claws had come out, sharper than a quarter of a strawberry.

If only it were possible for your mind to go on holiday, just to get away from the real Miguel City that had settled in your mind a little too quickly. You let out a grunt of frustration.

But your hair stood on end for a second - someone had just come into the room.

"What's wrong?"

You immediately turned your head towards the entrance, Miguel coming towards you. Your heart skipped a beat and you froze. For pity's sake, was this a dream?

The terrible thing about this mental affliction was that, although you visualised him more often than you should because you found that you spent less time with him, when the time came for you to interact as you would have dreamt of, the image of his red eyes went straight to the edge of your heart and you had the sudden feeling that you wanted to leave immediately.

If you come at any moment, I'll never know what time to dress my heart. Perhaps it was the extent of your desire that made you feel ashamed, and for fear that he would see it, hear it, feel it, you preferred to leave. But you stood your ground, giving yourself a mental slap in the face to pull yourself together as he came within a reasonable distance of you. There weren't enough moments with him, so you were going to make the most of them.

Your eyes widened slightly, because you'd never seen Miguel in normal clothes before. A hoodie with cut-off sleeves and loose jogging bottoms, simple and relaxed, but how could Miguel be relaxed? After all, he was Miguel.

He didn't look upset, which was a first. You were so used to seeing him frustrated, with that invariable weariness that accompanies him everywhere. On the other hand however, he was looking at you quizzically, and it was only then that you remembered that he had asked you a question.

"Oh, um," you said, resting the side of your fist on the bag, "I've never fought a war this tough, and to think that my enemy is just a sandbag," you smiled.

A sneer stretched his cheek, the thin crack between his lips letting a flash of light shine on his faintly glistening canines, and for a moment the image of them tracing your thigh came back to mind. It had left its mark on your mind, like a stain, and it won't wash off, no matter how hard you scrub your mind.

But a frown settled on his forehead, his eyes lowered to your fist.

"Hmm..." he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

You had to stop yourself squinting at them and keeping your eyes on his.

"Show me how you hit," he said.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Training with other spider-men and women was something you were comfortable with, the pressure was off, everyone learned a little from each other without judgement. But training in front of Miguel? The bar had been raised, the pressure of the stare oozing seriousness and criticism weighed on your shoulders.

Timidly then, you stepped away from the bag, and struck a blow with little confidence.

He nodded, the same retentive tt-tt being heard.

"Your fingers are in the wrong place," he raised his to show you, and as you mimicked his pose, he moved closer to you and took your hand to place your fingers correctly.

It was the first time you'd felt his hands naked against yours. They were far from soft, but they were warm, callused by time and effort. It seemed to you that he could lock your fist in his hand with ease, and the vision of his hands rearranging yours gave you the impression that every bit of skin he touched lit up and sparkled with little stars.

It must be that you couldn't mithridate your desires for him, your body and your thoughts returning to the charge to drink it all in, to take any crumb of his presence and his touch that you could get.

His annoyance seemed to return for a moment, his knuckles running over your reddened and cracked joints. He blew out a breath, and the frown disappeared.

"There, try it again", he said, barely moving away.

You came down from your little cloud and struck again. You were almost tempted to disturb your fingers again if it meant he'd put them back into place.

"Keep going," he said, taking a step forward and starting to circle around you.

You swallowed, continuing the task, taking great care not to look too ridiculous. You punched a few more times, Miguel having made an arc and stopped on your other side.

"Your posture is not right," he remarked, and you shivered as his hand came to rest on your waist.

Sliding gently over your belly, applying a minimum of force to better guide you to perfect your posture. You felt his hand come up and pull slightly on your shoulder, putting your arm back in a more favourable position at the same time.

"You need to find a balance in your body when you strike; if you put everything you have into your fist, the rest can be used too easily against you" he said, his tone calm.

But it was a little too complicated to follow his instructions now, especially when you felt his breath landing on your ear and the back of your neck. Every brush of his fingers and skin against yours made your cheeks flush and gave you a real peony look.

His other hand came to rest on your hip, on that famous protruding angle of the pelvic bone, to reorientate your body. You inhaled sharply, but tried not to make it too noticeable. All that was missing was...

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate seems to have increased."

... the same question as last time. This time, there's no way to pretend you're worried about your team-mates who are on a mission. So what's the excuse this time?

"I ate a cereal bar before I came here, must be the sugar, no doubt."

Wow. Beautiful. Brilliant. Fantastic.

You crossed your fingers that Miguel didn't pay any more attention.

"Hm," he exhaled, "just spread your legs a little... there you go, like that," he said as his hand lingered lightly on your waist before moving away from you again. "Show me," he asked, confident that his modifications to your position would prove useful in your training.

Already more confident, you began to strike again. And after half a dozen blows, you turned to him, a satisfied smile adoring his face.

"Much better," he said. He raised his hand to the level of his head, index and middle fingers together, wiggling them, indicating for you to move forward as he stepped back slightly, "Now, show me how you'd do it in real life."

Wait, was he really offering you combat training? The great Miguel O'Hara, who had no time but for the great multi-dimensional organisation of spider-men and spider-women, had just offered you training?

Hesitantly, you moved forward.

"So you want me to fight? With... you?" you asked.

"Who else," he replied, opening his arms to encompass the room, completely empty apart from you two.

"I'm going to get crushed," you smiled as you reached him.

"I'll do my worst," he offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you trying to make a fool of me?"

"No, otherwise I'd let you destroy your hands on the bag a bit more," he said, pointing at them, "you'll have to remember to put some ice on it.

Touché.

You felt a little guilty for taking up his free time, he who must have had so little leisure, so few opportunities to settle down without having to worry about anything. But at the same time, what did you have to feel guilty about, when it was he himself who had offered to help you? After all, it was he who had come to you. Was it simple pity then? No, let's not think about personal sabotage, let's just enjoy it.

"Come on, show me how you do it, I'll do it with one hand behind my back if you prefer." He says, not even pretending to get into a fighting stance.

"What an egalitarian spirit," you say, your voice coming out with a half-sigh, half-laugh.

Coming from one of the most capable and experienced Spider-Men in the society, how could you not shudder at the thought of fighting him?

So you positioned yourself, trying as best you could to put in place the investments he had just taught you. The thought of disappointing him was gnawing at the back of your mind.

Once you found your position sufficiently adequate, you dived towards him. With a move that seemed as simple as that, he dodged by leaning to the side while placing his foot against your ankle, so you fell pitifully to the ground.

Well, it wasn't going to be any fun after all.

"Remember what I told you," he said, coming towards you, holding out his hand, "if you put everything you have in your fist, the rest can be used against you too easily.

You looked at him for a moment, his brown eyes slightly crinkled by his little smile. Your cheeks warmed as you took his hand to stand up.

"Do it again," he said.

You breathed in, trying to concentrate and not think about the fact that you'd had more physical and vocal interaction with the object of all your thoughts in the last few minutes than you'd had in a week.

So you tried to balance your strength in your body, and came back to the charge, but you tried a surprise. You knew he'd probably see it coming a mile away, but why not try? So you gave him the impression that you were attacking him from your left, when at the last moment you deflected to the right.

And then you punched him in the cheek. The impact surprised you both, and Miguel took a meagre step backwards, bringing his hand to his cheek with eyes wide with surprise.

"Shit shit shit! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" you moved towards him in a panic, as if to check him out.

You'd just punched Miguel O'Hara in the cheek. But then, just as you were expecting to be shouted at and slammed into a wall in the next few seconds, he smiled, and the smile became a soft laugh.

You looked at him, completely stunned by his reaction. No anger, no exasperation, no threats or insults in Spanish, just a little laugh.

"That's much better," he said. "Don't worry, I can handle punches, but I recognize this is a correct hit."

You fluttered your eyelashes a few times in surprise before just puffing out your nose, a little laugh taking hold of you as well.

"Come on, let's get on with it" he said, this time getting into a fighting stance. He sweated authority, while you sweated... period.

You nodded in agreement, and the two of you began a battle of successive dodges and punches that went wide. He was holding back, you could feel it. He didn't strike a single blow, just tiny smacks with the back of his hand. So you thought for a moment, you were going to surprise him like he had surprised you with his kick. Could you take down a man the size and width of a fridge? Doubtful, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

It's as if, in the middle of the nettles, you'd found a patch of grass where you could put your foot down without stinging yourself. So you placed your leg correctly behind his knee, which surprisingly succeeded in throwing him off balance, and just as he was about to fall with a small stranglehold of his voice, his hand grabbed your wrist and dragged you down.

The shock was less, because you had fallen onto Miguel himself and his body had been used as a landing mattress. Out of breath, and not exactly aware of the situation you were in, you placed your hands on the ground on either side of his body to at least straighten yours and not crush him, your back bent like a wilting flower.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

Miguel grunted slightly, his eyelids reopening. Your breath caught in your throat as you realised the position you were in, and especially how close you were. Your faces only a few centimetres apart, your breaths colliding.

"Mhm," he said simply, "you did well, I must admit."

And as the simple feeling of victory took your heart by storm, Miguel grabbed you by the waist with both hands and rolled you onto your side, reversing your positions with lightning speed.

"But you're going to have to keep practising," he smirked, one of his hands separating from your waist to rest on the ground next to your head.

And your strength turned to water. Your gaze scanned his, and you wished you could see your own eyes just to know how much they betrayed you, especially when they inevitably drifted to his lips. You didn't need to lie to yourself, you wanted to, they looked so soft... It was the sensation of his thumb making a single, simple circular movement on your stomach that brought you out of your reverie on his lips, regaining his eyes.

"Distracted?" he asked, his eyes a little darker than before.

Sure enough, you had metamorphosed into a big red tomato. So your reflex was to bring both hands up to your face to hide it.

"Uh huh," Miguel prevented, removing his hand from your waist to move your hands away from your face, getting even closer. "What's there to hide, hum?"

His eyes seemed very observant of what was being said in yours, and you wondered if he could see all the emotions rumbling in your heart. You could feel the strands of his hair tickling your forehead and cheeks. The tension was so heavy and pervasive that you could have cut it with a knife.

"My desires," you whispered as an answer, clearing your throat and moistening your lips, your eyes moving tirelessly from his to his lips.

You gasp, the closeness between the two of you acting as a veritable truth serum.

"Tell me about them," he murmured.

You bit the inside of your lip, breathing softly. The inner battle was powerful. To remain silent and regret, or to say something and hope? What if it all stopped? What if it bothered him so much that he couldn't look at you any other way than uncomfortable? And what if... what if... And if I don't try anything, I'll never know.

"A... A kiss," you managed to say.

"A kiss?" he repeated, as if testing the taste of that word in his mouth. "Tell me, where."

You squirmed slightly, perhaps you'd be more successful in speaking your thoughts with your eyes closed? But when you shut them for a moment, you felt his nose brush against yours, his thumb on your hip again making circular movements.

"Where?" he asked again, both of you reduced to whispers. Still hearing no answer, he moved to kiss your forehead, "there?", but you shook your head. Then he kissed the top of your eyelid, "there?", and went on to kiss your cheek, "there?", his voice barely a whisper.

He brushed against your nose again, his lips barely grazing the corner of yours.

His eyes had a tender sparkle as he kissed them tenderly. His lips tasted of wood and rain, pulling back : "There?”

"Yes," you sighed, your eyelids half-closed, "there". You moistened your lips.

"I think I heard you wrong," he murmured. "Say it again."

You swallowed, trying to raise your head to kiss him again, but understanding your tactics, he buried his face closer to your neck, his lips brushing your ear.

"Say it again."

A shiver ran through you as his breath spread a wave of heat down your neck, straightening slightly to face you again.

"Kiss me, again."

And he came to kiss you once more, softly, dark and silent as the night. His hand ran down your body, up your side and over your back to push a little more of your body against his. Your hands came to rest on his cheek and back, your fingers snaking through his hair, nails lightly grazing his skull.

A moan bubbling up his throat reverberated on your lips, just like on the mission.

" If only you wouldn't make me want you..." he whispered between kisses, his mouth growing a little hungrier as his fangs nibbled lightly at the skin of your lip.

He came to kiss your jaw, your neck, drinking in your skin, breaths of ease escaping from your lips.

But suddenly, a small cluster of orange pixels appeared not far from your heads.

"Miguel we got a- oh hi there!" said Layla in a tone that was a mixture of playfulness and surprise.

You immediately turned your head to the side to avoid her, your cheeks flushing red. Your heart was pounding in your chest like a bird trying to get out of its cage.

"Go away Layla," he said though, his hand coming to take your chin, his eyes half closed, kissing you again.

"But Miguel it's-"

"It's very important for your future that you don't finish your sentence," Miguel growled as he moved from your mouth to your throat again, letting his canines lightly trace along your pulse line.

"And the situation is just as important for all our futures," Layla insisted.

Miguel grunted, sighing, and murmured softly:

"I'm sorry."

You kissed his cheek and he raised his eyebrows.

"It's okay."

He kissed your lips quickly.

"This is not over," he warned, sitting up and helping you to your feet. "Go and sleep now." Looking at your hand in his, he added: "And take care of this," pointing to your knuckles.

You nodded as he began to walk away.

"Oh yeah, Miguel has been keeping an eye on you!" said Layla, a small smile wrinkling her nose.

"What?" you asked, confused.

"Layla ?" Miguel called dangerously.

"Okay okay gotta go, goodnight!" she said, vanishing into thin air to come and stand next to Miguel.

The two of them left the room, and you looked at the exit.

What had just happened?

next part >> unexpected mission (nsfw)

[redstarwriting]

the clash | viii. love you to death

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 4.2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, venom hating hobie, anxious and sad hobie, panic attacks, fight scene, injuries, lots of injuries, angst with fluff and then some more angst and then fluff again, mentions of blood, broken bones

a/n: y’all.... this one was so fun HAHA i’ve been seeing scenes from this part play out in my head ever since i thought of the plot so it was so so SO fun putting it into actual words. we’re getting closer to the end now, and i am so grateful for everyone who decided they wanted to read this lil story i thought up 🖤 i hope you enjoy!

previous chapter: vii. i wanna be sedated

now reading: viii. love you to death

next chapter: ix. last caress

───────────────────────────────────

“Uh, Hobie… the hell is happening right now,” Miles asks, but Hobie stays silent. He’s trying so hard not to freak out. It’s taking everything in him to not give in to his emotions. He clenches his fists. “Let ‘em go,” he demands, and Venom laughs. “I don’t think so. I like this body more than I expected to. Looks like we’re in the same boat there, aren’t we?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, an all too familiar anger stirring in him. “Awww, are you going to kill me like you did yourself?” Venom giggles, and he glares at it. “Just fuckin’ might, mate,” he says through gritted teeth, and Gwen pipes up. “What? Hobie, what are they talking about?”

“Piss off, Gwen. That’s not them,” he snaps, and she frowns underneath her mask. “We’re here to help you Hobie,” she says, and he clenches his jaw. “I don’t need no help.”

“On the contrary, I think you need all the help you can get. You mess up everything when you don’t have it, no?” Venom says, amused. Hobie knows it’s just trying to antagonize him. He knows that. But he can’t help but get angry. It’s using your body.

But he also knows that he does need help. He just can’t say his plan in front of this freakshow. “Go back to Spider Society, Gwen,” he touches his guitar, “tell Miguel I got it under control. Just gonna amp up this space slime a bit.” He hopes that was a clear indication of what he needs Gwen to do.

“Are you sure?” she asks slowly, and he smirks. She got it. “Positive.” With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pav disappear. If Hobie gets as many amps as possible, he can repeat what he did with Osborn and save you. Of course, the act of destroying this Venom might require more than just noise and be a little harder, but he’s willing to do anything to save you.

Anything.

Venom laughs. “That was a dumb move, what you just did,” it says, and he shrugs. “Yeah well, I’m full of those lately,” he responds, trying to think of his next move. He doesn’t want to destroy your flat, but he doesn’t want to cause too much damage to the city as a whole. “Are you going to do something, or do you prefer I kill you just standing there?” Venom asks, and Hobie scoffs. “Kill me? You’re a cheeky alien, you are,” he says, and he leaps off of the balcony. Venom follows him. He begins webbing through the city, expertly. Honestly, it’s a good thing he’s been here to see you so many times. But Venom keeps up with him, occasionally shooting out some symbiote webs at him. Luckily, he’s able to see it and dodge them with no problem.

He sees a giant arena and decides that’s a good place to fight Venom. Especially as it was all dark and he saw a sign talking about a celebration there for tomorrow, which means everything was most likely set up already and he didn’t have to worry about anyone being there since the event wasn’t until tomorrow.

He webs into it, landing in the nose bleeds and disappearing into the shadows. He hears Venom land where he was with a chuckle. “You can’t outrun me, Spider-Punk,” it says, and Hobie quietly webs down a few levels and ducks into a closed clothing store in the arena. He calls Gwen, who picks up almost immediately. “Shh,” Hobie says before she can say anything. “Bring the amps to the Mortician Square Garden Arena, line ‘em across the top, I’ll keep Venom distracted til you finish,” he whispers, and Gwen nods. “And one more thing. Get as much as you can out of (Y/n)’s flat, okay? Get Shadow out, take him to Miguel, and all the vinyls, their aunt’s skull, as much as you can,” he whispers, and she gives him a confused look. “Why?” she asks, and he sighs. “Their world isn’t gonna make it,” he says, and Gwen’s eyes widen. She mumbles a quick ‘got it,’ before hanging up.

He sits in the silence, confused as to why he doesn’t feel any presence. Suddenly, an inky tendril shoots out at him, and grabs him, pinning his arms to his sides. He mutters expletives, trying to get out of Venom’s grasp, but to no avail. He comes face to face with the grinning monster. “Found you.”

