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intoxicated-chan · 1 year ago

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Oooh how about Yandere Miguel who locks his s/o away in an apartment like place (it's actually really nice) that's hidden somewhere in the spider society headquarters that only he knows about because he's extremely possessive and he's afraid of them getting hurt. Since they are just a regular human being, there's not much they can do about it. When he checks on them he's all loving and sweet but he's still very controlling. Maybe Miles or Gwen accidentally finds them and attempts to rescue them and Miguel gets PISSED.

Don’t Think You Can Escape

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miles and Gwen continue to run from the Spiders, but at a dead end, they come across something neither of them knew.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Love Taste feat. Jamie Paige & Shiki” by Moe Shop. I’ve got an announcement! Celebrating the movie’s release, I will be releasing my own Miguel O’Hara book! Be on the lookout. Anyways, requests will remain open for a few more days before I close them. You guys have the best ideas!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 2.6k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst, pet names (Amor, baby), blood, bruising, branding, violence, talk of marriage, threats, death, choking…

“This way!” Gwen shouted, dodging the incoming webbing from the other Spider members.

Miles followed her closely, following her and taking turns that she thought she was familiar with but it led them to a dead end. His head snapped in the direction of their shouts.

Gwen’s gizmo was tossed a while ago, realizing that there may be a chance of a tracker, she didn’t want to take any chances.

“What now?” MIles heavily panted, their voices getting louder by the second.

She takes a second to think, she places her hand on the wall as support but it lights up. She could hear rumbling on the other side, like something turning. She pounded her fist against the metal wall and it was clear that it was hollow.

“Miles, help me open this.” She said.

“Are you sure?”

“We don’t have any other option.”

“Alright then.”

Miles stood on one side and Gwen on the other, they both used their webbing to force the hidden, metal doors open. Both of them loudly grunt as the doors slowly opened.

“One three.” Miles nodded, “One… Two… THREE!”

The two simultaneously jump in at the same time, practically tackling each other. The doors slammed shut with a loud bang and soon, they could hear other voices up against the door. It made his heart drop, yet he relaxed when the voices dispersed.

Gwen stood up first, taking off her hood and mask to take a good look around, “What is this place?” Miles asked her.

She hesitated in shrugging, “I’m… I’m not sure. I don’t think I saw this place on the map.”

“Didn’t think the gizmo had a map.” He stood as well, “Could it be another sector?”

This time, she shrugged, “It clearly wasn’t labeled, otherwise we’d be caught by now.”

“Okay then, what now?”

Gwen looked forward and into the dark but barely lit tunnel, “We keep moving forward.” She walked into it.

“I’ll follow your lead.” Knowing that Gwen knew the headquarters better than him.

The two walk through the long, narrow hallway. It made Gwen shiver and keep her guard up. But she kept her sights forward, following a light that seemed to be peeking out from under the door.

Their footsteps rang and Miles swears he could hear his heart racing. As much as he enjoyed a break from being chased, he began to worry. What happens now? How will he get out? What about Gwen?

All kinds of questions raced through his head… Was either of them going to get out of here?

“Miles!” Gwen looked back at him, worried, “I know that you’re panicking but I need you to focus, everything will be alright.”

“Will it?” Miles huffed, arms crossed, “You saw how freaked Miguel was. There’s no way out of this, I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Hey, we’re in this together. Okay?”

Miles takes a deep breath, “Okay.”

“Besides, we can think of something when we’re inside.”

Miles stopped in his tracks, “Insid-?” A door. Windows, a few feet from the door, pitch black and barred.

“I think this might be the place Peter was talking about.” Gwen smiled, walking up to the door.

“He knew about this?”

“It’s more like suspected. He saw Miguel disappear a couple of times and believed he had a secret place to get away, this must be it.” Slowly she twisted the doorknob.

Miles reached out and grabbed her wrist, “Then are you sure we should be sneaking into a place where Miguel visits.”

“I said suspected. It’s a chance this may now be it and besides, he’s too busy running around the base looking for us.” She ignored Miles’ protest and opened the door, it was unlocked, “Now that’s suspicious.” She mumbled.

The two enter the room. Both of them were awed.

It was like a normal home, furnished well, like any other home. The home smelled freshly cleaned, but plates and cups were set on the table, like someone was expecting guests. While Gwen looked around the rooms, Miles’ attention was to the photos.

It was Miguel, along with a woman. He followed the array of photos. At first, the woman seemed to be happy but as the photos went on and on, he could see it in her eyes… Fear, fear and more fear.

“I always knew Miguel was crazy but-”

“No.” Gwen immediately retorted.

