#it sounds a lot like a chapter for mj

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting ����

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic Rivals AU])

Y’all ready for Miguel to finally kiss (Y/N)’s ass??!?!?!? Not proofread enjoy lol, I had a lot of fun writing this. I tried to be a bit artsy near the end it it’s too cringe I’ll probably delete it and redo it lmao.

Cursing, Miguel finally getting his shit together, lol he’s ooc but it’s okayyy lol

(Y/N)- Your name, (L/N)-Last name, (N/N)-Nickname.

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist Series Playlist

Chapter 12: What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

—

You hated to admit it, but you kind of missed throwing away those stupid little apology notes from Miguel. Oddly enough, they had stopped appearing on your desk the day after your last little “date” with Spider-Man. Though you doubt there was any correlation, you couldn’t help but wonder why all of a sudden he would stop after what was about two or three weeks of nothing but notes after notes of apologies.

“He probably realized that you aren’t going to forgive him and decided to finally give up.” Mj’s voice sounded through your phone speaker, lying next to you as you laid on your stomach on top of your bed. Checking over your new manicure you had just received that morning, before letting out a huff as you dramatically dropped your head down on the mattress.

“Can we stop bringing him up? I don’t need reminders of his existence, not like I didn’t have enough reminders before…” You grumbled, you're sure if she was there with you she’d roll her eyes at your theatrics.

“I feel like we talk too much about you two.” She teased, the end of her sentence trailing off in a chuckle.

“Yeah because now that you're dating Peter, I can’t tease you about how you act like a nervous wreck around him anymore.” You shot back, picking your head back up and raising your brow, your smirk evident in your tone.

“Don’t be bitter that I got a boyfriend before (N/N), I’m sure spidey will ask you soon enough.” Your cheeks flared as your best friend tease, despite you starting it first you couldn’t help but feel yourself becoming a bit more shy at the mention of Spider-Man. You know not to take it to heart though as you let out a small laugh.

“Hey aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for that date right now.” You point out, having remembered that she mentioned to you during your last class together that Peter was planning on taking her to some movie after his photography club.

“Oh shit- you’re right! I got to go, I’ll text you later!”

“Okay bye have fu-aaaand she hung up, welp.” You drop your head on your bed once more after grabbing your pillow to place underneath you. Deciding taking a nap would be better than spending the next few hours doing something else, too tired from school to even attempt to watch a movie or tv show, let alone read or do homework. A sigh escapes through your nose, closing your eyes as you snuggle against the pillow, waiting to succumb to your own exhaustion. The white noise of your air conditioner running in the background lulling you to sleep.

—

“Maybe this is too on the nose…” Miguel mumbled to himself as he glanced down to the wrapped item in his hands, trying to compose himself as he stands in front of your dorm room, gathering the courage to knock.

It was almost embarrassing, that he was going to grovel at your doorstep in order to get you to even look at him again. He was already bruising his ego enough with the countless apology notes that you didn’t even bother to glance at for longer than a second before tossing them, let alone read. Still despite his… complicated feelings towards you, he’d rather you bruise his ego then anyone else.

His eyes came back to stare at your room number that was etched into your door, before nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You were a smart girl, a very smart girl. Miguel knew that. So he knew he was potentially playing with fire with his apology gift, he knew more than anyone else how your brain worked, he knew that you could take one glance at it and all the pieces would fall in place. He just hoped that for one, he would wave away any suspicions that you might come up with. Worst case scenario you outright declare him as Spider-Man, but then what? You weren’t one to tell secrets, you weren’t money or fame hungry so you weren’t going to go off and tell the media for a check.

Miguel shook his head, trying to shake away all the possibilities that were now coming to the forefront of his mind. Close his eyes to take in deep breath before opening to them once again to stare at your door.

‘If I keep thinking about it, I’ll end up walking away, just knock damnit.’

Finally, with a sharp exhale through his nostrils, he brings up his enclosed fist to tap lightly on your door. The edge of lips pulling downward after not getting any confirmation that you heard his knocking. After another louder knock, his ears finally picking up the faintest of annoyed groans, making his tensed shoulders slip down just a few centimeters.

Miguel thanked whatever dumb constructor decided to not give the ancient dorm building doors peepholes, because if they did, he knew you wouldn’t have opened the door for him. That’s why he stuck his foot out to act as a stopper, preventing you from closing it in his face once you realized who had decided to interrupt your short lived nap.

What a relief to be able to see your face up close with the mask on to counsel his. Despite the fact that your fake polite smile quickly melted away from your face once you realized who was at your doorstep, leaving a scowl to come and take its place. Miguel barely had time to open his mouth before your frame was once again covered by the wooden door, his school assigned leather shoes certainly getting scuffed from it hitting the side of them. Not even wincing as you attempted to push his foot out with resting your weight against the door.

“(L/N), Come on. It’s been weeks, you can’t keep ignoring me. Just… I-I know I fucked up okay? You were trying to be civil with me and I… Look I’m sorry okay? I’m sorry.” His free hand came up and pushed against the door lightly, not enough to knock you off your balance or anything but enough to peak his head through the door to meet your glare once more. “You know more than anyone else that I don’t do serious apologies. Just hear me out. You’ve-You’ve already got me begging here (L/N), to just be in the same room with you so I can admit I’m an asshole. You don’t have to forgive me, just hear me out! Please-“

He was able to squeeze himself through the crack of the door, closing it before him and leaning against it as he attempted to catch his breath from his babbling, chest raising up and down rapidly as his pleading eyes turned a bit more intense, you took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest, letting out an irritated huff as you kept your eyes on him.

“Get out O’Hara-“

“I’m tired of you ignoring me, what do you want me to do, huh!? You and I are too intertwined into each other’s lives for you to ignore me forever. You know that-“

“Unfortunately.” You grumbled under your breath, rolling your eyes a bit. Miguel, now standing up straight, took a step towards you, a hand flying to his chest as usually narrowed and bored eyes suddenly turned wild and frantic almost like a confused puppy.

“I-“ he paused, letting out a huff, before lowering his voice down to just above a whisper. “I’m not going to leave until you listen to me please just-“ He stutters, taking another pause as his eyes flutter shut tightly, you haven’t even noticed that his eyes were turning glossy and red until he opened them again, had you ever seen Miguel cry before? Well if you hadn’t, this might be a first for you both. “Please (Y/N).”

The use of the first name between you both was rare, you had been in more near death situations then you’ve heard your first name uttered from Miguel’s lips. So hearing it with such… desperation… it made your heart jump up to your throat. Your eyes never leaving his as he took another step towards you and… oh my god… is he kneeling?

“Please I-“ He choked out, the wetness that was threatening to spill out from the corner of his eye finally came down, his hands reached out to yours in desperation, you were too much in shock to think about pulling them away as you blinked down at him almost stupidly. “I can't… take it anymore. I feel like I’m going mad.”

He was being completely truthful with that statement too. He was jealous of his super powered alter ego from getting more attention from you then he was just as himself.

You finally pull yourself back into the current moment, clearing your throat as you shake yourself to help gather your words, neither of you noticing during the whole ordeal that Miguel’s apology gift had landed a few feet away from the door. Tugging at his hands as a signal to get up and off the floor. “O-okay, okay fine. Just-get up Miguel, Jesus…”

You wanted to keep holding onto this grudge of yours, but how could you when you had brought a man who is twice your size and four times your ego down to his knees? Reducing him to nothing more than a crying begging mess. Simple answer, you couldn’t. Whether it’s simple petty or if you felt like you were truly ready to hear him out, it honestly didn’t matter to you anymore. It’s clear from his breakdown that he had suffered enough.

He let out the biggest sigh of relief, sniffing a bit as he finally brought himself back up from your floor. A large hand of his coming up to wipe away a few lingering tears of frustration once he was up on his feet again. A silence fell over you both as you gave him a few seconds to collect himself properly before he could start explaining himself. Finally, with a clearing of his throat, bloodshot eyes met yours.

“Look, I know that… we haven’t been anything more than tolerant of each other… but I should have never,” his hands went to find yours again, grasping tightly as if he was afraid that you’d disappear in front of him. “Ever. Said that stuff to you. It was… too much even for us, if I could take it back, I would. I have no idea what snapped in my mind to say such vile things to you, it was wrong, it was stupid-so stupid-and I regret it. Regret it more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to. Hell, say the word and I’ll walk out of here and I’ll disappear from your life forever. “

You have honestly never felt so speechless before. Miguel has never made you feel so speechless before.

“But god do I want you to forgive, to take those words back. I'll do anything, and when I tell you that I’ll do anything, I mean anything.”

You couldn’t help the breathless chuckle that escaped your throat, uneasiness bubbling up in your lower gult, despite laughing being your first reaction, you could tell he was all but joking. Your tongue stuck out to lick your suddenly dry lips.

“I can tell you’re being quite… erm, serious, so,” you pause, inhaling the tense air in hopes it’ll help calm your nerves, “I accept your apology.” Miguel took a deep breath to keep himself from turning into a babbling mess again, he could feel that heavy pressure on his chest filling up, he could finally breathe agai-“but I don’t forgive you.” He could feel his airways clog back up, he felt like he was blue screening as his ears heard the words but his mind didn’t want to accept it. He wants to do nothing more than to grovel at your feet again for you to take those words back.

But he couldn’t, it made him a little happier to know that there is something he can build off of, still as he finally was able to drag himself out from your room after putting on the facade of countenance , he felt the need to release all his pent up emotions out. He wanted to cry till his tear ducts stopped working, sob till his throat felt raw. But he couldn’t get himself to do it, his body simply wouldn’t let him, refusing to undo all of his years hiding his emotions more than he’s already done in your room, you're the only one who could make him feel again. What was that book his class started reading last week?

He felt like he had no mouth, and he had to scream.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix @reader-1290 @laysmt (to be added click here)

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Dead Boy Detectives Victor AU: War Crimes Edition (We're Finally Fucking Communicating!)

I am a woman of my word. Here's Chapter 6, and it's a lot of fucking tenderness/communication/FIRST KISSES/everything y'all have been waiting for for so long. Hope y'all enjoy!

“I can't be a person. I can't. That’s how this works. That’s how this has always worked.” Monty lets out a small, dismissive laugh. “But Maren said that you two think that I am. That you two care about me. That you two-” His breath shudders in his chest, because it turns out that healing his body means that it can’t be controlled at all times, so he rolls his eyes as he says, “That you two love me.” And he looks back, now, at them. Charles looks horrified, tears glimmering in his eyes. Edwin’s face is frozen, the winter chill stabbing into Monty’s veins. Monty’s brow furrows. That doesn’t make sense. That doesn’t compute. His voice, against his will, wavers as he says: “But she's wrong, right?”

Neither of them respond. The world holds its breath. The knife falls.

Monty thinks he might be begging as he demands, "Tell me that she's wrong.”

Monty needs them to agree with him. They have to agree with him.

But neither of them will.

And maybe, he realizes, they never did.

@deadboy-edwin @icecreambrownies @anonymousbooknerd-universe @ashildrs

@tragedy-machine @just-existing-as-you-do-blog @orpheusetude @mj-irvine-selby

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@tiredghostby @sethlost @catboy-cabin @secretlyafiveheadeddragon @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @holvivum

[kiwiana-writes]

Hiiiii! For the love your fandom asks, tell me 5, 11, 16, and 20! 🥰

5. something you see in fics a lot and love

Words. I love it when fic writers give me words.

As for an actual answer: Oxford 👏 Slut 👏 Phase 👏

11. if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

Wow, this question is mean. Who would ask someone this????

And who the fuck let me put two hundred and fifty nine works on AO3?

Podfics first: It's gotta be Going Platinum by @cricketnationrise. It's by FAR the longest solo project I've done (I think there's one posted podfic and one work in progress that I might have more audio minutes on, both as a narrator for a multi-voice project, but I didn't have to edit that shit so it's not my problem 🤣) and for some batshit insane reason I decided to do soundscaping/sound effects for the first time??? But I LOVED how it came out, and I was exceptionally proud of myself for keeping it a secret from cricket because that was HARD. (And yes I WILL be recording parts two and three!)

Schitt's Creek fic: Time until the end of time, the afterlife fic @ships-to-sail and I co-wrote over TWO YEARS and, not to toot our own horns, but the fandom at large slept on it 😅 It's amazing, actually.

RWRB fic: This one's brutal. It's almost Much Ado, and idk maybe it should be Much Ado, but I actually think it's Like loving the stars themselves aka the Doctor Who AU. Also a little bit slept on, actually, but not to the same extent as above 🤣 I am phenomenally proud of this one. The genre was way outside my usual comfort zone and I think this fic is the best example of the way I love to write media AUs -- the story bent to fit the characters, so it's very much an Alex And Henry Story, but there are little pieces of DW canon, RWRB canon, and something that's entirely my own.

16. a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

There are so many, honestly, but Alex's slightly hysterical thought about wanting to send whoever taught Henry to suck cock a gift basket is so, so fucking important to me for an array of Overthinking/Over-identifying Reasons. Also it's just funny as hell. I was very proud of getting a different version of it into chapter two of the arranged marriage AU, actually; I think that bit in particular is one of the funnier things I've written.

20. your very first fandom!

The one owned by terf queen mcgee. That was bb!MJ's first exposure to fanfiction and where I started writing fic.

[✨ love your fandom asks ✨]

[heartsfrommeg]

iii. so what’s the plan?

a/n: part 3 is here! thank you for all the support!!

warnings: mentions of 18+ content (like 1-2 sentences)

w/c: 1.7k

next chapter: the answer.

gwen and pavitr eventually went back to their universes, but i stayed with hobie. i was laying on the couch watching hobie as he was now on the floor, still working on the watch. “so how long did this take the first time?” i asked. “probably a couple days. felt like i was turning into some fuckin mad scientist or some shit.” hobie said with a laugh, making me laugh along.

“you don’t mind if i stay here right?” i asked, fiddling with the hem one of one of hobie’s shirts i threw on when i changed. hobie then looked up at me. “you’re always welcome here. i’m sorry for not coming to see you sooner. i was honestly about to quit, but peter gave me this stupid talk about how i should stay. and then gwen came along and she reminded me of you, y’know with not wanting to be home and shit, and i felt terrible if i just left. i let her stay over a lot because she used to not like going back to her universe. then pavtir showed up, then miles did. i helped miles escape then dipped.” hobie said, attention going back to the watch.

i had a small smile on my face as i looked at him, “well aren’t you just such a sweet big brother.” i said, teasing him. “i wasn’t being a big brother.. i was just helping out. and i don’t know why, but i felt this connection with miles when we first met. like we had so many similarities that we don’t even know about ourselves or some shit. i dunno, it was weird.” there was a few moments of silence before hobie spoke up again, setting down a screwdriver. “ya don’t think it’s my fault.. right?” i looked at him with confusion. “what do you mean?” “the scar.” my mouth went agape before i responded. “of course it’s not your fault. i got too close. there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent it hobes.”

he looked at me then nodded, before going back to the watch. i just continued to watch him until i eventually fell asleep, not knowing what time it even was.

~

i woke up in a different room than i fell asleep in. i looked around and realized it was hobie’s bedroom. i looked beside me and hobie was there, sound asleep. i wonder if he ever finished the watch. i decided to sit up and take in my surroundings, just to see if it’s changed since the last time. i then decided to get up and have some food. when i walked into the main room, gwen was already there with pavitr and peter b. “when the hell did you guys get here?” i asked, rubbing my eyes. “about half an hour ago, i’m assuming you and hobie talked your problems out??” peter b said with a smirk.

i went to go say something but i got cut off. “shut up, mate. it ain’t like that.” hobie said, yawning after. “yeah, it isn’t like that.” i said, going back to what i originally came in for. peter b sighed and shook his head, “kids.” “not a kid!” i yelled from the kitchen.

“oh i finished the watch last night.” hobie said walking into the kitchen. “how long did you stay up making that thing?” i asked. he just shrugged, “dunno. hey pete, did you bring any food?” “no but i can bring you two to my house real quick and get you some food.” hobie groaned. “you ain’t got food here?” i asked. “i haven’t had the time to. and usually one of them brings me something. but ya sure MJ will be okay with it?” hobie said.

“should be. i don’t see why not. she’s probably making breakfast right now and she always makes extra.” peter b said.

i pushed hobie out the way to go put my suit back on. “hey! what was that for??” “i want food!” i screamed down the hall. hobie rolled his eyes as he followed to also go put his suit on. “keep it pg!!” peter b said which hobie just flicked him off in response to.

i came back to the main room, leaving us all to wait on hobie. “bro come on! you take forever to get ready!” i yelled. hobie then walked out of his room with his suit on. “is the guitar necessary??” gwen asked. “do you want us to die if we have a mission out of nowhere? plus, i’ll set it down. i’m not that rude, damn.” peter b then opened up a portal and hobie threw me the watch he finished last night.

“we’ll tag along so that’s the way we can just go ahead and all meet up to make a plan.” gwen said.

we proceeded to walk through the portal and entered a small room. “peter i swear to god you’re gonna start coming in from outside!” we heard a feminine voice say, making hobie, gwen, and pavitr snicker. “i’m sorry, you know i don’t mean it. i brought guests over if that’s okay!”

“how many guests?”

“not that many..”

“peter, if i walk in that room and there’s more than two spider people with you-“

“i mean technically it is because only two ate already!”

a red haired woman then proceeded to come into frame, a spatula in one hand. “what do you mean two ate already?” “these two did, these two didn’t.” “blame hobie for being a rude guest.” i said. “hey! but sorry mrs. parker.” hobie said, putting his hands in his pockets. MJ sighed as she shook her head, “it’s fine, just get out of maydays room and come in here.” we all followed, hobie setting down his guitar first like he said he would. i was kinda excited to see mayday which didn’t take long before i saw an upside frame come into view. “mayday! you’ve gotten so big!” i said, catching her in my arms and making MJ turn around. “oh (y/n), i didn’t realize it was you. how have you been sweetie?” MJ said with a big smile.