“Fuck you, mate,” he grunts, and thrashes around. “I thought you would be more difficult to catch. Looks like I was wrong,” it says and Hobie rolls his eyes. “Woulda been harder, bu–”

“But your little sense trick doesn’t work on me. That’s how I caught (Y/n), too,” says Venom as they pull Hobie’s mask off. Hobie glares at them and tries to get out of its grip again. “They’re right… you are handsome,” Venom says, and he delivers a successful kick to the symbiote. “Get out of their head,” he growls, and it giggles. “That tickled.”

Venom throws him across the room with force. He flies through a wall and groans as he stands up. Venom shoots out a tendril to catch him again, but he successfully dodges it. “If only you could hear their pleas for me to leave you alone,” Venom says, and it makes Hobie angrier. “I said get out of their head!” He yells, throwing a giant chunk of concrete at Venom only to have it shatter when it comes into contact with it. It only slightly falters, but that enough time for Hobie to quickly web away. He just needs to keep Venom preoccupied while Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr set up the first part of the plan.

He hears Venom following him, taunting him, and consistently trying to grab at him. As long as he keeps Venom from seeing outside, everything should go off just fine. He just hopes Miles, Gwen, and Pav can let him know when to go outside with Venom close behind. Ah well. Improvising is what spiders do best, anyways. Hobie is swinging past a food booth when Venom hits him into it. He winces as he crashes through the wall separating the front from the kitchen and straight into the knobs on the giant grill. Of course, it turns the electric grill on, but that’s the least of Hobie’s worries as Venom then uses one of its “webs” to pin him down on the ground. He grabs the web and tries to get it off of him, but it doesn’t work. Venom sprouts tendrils that make it literally look like a spider, with “legs” coming out of its back.

Luckily, Venom places one of these legs on top of the already hot grill, causing it to scream out in pain and freak out just enough for Hobie to get out of the “web’s” grasp. He quickly runs off, shooting out a web to disappear out of Venom’s sight. He sneaks around to the outside and sees Pav pushing an amp in place. It looks like they’re about halfway done, and Hobie nods. He can keep that thing distracted for that much longer.

He sneaks back into the indoor part of the stadium. He thinks about it, but ultimately decides he’s had enough with the stealth method. It obviously isn’t helping him in this instance, like it ever helped him before. “HEY VENOM! COME GET ME YA FUCKIN’ TOSSER!” he yells, and to his expectation, Venom burst through a wall and screams at him. Hobie shoots a web upwards and leaps up to the next story. Venom bursts through the floor, and Hobie quickly fires a web at a pillar, wrapping around it a few times and then firing another one to another pillar and tying them together tightly before taking off and doing it again to the next set of pillars, and then repeating it again. He made sure the first trap would land in the middle of Venom’s body, the second more of a tripwire, and the third at clothesline level. And it worked.

Venom ran directly into the first trap, which slowed it down, and then the second made it stumble and the third snapped its head back at a gross angle. It groans, and Hobie waves at it. “You should really watch where ya goin’,” he says, and Venom growls. “They feel everything.”

“What?” Hobie falters. “Your little partner. They feel it all.” Hobie frowns. Is that true? Did he just hurt you? Venom senses his distraction, and grabs him, pushing him down through the floor. He grunts, and Venom laughs. “It’s too easy,” it says, and Hobie glares at it. He’s trying to pretend like he isn’t completely battered and bruised by Venom, but damn. This alien can fight. He grunts as Venom picks him up off the ground and pushes him forcefully against the wall. “Aww, did that hurt?” Venom giggles, and he spits on it. He ignores that there was blood mixed in with the spit. That’s… probably not good, though. Venom smiles at him. “I don’t think I am going to kill you,” it hisses, cocking its head to the side. “I think I’ll keep you in case this body breaks.”

“Piss off, I’d never let you do that to me.”

“Even if it meant I would let (Y/n) go?” it asks, and Hobie clenches his jaw. Venom giggles. “Say I let them go, they could run free without the influence of me. Would you do it then?” Hobie clenches his fists, staying quiet. “You’d just make me kill them.”

“Clever boy,” it says, and Hobie yelps as Venom tightens its grip on him. “But you’re right. This body will do just fine, and I can easily find a new host if I need to,” Venom says, smirking at Hobie, “I’ll be kind to you before I kill you,” Venom says, and suddenly Venom’s creepy and unsettling grin melts away, and Hobie sees your face. You’ve been crying, and that sight alone breaks his heart. And your heart breaks at the sight of his bloodied lip, black eye and cut forehead. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to each other at the same time, but before any more words can be said, Venom takes over again.

Hobie tries to get out of its grasp again, but it's not happening. “Interesting choice for your last words,” Venom forms a fist, ready to strike Hobie, but before it can, it’s arm gets pulled backward by another web. “Those will not be his last words,” he hears Pavitr say. “Yeah, his last words will probably be ‘I DON’T AGREE WITH PEACEFUL PROTESTS’ or some shit,” Miles chimes in, webbing the arm holding Hobie against the wall and yanking it away from him. “I was thinking more like ‘I won’t let you hurt them!’ because I mean wow look at how unhinged he is right now! Imagine when they’re actually together,” Pav says. “Not the time, Pav,” Miles shakes his head, yanking Venom’s arm, even more, to make it parallel to the arm Pavitr’s holding back.

Pavitr and Miles hold Venom’s arms back as it shrieks and Hobie leaps away from it. “Good timin’, lads,” he says, wiping some of the blood off his face. “Don’t mention it,” Miles grunts and Hobie dodges some attacks thrown by Venom’s tendrils. “Miles! It’s sensitive to heat!” Hobie yells, and Miles smirks. “Ahhhh, I gotcha,” he says and uses his venom electricity strike. Venom yelps and falls backward. Pav and Miles let go of its arms, and the three of them crouch down. “Where’s Gwen?”

“She’s outside getting all the chords connected so all the amps play at once,” Miles says after electrocuting Venom again, meaning it didn’t hear what Miles just said. “Amazin’,” Hobie mumbles, dodging some more of Venom’s attacks. “I’m gonna get up there, stall it woulda?” Hobie says, webbing away.

He knows Venom is going to try and follow him, so he heads out to the open field. When he gets out there, he sees rows and rows of fireworks. What the hell were they celebrating that they needed this much fire power? He hears Venom’s yell and decides it’s not important, but it’s good that all of it is there. They can use that. He climbs and webs his way up to the top of the stadium, running over to Gwen who hands him the chord. “Thank you,” he says, plugging his guitar in, and she nods. “Don’t mention it.”

“Did you get everything out of their flat?”

“As much as we could. How do you know it’s the end?” she asks, and he frowns. “Cause I caused it.” He looks down, clenching his jaw and clearing his throat.

“It’s bout to get real loud. Tell Miles and Pav to lure it out,” Hobie says, and Gwen nods, about to web off. “Wait! Gwen, throw all the fireworks in a big pile,” he says, pointing to all of the fireworks. “What? Why?”

“Venom is sensitive to heat. Let’s blow it up.”

“But (Y/n) is–”

“They won’t be bonded when it happens, go!” Hobie says, and Gwen hurries to help the boys lure Venom out into the open. Hobie watches and waits, when he hears police sirens going off. Oh great. Piggies are coming to play. Maybe Venom will eat some of them. That would be the only time he ever supported Venom doing something. His attention gets pulled back to the field when he hears Venom’s shrieks. He sees Pav and Gwen web out, starting to throw the fireworks into a pile, and then Venom stumbles out, screaming from Miles electrocuting it once again. Hobie pulls out his pick, placing his fingers to form the beginning chord to one of his favorite songs. He hesitates and places his fingers to form a different chord. This time, it’s one of your favorite songs. He knows all of them by heart, anyways.

“When did you learn this song?” you ask him, as he lazily strums along to one of the songs playing on your vinyl player. He shrugs. “I hear it so much when I come over here, the real question would be when didn’t I learn this song,” he says, and you roll your eyes. He smiles slightly when he sees you swaying back and forth and humming along to the music.

The song ends, and without a beat, Hobie starts strumming along to the next one. “I must listen to this vinyl way too much,” you comment, and he shrugs. “At least it isn’t a shit album.”

Watching you vibe with his playing made him make a promise to himself, he would always learn your favorite songs just so he could see your reaction to him playing them.

How didn’t he realize his feelings before?

Venom spots him, and screams up at him, ready to rush up the seats of the stadium and take him down. He takes a deep breath.

“Come back to me, love.”

He strums, and the sound causes Venom to stumble, holding its ears while it screams. He can see Gwen, Pav, and Miles wince slightly from the noise as they finish bringing all the fireworks into a pile in the middle of the stadium. They web up to where Hobie is and turn to see what happens. Hobie doesn’t acknowledge them, his main focus is on you. Venom’s skin starts bubbling around you, and it seems to literally be melting. He sees flashes of you, the pain affecting you in the same way as Venom. It nearly makes him stop playing seeing the distress on your face. But he remembers it’s the symbiote causing you the pain, and he needs to get it off of you as soon as possible. The position Venom is in, trying desperately to cover its ears suddenly breaks as you finally regain control of your own body. You rip some of the symbiote off, your face breaking through. Hobie keeps playing, fixated on you as you crawl away from the inky black alien. It looks straight out of a horror movie, and he can’t wait to tell you about it. You’re gonna think you looked so cool. He’ll still give you some playful shit about how you looked though. It wouldn’t be the same if he didn’t.

He nearly tears up when he sees you completely separate from Venom. You look up, seeing him and the others, and immediately web up to him. You’re in your suit, but your mask isn’t on, and Hobie stops playing seeing that you’re next to him. You immediately wrap your arms around him, hugging him like your life depended on it. He hugs back, somehow tighter than you are. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and he shakes his head. “No, love, you’re okay. You don’t have to apologize for nothin’,” he says, rubbing his hand up and down your back. If the two of you could choose, you would stay like this forever. But the two of you are spiders. And it never works out like that for spiders.

“HOBIE LOOK OUT!”

Hobie hears Gwen shout just a second too late, and one of Venom’s “webs” attaches itself to his back, pulling him off the edge of the stadium. You reach your hand out to prevent it, and Hobie reaches out his, but you just weren’t fast enough. Your fingertips brush each other, but before you can grab his hand, he’s out of reach. You watch as he gets pulled down to the bottom of the stadium.

For the second time, you weren’t fast enough.

You get flashbacks to your second canon event, and a single tear escapes your eye.

Hobie, on the other hand, can feel Venom overtake him, no matter how hard he tries to fight it off. He starts to panic, hearing Miguel’s voice in his mind.

“Hobart Brown was meant to kill (Y/n) (L/n).”

Now the tears are falling freely down his face. This can’t be happening. He can’t let this happen. Why is this happening?

Once the shock of what happened passes, you find yourself pissed off. You just got back to Hobie, and now this alien thinks it can take him away? Fuck that. You scream out of frustration, webbing down and punching Venom’s newly formed face, full force. Well, as full force as your exhausted body will let you. You feel your hand break from your own strength coming into contact with something equally as strong, but Venom falls backward, so you don’t really care. You ignore the pain, noticing the pile of fireworks. You understand the assignment immediately. Unfortunately for you, Venom bounces back faster than you thought and punches you in the stomach. You grunt, coughing up blood, as you fly backward and hit the side of the stadium wall, hard. You glare at Venom, who laughs. “So weak,” you hear it say, and you glare at it. “Maybe if I should have drained more of your life force. Then you wouldn’t have even been able to punch me like that. Though, I know it took up more energy than you would have liked to do so,” Venom roars at you, beginning to charge at you.

You web to the other side of the stadium as Miles jumps down. “I got it,” he says, electrocuting Venom once more to slow it down. It screams and swats him out of the way. He hits the wall, and shakes his head, webbing up to Gwen and Pav, who immediately assesses the damage he got from Venom’s hit. They notice you’re up here, too now. “You are just so fast,” Pav says, impressed. “Oh my god, (Y/n), your hand,” she says, seeing it already turning black and blue, and blood pouring from it. “Not important right now,” you growl, picking up Hobie’s guitar. Luckily, your strumming hand is the hand that broke, so you form your fingers to a specific chord and strum. You play Hobie’s favorite song, the one he taught you to try and show you ‘real music’ so long ago.

“Ugh, can’t we listen to something other than your moody goth music?” Hobie asks, lazily turning his head towards you as he laid on his couch. Gwen, Pav, and Miles left like 30 minutes ago, but Shadow was too comfortable on Hobie’s chest for him to leave. “No, actually, we can’t. And don’t act like this song isn’t the best thing you’ve ever heard.”

“Listen just cause it’s your favorite doesn’t mean it has to be mine, love,” he says, causing you to roll your eyes. “You’re such an asshole, Hobart.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he says and you fake gag. At the sound, Shadow hops off Hobie and makes his way to you, making sure you’re okay. “Alright, you can leave now. Yayy, Shadow! Wooo!” you say, petting your cat and pretending like you want Hobie to leave. He clicks his tongue. “Nah, I’m not goin’ nowhere. Come here,” he says pulling his guitar from behind the couch and into his arms. “What are you doing?”

“I’m showing you real music. So, sit down, shut up, and soak up the jams.”

You play through the pain, doing the exact thing he did when he first showed you. Albeit not as good as him. But it works, he breaks away from Venom, running, climbing, and webbing as fast as he can to get to you. And seeing the sight of you playing the guitar like that? Especially his favorite song? He could have fainted if he wasn’t worried you’d die immediately after he did. He sees your hand and frowns. “Give me the guitar, love,” he says, taking it out of your hands gently, and picking up where you left off. Except he quickly fades into one of your songs. You smile slightly and look at him. He gives you a small smile back. “Hobie, you have your lighter?” you ask, and he nods. “I’m gonna go down there and convince it to come to the fireworks pile. When I say, throw me your lighter,” you say. “Kick its fuckin’ ass, (Y/n),” he says, as you leap off the top of the stadium.

The four spiders up top suddenly hear a police bullhorn. “We have you surrounded. Hands up or we will resort to using force!”

Hobie turns his guitar up louder.

You web down, purposely aiming to kick Venom closer to the fireworks pile. You hit the ground and roll, landing in a crouch before standing and sprinting to the pile. You scream Hobie’s name, and he throws you his lighter. He stops playing, seeing that it needs to be able to actually move to get to the pile. You web up a story, catching it before rolling back down on the ground. Venom shrieks in its symbiote form, and comes rushing toward you, but you quickly ignite the lighter, throwing it on the pile of fireworks. You leap on top of it, ensuring that Venom will be in the line of fire, and when the first one begins going off as Venom tries desperately to climb it and get to you, you web off it as fast as you can. Hobie watches as you get halfway up before all of the fireworks go off at once.

He hears Venom’s screams, but all he can focus on is watching you as the explosion breaks your web and propels you way higher than you should have gone. He quickly uses his left hand to web a building close by and his right hand to another one and slingshots himself up to you. He catches you in midair, cradling you to his body and webbing to another building. Luckily, Mortician Square Garden was close to the Ember Stake Building, your favorite spot in all of the city. He lands, crouching down and holding you in his arms in a way that your legs are resting on the building. You lean your head against his chest, and he gently places a hand on the side of your face. “Alright, love?” he mumbles, and you give him a small, weak smile. “’m tired, Hobie.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he says, running his thumb back and forth across your cheek. “Bet I looked cool just then, though,” you say, and Hobie chuckles. “Dunno. Think you need to work on your form,” he says, and you laugh softly. “You played my favorite,” you mumble, and he nods. “You played mine.”

“Not very well.”

“I would listen to that every day of my life, love.” You turn your head slightly to see the amount of fireworks lighting up the night sky. Hobie stays looking at you. “Looks pretty,” you mutter, and he grins. “Yeah. Sure does,” he says, ignoring the fireworks completely. “Reckon I get you somewhere safe to rest?” he says, and you nod softly. “I’d like that,” you mumble, turning your head back to him. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, not saying anything. He looks up, standing and helping you stand as well. He gently turns you to see your city, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I gotta admit. I do like it here,” he whispers in your ear. You smile softly, looking out at the city from your favorite spot. After getting a good look, you feel your legs about to give out as your eyes flutter closed. He catches you before you fall and is grateful you stopped looking when you did because he starts to see the nothingness begin to claim your world. You hear Hobie very quietly say, “I’ve got you, my love.”

Then everything fades to black.

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

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[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

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Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

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Pt. 3: Link

[deathmetalangel]

HARDLY SEEMS FAIR

robby keene x fem! reader

warnings: "casual" relationship", swearing, arguments, crying, heavily ldr coded, implied hookups, slut shaming, cheating, angsty

“in what world is that fair robby?"

oke so this is kinda a retconnned chapter from my wattpad book that i'm just extending and making more ambigious instead of clearly x oc. i hope y'all like it tho. i am sorry i have been gone for so long :(

Y/n plays with the ends of Robby's hair. He was laying with his head in her lap while they just relaxed in her room. It was calm, domestic. A small and very rare moment for just the two of them. No outside force would intrude and break their safe haven. There was no what if's that lingered in the air. Nor past resentments that hung over them like an ominous cloud determined to damper their moods. 

It was just Y/n and Robby. And that's all they'll ever be. No labels. She figured that much after the last time she'd brought it up. But she's become so full of him she can't even bring herself to care. She'd rather have what they have now, whatever it may be with him. Rather than risking losing him, and the routine she's started to build around him. 

She hums softly. Her mind far off. "Y/n?" She hymns in acknowledgement without turning her head. "Something happened this weekend."

He was lying. This had been going on for weeks. He had been having doubts for weeks. He'd been seeing her for weeks. "What happened? Another karate fight?" She wasn't the girl who got heartbroken. She was never the second choice. She got what she wanted. And she wanted him, however she could have him.

"I kissed Sam Larusso."

Y/n freezes. Her body betraying her as she tenses up. She has no right, she knows that. They were 'casual'. Just her and Robby. Non-commital.

"I mean big deal right? We were drunk anyways. Just felt bad not telling you. I know were not dating so it's really not your business, but don't worry about it. I mean we've fucked so often what does a kiss even mean?"