“Didn’t you see the photos, he’s obviously obsessed with this woman.”

“It can’t be him.”

Miles sighed, “Gwen it’s him. This is probably the home to bring her to the base.”

“That’s the thing, she’s already here.” Gwen pointed to a room, “I saw her when looking around, sleeping soundly, too soundly.” It remained silent between the two.

His head snapped to the direction of the door opening, “Hide!” She harshly whispered, pushing Miles into what seemed to be a guest room, and shoving him into the closet.

Miguel entered the home with a heavy huff, slipping off his mask and his hair puffed up a little. He runs his hand through his hair a couple of times before calling out, “(Y/n)! I’m home!” But all he is met with is silence.

But that’s when he hears the slow footsteps, “Miguel?” You groggily spoke, “You’re home early.”

“Actually, I’m home on time. Did you sleep?” You tiredly nod, “Did you just wake up?” You nod again, “Awe, my poor baby.” He cooed, welcoming you in his arms.

But you’re too tired to push him away, the house was freezing and you needed something warm. You felt one hand come to your neck and his claws lightly dragged over where used to be your-

“Where’s your necklace?” He demanded the second he felt the open skin, “Where is it?” He growled.

“I-I took it off.” You managed to say, scared that he may dig his claws into you.

“Why?” His voice was like a growl, dark and deep.

“Because it was hurting my neck, it left a bruise.” You cowered. Your necklace was more like a choker. It was mainly black but it had red and blue stripes, along with gold ornaments.

It wasn’t because of the pain you took it off, it was because his last name was engraved on it. It made you feel worthless, like someone’s property. Before you took it off, you began pulling off the small gold pieces and then when he wasn’t home, you tore it into pieces. Hopefully telling Miguel that you didn’t need it or that there was no need.

“You should’ve told me sooner.” His voice returned to normal as he released you from his arms.

“But I did.” You mumbled.

“Where is it?”

“One the dresser.” You watch him enter the bedroom and come back a few moments later, the choker in hand.

“Must’ve been hurting you a lot.” Miguel can see little droplets of blood left behind, “Don’t worry about it.”

You let out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll get a new one.” Your heart dropped, “I was thinking about it for a while.”

“Do you think I could go with you?” Your hurriedly asked, “If I can chose a-”

“No.” He sighed, “I said it before and I’ll say it again. You stay here, why can’t you understand that?”

“I’ll stay with you-”

“No!” He shouted, “I’ve given you everything! A home, food, clean clothes! Aren’t you grateful for everything I did for you?!”

Your eyes begin to water, “O-Of course I am!”

“Then why don’t you just listen to why I say no?!”

You jump, “Miguel…” You whimper, “You’re scaring me.”

His blood red eyes soon turned to his beautiful brown ones, they softened, “Perdóname, amor.” (Forgive me, love.) One hand comes to cup your face, “It’s just… It’s dangerous out there, you saw it yourself. Remember?”

“I do…”

“I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”

“...Why would you hurt me?” You begin to panic, “I-I thought you said-!”

“That I wouldn’t hurt you. I mean it, but when it comes to breaking the rules I set, I must do what needs to be done. I’ll just have to cut off your beautiful legs. Breaking them wouldn’t be enough.” He kissed your forehead, “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I love you.”

His grip on your face tightens when he doesn’t hear the words, “I-I love you too, Miguel.”

It made him smile widely, “Be patient for me, amor. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

And with that, he’s out of the door. Hearing the doors lock, you’re left alone in the empty and freezing house.

You cry on the spot, finally breaking in fear. Your body felt uncomfortably hot, your breathing became staggered and it felt like you were gonna vomit. Your arms wrapped around your body tightly that your nails dug into your sides. Your chest grew right as you fell to the tile floor. Shaking and hyperventilating, your stomach churned as you remembered his words.

“I’ll just have to cut off your beautiful legs… Breaking them wouldn’t be enough.”

Who knows how long you remained on the ground, all you could do was shake. Your chest stung and your heart raced, you were in pain all over again.

“Um, (Y/n)? Was it?” You let out an audible gasp as you saw the two teens in the room.

You pushed yourself off the ground and hurried away from them, “Wait!” Gwen put her hands up, “We’re just here to help. I’m Gwen and this is Miles.”

“Who are you- How did you get in here?!” You choke on your words, wiping the tears from your red eyes.

“We’re just running from the same man.”

You quickly shake your head, “You guys can’t be here!”

“We would’ve left sooner but… We can’t just leave you here.” Miles kneeled in front of you, “Let us help you.”

“Y-You can’t!”