“i’ve been great mrs. parker. how have you been?” i said with a smile. MJ was always like another mother figure to me. if i wasn’t at hobie’s, i was probably over here, talking to MJ like girls do because there’s just some stuff you can’t tell boys y’know. “i’ve been good. busy, but good.” MJ said, going back to the kitchen. i then set mayday down because she was squirming and she proceeded to crawl over to hobie.

“i swear i love this kid.” hobie said, picking up mayday and sitting down on the couch. “you? loving kids?” i asked. “i have a perfectly valid reason.” “go on.” i said, crossing my arms and waving him on. “she took a crap on the establishment so i salute her.” i looked at him in confusion as i sat down next to him. “she pooped on miguel.” peter b said. my eyes went wide as i let out a small snort. “mayday parker, you are the best child to ever exist.” i said. we all proceeded to talk and joke around until MJ said the food was ready.

me, hobie, and peter b made our way to the table and sat down. we all thanked her and began eating. after we finished eating, i grabbed mine and hobie’s plates and took them to the sink. after i washed the plates, i went back to the living room where the others were getting ready to leave, hobie coming back into the room from grabbing his guitar. peter b was handing mayday to MJ since she couldn’t come with. we then all proceeded to go through the portal gwen opened, going to her universe to meet with the others.

once we entered, i got met with a cool toned house, the other spiders already there. we all said our hellos and sat down so we could talk about our plan.

“so we know that (y/n) is probably one of the strongest here. she webs that she could use on the enemy.” peter b started. “quick question, what’s so special about hers?” pavitr asked, curious. “i can make the enemy do i what i want, like this for example..” i then proceeded to wrap hobie up in my web, “say that (y/n) is the most amazing person ever.” “(y/n) is the most amazing person ever.” hobie said. “then as soon as i untie them, they go back to normal. unless i tell them to sleep or some shit.” i said, taking my webs off of hobie. “did you use me for your web examples again..” he asked, rubbing his head. i nodded with a smile then turned back to the others. “these two are also a pretty good team. hobie can use (y/n)’s webs as guitar strings and her powers can get further, and quicker.” peter b continued. “they’re probably also the only two out of us who does follow the no killing rule.” peter porker said.

“it only happened once.” me and hobie said together. “that osborn fucker deserved it.” hobie said. “same thing with the prowler.” i added. “anyways, none of us have the invisibility technique that miles has, which would be useful. i mean hobie has his electric technique but the invisibility would be more useful in this situation.” gwen said. “i mean there’s like nine of us so i think we’d be okay.” margo said. “yeah but we don’t know how many of them are there. you gotta remember that this universe doesn’t have a spiderman.” peter b said.

“i mean i could try to get in there to get by miles and then id get us both out. then boom, home we go.” i said. “and what if you get captured?” pavitr asked. “if there’s one thing about being spiderman or spiderwoman, it’s that you watch the hands, not the eyes. so i could get out of those chains easily and i’m sure miles can too if he has those electric powers. his only downsides is that he’s glitching and he can’t get back.” i said.

“that could work. and we’ll have at least two spiders by every exit just in case we need to fight.” penni said. “and i have an extra day pass for miles.” peter b said. “just make sure he doesn’t get it ripped off this time.” gwen said.

now that we had a plan, we could finally head to earth 42 to save miles morales.

@certified-dilf-lover @simpingsohard @urdeadpoet @maya-custodios-dionach @dai-tsukki-desu @stevenknightmarc

[itsybiggy]

Stuck With Me: Peter Parker x OC

Cute Peter Parker slow burn, less spiderman action more just good ol awkward Parker.

Peter has been in a bad mood all month, but with soon to be divorced parents, trying to figure out what's wrong with him is the last thing Lani needs. Thankfully summer break is here. Lani, Ned, Peter, and MJ set off on the summer vacation road trip to California. Drama ensues

🕸️Chapter 2🕸️

Chapter 1

Master list

•🕷️🕷️🕷️•

He left me on read. He never does that, like ever. My thoughts begin to wander to attempt to make evenly winged eyeliner.

So much for keeping it positive.

Intrusive thoughts pile up in my mind. I'm not dumb enough to really believe that Peter now hates the mere thought of me; but the little "read" under my text makes me anxious all the same.

I being wracking my brain. Thinking of everything I have said to him in the past weeks. I mean maybe I said something to make him upset or did something and just not realize it. But honestly, it only makes me smile as I recall the jokes we cracked and fun we all  have had. Nothing bad is really coming to mind.

My screen is still void of any text notifications.

I check my refection in the mirror, smiling. I usually try to stay positive when it comes to my appearance. And I definitely can't complain of how my butt looks my black maxi skirt. I adjusted my white crop top, making sure the tiny cross stitched spider was visible. After a quick click of my off brand Dock Martins I decided humidity was a virtue and mirror time was over.

It was already 5:15, I didn't feel quiet ready but Ned would be waiting.

~15 minutes later~

"GET IN LOSER WE ARE GOING SHOPPING!" I yell as Ned walks down the apartment stairs.

He gets in the car "Hey."

"Hey." My smile drops and I hope it's subtle. The tone of his voice worried me. Silence between us is uncommon. I squirm a bit in my seat.

Seeing as he isn't going to make conversation, I speak up.

"Did you get the texts from me and Michelle?" I say.

"Yeah, I have no idea what's wrong with him. Maybe we will figure out tonight" he says quickly, shrugs and looks out the window. Silence fills the car again.

I know you can't sound like anything over text, but Ned sounded a lot peppier when we were messaging. What was going on with my friends?

"We should go see a movie after."  I make a lame attempt to kindle a conversation.

Ned seems to perk up a bit at this.

"Yes! The Joker is out!"

I laugh at this, I'd never been much for DC superhero comics. Especially when they are made up. It didn't really make a lot of sense why someone would make up a superhero and a supervillain when there are plenty to choose from that are real. Movie production companies have tried to profit off of rising superhero stars. The movies are never as good as the up close and real action.

I shrug "I'll see whatever you want bubby."

He winces at 'bubby' and goes back to looking out the window.

I feel my face getting hot. Ok mental note, after being called bubby for 3 years Ned now doesn't like it.

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH MY FRIENDS! Blasts in my mind. My only hope now was that Michelle was normal.

___

To my relief she was. We got to the diner at 6:04, Michelle sitting down at our usual table in the back. We try to sit in the back as to not disturb other customers. Our laughs are usually boisterous and frequent not to mention the cheeky jokes. And all being on the decathlon team, heated arguments or "debates" on some old dudes theories or such tend to heated. But we are high tipping customers so we don't worry about it too much.

"Hey guys surprised to see you have made it here alive." She jokes.

"I don't know where you got that I was a bad driver!" I motion for Ned to take a seat before I slide in next to him.

"Oh I think you know." She winks.

"what?" I look at her, perplexed before she shakes her head.

"Speak of the devil" she said just as Peter walks through the door.

The little bell at the top of the door gives a joyful ring. Peter flinches but his body quickly moved back into its slightly hunched position with a frown on his face. Oh great.

"Hey Peter!" I say as he sits down next to Michelle.

He looks into my eyes and gives a slight smile. But says nothing.

A waiter soon comes around with menus "Can I get you started off with anything to drink?"

"I will have a coke." Michelle starts.

"Same." Peter mumbles.

"Sprite." Says Ned cheerfully.

"Tea for me please and thank you." I say brightly, I had to stay positive. I am with my friends to get away from negativity, not have more of it.

Once the waiter left we all began talking. Peter slowly starts engaging more, and it seems to feel right again. Something about him is definitely off; though that does make me very worried about him, I know now was not the time to ask. I will just do my best to cheer my moody friend up.

I smile, mentally stepping back from the conversation, contentment filled my heart. There is nowhere I would rather be and no group of people I would rather be with. I mean they are the only friends I have...

Good Eats has become a favorite of ours. We started eating here for dinner or after school almost every weekend, for about 3 years now. It was cheap for the quality of simple yet delicious diner food. But it's usually pretty quiet in the evenings— (we learned the hard way to avoid it during the mornings where the line is out the door.) —a steady stream of customers usually taking things to-go. Which I don't get, a big part of this place being great is the aesthetic. It reminds me of a 70s diner and most likely opened then. Yellow booths, a jute box always playing great oldies music, kinda ugly wallpaper, and warm lighting. And the store owner is a really nice guy. He usually brings his grandkids. It's always funny when you get rung up by a 10-year-old or have your water refilled by a 7-year-old. Since we have been coming for so long so often, the owner has a special discount for us "I've got to treat my best customers right!"  he always says I'm pretty sure it's just a %10 student discount. We usually tip as much much as we can.

I snapped back into reality when I heard my name. I didn't really know who it came from.

"What?" I said shacking my head out of the clouds.

"We were asking about the van. Summer break is almost here, when is Caroline gonna be ready?" Ned asks

"Oh right, I would say just in time for school to let out." I say.

We have been planning our summer break since school started this year. It will be our last summer vacation ever, so it had to be epic. I always get excited butterflies from it, but it is usually mixed with dread too. Dread because I know when I get home my parents will be officially divorced. Not that I haven't known this was coming or that it needs to happen. It definitely does, I have a cup bruise on the side of my head to prove it.

No, nope stop! I feel my eyes watering. Internally I let out a big sigh. This summer vacation has to be perfect. I don't know what I will do if it's not.

"Alright let's go over the plans one last time," Peter says.

I smile reaching into my purse, and pull out a small, light pink, piece of paper. 1-10 lists of things we need to do while we are in California. We had decided a beach trip is definitely what we need.

I clear my throat and begin to read.

1. start off at Stark Tower to go over things with Tony such as Hotels, food reservations, and tickets

Did I mention all of this was Peter's early birthday gift from TS himself. We are all pretty jazzed. And by that I mean we about shit our pants when Peter told us.

2. head out across the country stopping at the finest Tony Stark hotels (hotels with penthouse suites that Tony has frequent so much he just straight up bought the hotels.)

3  get to LA and check out our crib

4. beach

5. Disney Land

6. More beach

7. eat at a super fancy restaurant

8. ruins of Mr. Stark's Malibu mansion

9. Santa Monica Pier

10. hike to the Hollywood sign

It was a packed summer for sure, but it had to be the best, it just had to be. My last slice of happiness before I move away with my mom, before I move from Queens to which ever relative my mom decides to move close to. Away from all of my friends, who are more of a family then my real ones. Who have gotten me through so much, stuck by my side through it all. And even feeling upset makes me feel like I'm a monster. I want to support my mom, but I don't want this! I don't want to be away from them. Away...I hate that word.

"You ok La?" Ned asks  his hand rests on my back, lightly rubbing it.

My cheeks grow warm with embarrassment- I was crying. And of course Ned's kind questioning made more tears flow. I quickly wipe my eyes with my sleeve, and give a quick fake smile to my friends. They look concerned, except Peter. He looks almost angry, this made me cry more. Amazing.

"Yeah I'm fine. I-uh-i yawned." I stammer, I yawned wtf, who would believe that?!

"What the hell Lani?! No one's yawns make them cry that much." Michelle said, her voice rose she was almost laughing at the dumb lie that came out of my mouth. But I knew she was just concerned.

Ned quickly drops his hand from my back, my head instinctively turning towards him. He's looking at Peter.

"I'm fine I, I-just." I paused. I had told them about my parents getting a divorce, but not much. More importantly, I hadn't told them I was moving, and I wasn't planning on it till the trip is over. If they knew it would just ruin the whole trip for me. Not to mention I was so scared to even say it out loud, it would just make it seem more real. I tried my hardest to not think about it ever. Yea I know it's is unhealthy, but it's how I'm coping now. Might as well let future Lani deal with it.

"It's just my parents divorce, it's getting close to the last of all the court stuff. I just, can't stop thinking about it." My face continued the hot embarrassed sensation. I felt my under arms tingle and I could feel their eyes in me. My eyes stayed glued on my hands like my left depended on it.

There was a small pause. Oh gosh this is embarrassing.

"Lani, no madder what, you will always have us. We love you." Michelle finally said. Her tender words caught me off guard.

I looked back at her, giving a genuine smile "Thanks, that means a lot."

But the little voice in the back of my mind kept screaming Except they won't always be there for you.

"Are you guys ready to order?" We all jumped a bit as the waiter had finally returned to serve us. She placed each of our drinks in front of us.

After we ordered I had asked if we could just forget I said anything, what I needed was a fun night with my friends. They all agreed and once Ned had brought up The Joker, a new conversation sprung. I was just happy to not discuss anything family related.

___

Once we had all gotten and eaten our food, we decided to head to the movie theater to watch The Joker.

"Ok how about Peter pays for drink, Ned pays for Popcorn, and Lani pays for the tickets?" Michelle suggests as we walk into the theater.

"Um, that's convenient, seeing as you pay for nothing." Said Peter, slightly annoyed "and we should all pay for our own tickets, they are too expensive for Lani to pay for alone."

Michelle give a little snicker before we all decide it was every man for himself/herself.

I walk up to the counter, and smile brightly at the young man at the register. "Four tickets for The Joker, please and thank you."

"Sorry The Joker is sold out." He replies in a monotone voice.

"What?!" Ned exclaimed "but- I just checked online like 5 hours ago."

"Sorry The Joker is sold out" he repeats in the same voice. I don't blame him, he has probably had to say this so many people tonight.

"Hey, guys it's fine we can just pick another movie!" I say trying to lift their spirits.

"It 2 is out." Michelle offers.

Oh no

"Yeah I'm down" says Ned.

Oh no

"Yeah me too" says Peter.

Shit

Three pairs of eyes look at me. I give a sheepish smile. I get scared very easily, they know this, but I'm willing to take one for the team... even if it means I won't sleep for a few da-weeks. "Yes, let's go see It 2" I say in a fake enthusiastic tone.

I turn back to the man at the register "um, four for... It 2 please."

___

The theater is completely empty, which makes it about 1099999373783298xs more scary. It's a pretty popular movie so the rows of seats absent of people makes it feel like the twilight zone. We look around, deciding to sit in the far back.

I see Peter hanging back, walking slowly behind us. Strategically, I begin to slow my pace; slipping behind MJ to sit beside Peter. If there is anything that will distract me from the killer clown, it's Peter. We enter the row and settled in. And Peter grabs my hand.

[struggle-but-its-all-ocean-floor]

TXT - The Star Chapter: Sanctuary

Quick review!

Heaven - I think one of the biggest problems I have with TXT is that I don't really like their voices, and the "barer" the song is, the worst they sound to me. I disliked Soobin and Beomgyu in the verses (as well as everyone else, really), but the pre-chorus and chorus are cool. The song really needed a bridge and final chorus, but of course Hybe said no to anything that isn't an overdone trend. 8/10

Over the Moon - I like this song a lot better now. It's pretty good, but not remarkable enough. They need to shake things up imo. They're starting to remind me of Itzy even if they're doing really well. The track desperately needed a bridge. It ends so abruptly it's criminal. The ending makes the tt sound unfinished and unsatisfying. 8.5/10

Danger - Hybe still on that MJ/The Weeknd sound, mixed with the typical bg sound from a few years back. It's okay. Lacks a personality. 7.5/10

Resist (Not Gonna Run Away) - The song starts so abruptly - too strongly with Taehyun's falsetto. Huge on the 2nd gen sound, like something Shinee would've recorded. It's good. 7.9/10

Forty One Winks - Another song that makes me think they have no personality as a group. TXT and EN both feel like they just release whatever sounds trendy and sexy to the female fans. There's little risk or creativity. It's stale. The song is good, but yeah. 8/10

Higher Than Heaven - Fun call back to the first song. This was my favorite song in the album. Wholesome and has some of that TXT magic. It's also the only song that feels complete, though the ending could've been softer and prolonged. 9.5/10

Overall, solid album, a good listen, but artistically very uninspired and disappointing. TXT were so promising in the beginning, with a unique sound and identity, but now it's like they're just chasing trends and trying to keep up with other groups. TXT and EN have really lost their shine. For a veteran group, TXT have improved very little to me over the years and still can't wow me with their performance. They also have little to contribute musically. They're not unique or trendsetters. And they're still too young enough to feel as "old" as they do... The members really need rest and to be allowed to try something new. Ggum was their most exciting release in years.

[kj-1130]

Anything for You

chapter 7

previous chapter || series masterlist

     “Psst… pssst!” 

     You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and irritation, turning and trying to get away from the poking on your cheek. You groaned lowly when it only persisted, peeking your eyes open to see MJ’s face. 

     “Good morning,” she whispered softly, stroking your cheek, almost lulling you back to sleep. “Your phone’s been buzzing like crazy.”

     With a sigh, you reach over to the nightstand where your phone was located, and start pressing down, hoping that you’ll soon hit whatever button that gets the noise to stop. After a few seconds of the randomized tapping, silence returns and you snuggle back into Michelle’s chest who is happy to hold you close. The warmth and love she radiates is enough to suck you back into a peaceful rest. 

     Said peaceful rest lasts for only a few moments before it’s so rudely disturbed by the same buzzing you stopped only a little while ago. 

    With a hefty groan, you reach over once again, snatching the phone and pressing the ‘accept call’ button. 

     “What?” you demanded in a grouchy tone, giving up any hope of getting any more sleep. 

     “I’m outside. In the parking lot.” 

     You pulled the phone away from your ear with a frown on your face, squinting at the screen trying to decipher who was calling you at such an hour (it was well past 11 in the morning). Once you saw who it was, you let out a sigh and begrudgingly lifted the phone back to your ear. 

     “What are you talking about, Pepper?” you muttered out, rubbing your eyes tiredly. 

     “Our day out,” she said as if it was obvious. “I’m here.” 

     “Our what now?”

     The woman let out a short exhale that you could hear exhaustion seep out of. “Can you just…get ready? And come outside? Please?” 

     You laid there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what was even going on. Your brain wasn’t even fully aware, with you not even being awake for five minutes yet.

     Then, you hung up. 

     Your hand falls from your face onto the bed as you let out a breath and close your eyes. 

     “Are you gonna get ready?” 

     “Hmm?” you hummed back looking up at Michelle with furrowed eyebrows.