A kiss. To her it meant everything. An act of intimacy that they rarley ever shared. So innocent, so pure.

"Get out of my room Robby." Y/n mumbles, her voice above a whisper. The teen sits up from her lap and looks at her incredalously. He was only telling her to keep her in the loop. She didnt have the right to be mad. So why was she making a big deal about this?

"What?"

"You heard me. Get the fuck out of my room Keene."

He furrows his brows in a toxic coctail of anger and confusion. "Why? You can't get pissed at me for this Y/n. We aren't fucking dating. Don't get all aggro on me like you're some psycho girlfriend when you're a friend with benefits at best."

Y/n stands up and pushes the boy out of her room. "Get the fuck out of here Robby! If it didn't mean anything why don't you go fuck her then? Go whine about your mommy issues and daddy issues to her and leave me the hell alone."

"You have some nerve you know that right? Don't act all high and mighty now. You're a whore. Why the hell would I ever actually take you seriously when I can get everything I want without the label or work. You're easy, I could never do that shit with Sam."

Her breath was stuck in her throat as the boy she truly thought cared began to berate her as if she was a random person on the street. The boy she suffered for. The boy that was really never her's to keep. Y/n forces herself to wipe her anrgy tears and push Robby once again.

Y/n's hands were shaky, she desprately wanted to cry. To scream. To give in and give him the satisfaction of getting to her. "Oh so you can come over whenever you want, make me listen to your shitty life, and basically force yourself into my own life, but all that means nothing right? Well guess what Kenne. You kissed her, and she still doesn't want you!" She presses her finger into his chest while her voice level rises. "That same girl is still with Miguel. So just because you wanna jump ship and 'upgrade' doesn't mean she wants anything to do with you. Face it babe, you're just white trash."

"Shut the fuck up Y/n." Robby practically spits back.

"Oh, so you can disrespect me and belittle me in my own fucking room, but when its you its a problem? Grow up Robby. You're a man baby and a hypocrite. In what world is that fair Robby? Maybe in your little made up fantasy where Sam picks you and you leave me for dead. So go stay there. Cause you're sure as hell not welcome here."

Y/n throws everything he's given her at him. Every last peice a memory they shared together. Posters, drawings, braclets, anything that adorned her room. All of it thrown to him and crashing down like victims of a violent storm. Tears streamed down her face as he backed up to her door.

She opens the door for him and grabs his sweater and keys before shoving it in his chest. The boy watches her dumbfounded.

"Stay away from me Robby. Go back to some other slut that can put up with your baggage and shitty attitude for one night stand status. Because I'm done."

He looks at her, but there wasn't the girl he knew looking back at him. Not with how she glared, not with how she stood, and not with how she felt. Her eyes, the e/c irises reflected love, now they were dark. Harbors for her contempt. The grimace on her face was unforgettable. Especially as the last thing he seen before she slammed her door on his face.

Robby swallows the spit in his mouth, a hard lump of guilt not wanting to go down. He didn't think any of this would happen. He wanted her to care, but he didn't want to fight. His temper, his father's god forsaken temper, and his own damned ego.

He wanted what he had with her, with Sam. The girl next door with a rich family and big house. Like something out of a book. Not the girl that did whatever he said for the sake of making him happy. He really did want to just abandon her, didn't he? After everything.

Choking back his frustrations the boy marches down her stairs and lets himself out. He liked what he had with her, but he wouldn't fight for her. Guys only did that for the girl they want.

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 1

warnings: abusive!suguru, mentions of cuts, mentions of physical abuse (choking, beating up, chaining), not for the faint-hearted. not beta'd. dead dove do not eat. summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through.

it has been in total of three days since you have been caged in the geto estate, at first, your anxiety and palpitations could not let you sleep, now? you're too exhausted to have those in the first place. it was simple, your parents were millionaires and owed geto some money, they decided not to go ahead with the deal and in turn, Miguel brought you here. in the confined walls of the estate where they crush you chokingly.

it's 3 am, your eyes wide awake in the bed that you're confined to, leg chained to the bedpost and the metallic bite of the chain brushing against your skin, bruisingly. your ankle is tied from the bedpost, you could walk around only to a certain extent. why? because you tried to escape and almost succeeded. now even when you try to sleep, it serves as a reminder of how you are a prisoner here. you hate this, all of this because the cult leader named geto thinks you're useless and a monkey. you don't even have an idea what that means...

---

"they have a daughter." miguel hums at suguru, crossing his arms and manspreading, sitting with geto in his office. the feline eyed man raised a brow, "is that so?" "Interesting..." he hums again, feet tapping on the floor. "Miguel, how does she look like?" his voice laced with curiosity echoed in the room which had the two of them contemplating future plans. "wait, i have a picture.."

and there you were, papped and captured from your morning errand, holding your coffee in your hand and wearing a white tank top, and some parachute pants. you were beautiful, suguru could almost call you perfect. if only... you were not a pathetic monkey. he hates them, and they have no place in his world, they will never be a part of his world...

"i just want to go home- i don't have any idea what you're talking about." another flashback rang through your mind. your first day here, comprising you begging and whimpering against the ropes of the chair you were tied to. "of course you don't, your parents do. your opinions are worthless in this anyway." geto looks at you with disgust, his eyes carry a strange emotion... he just, hated you for existing. nothing else. mere existence...

"fuckers like you who have no morals whatsoever have no other choice but to kidnap huh? fucking asshole!" you snarled, screaming out in frustration. you had no idea how your life could change so easily. a large hand wrapped around your throat the next instant, choking the life out of you with no relent. you struggled, eyes widening and feet kicking with wheezing gasps. "you see?" geto hums, leaning in against your ear and gravely whispering, "this is how easy it is for me to kill you, you're nothing. just a worthless piece of shit born to create curses in this world."

you couldn't do anything, your hands were tied up, you could only see the life you had, flash in front of your eyes before you passed out. suguru has no idea of his strength with a feeble human yet. he leans back, noticing the prominent bruising on your neck once your head leaned back, limp and lifeless. he yanked his hand away, putting some sanitizer on it. "pathetic." he hums, gritting his teeth. you were so weak... so fucking weak and still all you had to do was use that pathetic mouth didn't you?

geto left you there for the night, a very minuscule part of him feeling upset over the way he treated you, he would call himself an asshole for it if it was a sorcerer, but you weren't one. who cares if you're not a sorcerer anyways...

the next day, your eyes blinked awake, a hiss escaping you when you noticed you were still tied up, some of the blood circulation stopped because of the ropes tying your body to the chair. you wanted to scream, but your voice box hurts after yesterday. a grim reminder of what your kidnapper was truly capable of. you sniffled weakly, senses in fight or flight.

before your pitiful breakdown could even commence, manami opened the door, watching you with the same disgust her 'geto sama' carries... what is wrong with these people? truly? why do they look at you like you mean nothing. like you have done the greatest sin of the earth just by being born? "good morning, here's the thing. geto sama has informed your parents that you're under our custody, if they agree to give the money then you're safe to go, or we kill you." she shrugs. killing... is it that normal of a thing to say?

your eyes widened at the sheer panic of it, manami noticing the palpable fear in them and laughing, walking closer to you and untying you roughly; ignoring the scratches the rough rope surface would gift your skin. "take a shower." she yanked you by your hair, throwing you on the floor.

a loud whimper escapes you when your ribs collide with the solid marble, your body was still recovering from being tied up. what is wrong with these people? you're sure you have some visceral damage at this, your internal organs hurt with that throw, blinding pain in your sensitive scalp because of the hold in your hair. suck it up... you need to suck it up. "shouldn't you- treat me like a human at least? if my parents come back for me?" you grunt, using the aid of your palms to get up, a little dizzy.

manami cocks a hip out, "geto sama was right, you have a smart mouth for a monkey." she scoffs, walking outside with a hold on your nape. you stumble on the floor, how is this woman so strong? you couldn't understand why... you couldn't budge in her grip on you.

everything is hazy after, except you were force-fed hot soup for telling geto to kill himself during dinner, and not fed at all the next day, getting captured as well for running away and now a chain on your ankle.

you close your eyes, hugging yourself tightly. you need to be your own comfort. you have to be your own comfort. but its hard... the way they look at you, the way they treat you, everything is making you wish you were better off dead. why are your parents taking so long in the first place? what's wrong with them really?

your body is exhausted, unable to keep up with the constant stress. you do end up getting dazed to sleep. although its filled with nightmares. you're woken up to an echo of a voice.

"good morning, i'm sure these don't feel good." geto hums, and you jolt awake, leaning instinctively against the headboard. eyes glossed, fear dancing through your nerves. you don't respond. why is he here? "i didn't think you were that dumb to try to run yesterday." he clicks his tongue, looking at you. gosh you still have the popped lip from when manami hit you after getting caught. some of it is in your nose too. geto sighs, its the way you behave that he gets conflicted. he has always been an underdog supporter, now a bunch of powerful sorcerers were torturing a frail human just because of money...

maybe he should do you a favor and kill you instead. he could just tell your parents that they delayed in sending the sum of money and take the money anyway.He wants to stay true to his word but also wants to return you to them. another part of him... which he hates the most, almost wants to hug you and apologize. That part is the reason you're being treated this way.

"you're not answering me." he raises a brow, watching you shiver with fear and flinch at the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry, won't run again." you managed to say meekly; within three days of you being here, you look like a completely different person. your neck is bruised, your face is bruised, your hair is a mess, you are chained to a room. it is drastic for you, geto knows that. "hm, you know the consequences aren't too great, i would just listen to me if i were you." he adds on, watching your shoulders slump in defeat. my god were you beautiful, you were perfect in his eyes, someone he should have taken on dates if his life was normal. thanks to your disgusting kind, his life isn't normal.

"manami will come to you with breakfast." he stands up with that, and your heart races. you hate that woman and the way she treats you. you wouldn't say geto is any better but at least he isn't downright awful... so far. you nodded, getting up to go and shower at least. the clank of chains in your ankle echoes in the room, and it makes geto stand still for a moment. the flash of his little girls caged haunts in his eyes. isn't he doing something similar to you.

"y/n." he says your name, watching your eyes slowly dart towards him. "if you behave for a few days, the chain will be gone."

you don't respond to that, walking away. suguru bites his lip, he hates this feeling he's getting. a frog in his fucking throat and it's just been four days of you being here. he shouldn't deter from his thoughts like this anyway. you're a monkey, a useless monkey who should be killed as soon as possible.

manami comes in with breakfast and you could only manage a few bites despite not being able to eat properly. manami was not that mean today, all she said that she expected you dead but you're not yet. she says this everyday, nothing ordinary.

meanwhile, your parents have decided to actually manage the sum of money, but it will take time. they inform geto of the same. your mom pathetically sobbing for her little baby girl. "don't worry, she will be alive and kicking, i will keep my word. you have 10 days." suguru cuts the phone call after.

you... would be elated to hear this news wouldn't you? you should be! and so he walks towards your room, where you were laying on the mattress, leg bruised and bleeding. his eyes widen a little. what did you fucking do?

you had a big and a deep gash on your ankle, from the looks of it, you were trying to get free from the chains. what did you even use for this? his eyes land to the sharp enough culinary knife on your bedside table. you were crazy, any other monkey girl would simply behave and let time decide her freedom. why did you want to be so miserable?

"y/n." he mumbles your name again, and your eyes land on him, "geto" you respond, you didn't even carry any malice when you said your name. he walks towards you, getting the first aid from your cupboard and tending to your leg. "if you want an easy enough death, just ask me." he's sure you'd have another panic attack at this statement. you've been having one every day for the past four days after all.

"hm, gimme n' easy death then" you hummed, emotionless as ever. "cus i think m' parents don't give a shit anyway." a stray tear escapes through your eyes, followed by a soft hiccup of a choked sniffle. geto stays quiet at that. yesterday night, he had a dream of you smiling. or what he envisioned your smile would look like... it would surely make you look more beautiful than you already are. he's so sure of it.

"it's not like that, they did contact me and soon you'll be free." he smiled, the close-eyed feline curve that charms everyone fails to work on you. "i see." you hum, and geto trifled with the metallic cuffs on your ankle, gently putting them away. he can't really let you be this miserable. it was pathetic, it was making him pathetic.

"sorcerers exist to protect the weak." his own voice echoes which he preached satoru with. a soft sigh escaping him. he hates you. he hates what you do to him and he hates how you're having this effect on him without even trying. "yeah, a few more days of me tolerating a hooker-looking pest like you." he grits his teeth, getting up. you blinked, unsure what the sudden change in his demeanor signified. all you could do was brace. brace for another attack.

suguru watches you do so, and that sends a shiver down his spine. what's happening to him? he kills monkeys without remorse! maybe he should kill you, fuck your parents, fuck their money. fuck you.

"since you really like using the knife how about i teach you how to use it hm?" you blinked when he spits those words out, feet stomping and holding the knife up. before you could even lean away he has your wrist in his hold, hot tears streaming down your face with the way your heart thumped loud from your mouth. "please please- no no- what're you-" the pointed tip of the knife glides down your skin, and despite your gutteral, blood-curdling screams and pleas, geto only lets go of your hand when he's written the word 'MONKEY' in your arm. throwing the knife away and watching you bleed.

"i hate you, stupid monkeys." he walks away with that, while you succumb to the ache and pass out. it hurts, you could feel the blood trickling down the mattress before your body lulls you to sleep.

meanwhile, suguru shuts himself in his room, the daunting sound of the door shutting down loud and him covering his ears with tears streaming down his face. what's he even doing? why did he have to do that? oh he knows why. he wanted to prove a point that he doesn't feel anything when he hurts a monkey. that he relishes in it... but that didn't happen.

didn't happen at all...

just nine more days with you until suguru geto gets rid of you and proceeds with his mission to kill all non-sorcerers.

[daisies-daydreams]

Office Hours - Chapter 2 (Professor!Miguel O'Hara x F!College Student!Reader)

Pairing: Professor!Miguel O’Hara x F!College Student!Reader Category: Smut (18+) Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Talk, Griding, Nipple Play, Marking/Hickeys, Thigh Riding, Handjobs, Pearl Necklaces/Facials Word Count: 2.4k+

A/N: AKA the chapter where you ride Papi Miguel's thigh. 😏 I hope you enjoy!

Side Note: I am not fluent in Spanish. If I made any mistakes, please correct me (respectfully!).

Ch. 1 <-•-> Ch. 3

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

Your stomach felt like it was tied into knots as you padded down the hall, your dress billowing as you briskly walked towards Miguel’s office. You flattened the skirt of your dress and took a deep breath before you knocked on the large, wooden door. The door swung open, revealing Miguel staring down at you through his reading glasses. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the scent of his sandalwood cologne. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” he grinned ear to ear. You returned his smile as he stepped out of the way. You gasped as he splayed one of his massive hands across the small of your back, quickly ushering you inside. His office was quite neat and orderly, every book and paper lined up in perfectly straight rows. You jumped when he closed the door. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled. You shook your head. 

“It’s fine,” you murmured as you set your bag next to one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

“I wanted to discuss something before we begin our review,” he said as he cleared his throat. Your eyes widened as he locked the door behind him. He remained still as a statue for a few seconds before he lumbered towards you. You stayed glued to the floor as Miguel nearly pressed his front against yours, his shadow swallowing you whole. You felt like time itself froze as he cupped your chin in his large hand.  

“You think I don’t notice your longing stares during class, hm, chica?” he suddenly murmured, his voice dropping several octaves [girl]. A lump swelled in your throat as his eyes bored into your own. 

“W-What?” you squeaked. Miguel clicked his tongue as he gave you a wry grin.

“There’s no need to play coy, hermosa,” he purred as his other hand fell to your hip [beautiful]. You gasped as he dipped his head against your ear and inhaled deeply. “Fuck, you have no idea how many times I had to stop myself from imagining you spread out for me on my desk,” Miguel groaned. "It's your fault I teach behind that damn desk most of the time, you know," he smirked. You shivered as you felt his plush lips caress the shell of your ear, the back of your thighs suddenly flush with the edge of his desk.  

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to…but I’ve waited so, so long for this,” he whispered before gently pecking your cheek. "For you," he added before kissing your other cheek. Your heart nearly burst as you gripped the edge of the desk and spread your legs, your core instantly ablaze at his simple gesture. You bit your lip and grabbed his broad shoulders. 

“Please, Miguel…I need you,” you whispered. Miguel narrowed his eyes and groaned before crashing lips against yours. You squealed as your mouths danced in a sloppy, wet kiss, one of your hands sliding up to grip his dark locks. He grunted as you tugged on his messy hair. 

“Coño,” he growled against your neck [Fuck]. You gasped as he grabbed your thighs before sitting you atop of his desk, knocking over several objects. You panted as he lowered his head before crashing his lips against yours. Both of you moaned into each other’s mouths as your lips danced with heated passion. Miguel swiped his tongue across your bottom lip before tugging on it between his teeth.

You parted your lips, sighing as he slipped his wet muscle inside. You whined when he squeezed your breasts, cupping them in his warm palms as he swirled his tongue around yours. His pupils were blown wide when the two of you parted, a long strand of spit connecting your mouths.  

“You have no fucking idea what you’ve been doing to me, princesa,” he murmured as he pressed his hips against yours [princess]. You keened as you felt his covered, swollen cock rub against your pussy as he furrowed his brows. 

“A-Ah, Miguel,” you moaned as you tilted your head back. The man above you snarled before he started to grind his hips against your clothed heat, his deft fingers working to strip you of your jacket.

“Keep talking, baby,” he muttered before suddenly tossing your cover-up aside. Goosebumps erupted over your skin as he kissed along your neck, lingering just over your pulse as you mewled. 

“M-Miguel,” you chanted his name as he sucked harshly against your skin. A sharp cry rang out through the small office as he leaned back. He hushed you before his hands fell over your exposed shoulders. You slowly slid off the desk to help him discard your dress. It crumpled onto the floor as you trembled, your core swelling with heat as you stood in front of him with a dark, lacy bra and a similar-looking thong. You bit your lip as he scanned up and down your body before sighing. 