“Yes we can.” Gwen agreed, “We just gotta pack up and get on out of here. I can get that started. Miles, watch her in case Miguel comes back.”

“How did get like this?” Miles asked, “I saw the photos.”

“...I met him after he lost his daughter and I didn’t think it was right for him to try to get into dating so soon but people grieve in different ways. We were supposed to take things slow but… But he talked about marriage and it made me scared. I tried taking a break but he found me. From then on, it went downhill.”

“I always knew he was crazy.” Miles mumbled.

“He’s great at manipulating people, he owns a business.” You responded. Then you heard a thud outside, “Miles, hide.” You push him away, not knowing where he went.

The door opened and in comes Miguel who doesn’t look pleased, “I heard them.” He starts, “No, I heard him.” He stepped closer, the choker nowhere to be seen, “Where is he?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You clear your throat.

“¡No me mientas!” (Do not lie to me!)

“I’m not lying!” You moved back when he reached out to you, “Please, believe me Miguel!”

“Last time I did, you ran out on me! I have every nerve to not believe you.” He pushed you up against the wall, “Where is he?!”

“Leave her alone!” Miles comes around and lands a clean kick, knocking Miguel off of you, “Are you alright?”

“Miles…”

Miles puts on his mask, “Gwen will be right behind you-!” He dodged Miguel’s webbing, “Just run!” Then he charged at Miguel, taking him head on, “Go!”

You got up and rushed out the door, “(Y/n)!” You heard Miguel, “Get back here!”

You run faster. Your bare feet are padding quickly across the cold, metal floor. Then faster and faster until you nearly run into the wall. Whatever hopes you had are nearly gone when you realize that it’s just a dead end.

“(Y/n)!” You heard Gwen, she lands next to you, “I need you to listen to every word. I’m going to open the door and let you out, but it’s impossible for me to go with you. But! There are others out there, they are willing to help you. Just run and I promise you that someone will come for you.”

“What about Miles?” She hands you to the bag she quickly packed.

“I’m heading there once I know you’re out of there.” Using her webbing, she does the same as before, forcing one side of the door open. She grunts loudly, “Go!”

You jump, tumbling on your feet as you hear the door shut. The sound rang through the base and all that was left was silence. Even on the other side of the door. Nothing could be heard.

You stand, looking around. There was not a single person in sight. But you continued walking, walking, and walking… You continued to replay Gwen’s words in your head, not wanting to give up hope. But slowly it died as you continued wandering aimlessly around the base.

“Lonely isn’t it?” You gasp, freezing in place. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it belonged to, “Just like how it’s going to be when you leave. All alone and there is no one to turn to.”

You scoff, keeping your back to him, “I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life than spend one more minute with you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do!”

“Come with me and I’ll forget this ever happened, we’ll have a fresh start. Or you can continue with these foolish games. You know that you’re better with me than without me.” Miguel sticks his hand out for you to take.

For every step you take back, he takes on towards you, “How will I know things would be different?”

“You gotta trust me to know.”

You breath hitched when you felt your back hit the wall. Miguel towered over you with ease, and you hated the look in his eyes. Sorry… You hated how soft and apologetic his eyes looked. It also terrified you.

“Where’s Miles and Gwen?” You ask him now that he’s in front of you, “Where are they?”

“You have the nerve to ask me that right now?”

“I do!” You retorted, “Now where are they?” You demanded.

Miguel sighs, “They are in a place where they won’t bother us nor say anything.”

“You didn’t!”

“It had to be done!”

“You bastard! They were kids!” You dropped the bag and pushed him as hard as you could which had no effect on him, “They’ve done nothing wrong!”

“You weren’t there!”

“So?! That doesn’t give you the right to kill innocent children-!”

Miguel’s hands came around your neck in an instant, you felt the heavy pressure. Panic sets in, trying to breathe, doing anything you could do to get his hands off and breathe. Your eyes rolled back as your vision darkened. Your attempts to kick or push Miguel off fail.

Then he throws you at another wall, the pressure knocks whatever air was left and he watches you have a coughing fit. You’re too weak to even crawl away from him when he kneels down, “Why must you be so difficult? Why don’t you understand? After all these years, you still don’t understand that I am the only person who will ever love you.”

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c0kitty · 10 months ago

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NOW PLAYING ... NOBODY KNOWS ft. spider-women!ellie x reader

“…BUT NOBODY KNOWS MY LITTLE SECRET.”