     “You don’t wanna leave her waiting for too long…” she trails off, noticing your still confused face. “Pepper,” she clarifies.

      In response, you finally sit completely up and let out a sigh.

     “‘M not sure if I have the energy for…that right now.” 

     MJ copies your movements and puts an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her. She could feel how tense you had gotten despite only waking up less than five minutes ago.

     “She’s…trying,” your girlfriend says after a moment of searching for a proper word. She senses you about to interject so she picks back up. “And I know. It’s too little, too late. Believe me, I know. But you’ve been trying too. Trying to get closure--trying to heal. Maybe in some way, this’ll help. All else fails, you set your boundary and you never have to do it again,” she finishes. 

     Letting the girl’s words ring around your head, you inhale deeply and slowly start to push yourself off the bed and stiffly make your way towards the closet. MJ watches you walk away, hoping and praying that all goes well. She couldn’t bear to watch you break once more. 

-

     Pepper’s head snaps up as she’s startled from the sound of her car door opening and being slammed shut. The woman watched as you buckled yourself up with shaky hands and got (uncomfortably) settled. Eyeing your clothing choice of a hoodie and sweatpants with some old Nikes, she clears her throat gently.

     “I um…didn’t think you would come,” she confesses. 

     “I didn’t want to,” you replied. Seeing her grimace out the corner of your eye, you let out a sigh. “But…somebody said that something good might come from this so…” 

     The woman nodded and after a few more seconds of silence, put the car in drive and made her way out the parking lot. She cruised down the streets, taking short glances at you every now and then. 

     “So,” she starts hesitantly. “What do you like to do? Anywhere you wanna go?” 

     You briefly thought about telling her ‘back home’, but decided against it. Not only would Michelle be slightly upset (no matter how hard she’d try to hide it), your new therapist (found by your girlfriend) would be disappointed that you hadn’t taken this opportunity to heal yourself. 

     “I don’t really get out much…” you trail off. “Just book stores and stuff.” 

     Pepper nods in response. That wasn’t what she was expecting but surely she could find something for the two of you to do. Somewhere you could sit and she could learn about you, even if it was just the tiniest thing. 

-

     It had been about an hour or so since Pepper had picked you up and the amount of bags you had sitting in her trunk were ridiculous. She had stopped by some stores (not any fancy boutiques, thank the lord) and bought anything she caught you eyeing for more than 2.5 seconds. She even thought of MJ and asked for your input of things you think she’d like. 

     You walked out with new clothes, shoes (nikes in particular as she had seen that the ones you had on were a little worn out), and some jewelry. 

     Currently, the two of you were at a little locally owned diner per your suggestion. You had become familiar with the owners over the years you came in with your girlfriend. 

     You shared some small talk. You asked about Morgan (who had been apparently singing your praises at home), she asked about how you and MJ had been settling in your apartment. 

     You were reluctantly enjoying yourself but it all seemed so…forced in a way. Like she was trying everything she could think of to appeal to you and make you like her. 

     “You don’t have to…buy me out, you know,” you said during a lull in conversation. 

     Pepper sighed and placed down the fry she was about to eat, nodding slowly. 

     “I know.” 

     You watched her gather her words and prepared yourself for an emotional monologue from her. 

     “When they told me you were in the hospital, my heart dropped. I thought I had lost my chance to…make things right?” she said, not sounding quite sure of herself. “This isn’t to ease my guilty conscience because if anything, I should be living with it for the rest of my life. No excuse could possibly be made to explain what I did.

     “I just want to give you what you deserve,” the woman reiterates, taking the chance and reaching across the table to rest her hand on top of yours. Strangely, the urge to pull away wasn’t terribly strong. “You deserve a guardian--an adult at the very least to lean on. It’s something you should’ve had since the beginning. I’m not trying to be a parent to you--it’s much too late…”she trails off. You see tears pooling in her eyes as she continues. “I just wanna be there…to support you and watch you blossom; to help you grow and go off into the world knowing that you have something to fall back on if you ever need it.” 

     Emotional talk always made you uncomfortable, but you knew right now that it was needed. There was no way you could continue without acknowledging the elephant in the room and it’d be foolish of you if you thought you could. 

     As you shifted in your seat, you nodded slowly in response to her impromptu speech. If she could talk the leap, then so could you. 

     “Thanks,” you whispered. You could see Pepper lean in closer to you out of the corner of your eye as you stared at your plate of food. “I think…maybe I’ll get used to it eventually but Pepper…” you trailed off, finally looking up at her before taking a breath. “I just need some time.” You shook your head as you saw the woman slouch slightly, clearly affected by your response. “Some time soon just…not right now.” 

     “I understand,” she mutters.

     Previous conversation resumed, but it just didn’t feel the same. There was a heavy air that surrounded the two of you that made things awkward. Pepper had felt the sting of a rejection, that was completely unintended, and you felt guilty for making things tense (even though you shouldn’t have). 

     You finished your late lunch and the strawberry blonde had driven you home afterwards. Even if things hadn't gone down like they did, you still would’ve requested to be taken back to your apartment as all the shopping had worn you out. 

     When you arrived, you insisted that you could carry all of the bags up. Pepper watched as you waddled towards the entrance and you saw her zoom off as soon as you reached the elevator.

     Tremors spread from your hands to your arms as you watched the number in the elevator slowly rise, silently wishing you hadn’t been so stubborn. The doors finally opened and you gathered the last of your strength to make it to your door. When had the halls gotten so long?

     By the time you got there, you could’ve sworn you felt a drop of sweat go down the side of your forehead. You kicked the door harshly, knowing you couldn’t move your arms to knock.

     MJ opened the door a few moments later, looking confused then highly amused.

     “Need some help with that?” 

     You simply glare at her and walk in once she moves to the side. As soon as you were in an open area, you dropped the bags and shook your arms out in search of relief. 

      When Michelle saw the way your hands and arms shook in response to such strain, she furrowed her eyebrows in concern and made her way over to you after closing the door. 

     “She didn’t help you bring these up?” she questioned, massaging you from forearm to fingers.

      “I didn’t want her to,” you mumbled with a hint of shame in your voice. 

     Your girlfriend let out a sigh and you knew she was upset and slightly disappointed, even if she didn’t say so out loud. 

     “I take it things didn’t go so well?”

      You shrug, “They did just…got kinda awkward I guess.”

      “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

      As the two of you gazed at each other, you noticed how much love Michelle held in her eyes. And it was all directed towards you.

      “Maybe later. Just wanna spend the rest of the day with you.”

     And that’s exactly what the two of you did.

-

     Pepper was on her side, staring at the wall as she laid in bed. It was one of the rare nights Tony joined her at a reasonable hour. He laid behind her and if she was being honest, his snoring was driving her up the wall. 

     The digital clock that was on her nightstand beside the bed shone at her. 

     12:40 AM

     Time. That's all that seemed to be on her mind lately. She feared that she had let too much of it pass her by and now, she selfishly hoped that it would speed up ever so slightly.

     As her mind continued to race, her phone buzzed, catching her attention. The notification turned out to be a text and she wondered who’d be messaging at this hour. 

     y/n: next saturday with morgan? her pick

     She sent back a quick positive reply and turned her phone off. She settled under the cover and finally settled for the night. 

-_-_-_-_-_-

taglist

@coollemonsaresour @ximaginx @xx-narcissa @jesuswasnotawhiteman @yelena-belovas-wife @uselessgay101 @freyathehuntress @oliemolliever @eternally-ineffable @daniphantom1 @ejsephton13 @lavvi23 @geeksareunique

[railingsofsorrow]

Dreams

[peter parker x reader]

summary: who would've thought meeting your friends would give you one answer and a thousand more questions.

— reader's perspective of the 1st chapter

pairing: h.osborn x fem!reader; p.parker x fem!reader.

w.c: 1.6K

warnings/content: memory loss; lucid dreams; harry osborn being the loml <3; ned & mj being the pair that knows it all; descriptions of missing someone.

A/N: the reader's perspective from broken promises 1st chapter that nobody asked for. I felt like building a four chapter fic around this one-shot so this is what I'm going to do. masterlist is in the oven!

[blast this on while reading, trust me.]

navi

masterpost

series masterlist

[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

❝ […]'Cause there we are

again when I loved you so.

Back before you lost

the one real thing you've

ever known.[…] ❞

The dreams were starting to become more realistic.

You'd wake up in a cold sweat with heavy-breathing and tear-stained cheeks. A not tied itself around your throat every time you recalled what happened. There was always someone that you were trying to hold on to; whom you begged to not leave, to not go.

“... I don't want you to go,”

“I'm not going anywhere,”

It scared you how you couldn't hear the voice but it felt so... so familiar. The touch in your cheek, the promise in the tone.

“I promise.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

They repeated it twice, and you felt extremely bothered by it. So much so that you couldn't stay on bed, you couldn't fall asleep every time you had that dream. But, this is what it was: a dream.

Yet.

Yet, there was no bigger feeling of betrayal swerving in your chest. Because whoever it was and for whatever reason that had occurred, they had broken the promise. A very important one at that. “I'm not going anywhere,” Well, you clearly did. You'd argue by yourself, out of spite.

It's just a dream, your head tried to reason.

But they left, your heart retorted back.

After the terrible night sleep you settled for catching up on a few assignments until your alarm rang. Once it did, you quickly silenced it. It was Saturday, your roommate didn't deserve to be woken up by the blaring sound. You glanced at her sleeping open-mouthed frame before moving into the bathroom to take a shower.

You and your friends were supposed to meet in half an hour still, so you took your time getting ready, making sure to apply extra concealer below your eyes. The bags were critical.

Fucking weird dreams.

You looked down at your phone as you were fixing the scarf around your neck when the notification popped in.

FROM HARRY: where are u?

Harry, who had became someone incredibly important in your life without warning. He integrated your small group of friends out of your vehemence — his saying. A few months ago you figure it out he also lived in New York, so it happened that both of you had a lot in common.

You held the phone with one hand as you shut the door slowly with the other. Typing away “coming. are all of you there yet?” you pressed send and descended the stairs in fast steps.

Your phone vibrated again.

FROM HARRY: came to pick you up.

A smirk reached your lips at the next message.

FROM HARRY: if you take longer the ride will not wait.

Moody bastard.

You buried your phone in your pocket as you saw the flashy black car of your friend at the parking lot. His sunglasses dangling from his nose as he typed something on his phone. Your phone vibrated.

FROM HARRY: bye.

“I'm here!” You laughed, jogging towards the car. When you reached the window, you stealthily pulled his sunglasses away to put it on your face. Harry scowled but you could see the hit of a smile on his lips, a rare sight in the mornings. “Good morning, moody bear.”

“Just morning. Hop in,” he unlocked the vehicle and you obeyed, entering the passenger side. You didn't take off the sunglasses and he didn't complained as you rode to the old Queen's donut shop.

It was MJ's last day at work because she was finally moving in to the dorms at MIT. You could even say she was a little more smiley that Saturday morning as you and Harry passed through the glass doors. All of you were to hang out for drinks later to celebrate.

“Hey, beautiful. Come here often?” You leaned on the balcony MJ was cleaning, wriggling your eyebrows suggestively. She gave you a roll of eyes, throwing at you the dirty fabric she had been using. You grabbed it before it could hit your face. “God, that was a brutal rejection.”

“You know she already got someone in line,” Ned chimed behind you, greeting Harry with handshake. “Looking good. Great style,” he teased knowing the accessory wasn't yours. You embraced the boy with a smile.

“Thanks, I try.”

“You mean you steal,” Harry says and nudges your hip for a table in the corner by the window. You nod and asks Ned to warn MJ, who had moved aside to greet a costumer, where you would be sitting.

“I didn't steal if it looks better on me,” you shrugged and sat down with your back to the entrance. Harry sat in front of you.

“Sure,” Harry pretended to search through the menu when in reality he was trying to not smile. It was so hard to not to when you were in the room. “Keep it then,” he blurted out.

Your hands froze on your way to put the sunglasses down on the table, “What?”

“You can keep them,” Harry moved the menu towards you and let his mouth spread in a teasing grin, “It does look better on you anyway.”

A scoff left your lips, “Don't flirt with me, Osborn.”

He raised his eyebrows in mocked surprise, “Flirt? Who is flirting here? I'm just saying the truth.”

“Oh, you're flirting alright,” MJ's deadpan interrupted your conversation as she positioned a extremely sweetened coffee in front of Harry and two chocolate sprinkled donuts in the middle, for both of you. Harry grinned up at her as if she had ended global warming, completely ignoring her jab.

“You are a god-given solace, Jones,”

She flicked his forehead but smiled, “Yeah, I'm aware, Osborn. I'm off at five today, you're gonna wait?” she questioned, stepping backwards to the balcony when the bell of the shop rang announcing a new costumer.

You nod, biting into your sugar pleasure, “Mhm.”

“Why did you think we came all this way for,” Ned rolls his eyes having overheard the question as he typed away something in his phone and sat down at their table.

“All this way— You live around the block, shut up,” MJ scoffs at him and turns towards the boy that had just arrived. Ned chuckled.

Your forehead creases as you study the newcomer at the shop, you were about to turn around to sit more comfortably when he arrived. He wore a plaid jacket over his shoulder and dirty white converses, you could make out some doodling on the sides of them but you weren't close enough to see it fully. It wasn't the shoes that grabbed your attention, though. It was his face. For some reason, it looked quite familiar. The pinched nose, warm brown hair and you couldn't see his eyes but you figure they might be a shade of brown, too. The piece of paper in his shaky hands ripped at the same time Ned snapped his fingers in front of you.

“Earth to you,” Ned sings, “Where did you go?”

Harry stared at you inquisitively, then his gaze flickered to the new person.

“Nowhere,” you said, brushing a strand behind your ear. “Were you saying something?”

“Yes, but you were too busy drooling over that kid,” Harry retorted, sipping his coffee.

Your cheeks flushed, “I was not—”

“You were so drooling over him,” Ned teased, gazing sideways at Harry, who was eyeing the newcomer with a curious expression.

“Yeah, okay—stop,” you said huffing and shifting in your chair. “I just found him familiar, that's all.”

“He does look kind of familiar, doesn't he?” Ned inspected the kid for a while and Harry pinched him to stop staring.

“It not polite to stare, Ned.”

“Was just trying to see what's familiar in him...”

Everything. Everything is familiar on the young man but you couldn't place the why. You have never seen him before in your life.

Why did your heart tell you otherwise?

You played with your scarf absentmindedly, the urge to get up and go talk to him blaring in your chest.

Just say something. Anything.

I don't know him!

Your eyes met honey brown ones and your whole world stopped.

Please, Peter. I don't want to forget you.

Peter.

Who on Earth is Peter?

“Guys, that was my last costumer. I'm gonna get ready so we can leave, yeah?” MJ's voice brought you back to reality and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

He was gone. The plaid jacket boy. Suddenly he was sitting there in a table by the window staring back at you, and then, he vanished.

I don't want to forget you.

You've heard that before. The weirdest part was that it was your own voice. But how could you forget something like that? And how could you dream so realistically if it weren't real?

“You want me to ask MJ to place it to go?” Harry touched your shoulder, his hand cold against your skin. He noticed you clutching the red scarf around your neck and frowned in concern. “Hey, you okay?”

You didn't realize what you were doing until you followed his gaze and let go of the fabric slowly, confused as ever. Mumbling a meek yes in response to Harry, you stood up and followed them out of the donut shop. MJ and Ned discussing about a topic you couldn't hear, Harry entered the conversation after making sure you were actually okay and not lying.

“Please, Peter. I don't want to forget you.”

“You won't,” his touch was warm. Inviting. Safe. How did you know that? How did you feel it? “I'll make you remember me, I promise.”

“You promise?” There was fear in your shaky vocal cords. You've been crying.

“I promise.” You recalled once again as you crossed the street trailing after your friends.

Who are you, Peter? And what did you do?

[k1nky-fool]

Truth of a Parallel

Part 3: The Thirteenth Widow

Masterlist

Miguel O’hara x OC: Elisa Hannen

Pairing: M/F

Per Chapter Rating: Explicit (for violence reasons. there is no sexual content in this chapter).

Warnings: MCD (major character death), death is treated very seriously in this chapter with lots of angst. But this chapter is almost exclusively hurt/comfort.

Taglist: @gatnalien @sevikasstressball @musicmansauxcord @2downbad4dilfs @its-paprika

Gif by @prettyoatmeal

-Elisa-

To his credit, Eddie didn’t immediately freak out. His flurry of questions was held back in a much more clear minded move, but the longer he took to formulate a response, the more Elisa felt she was intruding on someone’s peace that she rightfully shouldn’t even know anymore.

“Nevermind, this was a bad idea.” Venom decided.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll leave.” Elisa began to turn around.

“No! I-” Eddie struggled. “I’m happy to see both of you.”

That made both her and Venom perk up. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“Come on in.” He invites her away from the window. “I suggest utilizing the door next time.”

“I don't have any other clothes.” She pointed out, and he just grabbed her a hoodie and pair of sweatpants for her.

“Something has to be wrong, he has no reason to think we’re not here to kill him.” Venom panicked, but Elisa was more motivated to distract herself from everything going on outside.

Once she was comfortably situated in his clothes, on his couch with a cold beer, offered out of the kindness of Eddie’s own heart, Elisa waited patiently as Eddie finished whatever he’d been doing before she showed up. He eventually sat down beside her, being remarkably less awkward than she anticipated.

“I feel like I have the right to know why you came here of all places.” Eddie prompted. “Not to sound like a dick, but aren’t you still dating that MJ girl?”

“No, she broke up with me sometime last spring. Apparently there's a limit to how many times your fiancée can stumble into your apartment needing extreme medical attention and begging not to go to a hospital.” Elisa said.

Eddie actually laughed. “I must have missed that class in school.”

“You missed every class but sex-ed.” Elisa pointed out.

“Not nearly as many titties as I was led to believe by a certain friend at the girls academy down the block.”

Elisa gasped in offense. “I must have just had a better education than you.”