“Espléndida,” he breathed in awe as he brushed his fingers over your cheek [Gorgeous]. Your body nearly melted at his touch as he tugged on the band of your thin panties. You gasped when his hands made quick work of your bra, letting it fall next to your dress. He groaned as your nipples hardened, his fingers and thumbs instantly finding their way to your sensitive buds. You squeezed your thighs as he massaged and pinched your nipples, his mouth lingering over your ear. 

“Are you sure you want to go further?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you replied almost instantly. Miguel’s low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as his hands fell back to his side. You frowned as he stepped back, though your heart raced again as he took a seat in one of the large chairs. He gave you a hungry grin as he patted his large thigh. 

“Come have a seat, then,” he beckoned. You quickly rushed over, straddling his waist as your tits rubbed against his chest. You wanted to rip his clothes off, see his chiseled, naked body as you bounced on his unimaginably thick cock. Your brow knitted together when he placed his hands on your thighs. He licked his lips before rubbing circles against the flesh of your waist. 

“Mi conejita, while I’d love to feel your warm, tight pussy wrapped around my cock...I have another idea,” he whispered [my bunny]. Your chest grew tight as you groaned.

"What is it?" you asked. Miguel smoothed his thumb across your cheek as he smiled.

“How about you ride my thigh until your cum soaks all the way through my slacks?” he purred as his hands slid your panties down your thighs. You flushed as you heard him snarl, his eyes glued to the way your sticky folds glistened in the dim lighting of his office. 

“Tan mojada,” he breathed before spreading your warm lower lips apart with his thick digits [So wet]. You mewled as his other hand pushed your hips down against his thigh, the sudden contact causing you to jolt a little. Miguel chuckled before latching his lips to your own, letting his mouth linger as you hesitate for a moment. He leaned over as he stroked your lower back. 

“Cariño,” Miguel husked into your ear [Honey]. You wrapped your arms around his thick neck as you began to grind down on his leg. You shoved your face into his wide shoulder as a powerful wave of pleasure surged through your pussy.

“Mmmm there you go,” he drawled. You whined as you pushed your hips back and forth, each drag against his thigh making your pussy gush with more arousal. You heard him grunt as his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, his eyes locked onto the hypnotic sway of your body. 

“Fuck,” you sobbed as a wave of pleasure surged over your body. He nibbled on the lobe of your ear as he bucked his hips forward. “M-Miguel,” you choked as you started to grind a little faster. A deep rumble rose from his chest as he heard you call him by his name, his hand immediately tilting your head back up. 

“Give me those gorgeous lips, (Y/N),” the large man cooed. You complied, pushing forward as the two of you latched onto each other’s lips. You moaned into his mouth as you slid your hips back and forth. Miguel grunted before pulling back. “Look so hot riding my thigh,” he said before slapping your ass. You yelped, the sudden pain quickly mixing with pleasure before dripping right into your swollen clit. You gasped and sputtered into his mouth as you tilted your hips at a different angle, allowing your tender, puffy button to deliciously rub against the hardness of his thighs. 

“Oh God,” you mewled as you felt the tension in your lower belly wind into a tight knot. You heard him chuckle before he dove into your neck. You cried out as he sucked a hickey over your skin, the spot fresh and tender when he pulled away. You whimpered when you felt one of his hands slip away from your body, only to part your lips as you watched him unzip his pants.

You moaned softly as he pulled his throbbing cock out from his briefs. A bead of precum oozed from his flushed, bulbous tip as he squeezed the base of his shaft. A dangerous glint lingered in his dark eyes as he brought one of your hands to his cock, the heat of his flesh instantly overwhelming your senses as he steadied you on his leg. 

“I’ve got you, bebé,” he whispered as he splayed his hand over your hip [baby]. You panted, your pussy squelching against his pant leg as you wrapped your palm around his girth. You swallowed thickly, his thickness causing your legs to tremble as you began to pump your fist up and down his veiny shaft. The room was soon full of your heavy pants and slick squelches as your head began to spin. 

“That’s it…c-coño,” his hot breath fell over your shoulder as you glided your hand along his sweltering cock [fuck]. You nearly choked on your own breath as you felt the muscles in your lower stomach start to flinch and twist into knots. Miguel panted before he rested his forehead on yours. “You gonna cum hermosa, hm? Cum all over my leg like a good little puta?” the older man rumbled [beautiful; slut]. You nodded, your other hand desperately clutching his curling his shoulder. 

“Yes!” you cried out as you threw your head back. He smirked against your pulse, his hands pulling your body impossibly closer to his leg. 

“Cum for me, hermosa,” he growled before sinking his teeth into your shoulder [beautiful]. You wailed into his chest as your inner walls spasmed, your hips bucking wildly as your orgasm tore you to shreds. Your pace faltered as your body was overcome with bliss, your skin glistening with sweat as Miguel kissed the fresh bite-mark adorning your skin. Your hand still gripped his shaft as you floated back down from your high.

“You did so well…” he praised, his voice lingering a little as he placed his hand over yours. You slowed your movement over his cock as he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. 

"Now...get on the floor and show those pretty tits of yours,” Miguel growled, his cheeks flush as he licked the corner of his mouth. You released a shaky breath as you slowly climbed onto the floor, your knees sinking into the soft rug as you kept your legs spread. You gazed up at him, his fucked out face nearly sending you over the edge again as he furiously jerked himself off, his swollen tip ready to burst. 

You gave him a wry smirk before you parted your lips and stuck out your tongue. Miguel scrunched his nose as his hips snapped forward, his warm cum trailing over your breasts and all the way up to your cheek. You moaned as you felt some of it splash against your wet tongue, savoring the salty taste of his seed. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he rasped as he clenched his hair with his other hand, his cock twitching out the last few ropes of his spend as you jiggled your tits for him. Your legs trembled beneath you as you watched him fall back into his chair, his large chest heaving as he let his cock soften in his hand. It twitched when you showed him the stripe of cum on your tongue before you gulped it down. 

“Zorra traviesa,” he husked [Naughty fox]. You pressed your hands onto his knees as you shuffled forward, your cum-soaked tits nearly brushing over his legs. He cocked a brow as you leaned forward, catching the head of his cock between your lips as you suckled on it. Miguel hissed between gritted teeth as his thighs clenched beneath you. You gazed into his eyes as you swirl your tongue around his tip. The intoxicating saltiness lingered on your wet muscle as you licked him clean, his hands slowly stroking your hair as his breathing slowed. 

“You’re really something else, (Y/N),” he panted. You released your mouth from his cock with a wet “pop” as you slipped away. You flinched when you felt him rest a hand on your shoulder. “Please, let me,” he said softly as he grabbed some tissues nearby. Your entire body burned as he wiped away his spend from your body. A gentle yet solemn look graced his features as he finished cleaning you up. 

“Ahí tienes,” he said before swiping his thumb along your bottom lip [There you go]. You felt your heart sink a little as you glanced at the clock, your hour with him soon coming to a close. “I believe these are yours,” Miguel smirked as he held your clothes in his hand.

You blushed and smiled as you took them from him. You turned around, making sure you glance over your shoulder as you gave him a full view of your ass. Miguel raised his brow as he slung one of his arms over the chair, his eyes roaming over your backside. Your hands shook a little as you began to redress yourself…your brows raised as you noticed that your thong was missing. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll buy you another one,” Miguel chuckled as you whipped your head around. His eyes were half-lidded and damn-near glazed over as he handed you your bag. He shuffled in place for a bit before picking at something in his side pocket. “Do you have any plans tonight?” he asked. You blinked and shook your head. 

“Just doing some homework,” you breathed, your heartbeat picking up again as he stared at you with a hungry gaze. You squealed when he stepped forward and placed a quick kiss on your lips.

“Good…because I don’t want anyone interrupting the little surprise I have for you later,” he smirked against your mouth.

----

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Arachnophilia: (Part Thirty-two)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Time to cry.

Both you and Mig were hesitant to leave the closet. Despite the abysmally horny scene you’d both made in the lobby in the throes of Mig’s prey-driven rut, now that you were both a little more sober, the thought of facing your colleagues was less than enticing. You didn’t want the little whispered concerns about whether you were okay, and you certainly didn’t want the snickers about Miguel’s size.

And besides, he was ever so warm. You loved the soft fuzz of his legs as they brushed your cheeks, leaving a glow on your skin. You loved the heat of his torso when he hugged you, and the little sigh he did as he rested his chin on the crown of your head.

But, you couldn’t exactly stay in there forever.

You creaked the door open just an inch and peeped your head around the corner, allowing just your eyes to appear. Mig did the exact same, slowly sliding his head around the door just above your own, like curious prairie dogs.

To your relief it seemed that the party was already in full swing. There was music playing, people laughing, cheap plastic pumpkins cackling, and huge groups of spiders all hurrying about in full costume.

Nobody would notice you. But, would they notice the room?

You glanced back over your shoulder at the mess of webs you’d left behind.The sticky stings were dripping with some kind of obscene liquid. Whether it was saliva or something else, though… well, of that you weren’t sure. Your eyes met, and in near unison you agreed:

‘They’ll just think its decoration.’

You spread your leg forward as if to leave, only to then duck out of sight once more as a gaggle of spiders rushed past, squishing yourself behind the door with Miguel awkwardly pressed up against your chest. You eyed him and your little mess up for the second time.

‘Is this… Is this a health hazard, Mig, do you think?’

‘Why are you asking me that, arañita?’

‘You’re the super genius!’

‘I’m not a doctor.’

‘A genetical physicist is better than doctor!’

‘Ay, arañita, be careful who you say that to…’

‘No, just- come on. I trust your judgment. You will ease my guilty conscience.'

‘… I mean we have never gotten sick from it.’

‘A very good point, Mr. O’Hara. A very good point indeed. In that case, I am sold. Let’s just leave it.’

Once the noise immediately outside the little closet door had passed, you allowed yourself to slip out and join the fray. Mig followed close behind.

Your hands instinctively interlocked as you headed towards the main party. It was a little nerve-wracking to be around people knowing the state of your body. You could feel the little web plug still sitting snuggly inside you, which would undoubtedly stay there until later that evening when Mig would finally and reluctantly pull it out, only to most likely stuff you again.

You were very, very, VERY full, and it was unbearably distracting.

As you took your first few steps into the crowd you glanced up at Mig. You looked at him with the expectation that you’d see the same concern on his face, that shared fear of being found out, but to your surprise, Mig looked the exact opposite. His eyes were glinting with a smug, primal sheen that you could only describe as possessive pride. He was relishing the knowledge that he’d stuffed you up and now got to parade you around while filled with his seed, his web knot, even if he put up a shy front before all the other spiders.

You huffed and gently elbowed his leg, causing him to stumble.

‘Mm! Arañita? Are you—’

Mig glanced down in shock at your unexpected nudge, but the moment he saw your expression he knew what you were thinking. He at least had the sense to break into a bashful blush as he shook himself out.

‘… I will not apologize for my instincts’ he grumbled.

‘Mig—’

‘I will not! I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to feel pride about such things.’

‘Mig, come on—’

‘Nature! It is my nature! I cannot argue with nature, arañita!’

You tried to pout, you really did, but as you stared up at his red cheeks and those big red eyes that even now betrayed a deep level of possessive adoration, you couldn’t help but break into a smile yourself. You giggled and tried to cover your mouth while Mig grunted.

‘What? Why are you now laughing?’

‘Oh, nothing. Nothing.’

‘What is so funny?’

‘Nothing!’

You decided to tease him a little more, and broke into a slight jog so that he was forced to scurry after you across the floor.

‘Ah- arañita?’ he chirped as you sped up. You saw his legs shuffling faster and picked up the pace, breaking into a run.

‘Mmm, come on. Faster’ you purred.

Mig purred back as he obediently followed. ‘Faster?’

‘Come on. You wanna know why I’m laughing, you gotta catch up’ you giggled.

Mig bristled with joy as he started to speed up alongside you. It pleased something in his primal brain to be chasing you, pursuing you. He moved his legs faster, clambering over fake pumpkins and spiders passing by as he tried to keep up with your pace.

Neither of you even paid attention to the other hoards of spiders who all jumped aside as Mig barrelled through. All you could think about was how fun it was to tease him, and how fun it would be when he caught you. In those moments, it was only you and him.

‘Arañita!’

Mig breathlessly called little nickname as he scurried through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the top of your head. He kept having to duck beneath plastic spiders hanging from the ceiling, though even at his most careful he took a number of pumpkin garlands to the face. Soon he was draped in paper decorations like a giant Halloween statue.

You finally skipped to a halt in front of the big open craft table, a movement so sharp that Mig barely had time to course-correct his own lumbering body. He skidded on the slippery tiled floor and bumped right into your back, pushing your stuffed belly into the table with a slight ‘oomph’.

A handful of people looked over with a mixture of disgust and morbid curiosity, but you ignored them. You were too busy giggling.

‘Jesus, Mig- oof, my god.’ You grunted as Mig withdrew from you, his hands outstretched to cup your shoulders as he ensured you were alright.

‘Arañita, you stopped so suddenly. Are you okay—’

‘I forgot how big you are sometimes’ you groaned, cutting off his little interjection. Mig snorted.

‘Excuse me? That seems untrue, mi amor.’

You tilted your head back and your brow tilted with it, shooting him a slightly confused expression. ‘What?’

‘That you’d forget I am big’ he repeated back. Immediately you rolled your eyes again. ‘Ohhh, okay. Okay. Really? A double entendre?’

‘A what?’

‘Your dick, Mig. You’re talking about your dick, right?’ you whispered back.

You were too busy giggling at Mig’s wide eyes and gormless expression to care about the spider people standing within listening distance, all of whom were now frozen in horror. He huffed and tried to play it off, glancing anywhere except your face.

‘I- I did not, necessarily mean that, arañita’ he insisted. Your lips curled into a smile so wide it hurt. His enormous legs were scuttling and shifting from side to side, something he only did when he was doing a terrible job of lying.

‘Oh, Mig. It’s not like you to be so coy’ you teased. You made a point of tickling the spot between his foreleg and his abdomen, knowing it would make him skitter and dance. His little tufty paws hopping back and forth always brought you joy.

‘Oye! Not there, mi tesoro’ he hissed back. He attempted to grasp and hold you still with his front paws but you just tickled those as well, noting the way his scarred, muscular body twitched and tensed as you did. Oh, to make that terrifying beast of a man quiver. It was pure joy.

He wrestled with you in the most childish form of PDA until he finally had you clutched to his chest. He held you there, one hand on your head and both forelegs wrapped around your chest, and he purred as he felt you squirm and laugh. His exasperation quickly turned back into a worn but gentle smile pulling across his chiseled, weather-beaten face.

‘Mi tesoro- ay, Dios Mio. You are in a state tonight, aren’t you?’

‘It’s a party, my love. Can I not enjoy myself?’

His smile deepened. You watched those little lines appear by his eyes as the corner of his lips tilted upward, the lines you could now count off by heart. His fangs flashed white in the spooky lighting.

‘I would love nothing more, arañita’ he murmured back. ‘I promise, I would love nothing more.’

He gave you another firm squeeze before letting you go, but his clawed hands remained on the small of your back. It was just a light touch. Not enough to herd you, but just enough to let you know he was there. It was enough to let you know he loved you.

When you turned back around all the other spiders had left. It seemed your little sickly romantic display had put them off their food.

You shrugged it off and tried not to focus on it too much, mostly for Mig’s sake. Instead, you focused on the food.

‘Ooo, they went all out.’

You picked at a few spider-themed cupcakes while Mig peered over your head. You could feel his chin on the crown of your head, nestling into your hair.

‘Mm… I remember these, I think. From before I changed’ Mig murmured to himself. He picked up a cupcake between the claws of his thumb and forefinger, coyly raising it to his face. You grabbed one for yourself and hopped up so that you were seated on the table's edge.

‘How’s it look?’ you asked, taking a bite of your own. Mig turned it a full 360 degrees barely an inch from his eyes, then took a cautious lick.

‘Mm… I’m, unsure if my stomach can adjust to this’ he grunted. ‘I’m so used to raw meat…’

‘What?’ you snorted. ‘You still have a human stomach, right?’

‘Yes… But it will pass down to my spider half’ he noted. He took another lick and visibly bristled at the sudden, overwhelming taste of butter and sugar on his tongue. You watched every hair on his abdomen stand up at once.

‘Ach! That is- overwhelming’ he hissed. You tried and failed to stifle a giggle as he bared his fangs at the little dessert.

‘Alright, alright. I’ll ask if there’s any raw venison around’ you teased, and with your free hand you grabbed the cupcake from him so that you had two.

‘No! No, I can… I will not be, defeated by this, sugary nonsense’ Mig insisted. He eyed up the cupcakes like they were about to bite off his finger, tepidly tapping back and forth as he worked up the courage to take it back once more, but as he dithered on his decision you got an idea.

‘Okay. Okay, come here. Let’s share’ you offered. When Mig raised both brows you peeled the wrapper off of the cake and placed half of it between your lips, leaving the other half hanging out for him to take. You leaned up, coaxing him down with those soft eyes you knew he couldn’t resist.

Mig almost blushed. His little abdomen wriggled with excitement, his paws tapping, and slowly he lowered his legs until you were both at the same height.

You felt his breath, his nose, the little bump of his forehead. He parted his lips, moving forward and back as he tried to find the right angle, and then he closed on the other half of the cake.

Your lips touched, and you savored it for just a moment before messily pulling apart.

Crumbs covered your lap as the middle of the cake collapsed, and you rushed to swallow between fits of giggles. Miguel was so flustered he swallowed his half in one go, forcing him to cough and thump his bare chest. That only made you giggle more.

‘Oh my god, Mig—’

‘Ah- ah. I-I don’t think I even tasted a bit of that’ he wheezed. You laughed so hard that your belly started to hurt.