(⭑) summary: r/reddit, when’s the best time to tell your girlfriend of three months, (who you are so desperately in love with) you are that "crazy" vigilante on the news, fighting crime in a spider-suit, and that you now shoot fucking webs out of your wrist. (⭑) content: wc 1.2k+ nerd!ellie. confessions. making out. comfort. spider-man!ellie. established relationship. suggestive. insecure!ellie. HEAVILY inspired from the roof-top scene in tasm bcs im obsessed. cursing.

you guys find yourself on the roof-top of dina’s-friend’s apartment, for a random party, celebrating god-knows what. it's slightly chilly, you stand next to ellie with her oversized jacket on you; despite ellie telling you numerous times it was going to be cold, she was not one to refuse you.

ellie wished she had her camera right now; outside’s a pretty scene with the many buildings scattered, the sky, gradually transitioning into yellow and pink hues, night unfolding, and you, looked so pretty by her side.

the city below though remains bustling with constant movement, and ellie's mind is no different. because today was going to be the day —

ellie’s hazel-green eyes shift towards you, observing your soft expression, her heart ached with uncertainty as she wondered if you would hate her — hate her for lying, hate her for not being normal, hate her for having so much baggage. hate her for being spider-women.

“you think dina and jesse are shagging?” you ask, randomly, breaking the comfortable silence. your hands moves to the railing, casually pushing yourself backwards on it.

“saw dina sneakin’ out at 1 am, like she was a teenager. so, yeah, definitely.”

also due to ellie’s super-senses, she had heard so many “private,” conversations with him and dina she wished to unhear.

you nod your head, turning your attention towards ellie. “so, why do you seem so te—”

“i need to say something,”

you guys both interrupt each other, it elicits a small giggle from you. “okay... is this about before? is that the reason you’ve been so pissy tonight?”

you were hinting about earlier. when someone had hit on you, even with you being on ellie's lap, her arms even wrapped at your waist. it irritated the hell out of ellie, leaving her to characteristically run her mouth at em'.

you almost had to drag her away to stop the growing commotion.

ellie sports a slight pout at her pink-lips. “it’s not my fault men can’t get fucking context clues, it’s a wonder they survive. and i haven’t been “pissy” i—” you raise your eyebrows in response, conveying a silent ‘you sure?’ ellie stops talking, only rolling her eyes.

“okay, whatever, maybe i was but, it's not about that,” ellie wasn’t sure how to start this conversation without sounding crazy or scaring you.

“...i was bitten,” ellie says, bushy brows slightly furrowing.

your head tilts, “that’s a little ominous.” ellie rethinks; maybe that wasn’t a good way to start.

“nevermind. you know, when i was sick. that whole two weeks, couple months back.” you nod your head, “yeah, you said you were sick. projectile vomit and shit. couldn’t lift a finger because it was so bad.” damn, ellie forgot she said all that.

“yeah, um sorry. i lied about that.” before you could say anything, lips pulled into a frown, ellie blurts: “i’m spider-man,” finally with a breath. you’re staring at her, but she can’t decipher your expression. unconsciously, ellie bites at her bottom lip.

silence fills the moment, and ellie finds it unbearable; suddenly, in just a second, your face relaxes. “oh, wait. you’re fucking with me. els thought you were serious for a second.”

ellie was regretting playing pranks on you so much, “i’m not fucking with you,” ellie’s arm cross, unconsciously flexing in the process, but you only a grow smile on your lips, like this was some ongoing joke. “jesus, stop smiling — it’s not a joke y/n,”

“i’ve known you all my life ellie — i think i would know if you were fighting crimes with iron-man,” you ignore her, releasing the bar. “wait just w—”

“lets go els, please. it’s getting cold and i’m tired,” you say, making your move toward the door; but in a quick reaction, ellie’s translucent webs shoots out her wrist, spinning you around til’ you're close, her hands, now holding at your waist.

you’re staring at her, eyes widened comically, and your mouth parted, seemingly trying to process what just happened. ellie's attention was drawn to something else though; light in the distance, drunken footsteps heading their way.

“you just fucking — shot webs out your hands, ellie! you’re sp—”

ellie didn’t have much time to think it through, because as soon as the drunkards stumble in, ellie's lips, soft and sweet, press into yours. “..shh,” ellie whispers, faint to your lips — trying to calm you down.

a small gasp leaves your mouth. but after a second, hearing the commotion behind you; you get the message, relaxing yourself into the kiss.

ellie's kisses are usually greedy, but tender, her hands would rummage your body confidently, possessively pulling you in. but this kiss, its … different. it’s tentative, hesitant, like she was afraid to push.

at that, you try to make her feel comfortable with a subtle touch beneath her loose black-shirt. your lips, coated in strawberry gloss, glides seamlessly over hers, giving her a little push; and it works.

ellie tongue pushes in hastily, its smooth tracing from your lips to your tongue. her moppy-brown hair tickling your chin as she eases in the kiss, embracing the subtle buzzing in her chest.

you hear the people leave, and it’s silent now, besides the busy cars. “ellie… t–”

“one more second,” she grumbles, you wanted to keep going, but you still had a lot to say — questions cycling. so you pull away, with a gentle smack of the lips.

she lets out a small groan in response; her cheeks dusted in pink and round eyes flutter open, looking at you in a wistful gaze.