“Yeah, I’ll say. Still, you don’t know how to answer a question.” He jabbed back at her. “Why come here of all places?”

“Why does he have the right? You didn’t have the right to your questions when he was being a prick-”

She forced herself to take a deep breath, which Venom clearly wasn’t on board with and it made her slightly nauseous. “I’m overwhelmed. I figured if I had nowhere to go, I might as well settle on the worst.”

“That bad, huh?”

“What?”

Eddie snickered. “It had to get that bad before you thought of coming to me? You’re many things, but you don’t run from your problems.”

Elisa slumped back into the corner of the couch. “Yeah, I’ve got a track record.”

“Why can’t you go home?” He asked. “You got another heart to break waiting for you there?”

“I really wish that wasn’t as accurate as it is, but I’m not dating him.” She let herself accept the defeat all while still defending herself from something that wasn’t even attacking. “His name is Miguel. He’s a Spider-Man from a different universe, and he’s here to catch something that landed here that shouldn’t be.”

He just nodded, knowing that weird stuff like this was pretty typical for her ever since she became Spider-Woman and even more so after she became Widow. “Just out of curiosity, is he hot?”

“I’m working with him, I’m not oggleing this poor man that probably doesn’t even want to be in this miserable universe.” She defended, but Eddie just stared at her as she was having trouble meeting his eye line. “... He’s not… unattractive.”

“Uh-huh.” He smirked to himself in his victory.

Elisa was exposed, but she didn’t mind. Eddie wasn’t the same as he was back in high school and neither was Elisa. But somewhere inside both of them lived two weird kids that were still friends after everything. And Eddie still bought the same trashy brand of beer that was the only brand at the mini-mart that wouldn’t ID them.

“I feel like I’ve earned at least one question.” She suggested, and Eddie made an accepting gesture. “Why’d you let me in?”

“You snuck in.”

“Prick.”

“You know what I mean.”

Eddie laughed, but relented. “I didn’t like how we left things.” He admitted. “I’ve seen the amount you swing to MJ’s apartment, so if you’re not dating her, then you’re at least still friends. I thought there was a chance we could be friends again.”

That made sense, some part of Elisa felt the same. Eddie had betrayed her, and he pretty much ruined her lives as both Elisa Hannen, and Spider-Woman, forcing her to become Widow. And yet, when she was overwhelmed, she needed to find comfort. Whether she liked it or not, Eddie was that comfort. “Were you going to reach out at all?”

“I’ve started to call you about five or six times, but I’ve chickened out every single time.” Eddie admitted.

“What’d you want to say?” She asked.

He choked on his own breath for a little before just retrying with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. I really just wanted to know if there was a chance you’d let me try again.”

Elisa felt her heart sink, and Venom did too.

“He could start with a damn apology for once.” Venom hissed into her head.

I want to hear him out.

“Why the fu-”

“Eddie, you used me as a popularity stunt.” Elisa challenged. “Not just my name as a researcher at Oscorp, but also my persona as Spider-Woman.”

“I know.” He accepts. “And it’s no thanks to me that you managed to get on your feet after I published the hit-piece. I did it wrong back then, so I wanna make it right now.”

“You can’t make it right.” Elisa scoffed. “It’s already been done, and it was wrong to do it.”

“I-I know. I-”

“I fixed it without you. There’s nothing left to make right.” She explained to him. “So maybe just do it right next time.”

Eddie perked up. “Next time?”

“Absolutely not!”

Elisa nodded. “It’ll take a little more to get Venom on your side, though.”

“A little? This man better start groveling, or whatever humans do when they don't want to be eaten!” It snapped, still refusing to come out and talk to Eddie, itself.

Eddie agreed without question. “I understand. And I get that it won’t be the same, but I’m willing to be a better friend this time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Eddie.” She challenged, and he just kept smiling like an idiot. It was getting late, and Elisa couldn’t realistically stay the night at her ex-boyfriend’s house. “I should get going.”

Venom showed its eagerness to leave with how fast it materialized the suit over her skin and over her face. Elisa took the mask off her face and Venom soaked it back up while grumbling in annoyance in her mind.

“I’ll see you around.” Elisa took off his hoodie and sweatpants, giving him a friendly hug.

“Take it easy, Widow.” Eddie watched as she made her exit out the living room window.

“You made me hug him.”

“You’ll survive, Venom.”

“You going to face Miguel?”

Elisa knew she didn’t have another option, but she really had to know if they had been successful in tracking down Clara from 5302. She got back to her apartment and quickly got dressed, knowing Miguel was likely to show up now that her location was known.

She didn’t expect him to actually knock on the window when she sensed him land outside, but immediately, something was odd. The landing was far too quiet to be Miguel. Instead, Elisa cautiously approached her window to see who was there.

Olivia Weaver, Widow 5302, lifted a shy hand to wave at her. Despite how odd it was, Elisa opened her window and let her in. Olivia was about her height, but with a slimmer build. Her long, blonde hair was tied up on the crown of her head, being pulled through her mask to avoid a misshapen head under the mask. She took off her mask and her eyes were the same shimmering green that Elisa’s had been before Venom had bonded with her.

“Let me guess, Eddie?” She deduced. “He was a host of Venom in my universe too, and still your friend. Oddly enough, you still have Venom currently in my universe.” Olivia explained. “We knew it’d be wild when we found Elisa wearing the Widow mask.”

“You and the other twelve Widows?” Elisa asked.

“Yeah, all of us.” Olivia confirmed. “In every Widow universe, you were always just different. It’s why Venom always finds you. We were too busy wondering who would be hosting Venom if you were Spider-Woman that we never stopped to consider that maybe, Venom wouldn’t find another host.”

“Yeah well, I’ve got-”

“A track record.” Olivia interrupted, relishing in the awkward look on Elisa’s face after being easily predicted. “That’s the same line you said to me in my universe after I said Venom was only using you. Of course, not really you, but the look on your face suggests you want to throw a taxi at my face in this universe too, so maybe it’s a parallel trait.”

“Is being a know-it-all, priss a parallel trait for you?” Elisa snapped. “Miguel too shy to ask for my help, or are you here to tell me I’m not welcome in your Spider Society?”

Olivia threw something at her head at a surprising speed, but Venom moved her arm fast enough to catch it. It was a watch.

“Can you blame him? You’re intimidating.” Olivia joked.

“Wait, I thought none of them trusted Venom?” Elisa recalled quite easily, while Venom was just excited at the thought of going a second round with the Spider Society.

“Venom means a lot of things in the multiverse.” Olivia explained, “Meeting or bonding with Venom is a Canon Event. It’s just a Canon Event that is over for most of them. Peni lost her friend to the Ven#m mech. The Peter that noticed you really hurt his MJ while he was hosting Venom. Peter Porker faced a Symbiote in his universe called Pork Grind. Miguel nearly died fighting Venom in his universe. And don’t even get me started on the Venom Anomalies.”

That definitely sounded right for the reaction she got. “What about you and the other Widows? I even have the same face.”

Olivia took a deep breath. “Venom was originally drawn to my powers when it crashed. Venom and I ended up killing Oscar in my universe. That wasn’t the kind of hero I wanted to be. But it found Eddie, and he stayed hidden for a while, but when he published the Oscorp Expose, Venom took your side. And you were much more of a threat than Eddie was. You and Venom just have a different kind of bond than the other spiders do.”

“What does she mean ‘the Canon Event is over for the other spiders?’” Venom bristled.

That made her heart drop. “Olivia, is splitting from Venom a Canon Event?”

That was the question Olivia was avoiding.

It was obvious as soon as she asked it. Olivia took a moment to find the words. "It happens differently for everyone."

"Wait, we're gonna break up?" Venom panicked.

"We're not gonna break up, Venom." Elisa groaned, and focused again on Olivia. "Look, if everyone agrees that a Spider splitting from Venom is a Canon Event, then suddenly everyone I talk to is waiting for what would have to be the worst day of my life."

"Everyone's waiting for the next horrible thing to happen to you." Olivia pointed out, but when Elisa gave no sign of understanding her, she continued. "Is Oscar still alive in this universe?"

"He was locked up yesterday, I think." Elisa didn't understand what she was getting at.

"What about Dr. Claudia Connors?"

Elisa freezes. Claudia Connors worked alongside Nora Osborn in biochemistry, and her attempt at developing a method for regrowing limbs could have benefitted all amputees not unlike herself. Her serum went wrong and she became The Lizard. It was Claudia that introduced Elisa to Oscorp at all because she was the only scientist that truly enjoyed the publicity of it all. Claudia led the field trip her class had gone on.

Elisa made a cure for her, but while it worked on everyone she had turned, Claudia had been dosing herself too high, and the cure only sped up the rate it was killing her. Elisa didn't go to her Junior Prom, she attended Dr. Claudia Connor's memorial service.

"Yeah." Olivia knew the look on Elisa's face. "She's still alive in my universe. She went to your graduation party."

"Why would you tell me that?" Elisa asked.

"Because everyone just lives with it." She answered delicately. “If everyone is waiting for you and Venom to split, then they’re also waiting for me to lose Dr. Connors. For some others, we’re waiting for the Police Captain, Nora Osborn, Flint Marco. Everyone’s on a different timeline, Elisa. And after the worst of it is done, we have a support system made up of the only people in the multiverse that’ll understand.”

Elisa took a long look at the watch. “What about everyone that was ready to attack me? I doubt they’re welcoming me back with open arms.”

“They’re free to avoid you if they want, but if you guys want to sing kumbaya, then that’s up to you.” Olivia shrugged and opened the portal back to the headquarters. “But I know at least one guy that wants to try again.”

“That sounds promising.” Venom teased.

Shut up. Elisa stepped into the portal.

On the other side of the void, several spiders just stared. Some ignored her and continued on their way, and to her surprise, some even gave a polite wave. It was dark outside now, and the lights in the building were kind to her senses.

Olivia brought her back to Miguel’s platform where it had been lowered. His back faced Elisa where she noticed something interesting.

Miguel doesn’t have heightened awareness.

Venom recoiled. “Then how the hell did he pull one over on us?”

“Miguel!” Olivia called out so she wouldn’t startle him.

When he turned around, he seemed surprised to see Elisa. “You actually came back.” He noted.

“I told you.” Olivia reminded him. “Elisa was always an odd-girl-out.”

As much as Elisa wanted to pretend like Olivia didn’t know her at all, there was an obvious sense of familiarity that they had. Elisa remembered that she was in the hospital for 300 rads of acute radiation poisoning for a brief time after she was bitten by the spider. The science class that went on the trip had all made her cards, and Olivia hanged back while some more familiar faces visited her in the hospital with the class. MJ, Eddie and Holly all came to visit, but Olivia was kind enough to visit her personally, give her all the assignments she had missed, and went over her notes when Elisa didn’t understand. Elisa could only hope that her alternate self was kind enough to do the same for Olivia.

“I’m glad you came back.” Miguel said to her.

Elisa hopped up onto the platform with him. “I’m not gonna start running from my problems now.” She said, “What’s your status on the tracking device?”

Miguel’s expression didn’t give her much hope. "We may have underestimated her advancement."

“Uh-oh.”

"No chance that means we can track her tech?" Elisa hoped.

Miguel confirmed the difficult reality. “We realized she wants 4167 Carnage to find Clara.”

“Yeah, I talked to Clara Kassidy down at the station. She didn’t know who reported it, but she was able to figure out it wasn’t me. At least the two of them haven’t met yet.” Elisa supplied.

“Do my ears deceive me, or is she back?”

Olivia lit up like she was expecting this. “How nice of you to join, Peter.”

Peter swung up to meet them and glared at Elisa. “So what is she doing back, and with a watch, no less?”

“Not this wash-up again.” Venom groaned to her.

“Peter, we don’t have time for this.” Miguel argued.

“Miguel, she’s an OUCH waiting to happen!” Peter didn’t let up.

“Mind telling me what the hell an “ouch” is?” Elisa asked.

Olivia was kind enough to explain while Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering in Spanish under his breath, letting her explain. “An OUCH is an acronym for an Out of Universe Canon Hazard. It’s when either an Environmental Trigger travels across a universe and sets off a Canon Event for a spider that isn’t in their own universe in Type 1, or a spider in another universe stumbles across the right Environmental Triggers outside of their own universe in Type 2.”

Venom took offense, yet again. “Everyone is so certain we’re gonna break up.”

Elisa was just about done with this argument. “Peter, I turned you and all your spider friends into a joke because of Venom. Right now you vs. Venom is tallied up at zero to one. I’d say we’re doing fine.”

“And I’ll get your ass again!” Venom cheered to itself.

“We all loved the power the black suit gave us, but we know the cost of it is too much to justify wearing it.” Peter reminded everyone else. “The Canon says that the Spider and Venom will split. And I might not even be worried about any other Event, but if it’s triggered here or anywhere other than your universe, then we have a rogue symbiote on the loose, outside its universe.”

“It’s not his business!”

“Then we burn that bridge when we get to it!” Elisa hissed, only to be held back by Miguel.

“Elisa, stand down.” He said. “Peter, whether we like it or not, she’s bonded with Venom. Many spiders had to reach a truce with Venom to beat Carnage anyway. This might be the only way she survives this.”

Peter wasn’t happy, but at the very least, he understood Miguel’s point. He gave a warning pointer finger in return. “I’m keeping an eye on her.”

“Try it.”

“Miguel couldn’t keep a tail on me for longer than a minute, but whatever helps you sleep at night, Cryptkeeper.” Elisa jabbed, and Olivia nudged her like that was something she shouldn’t have said to their principal, but it made both of them laugh.

“Híjole chicas, we need to figure out our next move, not pick little cat fights with each other.” Miguel chastised. “Now, we can’t find her, we can’t track her, and we’re fresh out of ideas.”

“Well, I don’t usually have tracking technology in my universe, so I say we do this the old fashioned way.” Elisa suggested and Olivia let out a long sigh, likely just tired that this couldn’t be solved by the magical mechanisms from Miguel’s universe.

“Oh, but two Widows investigating a parallel identity in each other’s universes, that’s not an OUCH waiting to happen either?” Peter just gave up on trying to argue this.

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Miguel assured him, but Peter didn’t look very impressed as Elisa opened the portal to Earth-5302.

The portal came out on a roof near the Oscorp building. “Umm, fair warning Elisa, you might want to keep your mask on for this.” Olivia warned as she brought them to one of the many balconies of the building. Elisa was worried since she recognized this as the balcony to Nora’s Office, but as soon as they entered the building, she realized exactly what Olivia meant.

“Dr. Connors? We need your help on something.” Olivia greeted with joy like this was common.

Claudia smiled, welcoming Widow warmly. Her coat was neatly safety pinned up by her bicep to keep the residual limb safe while she worked in the laboratory. Elisa was left amazed at her face. 5302 Claudia was forty-seven. Her age was showing in a way that only reminded Elisa that she had failed eight years ago. “Who’s this with you?”

“Clara Kassidy found a way to travel across universes. This is the Widow from the universe that Clara invaded, and this is the Spider-Man that knows how to make sense of that tech.” Olivia explained. “We know she was working on her research here, and Oscorp still has copies of those records. We need to see what Clara was working on before she was arrested.”

Claudia took a long look at Elisa, and even Venom could feel her anxiety rising. When she finally took her eyes off her, Elisa was relieved that she’d moved on to observing Miguel. Claudia just nodded. “Alright, I can take you to her lab and unlock it for you, but that’s as far as I go.” She warned.

“That’s all we need.” Olivia thanked her and walked beside her as they led the way to the laboratory.

Miguel stayed back with Elisa, and he was as observant as ever. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“I’ll survive.” She dismissed. Claudia looked back at them for a brief moment, and Elisa tensed and averted her eyes.

“Maybe Peter was right.” Miguel wondered.

“Shut the hell up.” Elisa warned.

Most of the laboratories were sealed off in their own rooms to avoid contamination, and it was easy to plan a route that wouldn’t leave them exposed to any of the ones that had any glass on the walls. It allowed them to just duck under the view of any of the labs that had windows to the hall.

“This is it.” Claudia announced, opening the door with her own key. She stayed by the door as all three of them passed. The police were done here and now the records were organized in the office for anyone that needed to reference her work, with Nora and Claudia’s supervision. Elisa stayed in the back as she began looking around the laboratory. It had been mostly picked clean by the authorities, but the equipment was definitely more advanced than Miguel expected just based on the expression his mask held. Elisa found Kassidy’s desk to figure out if there was anything that suggested a plan, while Olivia and Miguel were assessing the equipment and theorizing ways to locate Clara or perhaps find other evidence of her escape.

There wasn’t much left on the desk, but there was a photo of Clara Kassidy several years ago, celebrating with Nora Osborn and Claudia in front of a chalkboard covered in mathematical work. “That was the day she mathematically proved AdS/CFT correspondence.” Claudia supplied. “Everyone was quite excited, understandably.”

Elisa put down the frame and continued searching without saying a word. She opened a few drawers and pulled out some manilla folders and opened them to see plenty of research papers on a device she called The Seeker. This looked somewhat important, and Venom was also lost on how to scan something and archive it for later use. Elisa poked at her watch for a moment and found a Call Lyla button, and she reluctantly pushed it.

Her tiny, hologram form appeared in front of the watch. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Lyla. Is there a way I can scan this for archiving?” Elisa asked, and Lyla was happy to show her how to use the scanner on her own.

Claudia watched in amazement, but kept giving useful context to Elisa. “That was a paper she wrote on quantum gaps forming between multiversal planes.”

Elisa knew just enough about Oscorp’s quantum physics experiments to understand what Claudia was saying, and what it meant. There were gaps between multiversal planes, and Clara had developed a machine that could seek them out, allowing her to travel through the gaps that already existed.

“It’s interesting to see her theory proven correct right in front of me.” Claudia mused. “I’m glad there’s a universe out there that has Elisa Hannen protecting it.” Elisa flinched and turned to Claudia. “That finally got you to look at me.”

Elisa didn’t know what to say, so she just gave up, signaling Venom to drop the mask. “How did you know?”