‘God damn it! Alright, alright, let’s try another one—’

‘Hey! You two!’

A sharp voice drifted over the ambient spooky music, and for just a second you tore your eyes away from Mig to search for the culprit.

To your surprise, it was Jess. Miguel’s second-hand elite was moving with exorbitant speed and grace towards you and Mig, and her eyes were fixed on you in particular. You panicked and rushed to brush the crumbs off of your suit.

‘Jess! Hey, what—’

‘Where’s Miguel?’

You paused.

‘Uh, Mig? He—’

‘No, Miguel’ Jess stipulated. She looked weirdly distracted as her eyes darted around the room. ‘You know, our leader? Head of the society, the guy who should be here?’

‘Oh, uh… I-I’m not, sure’ you replied. ‘He—’

‘He is in his office’ Mig interrupted. You could feel his enormous torso leaning in over your shoulder so he could look Jess in the eye, and you could also see the way she stiffened at his presence. You bit back the urge to scowl.

‘His, office?’ Jess replied.

‘Yes. He ah, he offered to stay up late working on our project. The uh- the cross-universe serum, ma’am’ he added. ‘I offered to stay with him, but he said I should… enjoy myself, down here. With my mate.’

Jess took only a moment to dissect Mig’s response before immediately scoffing. ‘Uhuh. Uhuh. Wow, very interesting. VERY interesting.’

Her dry tone didn’t exactly land well with Mig, who instinctively took it at face value. He purred at the notion that he had, indeed, told Jess some interesting news, which only made you bristle more. You couldn’t stand the way people would talk to Mig, even if it was unintentional.

‘What’s the issue?’ you asked.

‘Oh, nothing. Just, it’s a very good story for him, isn’t it?’ Jess added sarcastically. ‘He’s being all altruistic all of a sudden, so he doesn’t have to attend the party.’

She spun in a circle and glared up at the entrance to his lab as if Miguel could somehow see her through all those dense walls. At this point Mig had finally caught on that his response hadn’t been taken as well as he assumed it would be, so he quickly shuffled forward to speak more clearly.

‘He did insist’ Mig said. ‘I offered to remain with him, but he insisted he continue working. We are very close to finding a solution, after all.’

Jess grumbled. She seemed perturbed that Mig was suddenly on Miguel’s side.

‘Ahuh. Alright. Guess I’m the honorary leader then, again, as always’ Jess said. ‘He calls me for backup when he gets his ass handed to him, and when everyone votes to throw a party I’m the one watching over it like you’re my hundreds and hundreds of spider kids—’

‘I apologize’ Mig suddenly blurted, interrupting her complaint in such an abrupt manner that both she and you jumped. Jess cocked her brow at the tentative-looking spider.

‘You- what?’

‘You seem…

Jess blinked. She blinked, and she gaped, and then she sighed. ‘My god… I forgot what you were like. Look, I’m not mad at you. I’m just- your uh, variant, is kind of a pain in the ass sometimes. Okay?’

Mig purred, his face unphased. ‘… Yes. I, believe I understand’ he purred back.

‘I’m sure you do’ Jess grumbled, and before you could even have a real conversation with her she turned and began to walk away.

‘I’m gonna go find Miguel in his office then. God damn antisocial little—’

Her mumbling faded into the background as she pushed through the crowd, leaving just you, Mig, and the ambient spooky music in the air.

As she hurried off you noticed Mig’s eyes following her. He had a blank expression as he watched her leave, but his eyes seemed instinctively driven upward to the huge gaping door that you knew led to Miguel’s office. You saw him shuffling in thought.

You knew he was probably thinking about going back himself. He looked antsy, shuffling his paws and his abdomen like a little saltshaker. You knew he was pining to finish that damn serum.

But you’d gone too long without just enjoying his presence for a while, and you were loathed to give him up now. Besides, Miguel was meant to be working on this project to make up for all the time he’d spent trying to pry you apart. You deserved to spend some one-on-one time with Mig now.

You reached out and tenderly tugged at his fur, urging him to meet your gaze.

‘Come on, my love’ you said gently. ‘Let’s go relax.’

Mig reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the office at the sound of your voice. It drew his head down until your eyes met, and he huffed at the sight of your smile. Your face was perfectly framed by the cheap Halloween lights, your lips turned up into a goofy grin that dimpled your cheeks.

He just wanted you to be his. He couldn’t stand another day without having you in his universe, in his world.

But… Perhaps, he could just enjoy you for a while. Just a while.

‘Okay, arañita’ he purred, and he returned your smile with one of his own. You adored the way his weathered, chiseled face shifted to accommodate his full lips tilting upward, the little lines by his eyes and the flash of his fangs. He never half smiled. He would always give you a full, wide, fang-filled grin when he saw you, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

‘Good boy’ you whispered, before patting his flank and heading back into the fray. ‘Come on handsome. Let’s do some good ol’ Halloween fun.’

With Mig’s hand gripped tight in your own, you dragged him into the depths of the party to see what Miguel had allowed them to get away with.

It seems he’d allowed them to get away with a lot.

The training station with the pop-out targets had been turned into a makeshift haunted house. They’d put up fake holographic haybales to hide the pop-outs, creating a labyrinth of twists and turns with pop-up villains around the bend of each corner. The lights were so dim that spiders kept falling into themselves.

You dragged Mig in with you. He didn’t quite understand that the fear was supposed to be fun, however, and every time something popped up and caused you to squeak with shock he would instinctively pounce on it like a wild beast, crushing and tearing the flimsy holographic cut-out to pieces. By the time you reached the end the poor thing was sparking and fizzling, now nothing more than a boring hay maze filled with decapitated doc oc figures spewing gibberish one-liners.

You hurried away and hoped that anyone going in after you didn’t realize who had destroyed it. Either way, it was certainly fun.

On the higher levels, they’d set up a fake trick-or-treating scenario, with spiders lounging in different offices so others could show up, knock on their doors, and beg for candy while showing off your outfits. You were pretty excited to show off your moth costume, especially with Mig at your side, but every time you knocked on a door the response was almost always the same. They’d open it with a cheery laugh, expecting to see one of their fellows in costume, only to blanch at the sight of Mig at your back. They never even gave you the chance to speak. They’d just throw candy at your feet and slam the door, leaving you to awkwardly scoop it back up.

At least twice you’d knock and receive on response, only to realize that the spiders were peering at you from behind the curtained window. The moment you’d lock eyes the curtain would fall, hiding their cowering faces like mice from a cat. In those instances, it was Mig who had to drag you away.

It was a little disheartening, but you refused to let it bother you too much. You went through the entire hall, knocking on every door, and then led Mig to a balcony overlooking the main lobby below so you could swing your feet and share your haul.

You basked in the quiet time together. You’d throw candy into his mouth only to get it stuck in his fur, and then you’d horrify him by getting it out with your teeth. You’d test him on sour candy to see how much he could manage, and giggle at the way he writhed and rustled at the overstimulation.

Once you’d calmed down a little you made your way towards the games corner, which was a little more fun. There was a re-creation of a classic arcade, ones that in Miguel’s timeline were almost extinct, and you tried your hand at those with Mig. He was god awful at video games. His hands were huge and undexterous, barely capable of holding either the panel controls or the guns, but he liked seeing you win, so he just pretended to be trying.

There was a room hosting a screening of old, spooky horror films in black and white at the far end of the building, but Mig was too big to even fit through the door, so you sat in the doorway and described the film to him in horrifying detail. You may have exaggerated a few things.

When someone complained you were letting in too much light you used your savings to buy up the entire popcorn stand and ran off with it bulked onto Mig’s back like a horse, followed by a trail of irritated, hungry film viewers.

The moon was at its peak by the time you began to slow down. You’d been absolute menaces in just about every activity the night offered, and you’d been left with a flushed face and a mild tummy ache. Still, you weren’t perturbed. You were extremely content with Miguel’s hand gripped in your own, and so was he.

Mig hadn’t felt this good since he turned. In fact… The more he thought about it, he hadn’t felt this good ever. He was such a punk teenager that he could never allow himself to be happy, and Alchemax was a slog. Dana had loved him, sure, but looking back, it felt… superficial. It felt, childish.

He was so immature with you, by all accounts. The rabid sex, the possessiveness, the menace energy, and the constant breaking of rules. And yet… He felt older with you. He felt, settled. It was like he was clawing back the decade of life he lost out on in the woods alone, and you never once complained.

He was in love. He was a giddy, stupid fool in love, and that made it so much more real.

‘You having fun, my love?’

Mig paused in his contented daydreaming to glance down. You were peering up at him with those soft eyes, your face glowing as you smiled. He smiled back.

‘Yes. Of course, mi tesoro. Why do you ask?’

‘Your butt’s wiggling.’

Mig’s smile faltered for a second. He spun around and discovered that, just as you’d said, his abdomen was rustling with glee. It was an involuntary reflex he’d never learned to control. He turned back with a rather flushed expression, but that embarrassment wasn’t allowed to fester for long. You threw yourself against his side and squeezed him, burying right into his fur.

‘Oh, you goof. God, it feels so good to see you happy.’

Your voice almost cracked as you spoke the words directly into his soft down. Mig was left speechless.

Happy. Yes, he was happy. Truly happy.

‘Do we have anything else left to try?’ Mig asked. You pouted and turned a full 360 degrees in a circle, pondering that same question. You could see the holographic hay maze, the food stand, the apples and the—

‘OH!’

You grasped Mig’s hand and pulled, attempting to drag him towards the far side of the lobby.

‘DANCE!’

Mig remained rooted to the spot, totally unphased by your attempt to shift him. You had his hand in yours and you were tugging, your feet slipping on the fine marble flooring, but he didn’t move a single inch.

‘Mi tesoro…’

As Mig spoke he lightly tugged, and immediately you were lifted off the floor and into the air. He raised you by your hand as if you weighed nothing before dropping you into his arms.

‘What? What’s up?’ you asked while settling down. You could see the avoidance in his expression, the way he darted his eyes and shrugged.

‘I don’t… Know if I can dance, here’ he replied slowly.

‘You love dancing though! What? Is it—’

You paused and darted your own eyes. People were still staring.

All day, they’d been staring. All day.

The staring, the whispers, the judgment. You couldn’t stand it a second longer. The idea that even now, when he had every right to just exist, Mig was still afraid of being squashed like a bug, it was too much. You finally felt your bristling, broiling irritation at their gawking eyes spill over.

‘No! Come on!’

You squirmed like a hyperactive puppy in his grip until he was forced to let you go, and without saying a thing you grabbed his hands and began guiding him again. Mig sighed.

‘Tesoro—’

‘Come on! We’re gonna dance!’

‘Arañita—’

‘Baby! Baby. Just- okay, listen to me.’

You tugged one more time before pausing, but you kept both of his hands tightly gripped within your own. You felt every bump, every calloused ridge, every fine hair on his knuckles, and every sharp claw protruding from the ends of his fingertips. He returned your stare.

‘I want you to be happy’ you insisted.

‘I… Arañita, I am happy, I just—’ Mig choked on his words when he saw the group staring at him from across the lobby. You pinched his hand to draw him back.

‘They don’t matter’ you whispered. ‘They don’t. And I’ll sit here until you’re ready, but… You love dancing. I know you do. It makes you happy. So let’s do it, Mig.’

The great, terrifying spider stared down at you in a state of absolute stillness.

For a moment, you worried you’d perhaps upset him.

You hadn’t though. Instead, it was the opposite. He was staying utterly still so that he didn’t break, so that he didn’t fall into a rustling, tapping, mewling mess. That enormous, terrifying, muscular beast of a man felt his heart nearly triple over so hard it hurt.

He did love dancing. And you knew that. And you didn’t care who stared.

He pursed his lips to avoid letting out any, ‘unmasculine’ noises, which you immediately noticed. Your eyes widened and your lips parted in an attempt to ask, ‘Mig are you crying?’, but the words never came.

Because before they could be spoken, the air was filled with a soft, dull, tap.

Mig tapped his huge paw, and then the next, and then the next. He moved closer to you as he did.

Tap, tap, tap.

You knew people were staring. You felt their eyes glowing in the dim light, like bats in a cave, straining to watch this odd display. They would always be staring, and you knew that now.

But right now, it was just you. It was just him.

Your smile widened until it hurt your cheeks, and you began to tap right back.

You moved with him towards the hall, letting the music fill your ears. Louder, louder, pulsing under your feet. His tapping got faster, and he began to match the rhythm.

Never once did he let go of your hand. Never once did he let go of you. You were all he could see, dancing and swaying and moving with all the grace of an impromptu, drunken rave with a partner three times your size. Miguel was graceful, precise, just like the spider he was, but your clumsiness only endeared him more.

Round and round you went under the golden glow of the lights above. You moved until you were dizzy, you spun and crossed your feet until your ankles hurt.

Mig got so excited that he whisked you off of your feet. He raised you to his chest and reared his body high, raising his front four legs as if throwing you up into the heavens. You squealed with joy and instinctively grasped his face, and he gazed at you with all the revelry of a dying man staring at an angel.

In that moment, time seemed to stop. Your mouth widened into the widest smile, ready to burst into a fit of pure, unspoiled laughter.

But your laughter never reached him.

That sweet, beautiful sound was cut short by a dull rumbling from further up the building. It was not explosive, nor was it even particularly loud, but it was deafening. It seemed to drown out every other sound in existence.

Mig stared at you, and in unison, your smiles began to fade.

You didn’t want to move. You didn’t want to turn your head. You could see the hair on Mig’s abdomen slowly rising to stand on end, the sign of his animalistic instincts kicking in, and in turn, you felt the hair on your nape rising with the goosebumps running up your skin.

Something in your subconscious could feel what was about to happen far before your other senses ever felt it. Call it a spider-sense, call it a sixth sense, or call it dumb intuition. Whatever it was, you knew.

You knew.

The explosion followed soon after.

A horrifying whistle filled the HQ, echoing through each corridor before punctuating in a violent burst. A flash of fire erupted from one of the higher chambers in the higher HQ, and its debris scattered across the open-plan beams in a raining cascade.

‘ARAÑITA!’

Mig’s instinct was to grasp you to his chest. You were nowhere near the fire and yet it was all he could think to do. His forelegs and human arms reached out and snatched you, drawing you close to his body as he turned his back on the sound, as if he could somehow swallow all of the potential damage with his own form.

But no damage came. As the society gasped and cried and even screamed, you barely heard it, because your ear was pressed too close to Mig’s chest. All you heard was his heartbeat, thudding hard and fast against the side of your head.

It took you a moment for the shock to die down, but the moment it did you began wrestling your way out of Mig’s grasp to assess the damage. You were still a hero, after all. Mig kept his hands close to your waist as you scurried over him and gazed out over the ground to assess the damage.

Luckily nobody seemed to be hurt. Their spider senses had kicked in with enough time to jump aside, and the debris was only a few smoldering lumps.

Instinctively your eyes went up, following the trail of destruction to its source. A single, open hole in the side of the wall, a gaping maw now spewing black smoke from within.

Mig’s eyes followed your own, and immediately he froze. Your blood ran cold.

‘No, no, no—’

You both knew where the fire was coming from. The smoke curled in the air like a snake, slithering out from the entrance to Miguel’s office.

It felt like your heart exploded.

‘Miguel…’

You moved reflexively. You were a spider, after all, and your instinct was always to protect, but this wasn’t just anyone. In that moment, despite all your animosities and the strangeness of your relationship, you felt fear. You felt pain. You felt terror that Miguel was hurt, or even worse, gone.

You prepped your web-shooters and rushed into action, but Mig wouldn’t let you move. He caught you by the nape right as you moved to swing and dragged you back to the floor kicking and yelling.

‘Mig! He—’

‘I know!’

Mig spat you out onto the floor with all the tenderness his panic would allow him to muster. His head was darting so fast it hurt, spinning between you and the smoke as he scuttled on the spot.

‘MIG! He was in there—’

‘I KNOW! I am going, you stay here!’ Mig insisted, his voice rising into a firm bark.

‘Mig, what are you doing!?’ you cried.

‘You stay here! It could be dangerous!’

‘I-If it’s dangerous then I should GO, why should you go?! I don’t want you to get hurt—’

‘I have to go, arañita!’

‘Mig—!’

‘HE’S ME!’

That was all Mig could say before he barrelled his way through the crowd, leaving you behind in the dust. He didn’t bother to look at who he pushed aside, nor who he trampled on his way.

He knew in his heart Miguel was alive. He felt down to the core of his soul that he would have felt it if Miguel died. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t injured. It didn’t mean he couldn’t still die, and so he pushed his body to the brink of its physical capability to climb that impossible architecture, because he refused to know what it felt like. He refused to feel his other self die like this.

When he reached the corridor entrance the other spiders were all trying to evacuate. They blocked his body like a tidal wave, a sea of tiny bodies pressing on his legs and threatening to buckle them in their panic. He had to physically force his way through them, using the strength in his upper arms to help propel the smaller spiders to the exit.

‘GO, GO!’

‘Mig?!’

He glanced up and squinted in the darkness, but he could only see the faint outline of someone moving towards him. Luckily, he remembered that voice.

‘Jessica?!’

‘Fuck- FUCK! Something blew in there!’ she cried back as she hurried towards his voice. ‘I left him in the middle of some- fucking- I don’t know what he was doing, but then the air just hit me—’

‘It’s okay. Go back down, I’ll find him.’

‘You- what?!’

Jess paused and spun right as she reached the exit, only to lose Mig into the dark, curling smoke. She screamed after him to no avail.

‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!’

‘MIGUEL!’

Mig’s first call elicited nothing. He heard someone yelling at him from back out in the main lobby, but he refused to acknowledge it. He was solely focused on the thick of the smoke and the body he knew was contained within it.

‘MIGUEL?!!’