“I know the voice of my lab assistant that I see every day.” Claudia laughed, but it was bittersweet. “Something tells me that your universe wasn’t very kind to your version of me.” She said, noting the scar on Elisa’s cheek that she had no way of knowing came from a parallel version of Claudia herself.

“You died eight years ago.” Elisa confessed. “It was an accident that I couldn’t save you from.”

Claudia smiled sadly and Elisa struggled to stop herself from becoming a scared high schooler that never got to say goodbye to her mentor. “My version of you is still my lab assistant in this universe. She’s good friends with Holly Osborn, and she’s a talented chemist.”

“Nora kept me in that position when she hired Oscar. I was still in high school at the time, so I couldn’t take your spot.” Elisa explained. “I was seventeen when you died. And only a year later, Oscar was exposed.”

“Then it seems like your universe hasn’t been kind to you either.” Claudia figured. Olivia said that the Physk hit-piece had happened in this universe, which meant that 5302 Elisa had her trusted mentor to fall back on in this universe.

“You’re so much like my Claudia.” Elisa noted, really attempting to convince herself that this didn’t mean she was talking to a ghost of her friend.

“Elisa, I know I’m not her.” She offered. “But I also know that you aren’t my Elisa. So, just let me as I am, speak to you as you are.”

Elisa let Claudia take her hands in her one left hand. “If your universe has treated you anything like I think, then I hope you know that you’re doing good. The fact that you’re here means you’ve kept going after everything, and if you’re anything like my Elisa, then I know you’re the right person for the job.”

She couldn’t hold back anymore, she just hugged Claudia like she would have if she could have said goodbye. “If you’re anything like my Claudia, then I want you to know that, even after everything, you never stopped being my hero.”

Claudia hugged back just like how Elisa remembered. “Then keep being a hero over there for both of us.”

When they finally let go, Claudia just smiled, letting her get back to scanning documents.

“Just out of curiosity-”

“No, Claudia.” Elisa warned, knowing she was just wondering what had actually managed to take her out in a parallel universe. She was always quite the eccentric personality.

“Alright, fair enough.” She accepted.

“Do you know who your Widow is?” Elisa asked.

“Ms. Weaver told me her identity months ago when she was originally investigating Dr- Ms. Kassidy.” Claudia said. “But I can’t figure out who the triangle man is. I know that’s not Eddie.” She suggested, nudging Elisa’s shoulder with her stump in an old joke. She definitely noticed something suggestive between the two of them.

“N-No, he's Spider-Man from a universe that’s ninety-seven years ahead of us with a wildly different history.” Elisa explained. “He brought together hundreds of spider people to investigate and apprehend malicious universe travelers.”

“Hmm…” Claudia mused. “Then you probably know more than me how troublesome that could be.”

That caught Elisa off guard. “Troublesome?”

Claudia was surprised she had to explain, but it seemed that she was somewhat aware of the theory of Clara’s work. “All of these spider people would be parallel identities in some aspects. I just hope you know that affecting other realities, especially your own parallel identities, might be dangerous for the integrity of that reality’s durability.” Claudia warned, and Elisa was somewhat worried now, thinking of Miguel.

She really did like Miguel, but Claudia was right. Interfering with Miguel’s reality or getting too attached to him and neglecting events that are supposed to happen in hers could be detrimental to the Canon. After all, Canon Events included events like meeting partners like Eddie and MJ, or making friends like Holly or Claudia. If Elisa got too caught up with Miguel, then her own reality could suffer for it. She didn’t need Miguel or Peter to tell her that the Canon was the very fabric of reality that they all existed on. Ignoring or trying to change it could have disastrous effects.

“I’m not dumb enough to start letting romance get in my way.” Elisa assured her.

“Well, you’ve got a track record.” Claudia laughed, and Elisa was once again surprised that she was actually happy to hear those words come from Claudia at least one more time.

Miguel and Olivia came back, happy with their own scans. “We got what we needed, we think we might know where to find her equipment.” Miguel said as Elisa’s mask crept back up her face.

“Good. I got all her research data for reference later.” Elisa offered.

“Alright, we have a trail!” Olivia clapped in excitement. “Thank you, Dr. Connors.”

“My pleasure.” She said, guiding them to the nearest balcony. “And good luck to all of you. We’re lucky to have people like you to keep us safe.”

They bid her goodbye and continued on to find where Clara had set up her equipment after breaking out of prison. Miguel kept pace with Elisa once again. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Elisa answered. “I just needed to talk to her.”

Miguel didn’t press, likely understanding exactly what just happened. Elisa would just have to move on with the fact that she would never live in a reality where she could truly tell Claudia Connors just how important she was to her. But getting to hear her mentor tell her that she was the right person to protect her own reality was healing. And Elisa got to make sure that in this universe, Claudia Connors would die knowing that she was never seen as a villain to people that loved her.

“That’s good, then.” Miguel said.

The group came to a subway station, and found their way to a maintenance tunnel. The fence in front of them had a locked gate and Elisa grabbed the lock, allowing Venom to poke and prod within it to get it open without much effort.

“Gracias, Venom.” Miguel acknowledged.

Venom bubbled in excitement in Elisa. “I like him too.”

She just laughed and continued down the tunnel with the two of them. Olivia led the way, looking closely at the ground and walls to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. She likely realized at the same time Elisa and Venom did that this tunnel was essentially a choke point.

You know anything about Carnage as a member of your species?

“Carnage is a red rank member of my species.” Venom explained. “Black rank symbiotes, like me, are sent as scouts to worlds that are meant for hunting grounds, as you know. If we do not contact the base, then the planet is not viable for hunting. Red rank symbiotes are physiologically different from my rank. They have the ability to cannibalize equal and lower ranked symbiotes.”

So, did you contact the base when you arrived on my planet?

“I never got the chance to. But I don’t think 5302 Venom did either if it found you.”

“This looks like it.” Olivia announced, finding a lightswitch that did not light up the whole underground lab, but was sufficient enough to find what Clara was doing.

Only one wall was lit up by the lamp beside it. The brick was patterned with all kinds of calculations for the tech she had used to travel. There were tables that were filled with gadgets and papers, only vaguely lit up by a couple of lamps in the cylindrical, brick dome.

Elisa found a reason to be next to Miguel again. “Venom says Carnage’s rank of symbiote is known for cannibalizing equal and lower rank symbiotes. Is it possible 5302 Clara and Carnage want to destroy my Carnage?”

“It’s not impossible, but if they’re trying to kill Canon, then they’re much more dangerous than we anticipated.” Miguel noted.

“Hey, guys?” Olivia called out. They both looked across the circle to see what she was worried about. It was a very interesting contraption, being a collapsible cylinder with a lens that someone could see through. The cylinder itself was bulky, nearly the size of Miguel’s arm, and it looked at least nearly complete.

Miguel’s watch gave him a silent, buzzing alarm that he looked down at, and Elisa froze where she was.

“Something’s wrong.” Venom cautioned.

Elisa kept watching Miguel, and he dropped his wrist and put himself between Olivia and Elisa. He looked back at Elisa, but she couldn’t tell what his mask’s expression meant. His gaze turned back to Olivia, and he began to back up with Elisa, toward the exit.

“We have to get out of here.” Venom warned again.

Elisa’s own senses sent a chill down her spine and she could only do as Miguel said.

We aren’t alone in here.

Olivia had also just felt the presence that could have only been lurking above them the whole time, obscured by the shadow that lay out of reach of the weak lights.

A towering woman dropped from the ceiling, facing Olivia. Her skin was stretched with the red muscle that Carnage enhanced, and Clara wasn’t holding it back at all. It was a full symbiote takeover, and Olivia was right in front of the most dangerous enemy any Widow would ever face.

Elisa began to charge in, but Miguel stopped her. “Stand down, it’s a Canon Event now.” He grabbed her, opening a portal to leave, and leaving a drone to allow them to observe and help when the Event was done.

She followed Miguel through the portal, and they immediately opened the footage the drone was gathering.

Olivia barely dodged Carnage’s claws, but Elisa knew Olivia was smart. If any of her old classmates were clever enough to outsmart Carnage, it was Olivia.

Widow launched herself up to the ceiling, and in a moment, she proved Elisa’s assessment of her right. Olivia used herself as bait, correctly realizing that the ceiling of the brick cylinder likely came out above ground. When Carnage lunged at her, Olivia webbed the ceiling and dropped, using Carnage’s force, and her strength to kick Carnage through the brick ceiling, getting them out of the tunnel.

That was a good move, Olivia can catch it off guard out there.

“There’s no way.”

Shut up, she’ll do it.

Several more spider people ran into Miguel’s observatory to see what was happening. But when Elisa looked back to them, she realized that every Widow had heard that this Canon Event was happening for another Widow, and they all came to just hope that Olivia would be the one to tell them how to survive it.

Olivia kept running from Carnage, but it was easy to notice that she wasn’t trying to escape. She could have easily lost a tail, even if it were Carnage and Clara, but Widow’s were never known for being cowards. All of them have been knocked down no less than any other spider, but no spider, especially not Widows that had all found solidarity in their shared place in the multiverse. No, Olivia was leading Carnage somewhere.

Oh shit, I know this street.

“She’s calling on Venom for backup.” A Widow noticed. Elisa recognized her as Beatrice Jacobs.

The other Widows chattered anxiously amongst themselves, all while Elisa’s heart was beating a mile a minute, and she couldn’t tear her eyes off the screen.

She thinks I have a better chance of beating Carnage. Elisa didn’t want to think that. Olivia was one of the best. Elisa felt utterly hopeless. If Olivia thought Elisa was stronger or smarter than her, then they were all damned.

Olivia waited by a window and dodged just as Carnage’s claws grabbed at her, sending her hand plunging through the glass, and catching the attention of whoever was in the apartment. Carnage realized what had happened, and it grinned with a mouth full of sharp teeth.

The oily, black muscle completely overtook 5302 Elisa’s form. And her friend, Venom, was enraged. Surprisingly, both Venom and Olivia were able to catch Carnage off guard for a moment, and sent it flying into the ground.

Venom wasted no time going after it to kick it while it was down. Unfortunately, Carnage did not stay down for very long. It caught Venom’s neck in its claws and squeezed. Venom screamed out and Elisa had to look away, unaware that her own Venom had put her hand over her neck in an absent-minded move of protection.

Her eyes remained at the floor until the screaming stopped. Olivia had webbed Carnage’s mouth shut, and kicked it in the throat, successfully forcing it to release Venom. However Elisa knew that if Carnage was cannibalistic, even one injury from it would completely wipe out Venom and Elisa for days. Olivia kept moving fast, using her flexibility to weave the webs in a way that restrained Carnage while remaining unpredictable.

Olivia’s odds were getting better, until it all dropped at once along with the hearts of every Widow watching.

Carnage broke through the webbing. When the drone finally caught a glimpse of the outcome, every Widow braced for the worst. Olivia had been caught, and she wasn’t moving. When Carnage released it’s claws from around her neck, she just dropped. The Widows all froze in complete terror.

Clara Kassidy and Carnage had claimed the life of another Widow.

Elisa’s breathing was becoming more and more uncontrollable, and Venom was in complete disarray. It was like they were new to bonding all over again, both of them losing control of the symbiosis they balanced every day. The room began to spin and Elisa lost balance.

She could tell someone was trying to get her attention, but she brushed off their hands and just started walking away. She had to get her and Venom back together, but her heartbeat and lungs were overwhelmed without her permission, and all of her nerves went cold, even as her exhausted muscles continued pushing her forward as she sprinted, and she didn’t know where she would end up, but if it was away from her own skin, it would be far enough.

Whoever had been trying to get her attention followed her, and when they made another attempt to stop her and calm her down, Elisa jumped back away from who she eventually processed as Miguel, and they had managed to walk right out the front door, and were now in the courtyard in front of the building, beneath the city lights of Nueva York.

“Relàjate. Yo tambien estoy asustado, Elisa.” His voice was soft, not annoyed or tired, just delicate with her and desperate for her to listen like he had no idea how to speak to her. This time, when he told her, she did as he said, calming down as Miguel set her steady by holding her shoulders. Her breathing was still erratic, but it was manageable now, and her heart still rushed, but it wasn’t painful anymore.

“Miguel…” Elisa’s voice shook. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Elisa, please just-” He was losing her, and her heart rate began to pick up again as Venom was unsettled again.

“She was smart and strong, and if she’s gone, then I’m next, and I can’t-” Miguel just cut her off by pulling her close and falling to the ground with her. She was finally pulled from her panic as she realized Miguel was shaking too.

"Relàjate. Yo tambien estoy asustado, Elisa." He told her again, but Elisa finally realized what he was saying to her.

"Relax. I'm scared too, Elisa."

Elisa just let herself cry out there with him. Both she and Venom hated crying in front of another person, but it was far beyond either of their control by now. Not only was she terrified for her own survival, but Olivia was someone she had only just begun to know, and her life was now just gone.

"Taken from her." Venom spat from within.

They stayed like that for a moment. It was quieter than she expected. The sounds of a busy city were far off in the distance and low beneath the ground. Elisa and Venom slowly became in tune again, able to use Miguel's comfort as an anchor to reality.

Miguel eventually, reluctantly, opened his arms as Elisa released him.

"We should go check on the Widows." Elisa suggested. Miguel silently nodded and let her help him up and lead him back to the observatory.

The Widows hadn't dispersed. They all stood in a circle surrounding one Widow. Elisa had read that the first Widow to be found by the Spider Society had been Maxine Catch, but she had died in the first Carnage attack. Kat Marco was the second, and it seems to have been her duty to activate the portal to retrieve Olivia's watch so it didn't go unaccounted for. They all turned to Elisa, maskless, holding varying expressions of concern, sadness, or terror.

An overwhelming reality was coming over the room as everyone knew what this meant.

"We're next."

[everlarkficquestions]

Hello! I am looking for post-MJ multi chapter fic posted on Ao3. One scene that I remember is that Katniss was hunting with one of Gale’s brothers and falls into a sink hole. Haymitch finds her because of her singing. She has a hallucination of her dad. I think Peeta is still struggling with his hijacking at moments in the story. I realize this is not a lot of information but if anyone can help I would really appreciate it!

Hi! That sounds like The Good Wife by silvercistern.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Hiii! Hope you enjoy! Not proofread

(L/N)-Last name, (Y/N)- Your name.

Cursing, fluff, villains villaining, reader not being able to catch a break, um…. Tentacles????

Word count: 3.1k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 6: No, I don't wanna fall in love

—

“And yours of glass, (L/N).”

A silent slowly enveloped the air, the quiet shifting of the needle letting off the black vinyl disk as the record comes to an end was the only sound for a few seconds. It was painfully obvious that this project is gonna be a lot tougher of a task than you were hoping for, if Miguel couldn’t even handle reading through the script fully without complaining. You leaned forward to rest your elbows on your knees, chewing on your bottom lip as you brainstorm ways to be productive, not wanting to call it quits so early into the session. Finally after a moment, you sit up properly, and grab the tv remote that was sitting on the edge of the bed. Miguel’s eyebrow arches up in silent curiosity as he watches you turn on the small flat screen and open up the Netflix app.

“What are you doing?” Miguel’s question was only met with the smile etched on your face to widen. Miguel couldn’t help but let a small one crack on his face as well. Eventually you found what you were looking for, the images of a young Leo and Claire popped up on the screen, along with the text “Romeo + Juliet”. Miguel raised the unimpressed brow a bit more. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You smiled at him as you pressed play, before moving to make your way to the small kitchenette in the room, rummaging through some drawers, before eventually making your way back, two cokes in one hand, some m&ms in the other. Your microwave hums in the background, before the quiet pop of the popcorn seeds expandings overcome the hum. “This is a great way to be productive with our assignment, without having to read the script.” You tell him as you set the snacks down on the small table next to your bed. If you were being honest though, you just wanted a reason to gush over the movie.

“If you wanted a movie date muñeca, you could have just said so.” He teased with a smirk, prompting you to stick your tongue out at him as you prepped a big bowl for the popcorn. (Doll)

“In your dreams, O’Hara.”

“More like a nightmare.”

“Just shut up and watch the movie please.” The order came out a bit rushed, trying not to burn the pads of your fingertips as you attempted to quickly open the bag of popcorn. Moving your face back a bit so the steam doesn’t hit it once you finally pry the bag open, before dumping it into the bowl. For once, he listens to you and pipes down.

—

“So good…” You sniffed, wiping a tear out of the corner of your eye that was threatening to fall down. A light shade of red covers your cheeks and nose as you attempt to not get too emotional about the end of the movie, refusing to be seen as vulnerable in front of the 6’9 male that was sitting to the right of you. In the process of watching the movie, you found yourself cuddling with the stuff fox plushie Mj had gifted you for your birthday, and a fluffy throw blanket covering yours and Miguel’s legs.

“Are you crying?” He asked in slight amusement, his lips twitching upwards into a light smirk as he turned to face you.

“No.” You answered back a bit too quickly.

“Yes, you are.” His smirk grew a bit as he caught the stuff fox as you go to hit him with it, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he takes the plushie, and places it on his lap.

“Oh shut up. I cried harder when I watched 500 days of summer.” You go to snatch the fox back from his lap, but you quickly notice his face light twist in confusion at your second.

“I don’t think I’ve watched that before.” He confessed, why would he? romantic comedies were not his thing, you honestly shouldn’t be surprised at the obvious fact, but that didn’t stop the gasp that left your lips as you quickly went to pick up the remote.

“We’re watching it.”

“It’s 10pm on a school night-“

“The movie isn't even that long! Plus you owe me one! You’ll be back at your dorm before midnight. Promise.”

—

“You slept in her room!?” Miguel’s hand came up to rub his temples, squeezing his eyes shut tight to soothe the oncoming headache from Gabriel and Peter shouting the question in unison.

“No wonder I didn’t see you at all last night or this morning…” Gabriel spoke under his breath as he turned back to his game, “about time you two stop bickering and got together…” Peter nodded his head in agreement as he sat down next to Miguel at their mini dining table that the brothers had put in their dorm room.

“It’s not what you guys think, we were just working on our assignment together and we lost track of time.” That was only a half-truth. In reality, you ended up marathoning a bunch of old rom-coms that Miguel has never seen before, ranging from the 1960’s all the way to the late 2010s, you were a sucker for vintage films.

To all the boys I’ve loved before,West side story, 27 dresses, 10 things I hate about you, the notebook. The whole thing ended in you passing out during the middle of sixteen candles, but Miguel didn’t notice until near the ending, when you shifted slightly and rested your head against his arm. Miguel, already tired and out of it to notice the oddly intimate moment, didn’t make any attempt to move you off right away. Telling himself he would wait a second before waking you up, but as the calming tone of If you were here from the Thompson twins hummed softly from the TV, and the faint deep breaths coming from through your nose next to him only worsened sleep's tempting call. Eventually falling victim to it, falling asleep next to you, not even bothering to pick up his head from where it fell on top of yours. He was just glad he woke up before you so he could sneak his way back into his dorm before class started.

“Maybe you just like her more than you’d like to admit, Miguel.” Peter deadpan as he pulls out his food from his take out bag and begins to dig into his burger.

“You are both reading into it too much.” He told the two as he shook his head, and if he wasn’t so stubborn, then he might see the point they were making. Though he still couldn’t stand you, over the years he had learned to… tolerate you, would be the best way to describe it. Going from not even acknowledging each other to making snarky remarks and purposely going out of each other’s way to piss the other off was enough of a telltale sign that you both didn’t despise each other in the way you both make it seem like you did. “She’s still the same annoying pest she was when I met her in the 6th grade, except now I have to make sure she doesn’t get valedictorian over me. Once we graduate at the end of the year, I’ll never have to deal with her again.” He says as he turns to Peter.

“Unless you both go to the same college.” Gabe quipped, causing his older brother to groan at the hypothetical.He dreaded the idea, the possibility although slim wasn’t entirely impossible, there were 8 ivy leagues and another hundreds of high-end colleges you both could attend, what were the chances you’d attend the same one?

“I doubt it. I’m not worried about acceptance letters, I’ll have plenty of options on schools. If she picks one I’m interested in, I’ll be sure to reject that school before she could even get the university’s sweatshirt on.”

—

“Alright everyone! You’re all adults, I expect you to behave like them. Especially since we are allowing you to roam around without chaperones this year. You’re seniors so act like it.” The biography teacher’s mini reprimanment was largely ignored as student after student began to file off the bus one by one, the sound of the ocean’s waves crashing onto Brooklyn's shoreline as the chatter and laughter quickly filled the air. The skin numbing breeze helps wake you a bit more. Having been awake since 7am to make sure you weren’t late for the bus, deciding it would be best for you and Mj to take a nap during the hour and a half long bus ride.

The annual beginning of the year senior aquarium trip, a tradition that the school has been holding for a few years now. You were pretty excited about it, but what you were more excited about is the other tradition of trying to sneak out of the aquarium and into Coney Island without the teachers catching you. It’s a lot easier when the aquarium is busier, you were hoping to go and try this bubble tea place that Mj has been raving about, thanking the lord your leg had fully healed up from your accident 3 weeks ago, so it makes the whole sneaking out thing easier.

After about half an hour of the usual lecture about being “responsible” and “behaving” from the two teachers who came along and another 20 minutes of scanning everyone’s students badges for entrance, you were finally free to roam around the aquarium. Deciding it would be best to wait a bit before attempting to sneak away, you and Mj began to wonder from exhibit to exhibit. You held onto her hand as you both weaved through the crowded plaza, eventually finding yourselves within the shark tunnel in the ocean wonders exhibit. Blues and greens illuminating the walkway as the small fish swim in between the corals that surround the tank, sharks swimming overhead of the crowd in the tunnel.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if this thing broke…” Mj whispered quietly to you, her tone teasing as she brought up the hypothetical, causing your eyes to shoot over to her with a pointed look.

“Don’t even joke like that Mj.” You whispered back harshly, causing her to let out a small giggle, her hand coming up to cover her smile, hiding her freckles in the progress.

“Just saying…” You just rolled your eyes and resisted the urge to giggle along, going to turn around and finish walking through the underwater corridor when you heard a familiar voice call out, causing you both to stop in your tracks.

“Mj! Hey wait up!” Peter’s hand goes up in the air in an attempt to stop you both before making his way through the crowd, rather smoothly too for the usually clumsy Peter, with Miguel following closing behind, his arms crossed over his chest and his usual scowl painted on his face. You couldn’t help the smirk that started creeping onto your face when you noticed Mj’s cheeks start to flush, despite knowing you’ll be force to take one for the team and converse with your least favorite O’Hara brother.

“O’Hara.”

“(L/N).”

That was the usual greeting between you both. Short and curt, although his tone was a bit more deadpan then yours. You glanced at Mj and Peter once more, watching the way he ducked his head slightly in an attempt to get closer to her as he spoke, his hands in his jean pockets The small smirk that spreads over his lips as he whispers something into her ear, probably some dumb joke that you would laugh at if you were crushing hard. The way Mj tilts her head downwards as she giggles in response, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear as her blush deeps into a light red rather than a dusty pink . The definition of teenage love was right before your very eyes. You turn back to Miguel.

“It’s a matter of time before they finally get together.” You tell him in a low tone so they don’t hear it, he nodded and let out a small hum of agreement. An oh so familiar silence fell over you both as you two waited for either one of your friends to finally let the other go so you and him could go your separate ways, but after about 5 minutes or so it became painfully clear that wasn’t going to happen. “Anyways…” You finally spoke after clearing your throat, your gaze meeting Miguel’s once more. “We should head out, right Mj?” But when you turn around you notice the two lovebirds gone, causing you to furrow your brows and Miguel to release a tsk of annoyment.

“Great…” He muttered as he raked his hand through his slicked back hair. “Guess I’m stuck with you know muñeca.” That wasn’t entirely true, you weren’t assigned a buddy system for the trip, and there wasn’t a rule saying you had to stay with another student or in a group, he could have turned around and left you to your own devices. But he wouldn’t, he knew that, but you didn’t. “What did you want to do?”

“…I have an idea…”

—

“I can’t believe you’ve never had bubble tea before.” You giggled as you watched Miguel almost choke on the boba in his drink, bringing your hand up to tap on his back in an attempt to help clear his windpipe. Once his coughing fit came to a stop he swatted your hand away.

“It's not my thing, okay?” Your brows raised playfully at the sassy response, sipping on your brown sugar drink, Miguel got one that was flavored horchata. Both of you walk side by side as you make your back towards the aquarium, from where you both left the little bubble tea shop.

“Geez sorry…” You rolled your eyes to accompany your sarcasm.

“I’m gonna make sure not to order the little squishy things next time.” He grumbled, your eyes lighting up in amusement at the adding of the last two words.

“Next time?”

He shot you a glare, as you successfully slipped back through the entrance without being spotted.

“Cállate.” You couldn’t help the shit-eatting grin that formed on your face at his annoyed remake. (Shut up.)

“Where do you think Mj and Peter are?” You asked as you both turned to enter the “spineless” exhibit, that holds the jellyfish, octopus and stuff within that nature, throwing your now empty cups in a nearby trashcan.

“Probably in a dark corner making out.” He shrugged, causing you to stifle a laugh, you hate to admit it, but you were actually having a fun time with him. The lights become dimmer as you walk further into the exhibit, Miguel following behind in tow. You both fell into a peaceful silence, the only time it was broken when either of you would point something out to one another. The only main source of light coming from the tanks of water, illuminating dark silhouettes around you both.

To bystanders, you probably looked like you were in love with one another, neither of you noticing how close had gotten to each other, your jacket sleeves grazing one another when you’d point something to him, or when he’d lower his head to you to enlighten you with a fun marine biology fact. You didn’t notice the elderly woman who turned to her husband and pointed to you both when you two were watching the pacific sea nettle jellyfish in silence. Or a father holding his baby boy who was sleeping gingerly on his chest, whispering “that used to be us at their age” to his wife when Miguel went to take a photo of you in front of the moon jellyfish with your phone. But perspective was everything.

“That’s new…” Miguel mumbled as you both wondered to the very end of the building, a lot quieter and more empty compared to the rest of it. At the very end, was an empty tank, or one that was usually empty. Instead you both saw blue and purple tentacles spread out over the glass of the tank, that tank had been vacant ever since Miguel could remember, they hadn’t even placed a picture of the animal or any information around its exhibit like it was supposed to. Something was…off… he didn’t need a spider sense to know that. The tightness forming in his chest was enough of an indicator to validate his emotions, but he didn’t want to worry you or have you tell him he was being silly so he played it off. “… we should head to a different place…”

You gave him a confused head tilt, but didn’t want to ruin that actually enjoyable day with an argument, just as you were about to agree you say one of the arms started to move, only drawing you closer to the tank out of curiosity.

“Look, it's moving!”

“I can see…” Darn you and your curiosity, Miguel tried his best to hide his grimace as he slowly followed behind you. The sense of unknown dread grew stronger with each step.

“Wait, can you take my picture with it before we head out.” With a begrudging sigh, Miguel took your phone and took a few steps away from you to get a better shot of you and the tank, you settling up against it a bit more towards the right side of the center, as Miguel beginning to count down he noticed the tentacles closest to your waist drawing away from the glass.

“Okay… one…”

It stopped moving, Miguel hesitated.

“Two…”

Crash.

You let out a gasp as you felt the warm water that once filled the tank hit your back, the pressure putting you forward a bit, almost making you drop to all fours. Out of the instant, Miguel took a few steps back, watching the water begin to pool around both of your feet. Then you felt it a wet, cold, slimy tentacle wrap around you, you let out another gasp and it pulled itself around you like a boa constrictor, the suction cups making your skin crawl. Another arm went around your legs as you started to attempt to break yourself free, your eyes glancing in the direction of the octopus, only for you to freeze at the sight of it, before you let out a blood curdling scream.

It wasn’t a regular octopus…

Your feet start to dangle as it begins to lift you up from the damp carpet, taking you to god knows where. A crowd begins to form as the workers start to scatter and call the police. Without a second thought your hand shot out.

“Miguel!”

“(Y/N)!”

He couldn’t grab it in time.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck

@dumb-gemini12 @cowboylikeevie @thedevax @codenameredkrystalmatrix

[rottedbrainz]

Haha one step closer to posting the first chapter of the Tibblings Fic, there are just a couple of characters that needed to be introduced before hand! So let's get started!

Going from left to right btw

Starting off with Valerie!

She's Giovanni's daughter and is going through her "moody Teenager phase". She's angry at the way her life is going after her parents get a divorce and Vanni begins to date Lib. It only gets more akward for her whenever she finds out that Lib is her art teacher. She doesnt want to get in the way of Giovanni's and Libs relationship, and lies to her Dad whenever he ask her if she likes him dating Kib. Whenever she distance herself from Giovanni and Lib she can be quite friendly. She's in charge of year book photos for her school and news paper.

She's a sweet girl with a big personality, but she can become a nervous wreck. Especially around David, who she has a tiny crush on and admires a lot.

Giovanni is Valerie's Dad, Libs boyfriend, and Tibbs very best friend. He's divorced from his horrible ex wife and is in a very healthy and loving relationship with Tibbs sister, Lib. He's trying his best to navigate Valerie's moodiness post divorce. He loves Valerie and let's her know that she comes first before any woman, but he also needs her to try and get along with Lib.

His friendship with Tibbs is one that he cherishes to the fullest. Heck, if he never met Tibbs he would probably be a catholic pastor like his mother wanted him to be. As teenagers Vanni followed Tibbs to whatever rebellious scheme Tibbs had in mind. Drinking Beers Tibbs took from the gestation he worked at? Why not. Smoking MJ in the bed of a truck? Sure, sounds fun! Helping Tibbs run from the cops because of God's know what? Absolutely! What are friends for!

Gracie was also in a friend group with Vanni and Tibbs as teens. After moving all the way from Oklahoma to Hawaii she instantly took a liking to the two boys and they all went and caused chaos together.

She mellowed out a lot after Tibbs left and sparked a romance with Tibbs brother Budd and eventually married him. She finds all aspects of their marriage to be fine except for whenever it comes with her struggle with intimacy. See Gracie is Ace, but in the time period the fic takes place in Gracie doesn't understand that there's a term for how she feels. Which sparks an issue between her and Budd as he doesn't understand Gracies feelings.

Budd and Gracie do however have a kid together named David. And Gracie loves him to pieces and does her best to raise a good gentleman. She works as a pre k teacher and connects to Lib a lot since they both are in the same career field. She still stays in contact with Giovanni and the two meet up for a drink every now and then.

David is a sweet younge man but is a dumb as rocks. He doesn't do well with sit down and listen to what the teachers tell you, he's more hands on. Which is why he can't tell you what 12 x 12 is but he can go on on and on about sports, especially foot ball! Explaining just how to throw the ball just right or the different positions in a foot ball team. He does tutoring to help him get his grades up so he can stay on his school's football team.

He's fairly popular around the school and always sparks up a conversation with Valerie whenever she comes and takes the teams pictures for news paper or year book. Joking around how their basically cousins, much to Valerie's dismay.

He helps Budd out in the bakery on the weekends and after his tutoring sessions and foot ball practice. Coming straight to the store ready to work until it's time to close. It's a routine that Budds been putting him on for years and he's enforced it a lot ever since Budd let David join the foot ball team. Wanting to make sure that David stays out of trouble and not go around doing things he shouldn't. Which it isn't like David would do anything, he knows better then to go out and do dumb things. It's no use trying to argue with Budd over it though, so the only day that David isn't working is on Fridays for his games.

And my favorite part of creating characters! Voice claims!!!

David is my favorite one! Chicken Joe's Voice is just so great to listen too!

[marvelousbutterfly]

I don't wanna talk about it (got too many things on my mind)

Chapter 1/2

Read on ao3

Throughout the day, Peter caught himself taking shuddering breaths and rubbing his chest as his heart seemed to skip a beat. The dull ache at the base of his neck was persistent ever since the incident at lunch, sending him alarms that something was wrong.

or the one in which Peter's spidey-sense starts acting up but he doesn't know how to ask for help

(Part 2 coming soon!)

"Peter, honey, time to wake up!"

At the sound of his aunt's voice, Peter only rolled over and groaned into his pillow, hoping that by some miracle she would leave him be.

He groaned again when there was a knock on the door and the sound of it creaking open.

"Peter? Time to get up or you're gonna be late," May said gently, looking at him with worried eyes. "Are you not feeling well?" she asked, already reaching up to plant a kiss on his forehead, feeling the temperature, "you don't feel warm."

"'M not sick," Peter swatted her hand half-heartedly, not even bothering to open his eyes, "didn't sleep well."

May frowned. She seemed to hesitate, before asking, "Was there a particular reason? Do we need to adjust your meds again?"

"'M fine," the boy was quick to mumble a response, earning him a pat on the arm.

"Up you go, then."

______________________________________________________________

Peter did his best not to fall asleep on the subway on his way to school - not that he would be able to stay asleep. He hadn't been able to rest for the past few days, taking hours to finally fall asleep, only to wake up completely alert minutes later. Not even his super-meds seemed to help. And the lack of sleep only made his senses even more sensitive to stimulation.

"Dude, you look like shit."

"Thanks," he deadpanned, making his friend roll his eyes at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ned asked for the 10th time that morning.

Peter assured him, once again. He'd been doing that a lot today, to his friends and teachers. He really must look like death.

During lunch, he laid his head on his arms at the table, sighing as he felt he could finally take a nap, unaware of the worried looks Ned and MJ exchanged with one another. He woke up minutes later to a dull ache on the back of his neck, the hairs there already stood up, and a sinking feeling in his stomach. Peter opened his eyes in alarm, squinting them at the harsh lights of the cafeteria, and preparing for the threat that seemed to come his way, only to feel something small hit the side of his head and fall to the ground. It was a paper ball. His spidey-sense woke him up because of a paper ball.

He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to slow down, back to a normal pace. This was going to be a long day.

______________________________________________________________

Throughout the day, Peter caught himself taking shuddering breaths and rubbing his chest as his heart seemed to skip a beat. The dull ache at the base of his neck was persistent ever since the incident at lunch, sending him alarms that something was wrong. The ache would spike into a sharp pain when there was actually something about to happen, which turned out to be a post-it note on the floor on one occasion. A real threat, the boy thought, sarcastically.

His senses spiked again as he approached Happy's car at the end of the school day. He took a breath when he recognized that the pebble at his feet did not present a threat, and only kicked it out of the way before opening the car door with trembling hands.

"You don't look okay," Happy said as soon as he got in. "Did you get hurt on patrol again?" he asked, analyzing the boy up and down.

Peter simply responded with an unconvincing "I'm fine" through quick and uneven breaths.

The driver eyed him suspiciously, but didn't talk any further. It took the teen the rest of the ride to the Tower to get his erratic heartbeats under control. What is wrong with me? he thought.

______________________________________________________________

Tony also saw right through his façade. At one point, after almost one hour of complete silence, the man turned to him.

"Okay, out with it. What's up?"

Peter frowned in confusion. "Out with what?"

Tony apologized, realizing he had been too vague, before clarifying. "What's going on with you? You've been extra quiet today."

The boy swallowed through the lump in his throat. "It's nothing," was all he said.

Once again he wasn't convincing enough, if the look on his mentor's face was anything to go by. Still, the man dropped the subject, instead going back to rambling about the new features in Peter's suit - to which the boy was happy to listen while trying to escape the sense of dread in his chest.

The rest of the lab session consisted of a one-sided conversation, with Peter uttering a few half-hearted replies here and there. And as the sense of imminent danger took over the boy, Tony was, in turn, taken over by concern for him.

He noticed the trembling limbs, the cold sweat and the hand constantly rubbing his chest as if in pain. Peter looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack and, unbeknownst to Tony, that's what it felt like too.

The panic attack came later that night, after the pair had retreated to their respective bedrooms after picking on the pasta Tony had prepared for dinner, neither of them being able to muster an appetite.