His second cry echoed as he stumbled forward, blindly grasping at the walls for guidance. The smoke grew thicker as Mig descended toward the main lab. As a larger beast than any other in the society he could just about handle the intake into his lungs, but not for long. He knew he had to be fast.

He blindly clambered deeper, stumbling over fallen debris and smoldering electronics. With one hand over his mouth, he screamed again.

‘MIGUEL!’

Through the crackling of the fire, a response finally came.

‘GET OUT!’

Mig felt his chest lighten. That was him. That was Miguel.

‘I’m coming through! Can you move?’

‘GET! OUT!’

Mig paid no mind to the repeated cry. He could tell Miguel’s voice was hoarse and slightly muffled, implying he was trapped beneath something. He continued forward until his clawed hands finally grasped the rim of his laboratory door.

It was a mess. It looked like a shockwave of some kind of flown out and destabilized a lot of the beams above, and it had sent the floating desk plummeting into the ground. The broken electronics must have caused the fire and the smoke. He could see them flickering and burning in the corners. 

‘MIGUEL! I AM HERE, TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!’

‘Argh- STUPID, BASTARD, BUG—’

Miguel's last angry cry thankfully drew Mig’s eye straight to him. He was just visible through the debris. His body was crushed under several pieces of rebar, with only his upper torso visible through the swirling grey. Thankfully he didn’t seem to have been pierced by any of them. He had his head down in an attempt to avoid breathing in the smoke, which meant he likely couldn’t get out on his own.

Mig wasted no time scuttling across the floor towards him.

‘Miguel!’

With almost painful ease Mig grasped the rebar and eased it upward, filling the room with the spine-tingling scraping of metal on metal. Miguel gritted his teeth and dragged himself out like a cat, digging his claws into the floor before wrenching himself forward as far as he could. The moment his rear and thighs were free Mig dropped the rebar and yanked him by the nape the rest of the way.

‘ARGH!’

The two men collapsed on the verge of the exit, panting and coughing from the strain. Miguel’s suit was torn and sparking around his hips and thighs, the hologram seemingly torn in huge strips across his skin, but he was otherwise alive.

‘It… I-I don’t know what happened’ Miguel gasped.

‘Was it a test?!’

‘A-Argh… I-I was just, trying to run the tests, and it—’

Miguel broke down mid-explanation, sinking into another coughing fit.

‘What? It what?’ Mig snapped. ‘Where is the serum?’

‘I… I saw… I saw…’

Miguel heaved his chest as he forced the words out. ‘I-I thought I saw… A-An anomaly…’

‘A what?!’ Mig cried. He raised his head to try and make anything out, but he could see only one thing through the heavy smoke: The lab desk, the holograms, and their work still precariously balanced on its surface.

The desk where they worked had thrown a lot of the testing equipment to the floor when it collapsed, shattering it in the process. The antidote for Micaela was still safely held inside a holographic cube cage, which was designed to withstand gravity by keeping the contents inside stable at all times.

But the serum for you…

The serum had been taken out for its test, and the container had shattered. Half of it was smeared across the desk, dripping to the floor, shuddering with unstable energy as it morphed and fluctuated like liquid silver. The other half of it was still in the container, which by some miracle was propped up by a single textbook.

He could salvage it still. There was enough to salvage their experiment, he knew it.

He went to move, to save it, only to freeze once more. His eyes were drawn upward by a low, shuddered creak.

Debris. Heavy, creaking debris, slowly inching downward from where the presumed explosion had dislodged it.

Mig felt his whole body go cold.

‘I-I panicked’ Miguel wheezed. ‘I… I-I shut it down mid-test, it just- the fuses blew—’

‘No, no, no’ Mig whispered. ‘No, no—’

The debris was moving. That precarious, hanging debris was now swinging from side to side, like an axe preparing for the block. It creaked with an almost eerie, otherworldy groan.

Mig’s pupils dilated as he stared that debris down.

It wasn’t going to hit him. He knew that. But it would hit what was beneath it.

His eyes lowered and fixated on the table beneath the debris’ path.

One on side, the serum that would allow you to live in his universe. On the other, the serum to heal Gabriel’s daughter.

The debris began to groan as it inched ever lower. He felt his blood run cold.

No, no, no, NO, NO.

He had time. He had time to grab both. He had time. He had TIME.

Mig began to scurry towards the table, his spider legs struggling to move over the uneven terrain.

No, no, No, No, I have TIME! I HAVE TIME!

The debris inched lower. A wire strained and screeched as it struggled to hold its own weight. Metal poles and broken concrete littered the floor, impeding his movement like the hands of fate.

I CAN GRAB BOTH! JUST GO! I CAN GRAB BOTH!

A wire snapped. The debris sank deeper.

He moved faster, physically clawing on all fours to reach the table. He could see and feel nothing else in that moment but the dangling claws of fate above.

NO! NO, NO, NO—

And then, it snapped.

In that moment, there was only a second. There was no time to choose, no time to think. It was only instinct that could guide him. There was only something higher, something deep inside him that knew to act on pure adrenaline alone, that could make the decision that it did.

Mig threw himself at the table.

In one second, he’d grasped in.

In two seconds, he’d rolled out the other side.

In two and a half seconds, the debris had hit the table.

In a violent clatter the table burst and his body hit the floor with a deafening crunch. He could feel the concrete beneath cracking from the impact. He rolled twice before collapsing onto his back, his huge abdominal legs folded in for safety, and his hands clutched tight to his chest.

Between his tightly bound fingers, a tiny little glow was emanating.

He’d made it just in time, but only to grasp the antidote for Micaela.

Mig’s hands were shaking as he clutched it to his chest. He was wheezing, coughing painfully from the strain of the smoke, but he couldn’t even think about his own lungs in that moment, because his heart hurt more.

He was in shock. He was frozen.

It took Miguel physically screaming to draw him out of his own stupor.

‘MIG! GET OUT OF HERE YOU IDIOT, NOW!’

Mig was numb as he raised his head. He couldn’t hear anything beyond a muffled cry. It felt like he was underwater, with everything moving painfully slow. He shuddered as he pushed himself up onto his knees.

‘I… N-No, no…’

‘MIG, RUN!’

He blinked at the sight of Miguel clawing towards him. He blinked, and he turned, and he saw it.

A tiny, unstable black dot, one that seemed to spark and burst like a solar flare. It was slowly formulating out of the fallen debris, moving upward from the spot where the serum had been.

He frowned, unable to even comprehend what he was seeing.

‘… W-What, is that…?’

He clutched Micaela’s antidote and squinted at the growing dot. It looked… unnatural. Like a physical hole in reality, like a dead pixel on a camera brought to life. He blinked, and he could have sworn it’d gotten bigger.

Growing. Morphing. Eating.

A universal anomaly. A disruption. A glitch.

Miguel was beyond rational thought at this point. His eyes were so wide they’d gone bloodshot, his fangs extended to a painful degree. He was eyeing up that black, glitching spot like it was a demon straight from hell, like it was a ghost coming back to haunt him. He was in a living nightmare, and all he could see was red. He had to fight to stay lucid, to not slip back into the screams of a little girl he couldn’t save.

He screamed again.

‘MIG PLEASE! GET OUT OF HERE!’

Mig stumbled to his feet all while staring at the growing anomaly. It was tainting everything in its path. It would touch a piece of debris and cause it to shudder, glitching in and out of existence before finally being consumed by the darkness. He moved around it in a circle, like prey pacing around a predator, until he felt Miguel grab his arm.

‘GO, NOW!’

The sharp pinch of Miguel’s claws finally triggered Mig’s instincts, and he turned and fled. Miguel fled behind him, all while screaming on his phone to get a stabilizer in there now.

The two variants burst out of the entrance to Miguel’s office and out of the smoke-filled hallway in a flurry of coughs and wheezes, only to be met by a gaggle of terrified spiders. Their voices created a deafening hum around them, one that was impossible to drown out. You were at the front of the crowd when the two burst forth from the smoke, and without even thinking you rushed immediately to Mig’s side.

‘MIG! Jesus, christ you—oh my god, you’re okay!’

Your wailing did not move Mig to comfort you. In fact, your voice didn’t even seem to reach him. He stumbled blindly until his forehead hit the nearest wall, all while you watched in stupefied horror.

‘Mig?!’

You followed him closely but your hands hovered, unsure of whether to touch him or not. You’d never seen him so shell-shocked.

‘Mig? Baby, hey- hey, look at me sweetheart, I’m here—’

Your voice was just dead noise in his ears. Mig couldn’t hear anything but ringing, and he could see nothing but that little black void slowly growing on the floor. A black hole, an endless sucking abyss, the dark iris of an eye sent by the cosmos to mock him.

You continued to tug at Mig’s fur as he gripped the wall, pleading for him to look at you, but you turned when you heard Miguel wheezing. He’d staggered out into the fray in an attempt to appear in control, and was waving away the spider nurses with one hand while ringing up Lyla with the other.

‘Lyla, get the… G-Get the team in, now. We need… We need emergency, anomaly control’ he panted.

‘Miguel?’ you squeaked. He shot you a quick, red-eyed stare before turning away, unable to hide the agony your face caused him. The confusion in your eyes, the fear, the fact that you didn’t know what had been done, it made his chest so tight that it hurt.

‘Lyla! I said… I said, we need emergency anomaly control, now! No—’

‘You…’

Miguel froze when he heard that violent, echoing hiss, as did you.

Mig turned on Miguel with vicious eyes. Out of seemingly nowhere his soft, frightened face had been twisted with a deep, paranoid rage, a feeling of hopelessness that could find no outlet but despair.

‘YOU—YOU DID THIS!’

He launched himself at Miguel, the two tousling as they collapsed onto the hard floor. A horrified cry rang out through the other spiders but they were far too afraid to intervene, not when the saw the splash of scarlet erupt from Mig's claws. For a moment you were also too shocked and confused to even intervene, but when you saw Mig physically slash Miguel’s chest you darted forward to try and drag them apart.

‘MIG- STOP, SH- MIG!’ 

You screamed to get his attention, but he wasn't listening. He pinned Miguel down and try to claw at his face. 

‘YOU! YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, DIDN’T YOU!’ he wailed. 

No matter how hard you pulled at Mig’s fur he refused. Miguel choked and gasped, his claws scraping at Mig’s face in an attempt to snap him from this emotional trance.

‘I DIDN’T- DO, THIS—’ Miguel wheezed.

‘YOU DID THIS! YOU BLEW IT UP, DIDN’T YOU!’ Mig screamed. ‘YOU COULDN’T STAND- ME- BEING HAPPY, YOU COULDN’T!’

‘I DIDN’T, DO THIS, YOU IDIOT—’

‘I’LL KILL YOU!’

‘MIG!!’

In a moment of panic, you bit Mig’s finger. You sank your teeth into the skin with just enough force to create an impression, but nowhere near strong enough to cause damage. You just wanted him to stop. You just wanted him to stop. And somehow, he did. The sudden jolt of pain broke through Mig's concentration, though it did nothing to stop the red mist coating his senses. He squirmed and spun and shook his hand on instinct, throwing your body to the floor. It was the sound of your pained squeak that broke the spell fully.

‘Arañita?!’

He looked down and finally saw you there, clutching your hand, and his eyes flashed. He saw Dana, clumped and bloody on the floor. He saw the anomaly growing. He saw all the dreams he’d had where he’d hurt you, where he’d broken you, where he’d given in to his instincts and eaten you whole.

‘Arañita, n-no, no—’

He collapsed and reached out with shaking hands, too afraid to touch you. It was you who had to take his hand, showing him that he wouldn’t hurt you again, though you couldn’t hide the disappointment and hurt in your eyes at what he’d done. You knew it was an accident, and you hadn't been hurt badly, but that didn't make it okay. However, in that moment, your discomfort only furthered his panic. 

'N-No... No, no, mi tesoro, I'm so sorry.' 

‘M-Mig, just… Just calm, down, we can talk—’

‘I’m sorry’ Mig wailed. ‘I-I’m sorry, I didn’t- I-I didn't see you, I-I can’t—’

‘Shh, hey—’

‘I don’t want to hurt you’ Mig sobbed. ‘I-I don’t, I don’t, I—’

He turned and saw the hundreds of spiders staring at you all, their eyes a blurry sea of judgment. It was like staring at some eldritch monster with a thousand eyes, all of them peering right into his soul. He couldn’t stand it.

‘I-I don’t want to hurt you’ he sobbed. ‘I-I love you, arañita, I-I love you—’

‘I love you Mig’ you replied, and this time your own voice broke. ‘G-God damn it, just- listen, please—’

‘I-I’m sorry, arañita—’

‘I know, I know—

‘I’m sorry!’

In the middle of Mig’s breakdown, Miguel finally pushed himself to his feet. Once again he pushed away the nurses and first-aid professionals trying to tend to his new wounds. Instead, he turned on Mig, his eyes narrowed and glowering.

You happened to see him staring, which drew Mig’s eyes to the same spot. All three of you stared at each other.

Miguel could have snapped at him. That’s what the old Miguel would have done. Snapped at him, blaming him for all of this mess, right before turning and fleeing the scene.

But he didn’t.

Miguel stormed forward and grabbed Mig by the head. He pressed their foreheads together, holding them nose to nose, and he shared in that despair.

‘I swear, I didn’t do this, but I- I’m sorry’ he forced out. ‘I’m sorry. I know. I know, and I am sorry.’

As unflattering as it was to admit, Miguel could only truly relate to his counterpart when he saw his own suffering inside him. Even before his attempt to reconcile for his own hypocrisy, this had held true. He’d saved him from the Dana accident for a reason. He knew what it meant to feel as if they were doomed, to fight so hard for a life where they could just be happy only to be told by the very universe itself that it could never be.

When he saw the pain he tried so hard to hide reflected in Mig’s eyes, his eyes, it broke him. He could deny it no longer.

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly from its usual cold, husky tone. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

Mig couldn’t take it. He broke, his body heaving a single, dry sob of despair, too exhausted to even wail. His lips parted but no sound came out.

‘I’m sorry’ Miguel repeated. He sounded miserable. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘S-Stop it. Stop saying that’ Mig wheezed.

‘I’m sorry, Mig.’

‘We have to- we- we can try again.’ Mig swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried his best to speak. ‘We just have to try again. It’s okay. T-The instability, the explosion, I think it set off the anomaly, but it’s not… It’s okay. We just need to be careful. It’ll be okay. We can try again.’

Miguel didn’t reflect Mig’s optimism. Instead, he looked drained. He looked broken.

‘… We can’t, do that, Mig.’

‘Why?! We nearly had it, we—’

‘Mig.’

‘No! NO, We nearly had it—’

‘Mig, please—’

‘NO! NO, NO—’

‘Mig…’

As Miguel held his gaze, Mig saw again that deep, haunting well at the pit of his iris. The darkness that went down, down, to a memory that had been burned into his eyes forever. The memory of just one, little, black hole, swelling until it consumed an entire universe.

A million people’s blood on his hands, and the ghostly stain of a little girl cradled in his arms.

Miguel hadn’t even realized that his hands were outstretched. He looked down, slowly, and realized he was frozen in the same position he’d taken on that day, when she vanished from his grip. When he’d cradled her so hard he thought he could somehow will her back to life.

‘I… There was an anomaly’ Miguel repeated slowly, almost as if in a dream. Mig felt his body caving in. He buckled like a horse, sinking and melting beneath the weight of what he knew was to come. ‘When it broke… You saw it, Mig…’

‘We have to- we have to try’ Mig repeated desperately.

‘There was an anomaly, Mig’ Miguel said, and the coldness of his tone drew even Mig to pause.

‘There was an anomaly, when it broke. That was exactly what I feared. We are meddling with things far beyond ourselves, far beyond the natural order, do you understand?’

‘No, no… It, just…’

‘Mig.’

The spider hybrid froze, his claws outstretched in a pleading manner. He looked broken.

‘Mig, I can’t allow this’ Miguel hissed, speaking in tones that only you and Mig could hear. ‘I can’t. I saw what messing with the canon like this does, and I will never see it again. I-I would rather die. Do you understand?’

Mig swallowed hard, only to find his throat had closed up. ‘… Please… Miguel—’

‘I saw this before.’

This time Miguel whispered, and he leaned in against Mig’s ear so that you couldn’t hear him. ‘I did this before. I messed with the universal stability, the webs. I tried to force myself into a universe I was never meant to be in. I-I did it for a family. I did it so I could be happy. And I watched that anomaly grow, and consume, and eat up my baby until she was nothing.’

Mig felt like ice water was going down his spine, trickling over the sharp bone beneath his skin and chilling him to the core. It was the most unpleasant, agonizing sensation he’d ever felt. He could almost see it; the little girl, the screams, the vanishing.

‘I. Would rather. Die’ Miguel repeated in slow, sharp terms, making his stance clear with not a drop of uncertainty. ‘I would rather throw myself, into that anomaly, than see anyone else ruined by it. I can’t. Mig, I can’t. I can’t see any more lives lost.’

Mig wanted to say something. He wanted to say anything.

But what did he say?

When he looked at Miguel, he knew there was no changing his mind. He had no serum left to test, no serum left to double-check. He’d saved Micaela’s antidote instead, because deep down, they were Spider-Man for a reason. Miguel O’Hara was a miserable creature, who loved far, far too much.

And he would suffer for that, forever. And so would you.

‘T-There’s… There’s nothing we can do?’

You finally stepped in and croaked out that question to Miguel, almost as if in shock. Miguel sombrely nodded.

‘I’ll do whatever I can, with the other elites’ Miguel murmured. ‘I might be able to get an agreement to sanction the relationship, even without the serum. The test still doesn’t prove that being together will cause any complications, just… Just that a combining of universal DNA might. So, no serum, and… And no children.’

‘But, we can still be together?’ you whispered. Miguel refused to nod, which caused your gut to twist.

‘… I’ll do what I can’ he murmured. ‘I will push the process as far as it can go. I promise.’