Peter laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling agitated. No laying position seemed comfortable enough for his body to rest, so he stayed awake, and so did his insistent danger-sense. The sense of dread made him nauseous, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. They were in danger. Still, he couldn't tell what kind of danger - was someone getting sick? Would something happen to May during her overnight shift? 

The questions were endless, swirling around his head in a dizzying tornado of thoughts. Subconsciously, he brought his hand up to his chest in a futile attempt to slow his heartbeats, as if trying to hold his heart still. This time, the pit of terror in his stomach was accompanied by the suffocation in his chest. At the realization that he couldn't breathe, Peter's panic grew - this is why my spider-sense is acting up, I'm going to die, was all he could think.

"-ppear to be in distress," Peter could hear Friday's robotic voice over his loud gasps for breath, but his brain couldn't seem to process what was being said. Neither could he hear the door to his bedroom opening, nor the footsteps approaching him cautiously.

"Peter?" Tony tried, but the boy still didn't acknowledge his presence. He looked so fragile as he trembled like a leaf. He was sitting on the bed, tucked into a corner, and his mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

Tony wasn't sure what to do. He'd tried calling out for the boy multiple times, with no success. Touching him was out of question, it would probably only spook him further. So he pulled up Peter's desk chair to sit down, and resorted to talking to the kid in hopes that it would somehow ground him.

"Hey kid," he said, voice soft and barely above a whisper, "I know things must be scary right now, but I promise everything is okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

He talked for a few minutes, though it felt like hours. At some point during his rambling, Some hints of awareness were back in Peter's eyes.

"You know, I saw this lego set that I think you'd love, so maybe- Oh there you are," Tony interrupted himself when he noticed it, "If I knew all it took to bring you back was talking about lego, I'd have done it way earlier."

Peter only blinked in response, frowning.

"Tough crowd," the man muttered, before adding again in his gentle tone, "Are you back with me, buddy?"

For a few seconds, the only movement from Peter was his chest going up and down at a fast rate still, before his head joined in a subtle nod.

"Good job," Tony praised. "So let's take a few breaths together, yeah? That's it, you're doing great."

As the fog seemed to lift from his brain slowly, Peter managed to follow his mentor's exaggerated breaths, though not without some hiccups in between. Still, the gentle praises from the man encouraged him to keep trying.

"How are you feeling now?" Tony asked when the kid's breathing had finally slowed down and he sagged against the wall.

"Tired," was all Peter could mumble through his dry throat.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"That's okay. Can I touch you?"

This time, he nodded.

Tony slowly sat on the edge of the bed and opened his arms. That was the only invitation Peter needed to secure himself in the man's embrace, sighing in content when he felt a hand running firmly through his hair. He tried to suppress the yawn that followed, but Tony noticed.

"You can go to sleep. I'll be right here to protect you," he said, planting a kiss on the top of Peter's head.

And so, Peter did. The exhaustion from all the sleepless nights and the panic attack took over him, and he was lulled to sleep by the sound of Tony's heartbeat.

[artficlly]

face the music (chapter 5)

Music College Marvel AU - Chapter 5

!frat!musician!bucky x !frat!musician!steve x !musician!femreader

Warnings: ANGST, violence, john walker (lol), mentions choking, swearing, implications of previous abuse, victim blaming, some fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: im so excited for the revenge plan to unfold!! i hope you all enjoy and thank you for all the likes and reblogs !! not proof read, sorry for any typos!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

You were sitting in one of the practice rooms on campus, lazily playing the piano to pass the time. Behind you Sharon, Scott, Peter and MJ were all crowded around a lyric book. Their group had decided on performing an original for the assignment. They had spent the last hour arguing over lyrics and rhythm. Meanwhile you amused yourself with the piano. 

The meeting with the boys yesterday had gone fine, much to your relief. After the conversation you had you felt a little more at ease around them (That’s if you weren’t kicking yourself for staring at their stupid attractive faces and bodies for too long). The four of you had sat around listening to different rock songs, ranging from classic rock to more punk sounds. You had made a list of artists whose styles you would be most comfortable replicating. The next step was for you to actually practice. 

That’s how you had ended up in the practice room, you had intended to mess around singing. You were trying to nail the raspy aesthetic a lot of female rock singers had. Sharon and Scott had heard you and come in to be nosy. It had all gone downhill from there. You had barely practiced, instead crawling back to the comfort of the piano. Due to all the arguing in the background you doubted you would’ve been able to focus on singing anyway. 

Besides the assignment, most of your worries lay with Loki. You still had yet to speak to him about everything - if anything you had been avoiding it. You weren’t sure how to bring up that (despite his current condition) you were a bit mad at him on Steve and Bucky’s behalf. You had seen him briefly that morning, face all cut and bruised, split lip and a tender nose recovering from being set. You had basically dashed out the door, much to Thor and Jane’s confusion. 

“That doesn’t flow at all!” You heard Sharon shout from somewhere behind you, Peter groaning in response. You just chuckled, continuing to play a soft melody. Surely some calming piano music would stop them from trying to kill each other? That was probably hopeful thinking.

“We should’ve just done a cover,” MJ mutters, causing Sharon to make an annoyed sound. 

“Nah, I’m enjoying this wayyy too much,” Scott says. You can practically imagine him relaxing on the couch, arms spread out over the back watching the chaos unfold. Scott always had a rather relaxed approach to life, which was in stark contrast to Sharon and Peter.

“Well, I’m not!” Peter protests, worry in his voice “We gotta nail this, we haven’t even played anything yet!”

“Chill Parker, we still have, what, a week and a half?” Scott replies, you can practically hear the grin in his voice. Peter, ever the perfectionist, was probably shitting himself wondering how he was going to get a good grade. That and the fact that he liked to be prepared for every assignment a week in advance. 

Peter doesn’t get to reply as the door to the practice room swings open with a thud.

“Hey, can’t you see this room is in use?” Sharon growls, you just roll your eyes and keep playing. Probably some freshmen who don’t understand booking rooms yet. You’d had a few of those throughout the semester. 

“Siren.” The similar deep voice calls, you feel yourself stiffen, fingers pausing their movements. Why was Bucky here? He and a few of the others had a class to attend to, which is why you had been instructed to practice singing on your own - much to your relief. 

Swiveling in the stool you sat on, you turn to face the door with a frown. In the doorway stood Bucky, Steve, Sam and Clint. Both Bucky and Steve wore concerned expressions, like there was something terribly wrong that you didn’t know. Unease rose in your stomach. What had happened? Your mind flew in several directions, did something happen with Loki? Thor? Had Stark said or done something again? You had mentioned to Bucky and Steve in passing that you were prepping for the meeting discussing John’s suspension. You had filed an official report, and with the help of the boys you could make a decent case for John’s suspension. 

“What?” You ask cautiously, Sharon and the others watch the exchange like hawks. You had explained to Sharon that you were on neutral grounds… for now. Though, you didn’t expect her to let go of her distaste anytime soon. Bucky moves closer into the room towards you, Steve hot on his heels. 

“Stark and the Board, they had the suspension meeting without us.” Bucky says, trying to keep his voice low. Everyone hears anyway. Nausea washes over you in a wave, tension squeezing your body. That’s why they both looked so stressed, and a part of you already knew what the outcome of that meeting would be. Even as you spoke with a shaky voice, deep inside you knew.

“The verdict?” You ask.

“His ban lifts tomorrow. He’s not getting suspended, just a warning.” 

There is a short pause before the room explodes. Sharon is screaming about how she’s going to kill Stark and John. Scott and Sam are grumbling quietly to each other, while Peter gives MJ a horrified expression. 

“What-!”

“They can’t just do that-?”

“What do you mean just a warning-?”

“His dad paid his way out again didn’t he-”

You can’t even find the energy to react, to scream, to cry. All of the voices of your friends melt into one. You feel numbness sweeping up from your toes all the way to your scalp. It was happening again. And it would happen again and again and again. You were trapped in this cycle, you were always stuck here because of him, because of John. You were silenced, another flame snuffed out during the fight. Maybe you were your mothers corpse, maybe you had never survived him. 

Inside your head all you could hear was roaring, angry piano keys overlapping each other into a nightmarish symphony. Voices all screaming over and over and over until you couldn’t even make out what you were trying to think anymore, it was just pure wrath and white noise. 

Your eyes meet Bucky’s, then Steve’s. You swear there is fear in their gaze as they observe your demeanor. 

Without a word, you reach into your bag. Digging past your folders of sheet music, you dig out a smaller, thinner folder. Inside were all your notes for the suspension meeting, you had stayed up half the night compiling all the details. It recounted your experience, what had happened to Loki. It had Bucky and Steve’s personal accounts of the situation. You had even gone as far as to include details of fights you had previously witnessed John get into on campus. You weren’t pushing for his expulsion, rather his accountability. And for him to get the help he needed to deal with his alcoholic and violent tendencies. 

“Y/N-” Sharon called to you, but you were already out the door. 

“Fuck.” You heard Steve hiss, then the sounds of footsteps as the two of them followed you down the hall. You didn’t slow down or stop to allow them to catch up, instead directly marching through the twisting halls towards the main office. 

“Y/N wait-” Bucky calls out to you, but you’ve already slipped past Stark’s assistant and stormed into his office. 

Stark gives you a look of slight surprise. The way he is holding himself, leaning back in his leather chair, nursing a glass of whiskey… he obviously knew to expect you. You slam the folder down onto his desk. He arches an eyebrow at it, then at Steve and Bucky who stand in the doorway. 

“Come in, close the door behind you.” Stark says with a sigh. You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot as you wait for the boys to move. 

“You had the suspension meeting without us.” You hiss, you see Steve and Bucky hesitantly move to your side without being too close. You wondered how they had picked up on how you didn’t like to be touched so quickly. You were probably touch starved, in retrospect. But the idea of anyone touching you when you felt like this was repulsive. 

“The board decided it was a private matter.” Stark says, taking a sip from his whiskey. He was so calm, relaxed even. It boogled your mind how easily he could dismiss your feelings.

“Bullshit!” You practically explode, “John Walker’s father paid them off, and you know it.”

Stark assesses you with another sigh, leaning forward to flick through some of the pages of the file. He barely skims the words, hardly taking the time to read a single word. He doesn’t care, you realize. He never actually fucking cared.

“The board decided that because this was his first offense, that it only warranted a warning.” Stark says, you scoff with a shake of your head. 

“First offense? You and everyone else in this school know this isn’t the first time.” You spit. You can feel Steve nervously shift beside you. You can’t tell if he’s more nervous for himself, or for you. He had shown concern for your scholarship before. Yelling at the head of the school probably wasn’t the best idea to ensure you kept said scholarship. 

“It’s the first time Walker has ever been reported. The board only deals with official reports, not rumors.” Stark says, closing the file without a second look. Of course they would use some excuse like that, it was easier to just ignore all the mounting evidence and make a profit. 

“I want a second suspension meeting. One where I can testify.” You say, standing your ground. You swear you can see Bucky send Steve a smile, like he’s proud of you. Or that he agrees with what you said. You don’t put much thought into it.

“I mean, I can ask. It’s up to the board,” Stark offers, leaning back in his chair. You know the offer is empty, he’s just pretending to care. The whole richboy, rockstar persona was seeping through, he was looking down his nose at you like you were just another groupie to use and shake off.

“Seriously?” You scoff.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. My hands are tied.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky’s jaw clench a bit at the word sweetheart. Fucking patronising. In any other situation you would’ve flushed red in embarrassment, would’ve backed away the moment you were spoken down to. 

“So I’m just supposed to go back to normal? Act like one of my classmates didn’t try to choke me to death?” You say pointedly. Bucky shifts closer to you, like he’s expecting to have to hold you back. Although, from the look in his eyes, the way his hands are curled into fists… maybe you would be the one holding him back. Stark sighs, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe just try going to less parties? I’m sure a smart girl like you can avoid riling him up again.” You don’t realize that you’re gripping onto Steve’s arm for support until he moves closer to you. It’s almost like an invisible boundary has been crossed, that you reaching for him allowed him to step as close as he had wanted to. You usually didn’t like touch, being crowded by people you didn’t know well. This felt different, this felt comforting. You’re sure if you hadn’t leaned into him, he would’ve snapped at Stark. You can practically feel the waves of resentment rolling off of him. 

“We should get going, we have to go get lunch.” Bucky speaks up, his voice sounds strained. He’s holding back from yelling, you can tell. “When will we hear back? About if there will be a second meeting?” 

“Tomorrow morning.” Stark replies, sliding the file towards Bucky who catches it easily. None of you speak or say goodbye as you leave the room. Bucky gently places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the hallway wordlessly. 

*

The next morning, Steve and Bucky are waiting for you like fucking guard dogs. They both were on edge, much like yourself. You had barely got any sleep, tossing and turning in your sheets late into the night. After Stark’s office, the two of them had eaten lunch with you. It had been quite a tense, you barely ate a bite. You felt sick, fucking disgusted at the idea that John would be allowed anywhere near you. Despite your quietness, Steve had muttered and mumbled the entire time about how badly he wanted to kill both Stark and John. Bucky had just watched you carefully, his worried expression growing deeper the more time went on. 

The sight of them waiting outside had melted away some of your stress, which hurt to admit. They looked so fucking hot, bundled up to avoid the morning chill, worried yet happy expressions as soon as they spotted you. Despite your exhaustion, you had managed a friendly smile and a quiet ‘good morning’. 

They escorted you to Stark’s office where the unfortunate news met you. The board had denied your request, you weren’t surprised. After some thought, you knew that the Board was firmly bought out by John’s father. There was an air of  defeated disappointment as the three of you slowly headed to class. The plan was to meet Sam in the main classroom when he arrived, before the four of you headed to a practice room you had booked in yesterday. 

“Siren,” Bucky spoke up for the first time since Stark’s office, you looked at him with a hum, still half lost in thought. “You’re gonna keep trying, right? With this whole suspension thing?”

You chewed on that question for a second. A part of you said yes, but the other was so tired, so exhausted. It was the part of your brain that always lay down and took the beating whenever things got hard. There was always that rage, that anger burning inside of you. But sometimes you didn’t know what to do with it, or how to manifest it into something real. It was just always there, screaming inside your head for you to do something other than quietly survive. 

“I guess. I mean, it’s hard to know where to go from here? I guess just keep collecting evidence, encourage people to actually report him…” You trail off with a sigh, Steve frowns at you. 

“You know we’re here to support you right? To help you.” Steve offers, bumping his shoulder with yours. You give him a small smile in return. You hope he doesn’t see the small blush that spreads over your cheeks. You were glad that in Stark’s office - when you had shut down and leaned on Steve for support - that you hadn’t gushed like a fucking schoolgirl. That would’ve been embarrassing. Maybe the shock of it all had helped cover your satisfaction that they once again came to support you. 

“Just because you want to get on my good side, Rogers?” You tease, he rolls his eyes at you. 

“I would like to think we would’ve helped you, even if we weren’t the cause of this.” Bucky offers. Your heart skips a beat. You disliked how your body responded to even the slightest kindness from them. 

“It’s fucked up,” Steve agrees. You hope neither of them have noticed how hot your face has become. 

“Yup,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “Definitely fucked up.” 

You smile back at them as you push open the classroom door. You are too oblivious, too content watching Bucky and Steve to be aware of your surroundings. You don’t catch the tension in the room, the uncomfortable looks on Yelena and Kate’s faces from across the room. You don’t get a chance to feel the foreboding dread in your stomach before you’re shoved into a nearby wall. 

“There you are, you fuckin bitch.” John hisses at you, forearm pressed against your collarbone as he holds you against the wall. “I heard you’ve been trying to get me suspended.”

You are frozen in a mixture of horror and shock. That face, those hands. He’s been stuck in your head since the weekend. His hands on your throat, his body pressed against yours. You would be able to feel those imprints forever, his violence permanently branded on your body. Except the brand was invisible to everyone but you. The panic, the fear, you can feel it bubbling into your throat- 

John was against you for less than a few seconds before he was violently ripped away and pushed across the room. Chairs tumbled across the floor as John’s body fell on top of them, he doesn’t complain, only letting out a low chuckle. Kate yelps from across the room, basically climbing into Yelena’s lap. All you can do is gasp in a sharp breath, hand flying to your chest out of instinct. 

“Don’t even fucking try it, Walker,” Bucky growls, putting himself between you and John. Steve is at your side as well, eyes scanning your face with distress. He doesn’t seem to want to touch you while you’re so panicked. How did he know? Did he notice all the times you flinched or cowered away? You can’t help but be thankful as you try to catch your breath and calm the panic attack brewing in your chest. 

“Oh? You’re getting involved in this too, Barnes?” John laughs bitterly at Bucky as he staggers to his feet. He looks as rough as he did the last time you saw him, two black eyes from his broken nose, a half healed split lip, bruising across his left cheekbone. 

“Get the fuck out of here before I make you.” Bucky snarls roughly, you watch as John sizes him up and decides better of it. That is probably the smartest decision John had ever made, not picking a fight with the man with a metal fucking arm. John just shrugs with another dark chuckle, storming out the classroom door. He nearly bowls straight into Sam, who takes one look at John, Bucky, the state of the classroom and whistles lowly. 

“I don’t even want to know what I missed.” Sam comments. Bucky just laughs at that, which relieves some of the tension in your chest.    

“You okay?” Steve murmurs from beside you, you had almost forgotten he was there in your panic. His voice is low, you can almost hear how it would rumble in his chest. The look he gives you is heated, you have to look away for a moment and lean all your weight on the wall behind you. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes to the fucking rescue, once again. 

You ignore the surprised and intrigued looks Yelena and Kate are giving you as you look back at Steve. You gently grip his forearm with your hand and offer him a weak smile. 

“I am. Thank you.” 

*

Tucked into bed, you had found yourself beginning to spiral again. You had repeated the motions of going to bed only to toss and turn, lost in your own winding thoughts. Stark, John, the fight, the way Bucky and Steve had defended you… it all swirled around in your brain over and over. Everytime you closed your eyes you saw John’s face, cruel and sneering. Or you saw Bucky’s jaw muscles tight with rage. Or Steve, flush with concern. Or you saw him. 

It was pointless, you thought, as you stared at your open laptop. You had spent the last two hours rewatching all the streams you had been featured in, then all the streams Steve and Bucky were in. You read the live chat, the comments beneath videos and posts online. They were all so happy, so excited to see where your music would take you. 

The stream where you had sung and played the piano was on repeat, rereading the positive comments of ‘omg this girl can sing!’ with all the heart and thumbs up emojis. Yet, why did you feel empty? Why did you feel ready to give it all up? You stared at those bruises on your neck in the mirror, rewatched the video of you being choked in the frat kitchen, re-lived the memories of everytime Stark had dismissed you. It all felt helpless, pointless. What was the point of going to this prestigious college if you were so miserable? Yes, all your friends made you happy. Steve and Bucky made you happy. But could that happiness outweigh the pain branded onto your soul? The anxiety, the pure fucking dread everytime you thought of John or him. You had thought you were safe. 

Maybe it was time to give up fighting. 

So there you sat, staring at your laptop screen. After all the videos and livestreams, you opened your email and began typing. The words stared back at you now. 

‘Request to formally drop out of Stark’s College of Music’

‘Request to revoke current scholarship’

‘Thank you for all the wonderful and life changing experiences’

You bit your lip as you hesitated, cursor hovering over the ‘send’ button. Were you really going to throw it all away? Start your life over, again? It was all you knew, it was how you had survived. Your mother died, so you became a pianist. He had ruined you, so you moved across the country. John had won the Board, so you would drop out. 

The noise was back in your head, begging, screaming for you to think. To try, to fight.

The ding of your phone shook you from your trance. Your eyes flickered over to the screen, an Instagram notification staring back at you. 

mariaxhill has sent you a message request

You frown at your phone. Maria Hill? Why was that name familiar to you? Unlocking your phone, you open the message. 

Hey this is Maria. Idk if you know me but i used to date john walker. I heard about whats been happening. Can we talk? i want to help.

Your breath catches in your throat, a small smile spreading across your face. Without a second thought you delete the unsent email. 

This fight wasn’t just about you, there were others too.

Chapter 6

[silli---lilli]

I'm here, Simon.

Simon gets badly injured on a mission and Mariana, his woman, comes to his side.

A bonus chapter from the AO3 work Home by Sillililli.

Part 1

CW: Violence, blood, adult themes, hospitals

It was the heat of the summer and Simon had been gone for weeks. If someone told MJ he’d been gone for years, she might believe them. She did well on her own, she kept their little home, she worked, she stayed busy. But she missed him. One minute alone in the apartment was enough to make her feel like he’d never been there at all, and the thought was terrifying to her.

She knew its what she had signed up for. What she had asked for, what she had so deeply wanted. To be in his life, to be a part of who he was before she came along. He gave her the same. And when he returned, it always felt like a tidal wave of joy. Something she’d never quite dreamt of, something she imagined only happened in the novels she’d amassed and movies she’d cried through.

But he did it for her. She marveled often at how he’d never swept someone off their feet before, how no one had fallen flat on their face over his brooding and his big, gilded eyes. She’d settled on the idea that many had, he just hadn’t cared to explore it. She was the lucky one.

He’d told her once that he’d never been in love. She knew that was no lie because he struggled with it a lot. He bordered on possessive when he was in a low place, sure that if she stepped out the door without him at her back then someone else would free her and carry her off like he had. She always convinced him to let her, but she often came home to him a mess, though he refused to acknowledge it. MJ met him always with softness. It never angered her. It wasn’t jealousy or lack of trust, it was just a long life of nightmares, waking and sleeping, and she would be at his side to face them.

She had plenty of her own, after all, and they’d been worse the past few days. That night it was a constant loop, a familiar replay of him wasting away before her eyes in the desert. Dead in her place.

This time, it took her several minutes of gripping the sheets, listening to the city sounds outside to realize it was just a nightmare. She reached an arm to his side of the bed. She was no less alone in spite of that fact. She wanted him back. Most nights, even the hard ones, she was proud of him, so full of awe at what he did, at his strength. She missed him sure, but she wanted him out there, fulfilling his purpose, doing what he loved. But that night, she needed him. She wanted him there.

She got up for a glass of water, humming to herself to fill the silence that seemed overly oppressive. And as she climbed back into bed, on his side this time, her phone rang.

She stared at it. Her heart sputtered, ramming against her ribs at a breakneck pace and making her hands shake. She steeled herself, so her voice sounded normal. She’d prepared herself for this, gone over her responses and how she would act to the CO on the phone. She had known it was a possibility since the moment he first stepped out of their door all those months ago. She had just hoped it would never, ever happen.

It was an unknown number, she couldn’t be sure who was calling, but she had a feeling. She knew little about the assignment, just that it had to do with Russia. Just that it was a mercifully short flight, comparatively.

“Hello?”

“Mariana.”

She hadn’t expected Price himself to call her. She swallowed the bile at the back of her throat. “Price.”

“MJ, Simon has been injured. We’re back in Warsaw.” He paused. “I think it’s best if you come out.”

“Okay.” MJ scrambled backward off the bed and onto her feet. Her heart was back in her throat and she clutched at it with her free hand. “How?”

“I’ll get you a flight. How soon can you be ready?”

She glanced around the room. She couldn’t even think about packing. Her passport was in the safe. “Now.”

“Alright. A driver will come to you, give them a half hour.”

“How bad is it, Price?” She asked, knowing he would be honest, and knowing she couldn’t take a two hour flight unaware of what she was walking into.

“The last leg of the mission went left, Simon fell down a well and took gunfire. He has a broken back.” He paused again and she actually heard him swallow. “It took us too long to find him.”

They both kept their voices steady. Emotionless. “Too long?”

“He’s alive, which is more than I could probably say for the rest of us in that situation. I don’t have much else but I’m sure we’ll know more by the time you get here.”

MJ closed her eyes, fighting images of Simon having to be pulled out of a hole in the ground, broken and bleeding. “Of course. Thank you, sir.”

“The flight leaves at 1:45. If I hear anything else before then, I’ll let you know immediately.” His voice softened. “I’ve told him you’re coming.”

Despite her best efforts, Mariana choked on unshed tears. “Tell him I love him.”

“Of course, MJ. See you soon.”

MJ hung up the phone. She had twenty five minutes before her ride got there. She sat on the edge of the bed, his edge of the bed and allowed herself two minutes of panic. Two minutes in which she imagined that he didn’t make it until she got there. That their last goodbye was their last goodbye. That he woke and didn’t remember her. That he might not see or speak or walk again.

And then she stood and turned on the light. She walked promptly to the toilet and emptied her stomach. Rising, she splashed cool water on her face and brushed her teeth. She pulled out a duffle bag and threw in some clothes. Jeans, sweatpants, leggings. A few shirts. Enough underwear for a week. She gathered a few things out of the bathroom and threw them in. She absentmindedly wondered if she should bring him some things, so she dug out a pair of his sleep pants and an old t-shirt of his and added them to hers.

She picked up her work things. She sat them down. She picked them up again. She didn’t want to give herself any reason to leave him before he was ready to come home with her. She could work from there, if it came to that.

She went to the safe, her hands still shaking, and entered the combination. She pulled out her passport. There wasn’t much else inside but some cash and an extra handgun. She stared at it. Stuff he’d left, in case she needed it.

“Simon.” She said, out loud.

His name was pretty. Strong. Like him. Not enough people knew him, these sweet sides of him. There was no way he could die. For all the times she had prepared herself to bury him, knowing the kinds of dangerous things he ran head first into, she decided in that moment that it wasn’t realistic. It didn’t really make sense. She sat back on her heels and shut the safe. He would be fine. He would make it.

She stood. She gathered her things. She waited for a call and when she got one she went outside. Price texted her, giving her the name of the driver. He was very matter-of-fact about proving his identity and the safety of getting in the car with him. She didn’t care. She hadn’t even thought to wonder. She just wanted to go.

It was nearly another half hour to the airport. They skirted the main terminal and entered the military tarmac. Of course, he had a private flight for her. She wiped dry eyes. They could never repay John Price for all he’d done for them. They would try. They.

She climbed aboard the plane the man directed her to. The pilot gave her his name and shook her hand. Again, she didn’t fucking care. The plane was nice, she had her choice of seat. She picked one near the back and sat. Her phone was so tight in her hand that it was slick with sweat and she nearly dropped it when it rang again. She answered.

“You’re about to take off?” Price.

“I think so.” She answered, again her steady voice failed to give away the level of fear gripping her.

“Just wanted to check in before you left. They’ve taken Simon back for surgery.” No ‘he’s stable’, no ‘he’s awake’, no ‘he’ll be out when you arrive’. Just facts.

“Okay.” She wondered what had taken them so long to take him back. She had so many questions and none she wanted to sit the whole flight pondering the answer to.

“I’ll pick you up when we land.” She shuddered in relief, a little of her tension leaving. She wanted to be with someone who was completely in charge, someone she knew.

“Okay.” She repeated, her relief in her voice.

She cried on the flight, quite a lot. She cried because even if he came out on the other side perfectly fine, he had gotten hurt. She didn’t know how long ‘too long’ was. Minutes? Hours? He’d sat there, his back broken, bleeding from a bullet wound, for how long? Long enough to think no one was coming? Long enough to be afraid? She laid under the dead cartel shoulder, her foot caught, for what felt like hours. She’d been banged up, sure, but not broken.

John Mactavish had found her then, even if he hadn’t made it to her rescue. She choked again. She wished she’d thought to ask Price if he was alright. She hoped he was and she hoped he was there. He was one of the few people on earth that Simon loved and trusted. He was always at Simon’s side, so had he been then, too? Or was there some reason they were separated?

Nerves shook her body so badly that her teeth chattered. She hoped someone could answer her questions. She hoped Simon would miraculously be awake waiting for her, so she could ask him. She knew he wouldn’t be. She knew when Price told her that he had told Simon she was coming that he had said it to unhearing ears. She had plenty to say to those same ones.

She had to get it together. For him.

The flight felt impossibly short. As they hit the ground again, she reconnected her phone and she had one message, from Price. That he would meet her in the hangar. The fact that it was so vague turned her stomach again. She was done crying, her tears dried. She knew she looked a mess but she stood straight and tall anyway, walking to meet him with purpose. He reached for her, she thought to shake her hand, but he pulled her into a hug instead.

“No change. He hasn’t come out of surgery yet.” He motioned toward the door. “But we’re not far.”

The hug almost melted her into an aching puddle again but she kept her straight face. This was what she had agreed to do, but she had regrets. Like the fact that he wasn’t her husband. They were stupid for that. All these logistics would be so much easier if they were legally bound. What if they wouldn’t let her in because she wasn’t family? He had no family. There was nothing that would stop her, really, from getting to him.

She hadn’t needed to worry. No one asked her how she knew him, or why she was there, she just kept at Price’s elbow and he led her through several sets of doors marked with a language she didn’t understand and into a waiting room, her bags over her arm.

Soap was there. He sat across the way, slid down in an uncomfortable chair, one arm in a sling. He straightened when he saw them, and stood as they approached. He held out his left hand, the one not wrapped up, and MJ folded it into both of hers for a second. His blue eyes met hers and smiled, in spite of their situation.

“Heard nothing yet.” He said. “Shouldn’t be long, though.”

Price turned to her and she dropped Soap’s hand. “I have some calls to make. You okay here?”

She nodded, even though she felt like her feet were barely attached to the ground. “I’m okay.” She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

Price nodded at Soap and walked out. MJ followed Soap back to the grouping of seats and took one near his.

“MJ.” He shook his head, sinking back down. “Glad you’re finally here. The trip was alright?”

Horrifying, lonely, far too long. “It was perfectly fine. Are you okay, John? I meant to ask Price, I knew there was a chance you two were together.”

“Aye, I’m fine.” He didn’t explain his busted arm. He looked at her with raised brows, waiting for more questions.

She sat forward, folding her hands so they wouldn’t shake. “Can you tell me what happened? The Captain didn’t say much.”

Soap searched her eyes for a moment, debating whether or not he should give her the details he knew she wanted. He knew she could handle it, but he was hesitant to repeat them again. “Cap has a hard time with these things.”

“He cares for you guys.”

Soap ran a hand through his cropped hair. “Three of us went into a small village, Ghost, Gaz and I. It had been turned to a compound. It was just supposed to be recon.” Soap’s voice stayed even, but MJ heard the dip of frustration. “We were ambushed and outnumbered. We got separated.”

MJ felt her hands begin to numb as she gripped them tighter and she told herself to relax.

“I had both of them on comms and we had a point communicated for rv. There was a lot of shooting, we got low on ammo. It took a lot of time. Gaz and I found each other outside the wall but I hadn’t been able to get Simon for a few minutes.” Soap calling him by his first name gripped MJ’s heart. Shame on her for thinking he had no family. “I knew he wouldn’t answer if he was compromised. Still, Gaz and I tried to go back in but so low on ammo and visibility, we struggled.”

“Your arm.”

“Standard nonlethal GSW.” He shook his head. “It shouldn’t have happened this way.”

MJ let him pause, steady himself with a breath.

“Price and the others came to us instead of the rv point, they cleared the rest of them out. We went back in, looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. We thought maybe he’d been taken. It had been over an hour at that point since I’d heard from him.” He held his tongue, keeping from saying that he knew something was wrong, that he was bleeding, too, and absolutely terrified that he’d left Simon to die. “We slowed, we met back up, and I checked the well. He was there. His radio was drowned, it shorted out. The cold water most likely kept him alive.”

“Price said it took too long to find him. Too long.”

“Mm. I think that’s just his guilt speaking. His back was broken in the fall. They shot at him down into the well, through his stomach. We would have had to keep him from going in at all to prevent that.” He sighed. “He bled quite a bit and we had to make a decision to pull him out knowing he could be permanently injured, or leave him to keep bleeding out. Obviously we could have found him before it got to that point, but—”

He cut himself off and met MJ’s wide green eyes. “It was bad.”

“It’s always bad with things like this, Mariana. But he’s the toughest bastard I’ve ever met.”

“But he…” She licked her lips, her mouth dry. She motioned down the hall. “What have they told you?”

“They said moving him didn’t do any more harm than leaving him. They said he is at a high risk of infection due to sitting in the water. They’re attempting to stitch up the gunshot wound now. They want to do surgery on his back, too, but not until he’s stable. He’s lost too much blood.”

He stopped and took a deep breath. MJ relaxed slightly. Now that she knew what they were facing, she could prepare properly. “Thank you.” She said to Soap. “I’m glad you were with him.”

Soap swallowed all his guilty rambling. He’d done plenty of it in the past few hours. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” She said softly. “It’s not your fault. Or anyone’s, except theirs.”

Simon had said that to her many times, about loss, about what had happened to her, to both of them, of all he’d faced.

“You’re right.” He glanced down the hall. “They’ve had him for a couple of hours. I’m hoping we’ll hear something soon.”

She nodded, watching him bounce his leg impatiently. “How long ago did you get here?”

Soap checked his watch. “Three or four hours ago, now.”

MJ sat back and quieted. She knew waiting was always the worst part. It took her back to when her parents went missing. She knew they were gone. She’d felt it. It was different this time, she told herself, in the company of the casually clad Sergeant and the quiet night. They’d been there 3 or 4 hours already. That meant it was just that evening, as she sat and fed herself dinner, watched TV, showered and braided her hair, that Simon was fighting for his life. Nearly losing it. She’d told herself her tears were done on the plane, but they threatened again as she wondered if he was afraid. If he had thought he was going to die there.

“Oh.” Soap sat up straight again, startling her. She planted her feet, watching him warily. “They had to cut Simon out of his vest. They found this in his pocket.”

His voice turned sad, even as he willed it not to. He handed her a tightly folded piece of notebook paper. She took it gingerly, unsure of what it was. She unfolded it. It was a note she’d left him a long, long time ago. Just after they’d returned to London and settled into making a life together.

Gone for coffee <3

And tea

She had written it in blue pen, left it for him, and never thought of it again. He hadn’t told her, but he’d had it next to his heart ever since.

It had gotten wet at some point, crinkling the edges. She felt she was crinkling at the edges.

“You know…” Soap had been watching her and her eyes grabbed his and held them. “I always tell him I don’t need him.” She shook her head. “It’s a huge fucking lie. I do need him. I can’t live without him.”

He nodded. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a while. Waiting. Eventually, the door opened and a doctor walked out. In a heavy Polish accent he said Simon’s name.

Soap and MJ both perked up, but he nodded to her and she stood, walking to shake the doctor’s hand. He walked them near a window.

“Lieutenant Riley is out of surgery. He did well, all things considered. We think the bleeding has stopped, and he’s getting another transfusion as we speak.” MJ nodded seriously, taking note of everything he said. “His fever is up, but it’s to be expected. He’s intubated and will remain sedated until the fever goes down. We will go from there.”

“Thank you.” She said. “When can we see him?”

“You are his wife?” He didn’t sound accusatory. His voice was kind.

“Girlfriend.” It felt so trivial compared to what he was to her. “Mariana Ricardo.”

He nodded. “Good to meet you, Mariana. He’s in recovery, it could be some time before we feel ready to move him, but when we do you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you again.”

He nodded and walked off. A weight fell off of her shoulders. He’d made it through surgery, that was a good step forward.

Soap stood to greet her as she walked back. “I called Price.”

Like clockwork, the Captain rounded the corner. The men stood at attention as she relayed the news.

“It could be worse.” Price breathed, like he was reassuring himself. “I’ve asked he be put in a private room. There should be a place for you to lie down.” His eyes smiled, wrinkling at the corners. “We’re gonna be alright.”

MJ sat again, close to Soap, who rested his chin on his chest and closed his eyes. He’d been fighting all day, he hadn’t slept. He’d finally found out that Simon would make it, at least through the night, and so he rested. She didn’t. She wouldn’t until she was by his side.