Mig nodded, but he looked numb as he did so. He didn’t even move when you crept back up to take his hand. He squeezed your fingers, clutching your delicate wrist so hard he could have snapped it, but he didn’t look at you.

Even when you whispered, even when your heart broke and your eyes grew wet in the face of his coldness, he didn’t look at you.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t face the loss.

That beautiful life was gone.

[epickiya722]

Before anyone gets on my case and think I'm jumping on the "Gojo is racist" bandwagon because "I hate Gojo" I'm telling you right now that I'm not saying he's racist. I don't even hate Gojo. In fact, I am a fan.

But I'm not gonna act like that man is so pure or Gege is always have it out for him.

What Gojo said is racist, but more so out of ignorance. And it is not the first time he said something ignorant to Miguel. So the scene in 255 isn't out of nowhere it just feels like it is because some of you probably haven't read the JJK 0 manga. 255 is more so a continuation.

This happens in the manga.

Gojo compares Miguel to a real life kickboxer and comedian, Bobby Ologun. This scene's dialogue is changed in the movie. I don't know why, probably because Bobby has some controversy surrounding him about assault charges in 2020, a year before the JJK 0 movie came out.

Now, before anyone goes "that's not ignorant, that's not racist", shush and take this from a view from a BLACK PERSON.

Bobby Ologun is a popular TV personality in Japan. Gojo sees what how Black people are on television. He grew up in a sheltered household and even after probably never interacted with a Black person until Miguel.

Saying "he's talking like he's Bobby Ologun" is putting is not what you say to a Black person. It's the assumption that Miguel, a Black person, knows this other Black person. It's the "every Black person knows every Black rapper".

And when we don't? It's assumed that Black person isn't a "true Black person" or "not acting Black".

I have had bad experiences with this. People like to act surprised that I'm a full Black person because "Oh my gosh your hair is so curly" and "but you're not ghetto" and "you're so sweet" and "you're so light skinned" and "you like anime". And when I tell them that I'm not mixed or another race they hit me with the "are you sure"? I'm born Black, my parents are both Black. Both of their parents are Black. I am Black, it's not up for debate!

Gojo unintentionally placed Miguel in a box by comparing him to another Black person who just so happens to also be African. I never been to Africa, but I know a Nigerian African isn't the same as Kenyan African. (Miguel is from Kenya.) Just because they're both African Black men doesn't mean Miguel has heard of the guy.

There's no such thing as a Black person "not acting Black". A Black person not displaying the stereotypes you think applies what to "what a Black person is" doesn't make that person any less Black.

They were born Black, that what makes them Black. But that doesn't mean we are all the same. Miguel is right. He isn't special because he's Black. He's special because he is him. This is even more explicit when you remember that jujutsu and curses are common in Japan, but not in other places. Miguel just so happens to be a rare case. It's like how Yuji was able to suppress Sukuna when it's an one in a million chance of survival.

So now the "Gojo is racist" jokes aren't funny? Because some of you were quick to laugh the first time when JJK 0 came out and the Black guy got a combo from your pale skinned fave. So now that the Black guy had to school your favorite on being ignorant, it's not funny? "Gege is trying to create chaos" or maybe you didn't pay attention the first time.

Or maybe you don't like the seeing reality that some of you are like this. Maybe you're that person who is quick to assume every Black person you cross is an athlete. Probably threw a slur or two at a Black person in the JJK fandom (and others) in their inbox.

Could you be upset because you were wrong that Miguel didn't die this chapter as you assumed and he actually showed out on Sukuna and survived? Mad because he got the spotlight? (Like how some of you were so sure Maki died of a Black Flash even though everyone else survived one, but okay.) "Damn it, the Black guy didn't die." Is that how you're feeling?

Some of you are acting as if Gege really dragged out that scene with ten pages or something. It was just a quick scene. And it's not like Gojo didn't apologize and learned from it.

Again, I love Gojo, I do. But let's not act like sometimes he's a little too arrogant and ignorant and he rightfully so should be brought back to reality. He's flawed. He's not some pure person. He grew from how he was as a teenager, but he still has this bad habit of being inconsiderate of how others around him feel.

Take Utahime for example. He constantly calls her weak. She has every damn right to hate his guts. She's not "confused about her feelings" and it's not "Oh my gosh, so romantic". He's an ass and he's disrespectful. He has no reason to call her weak. She has more experience than him given she is older than him.

It was a long time fucking coming anyways.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 3 - Weak and Alone

The hairs on your body stood up for a good while before you could relax again. You didn’t know meeting the yellow bat would be this fucking terrifying. Like, c’mon man! You fought many weird, crazy, dangerous, and scary things in your life as a hero, why was coming into contact with one of this world’s heroes that terrifying?

And besides this guy was just- is just a human, not a mutated creature or even an alien, just a regular human like you. But something about him just- put you off.

Crime in the mornings are so rare, how bad was your luck for it to happen when you were there? Wrong place and time, maybe? Or your luck is just shit and that’s that.

You don’t even question how this guy found you-er the robber. Even if he was in the area, Oracle or the other Robin must have been on surveillance duty or something. If you recall only two of Batman’s wards are mostly the “man in the chair” type. Oracle because of what happened to her with the Joker and one of the Robins because he’s one of the smartest ones. Or something like that.

Regardless, you’re okay now. That’s all that matters.

Hands in your pocket you remembered you looted the guy earlier. Taking out  some cash you realized this guy had money. He had three-hundred, so why try to rob a convenience store? Well, whatever, not your problem.

You’ve become really good at pushing your problems to the back of your head.

What is now your problem is finding a library. Lifting your mask back on your face you continue to march forward, regardless of direction. Picking a random bar from your snack bag, you begin to eat it under your mask to calm your stomach so you can think.

“Okay, cheap food and non perishables are what I will live off of.” You don’t plan to stay in this wack world for long, so saving money is key. “Next, find layouts, maps, anything to get a semblance of where I am and what I can do. I need information, and lots of it. Third, I need a generator to power my gizmo. Finally, supplies to build a GHM. ‘Go-Home’ machine.”

So far things are looking very bleak but that's okay. No worries. Um, on the bright side, you haven’t glitched at all, so your gizmo watch isn’t totally off the record. As long as it’s still connected and alive, you’re sure Miguel can find your signal.

You did just suddenly disappear during a fight that was basically your mission that Miguel sent you on. That means Miguel already knows of your unfortunate case and should most likely be looking for you, right? 

He wouldn’t abandon you, right? He’s the one that recruited you after all! He came to you. He knows of your existence and predicament. You have somewhat of a mentor and student relationship for fucks sake! He wouldn’t leave you stranded in favor of his issues with Miles…right?

You’re not getting forgotten… right?

You matter…right?

No! You can’t think like this! You also can’t put all your spiders in one web. You need more options, alternatives. Whether Miguel is looking for you or not (you choose to believe he is), you need to find a way to either go home or get in touch with him.

You gotta do things your own way.

You’re smart, resourceful, use your brain! 

You’re good at improving, inventing, and repairing- a tinker if you will. Taking things apart, fixing what’s broken, or building things. That’s one of your strong suits- it’s time to use that big beautiful brain of yours to find out what’s wrong with this watch.

So in order to do that, you need materials. So how would a broke but smart pretty woman such as yourself find materials that won’t catch the eyes of the batsonas? Simple. One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure.

That’s right baby!

A junkyard. 

Now to find a junkyard, you need a map. So to a library you go!

With newfound determination and energy, forgoing any unsavory thoughts and focusing on buildings and landmarks.

Getting pretty far into the city you managed to find a public library and mentally fell to your knees begging to all the gods to not run into any and all of the bat family here.

So you pass through the automatic doors and immediately feel relaxed. Honestly being in this world makes it hard for you to even feel safe when everything and everyone could be a potential danger to you.

Not to mention how quickly and easily some of the criminals can escape. You reeeeeally don’t want to face the villains of this world. You’d rather your own Vulture than their Scarecrow or whatever. 

Giving the librarian an award winning (and non suspicious) smile, you made your way over to the row of computers. Sitting further away from the camera, you sit down and stare at the dull desktop.

“Okay, good, I’m here, no bats in sight, now what?” Feeling slightly overwhelmed you took a deep breath and then checked the date and location. 

Reading the latest news was beneficial, now you know just who is in Arkham and who’s free at the moment. Thank the gods that the Joker is locked away. You really aren’t ready to face the big bad baddies of this world. 

Soaking in as much information as possible, for hours you learned the latest news, Batman sent the some criminals to Arkham, Bruce Wayne hosting a charity event in a couple of months, Dick Grayson is coming to Gotham (why?), Lex Luther’s recent scandal, Superman saves the earth (again), Damian Wayne’s anticipated art museum opening. Wow, nothing interesting. 

Nearing four hours just sitting there, you decide to call it quits and pull up maps one last time. Double checking your information you make sure that everything was like you never touched it and thensome. 

Waving good-bye to the librarian you headed off to the large junkyard you found. The walk was pleasant and free of crime. Fuck you daylight robber. Though you know it isn’t true, crime happens everywhere and anytime, just some are quieter than others. 

Arriving at the junkyard, you realized just how ginormous it is. Walking around you spot an abandoned warehouse, where equipment usually is stored and you jump with glee. Knowing there are no working cameras around here, you rest easy knowing you can just go ham on tinkering to your heart's desire.

Setting your bags down, you look around. There are tools that were left behind and you were ready to kneel and thank the gods. Looking at the equipment and workbench, you’re thoroughly pleased with what you have to work with. Shedding your hoodie, you step outside and into your paradise.

Finding many useful and discarded materials you quickly get to work in picking apart metals and material. Dragging them inside the spacious warehouse you go back and forth picking and dragging materials.

And the day flew by, just like that. It’s already late afternoon and you looked over your work.

You’ve made great progress with gathering materials. Having a mountain inside the warehouse to work with and on the workbench there was already something in the making. You’re building what is essentially a charger and beacon for your web watch. 

This will give out a signal for Miguel to latch onto and discover your location. The only issue is if Miguel is looking for you, this will help greatly. The other issue is, you need energy, and lots of it. Sunlight here would suck with how gloomy Gotham can be.

So direct sunlight can’t be its only source. 

Regardless you’ll fix and create the panels anyways. For now, since it’s late, you’ll take a break and fix this place up. 

Sike, you just make a web hammock on the ceiling and web your bags to the wall next to you. After discovering the owner of the motel tried to get inside your room (that you fucking paid for) while you managed to finally catch some Zzz’s, it was decided to just leave.

Though you still need food and a place to do your necessities. Maybe you just have to suck it up and go through the centers here.

Sighing in the silence, your mind began to spiral.

The warmth and comfort of uncle Ben as he took care of you when you had nightmares, the gentle embrace of aunt May when you had succumbed to fevers, and the loving presence of Peter Parker when you were at the brink of it all.

You miss them, god you fucking miss them! You hadn’t felt those things in years, not after closing yourself from everyone when you lost them. Sure you had the mentor and student relationship with Miguel, but you never let yourself get close.

Not with Miles and the others, because you felt like a protector, a role model, someone who can’t show weakness.

Not with the hundreds of other Peter Parker’s either. Those Peter’s are just as smart, charming, dorky, and special as your Peter Parker. But they aren’t your Peter Parker. And they never will. Your Peter was even more special, more smart, more charming, more dorky, more charismatic, more everything! He was everything! And then… he left.

No, he didn’t leave.

You just couldn’t save him. You must not have been enough for him. You had seen the signs! You could have done something! But you didn’t. You got complacent, cowardly. Afraid to lose what you have. 

Uncle Ben’s death taught you to treasure what you have before it’s taken away. Aunt May’s death taught you to keep things as they are, so they don’t break. You vowed to never make those mistakes again.

So when you met Peter Parker, you made sure he knew just how much he meant to you. How special he was, and how important he is to you. You weren’t blind, you noticed the painted smiles he wore at times. How life seemed to be dragging him down. But you were too afraid, too complacent. You didn’t want to tip the scales and possibly break something too fragile. You never pushed, or prodded because you knew if someone did that to you, you’d leave.

But the most important thing was that Peter isn’t you. Peter was strong, faaaar stronger than you, he isn’t glass. He held on for soooo long, and still tried to hide his pain from you. But you knew. You also knew that Peter knew that you knew. You just never pushed.

Peter Parker’s death demonstrated just how powerless you are. How much of a coward and paranoid you became. If you just talked to him, maybe he would still be alive. 

With you…

Maybe, you would have accepted his confession once you mustered up the courage to take a leap and accept his feelings for you.

Just maybe.

But, there is no maybe anymore. There will never be Peter Parker and You. Because there hasn’t been another you so far. 

And you live with that guilt and hatred towards yourself. But if Peter’s death taught you anything else, it’s to keep moving.

You have to keep going, for Peter’s sake. And for your sanity.

Because the more time you spend in this universe and not in your own, where you can visit Ben, May, and Peter’s graves, you are slipping ever so slightly.

You’re losing your fucking mind.

You just want to go home.

-

“Nothing Bruce. It’s only been a day but so far nothing.” Catwoman’s sharp voice cut through the silence.

Batman doesn’t reply in acknowledgement but nods and leaves the rooftop, leaving Catwoman peeved.

“I told you I’d keep looking, maybe it was nothing. You’re just too paranoid.” She huffed before going her separate way.

Batman felt his eyebrow twitch. First, this disturbance that apparently leads to nothing (that’s not true, he can feel it.) Then it’s news about a freak who caught two crooks beating a civilian. At first he didn’t pay it any mind until they kept spouting about a person in a suit shooting a sticky substance.

Gordon couldn’t get a sample because of how sticky the substance was and only for it to dissolve thirty minutes later. Jim Gordon also couldn’t add anything to this person’s claim because it was night and dark and he could only see the silhouette of the person.

But then again, that’s just two things that were off. A coincidence sure, but he doesn’t really believe in coincidences. Not in Gotham.

Placing his hand on his earpiece he spoke, “Anything?”

“Nothing to note. Maybe she’s right. What if this shift was just a coincidence?” Oracle replied.

“Not likely,” He heard her huff, and he sighed. “But not impossible either.”

Oracle would take that over a paranoid Batman any day. It’s the closest thing to an agreement then she will ever get. “I’ve been scanning the whole day but so far, nothing. Not even something similar.” She mumbled to herself.

Just as she takes a small break and sips on water, she hears footsteps approaching.

“How can I help you, Duke?”

“Hey, sorry to bother you if you're busy. Looks like you could use a break.” He replied.

“Honestly, yes. With the whole issue near the East End, I need it.” Barbara swirled her chair around to face Duke.

Duke rubbed his neck in apprehension. “Did you-”

“Find anything?” Oracle finishes for him. He nods. “No. Scanned her face and everything but nothing came up. Then I checked beyond, outside of Gotham. Truly nothing. She’s a ghost.”

“Or, maybe a survivor?” Duke proposed.

“Possibly. Many trafficked survivors and escapees have made it to Gotham.” Barbara entertained the idea.

“Do you know where,” after a hesitant pause he let his hand fall to his side, a slight glint in his eyes that went unnoticed. “She is staying?”

“She was staying at a motel near Park Row. She hasn’t returned since.” This was cause for alarm for Duke but he kept it in.

“Where-” He tried.

“Relax Duke. You know most would call this- what’s the word, ah, stalking.” Barbara teased, causing Duke to flush slightly.

“You’re right. I just…” He straightened up before he chuckled at his memory of you. “I never got her name.”

“That’s cause she never threw it. Not even the guy from the store got it.”

“Alright, thanks though.” Duke nodded and headed out.

Barbara bid him well and returned to the screen. Wondering how you, a random civilian, caught Duke’s attention. But then again, after scanning your face on the screen she too couldn’t help but find herself unable to look away. 

And yes, you could say that you’re pretty, she can see that, but there is just something about you that makes you different and she can’t figure out why. Just what about you has her curious. But then again you are a civilian and she won’t mix personal interest with work. 

Despite parading that Bruce was being paranoid about the disturbance in the air. It was strong enough to send an alert to her, and it could be something dangerous. But it happened so fast that you could blind and you would miss it.

For now, the thought of the pretty civilian will be put on the back burner, but not forgotten. She’ll get to you when she solves this stupid case in front of her. That and the mysterious spider person that three people (not including her dad) apparently saw.

“Coincidence? Probably not.” typing the keyboard she clicks enter and watches the monitor scan Gotham for the same frequency as the disturbance to see if she can put up anything, even a trace.

Nothing.

Clicking enter, she watches the screen again.

Prev; Next;

I realized have like ZERO outline for a fleshed out story sucks balls. Well, let's see where this goes together. I ordered some Signal/Duke comics and I am excited to see them arrive. Anyways, which new bat person do you think you'll meet next? There is only one right answer and it isn't Duke.

You're name isn't Tinker, but it's probably what I'll use as your alias.

[mcu-coworkers]

Vampire

Summary: You tell Miguel his truths and in return he shows you his.

Word count: 1.9k+

Warnings: none really:]

A/n: Hello everyone welcome to long awaited part 4 as well as the final part to this little series! thank you guys so much for loving it I truly can't express how grateful I am for all of you I hope you love this ending and I hope to you all again in my next story! Also I will be attaching the tag list to this chapter since hopefully that makes it a little easier to find everyone. I hope everyone enjoys.xx

Tag list

Parts: I II III IIII^

Credits to the owner^:)

It had been a week since you went back to HQ and you were starting to feel lighter.

In a way, telling Miguel your truth helped you get there.

Because now, you didn't have to keep thinking about the thought of what you’d say to him if you ever saw him again.

But you did see him again, and in your opinion, you said just the right things.

Suddenly you found yourself having more energy, listening to happier songs, and taking Milo on longer walks or fun adventures.

Things were finally starting to look up for you, so much so you actually thought about returning to the spider society to get back on fighting multiversal crime.

Right on queue Peter walks through the portal.

“You sure you wanna do this? You said you’d never come back.” he questioned remembering how he found you right after everything happened.

Thinking about it one more time, you smiled and turned on your suit.

“Yep, I'm just gonna lay low. Be a freelance spider with no commitment to a sector or anything you know?” you said reassuring yourself.

“Okay but  I   mean more like to get back in you’ll have to talk to Miguel. And he hasnt been in the best of moods lately.” he said watching as you walked.

Your smile only got wider as you made your way to the portal, for the first time you felt nothing.

No butterflies in your stomach and no heart beat skipping at the mention of his name.

Progress right?

Shrugging his shoulders Peter followed you in standing right beside you as you entered the busy hallways.

“Alright well  I  ‘ll leave you to it. I'm gonna take May Day to get her mid day nap.” he said walking away.

“See ya later Pete thanks for bringing me in.” you said waving him away.

As you made your way to Miguel's office you thought about what Pete said earlier, had he really been such a grump.

You’d think he’d be happier not having to deal with you.

But like always, nothing and no one could ever help that man no matter the case.

As you made your way up Miguel was practicing his speech with Lyla.

“... I   didn’t mean what  I   said that day and if  I   knew the damage it would do  I   wouldn't have said it in the first place? Sounds stupid doesn't it?” he said, turning to face her.

“Yep, just like the first two times you said it. Miguel when you go find her you have to speak from the heart not from a piece of paper it just sounds so Scripted.” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Scripted? It's not scripted. I just think writing my thoughts down will help me pull it together.” he said huffing in frustration.

“How about this, you pretend im Y/n and tell me what you’d say, no notes just your thoughts. Right now.” she said sitting in a little AI chair she made for herself.

Thinking about it he just gave up.

“Okay but record it so  I   can take notes after.” he said, beginning to pace around the panel.

Sighing he began to get frustrated with himself, “Ay cono esto no esta sirviendo.” he said rubbing his face.

“Come on Miguel, get to it.” Lyla said, rushing him.

“This is stupid! Shes probably off with who ever the fuck Milo is having the time of her life because  I  , like the big fucking idiot  I   am, pushed her straight into his arms!” he said, at this point he was over the smashing and breaking things so he just leaned against his desk.

“It doesn't matter what  I   say anymore Lyla, She’ll never forgive me, she’ll never listen to me.  I  ‘ll never get to tell her that  I   love her and even if  I   did she’d never believe it because she thinks  I   am a big giant asshole.' ' he said lowering his voice as he got close to the end.

“But you know what? That Milo is one lucky soul, he gets to look into her eyes, make her smile, just simply be in her presence. He has everything  I   wish  I   had. Y/n.” he said, still looking down.

“ I   was a vampire, sucking the life out of her and then just tossing her to the side like she meant nothing, when in reality she was fucking everything Lyla. Milo is one lucky guy.” he said, looking up at Lyla to see her smiling.

Confused by her reaction he was getting ready to ask.

“Milo is a dog, my dog.” you said, startling him.

“Dios mío (my god), Y/n? What are yo-what are you doing here.” he said, his heart practically racing out of his chest.

“Well  I   was here to ask for my place back in the society but  I   think I'm gonna go.. Yeah I'm gonna go.” you said as tears began to well up in your eyes.

There was no actual way you just heard all of that.

Looking between you and Lyla Miguel went after you.

“No no no wait just please.” he said, holding onto your arm.

Pulling back you felt anger, the audacity of this man.

“Who do you think you are? Huh?  I  was so in love with you Miguel! So stupidly in love with you because  I   thought you were this hero that helped everyone and you just needed someone to help you.” you said laughing to yourself.

“People told me to stay away from you, that you’d never accept the help or even my friendship. But  I   shook them off and thought they were crazy for not wanting to see through that rough surface you carried, but  I   did,  I   wanted to.  I   wanted to believe that  I   could break through and see the real you, but  I   realized there is no breaking through. That was it there was no surface, that's just who you are and it was all thanks to you. No one else helped me realize it, just you.” you said shoving a finger into his chest.

“And when  I   took that leap of faith and told you how  I   felt you kicked me to the curb, you bled me dry like a goddamn vampire. Because of you  I   almost gave it all up.  I   was so broken, so lost. All because  I   risked my place next to you and  I   lost it. But in reality   I   never had it. There was no place next you because you're Big bad Spiderman 2099 and you work better alone. Fine, work alone.” you said walking away, nope, not walking away you weren't done.

“ No you know what, it's not fair. You do not get to reject me and make me go through all of this to just turn around and say that you love me. You’re a vampire, Miguel O’hara. You just like to suck the life out of me and toss me to the side until you feel like using me again.” you said tears were beginning to fall.

“Y/n please,  I   never meant for you to feel like this,  I   just,  I   just want you to come back.  I   understand if what  I   said was too much but we need you here.  I   need you here.” he said, looking at you with soft eyes.

God he was making it difficult to walk away.

“If this is your way of getting some fucked up little thrill  I   wont do it,  I   wont.” you said looking at him with threatening eyes.

“ I   know it's hard to believe what  I‘m saying but could you atleast try? Dios mio mujer  I‘m trying to confess my love for you and you're making it impossible!” he said, running his hands through his hair.

He fell for such a headstrong woman.

Looking at you again he decided to just go for it, “Oh fuck it.” he said looking at your lips.

“Wha-” before you could finish his lips were on yours and he was pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

Putting your hand against his chest you considered pulling away but as he cupped your face and pulled you closer your hands found themselves making their way to the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Pulling away, Miguel continued to give you pecs allowing you to catch your breath.

“Believe me now?” he whispered.

“Mmmm, still a little skeptical.” you said smiling as he leaned back in smiling into the kiss.

“Aww aren't you two just the cutest? Lyla please tell me you got that.” you heard startling you as you pulled away.

“Yup, got it all.” she said pointing to the recording hologram, “So good.” she said smiling.

You tried to detach yourself from Miguel but he continued to hold you tightly by the waste.

So instead you opted for hiding into his chest and smiling.

“What do you need, Parker.” Miguel said as he looked at the walking interruption.

“My friend who came to see the walking grump was taking a little long just wanted to make sure she made it out alive.” he said, covering May Day's bright eyes.

“As you can see she is alive and well, you can go now.” he said, putting his attention back on you.

“Alright, im gone you kids be safe, take it slow.” he said jokingly.

“Peter!” you yelped turning a bright shade red.

“So,  I'm a blood sucking vampire?If  I   knew any better  I‘d think you have a thing for vampires amor.” he said as he kissed down your neck gently grazing you with his fangs.

Moving your head to give him more space you moved your hands into his hair and pulled at the roots.

“Just one.” you said smiling as he brought his lips back to yours.

“Good. Because this ones gonna do more than suck the life out of you.” he said as he pulled you back in for a kiss.

Smiling into the kiss you pulled away trying to control your laughter.

Confused by your reaction Miguel just watched.

“You were je-jealous of my dog?” you said trying to catch your breath.

Shoulder slumping Miguel hoped you wouldn't bring that up.

“You're not letting that go are you.” he said looking at the wall.

“Oh no, never  I   do have to admit, he is one handsome boy.” you said bursting out in laughter.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” he said as he attempted to keep a straight face, hearing your laugh in his office again made it hard.

Finally, everything was how he wanted it.

You at his side, with a dog, but nonetheless at his side.

Now he just had to get Milo on his side too.

Did this mean he was a dog dad now? 

“Wait Lyla did you know she was coming here?” he asked suddenly realizing that you just so happened to walk in at a perfect time.

“Yup, saw her on the surveillance footage and you were taking too long for my liking, you are welcome boss man.” she said, saluting him before disappearing.

Deciding to let it go he focused back on you, “worth it.”

Meanwhile Lyla was showing the other spiders the video collecting her winnings from the bets she placed.

“These damn AI’s always know everything.” Jess whispered under her breath.

She’d take it up with Miguel later, but for now… who knew he could be such a softy?

You did, more than ever now.

[fangswbenefits]

getting this off my chest

I really, really love writing for this fandom.

I think I haven't felt like this in years.

Astarion is such an enticing vessel for my creativity and has rekindled my joy for writing and putting it out there.

Alas, imposter syndrome really gnaws at my nerves more often than I care to admit.

"But Ruby, you have so many people who like your work. Why do you doubt yourself?"

Because I grew up being told I was never enough. That I was the worst at what I did best, which back then was learning English and surrounding myself in the language, hence why I sought comfort in fanfiction.

My sister, whom I love dearly, is an English teacher. She would be so harsh on me, and I know she meant well. She really did. But it was so hard back then. I would come to her with creative writing in English and she would just roll her eyes and tell me I wasn't good enough.

Nowadays, she acknowledges that I am more proficient than her and more at ease with the language, and even tells my nephew to study English with me instead.

But back then, I needed someone to believe I could do better.

So, there is a part of me that is proud that I am able to deal with real-life fatigue by writing and finding enjoyment in this hobby. But a much darker part of me tells me I'm not worthy and that I simply got lucky.

The Arrangement means a lot to me. I tend to dive right into fandoms and start writing for the character that caught my eye.

But I couldn't do that for Astarion... I am still unsure why. For those of you who have been here from my Miguel O'Hara days or when I first started posting about Astarion, you'll know The Arrangement was the first thing I ever posted for him.

Took me 2 weeks to get the first chapter out because I kept thinking I couldn't find a voice for Astarion. One that felt like him. After all, I'm always a step behind because I am not a native speaker. There will always be that looming feeling that I can't convey this story properly.

Even if you now know me for my Astarion smut, that wasn't even the driving force of my love for him.

It took me 2 months to feel comfortable writing smut for him. Why? I don't even know.

But The Arrangement feels different.

I love writing it and I love taking my liberties with the plot.

It's my opportunity to fully showcase my love for him.

I know not everyone likes it. I know some of you have dropped it. Some of you will drop it. But some will walk along this path with me, and I can't stress enough how your feedback and love help keep these negative thoughts at bay.

It's an internal work, though. It is not your job to validate my writing skills. This is not what puts food on my table. I am not looking to be published. I am looking for an escape. And it's so frustrating when my mind tries to rob me of joy even when it comes to a hobby.

"If this is a hobby why does it matter what others think or if they like what you write? Just have fun. Write for yourself."

And I do write for myself, but I share my work because I am hopeful my words can make someone's day. I seek that connection I never had growing up. Perhaps it sounds silly, but it's what makes the most sense in my head.

The Arrangement should be my pride and joy even if not perfect (nothing ever is, I suppose). And I'm exhausted of not feeling proud of it. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of self-doubt.

Don't get me wrong. I love writing smut. I think that's what I'm best at (well, in my opinion). I love exploring Astarion this way, too, but...

I don't know where I'm going with this... if anyone has made it this far, thank you, and sorry for the word vomit...

[lxmelle]

JJK0: Gojo’s secret words and Chapter 236: A Satirical translation Geto’s “……”

Gojo: "I love everyone, so I'm not lonely anymore..."

Geto: ........... (Another love confession? Srsly - translations in edit were my own, lol)

Give him a break Gege 😂 how many times does he have to witness people telling him that they love someone else?

Yuta: From here onwards, let’s really be together forever. I love you Rika. (愛してる used; a more traditional “embarrassing” way to profess a romantic love).

Rika: “daidaidaidaidaidaidai daisuki da yo!!” (Uh, it’s like “so so so so so so so- I love you SO much!!!")

Riko: Kuroi, I love you! From now, and until forever!

Kuroi: me too...!! I love you...

No wonder love is like a curse - people seem to die if they get confessed to.

People loved Geto and I think it's not a stretch to imagine that when love was directed to him, it might not have been voiced out. Geto witnessed confessions made to other people. If they loved him, he probably never got told because this isn't really a part of the Japanese culture.

The twins: love, love, love.

It is interesting to note that they don’t actually say they love him. Just 「大好き」 which literally translates to “big liking/affection”. It is implied through.

But the panels above and below refers to Gojo (above, Geto: “my best friend” in the past tense, “there was a fight and that was that.” And below, MimiNana: “we couldn’t forgive the Gojo Satoru who killed our Geto-sama, but we were willing to let it be...” it is cut off in my screenshot, but it goes onto say because Gojo was Geto’s one and only best friend).

One could also stretch the interpretation and say that because they recognised the love Geto has for Gojo, they were be willing to let it be. Just like Yuta recognised the love Gojo has for Geto and sought to slay Kenjaku so he didn’t have to do it again.

Larue and Miguel again noting in their exchange that they all loved Geto, and they cared for each other like family. There was another time where they referred to being familial, but loving wasn’t mentioned, so I left it out on purpose. But it was implied. Geto had a set of scrolls hanging behind him at the temple that said, “Death to the foolish, Punishment for the weak, Love for the strong.” I guess he felt all those things were true. But when it was his end, he only wanted Gojo Satoru there. I’m glad he got to choose who killed him I guess. And his family escaped.

So with Gege’s love for foreshadowing, maybe all of those scenes of confession-witnessing and love implications parallel with this moment:

Ha.

It really would make so much more sense if Gojo’s last words were, in fact, 「大好きだよ、僕の親友」 (“I love you, my best friend.” - in fact, it makes more sense than simply, “you’re my one and only best friend.” It is pure headcanon though (´∀｀)

As I mentioned earlier: The phrase 「大好き」 and usage of it doesn’t necessarily mean romantic love, but rather “to like a lot”. I’ll hold my hand up and say I’m not native speaker though, so please accept my apologies if I’m wrong and please correct me if I am! My understanding is that the context matters a lot. The English VA said it was three words in the English language - “my best friend” sounds weird conversationally. “You did well” seems oddly placed and may not illicit a blushing smile. “I love you” seems more apt. Personally, anyway.

I don’t think the same word-limit is imposed in the Japanese version. So again, I think it’s a phrase like “I love you my best friend”. Because it was also apparently embarrassing and said before within jjk0 (could be anyone’s words) but never between them.

So the criteria is met as Gojo is likely to use Rika’s version of “I love you” (daisuki da yo) over Yuta’s “I love you” (aishiteru). Not likely said between them in their friendship.

Also, because he has used it in chapter 236 to refer to the students - so! It is not a stretch for him to say that to Geto. It also explains why Geto goes, “…..” as the phrase of affection may have been familiar to him. He may be thinking about how Gojo has grown and reflected on how distant they felt - when the line was drawn. He notices that Gojo recognised the shift in him. Or, it could be that he “overthinked” that he was replaced.

And then the clincher is, ofc, where as soon as Geto thinks he can conclude that Gojo has been fulfilled by his students cuz he said he is no longer lonely and he had an all-out brawl with another man that he (Geto) never managed to give the Strongest, he is told: his presence would have likely made Gojo satisfied. Bahahaha!! Yes, you shed those tears... you’re loved, you dumbo. (I say that lovingly.)

Gojo Satoru as the Strongest may have needed something you can’t give, but Gojo Satoru as himself was only satisfied with you. Can you be honest now?!? Gojo, is it really enough for him to be by your side and waiting for you at the airport, huh??? Or was it enough for you to see the millennia-old Kenjaku be shocked silly by Geto’s body proving his undying love for you by moving when you called out his first name?? lol. These boys make me feel like a giddy schoolgirl at times; yeah, if only this story wasn’t so dark.

Anyway, it’s an overdone analysis, I know. The common consensus is that Gojo tells Geto he is his best friend. But to me, it makes the most sense for his last, most sincere words to Geto, to be a confession of his feelings for him. It aligns well with Gojo saying he needed him to feel fulfilled in chapter 236 and his tearful / heartfelt chuckle. It aligns well with the love is a curse theme, and love following Geto everywhere, and him witnessing people professing their love too. He just never really knew that he was loved, or if he did, the one that mattered the most was Gojo and if he had known, it may have helped him receive love (be happier) in this world.

I mentioned earlier that love was seen to be a curse by Gojo. And through what Geto knows about cursing and what he has witnessed through the deaths and burdens carried by those who have loved and lost... could this be a reason for why Geto doesn't say it back to Gojo?

We will never know. Nanami chose his words to Yuji as well. So saying something like, 'I deserve to be cussed out at the end' is vague and as much as an apology.

I've said in a previous post too, that I personally feel his heartfelt smile was like a thanks and a nod to how he could smile sincerely - recognising the same bond they shared over their blue spring.

Like the hidden words kept between them, I hope his way of communicating was something also understood just between them.

That’s it from me on this topic - thanks for reading if you did.

Sorry if some of it is repetitive.

[dreamingofbucky]

INESCAPABLE | MIGUEL O'HARA x F!READER MASTERLIST

the official masterlist to the small series!

(header by me, created on canva with pictures from Pinterest)

blurb: Miguel O’Hara is inescapable. In all areas of your life. What was once a chance meeting with the very handsome man, turned into many. You can’t help but keep thinking about him. Until things fell flat and you made it your mission to never see him again. 

It doesn’t help that starting your new job at Alchemax, you find out he’s your coworker. But he’s anything from the same man you connected with weeks ago. He’s brass, overwhelming, grumpy, and doesn’t care for any of your input or ideas. He doesn’t even seem to remember you.

Matter of factly, he hates you. And you hate him. 

tags/warnings (will updates as we go): strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn until it isn't, he's an ass, grumpy x grumpy, smut, feral and deranged miguel (i said what i said), all the smut warnings I'll update as we go, fluffy, cuddles, spiderman exists, and this writer is unhinged for this man so let her write what she wants.

Chapter Outline: - chapter one - chapter two 🌶️ - chapter three - chapter four (coming june 26-30)

OTHER LINKS: -spotify playlist

authors note: The F!Reader will understand Spanish (I'm so used to writing OC's on here/wattpad that writing Reader fics is a challenge for me but I'm very excited nonetheless). I am Mexican American and very excited to have them bicker and fuck in Spanish (when the time comes). No cheesy Spanish nicknames will be used in the first parts of the story, sorry. They'll be used more frequently when Miguel is less of an ass so the nicknames hold more meaning. I can't wait for him to fall apart for Reader.

Disfrutas