“so… you’re spider-man. well, spider-woman,” you finally say, exhaling. ellie’s eyes shift to the floor. her hands drop from you, and instead, runs through her hair anxiously. “yeah. i know it’s fucked up, and weird. i should’ve told you, warned you, but i—”

you interrupt her depressive rambles, “no, ellie i mean it’s cool, you’re cool. it’s just, fuck.” you take a breath, throwing your hands up. “i was just surprised because you’re, like, nerdy and cute, and then … spiderman, you know?”

ellie’s eyes lifted to meet yours, “relieved” couldn’t fully capture how she felt, but all she could managed to say was: “oh, okay. that’s great, yeah.”

a silence falls between you two in response to ellie’s awkwardness, exchanging glances; both of you burst into a fit of giggles.

“i feel like i should feel offended though, ‘nerdy?’” you playfully nudge at her feet, “you know what i mean. passionate about space, introverted, so obsessed with your grades. it’s like a text-book definition,” ellie couldn’t really deny that, so she just playful rolls her eyes instead.

“...but you know what’s crazy, i had a small tiny crush on spider–man, well you, before we officially dated.”

ellie’s lips curve into a smile, “so now you get the best of both worlds, huh.” ellie comes closer to you, hands finding their place to your body. "i bet you dreamed of both of us fighting over you, hm?”

in the quietness that follows, your eyes drift away from ellie, intentionally avoiding her gaze. ellie could tell there was more story to your silence, “wait — did you have a wet dream about spider-man and m—” she begins, but you swiftly cover her mouth.

“...shut it,” you say beyond flustered, which only intensifies ellie's curiosity.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #tlou #ellie x reader #tlou x reader #ellie williams x poc reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams tlou

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xbellaxcarolinax · 1 year ago

Text

Futile Devices

Miguel O'Hara x civilian f!reader

Summary: The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

Word Count: 8.2k (A behemoth of a fic, I'm so sorry guys)

Warnings: FWB, language, angst, reader is totally in love with Miguel, Miguel being a bit of an ass, probably a tad toxic? SMUT, p in v (no protection), cum play, low-key breeding kink? Like super low-key. Oral (f receiving). Miguel climbing through windows. Idk why I'm obsessed with that thought lmfao I make him climb through windows every chance I get. Idiots in love. Probably a rushed ending, sorry!

Thanks to @whatthefishh for beta-reading. Partly inspired by this.

Also, this is mega ultra cliche, we all know they're gonna end up together, so just enjoy the ride! It's not the destination, it's the journey 😌 Hope you guys enjoy, and if you do, pls let me know what you think! I love reading your comments!

MDNI pls.

...

It was always a mission getting to Miguel's office.

Headquarters wasn't built to accommodate civilians, the winding pathways and corridors a danger if one wasn't too careful.

You had to be extra careful.

You hurried toward Miguel's office, heels clicking against clean tiled floors as you dodged a fuck ton of spider people and the inescapable attention of one annoying Peter Parker.

"Come on," Peter Parker number two hundred tried his luck again, "just one date. I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go."

"No." You rolled your eyes, swatting him with the manilla folder in your hands like you would a fly.

“Look, all I’m saying is you should give me a shot. I’m funny.”

“So is every other Peter Parker I’ve encountered.”

“I’m different.”

“I doubt it.”

He deflated, keeping up with your quick steps. “Who doesn’t like funny guys?”

“Me.”

“Sure,” he stretched the word out, unconvinced, "so if not funny guys then what? The ones with sticks up their asses, like Miguel?" He snorted with a shake of his head. You knew it was a sort of rhetorical question but you couldn’t help swallowing thickly, your hands gripping the folder a little too tightly.

Yeah. Something like that.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when Peter Parker two hundred raised his brows at your silence. So maybe he did want an answer.

"Nah, there's no way. I'll try again tomorrow." He smiled, shooting a web out in some random direction and swinging off toward the floor above.

Fuck. That was close.

You breathed a sigh of relief, loosening your fingers over the folder before quickly hurrying toward your destination.

You pressed your watch against the sensor outside of Miguel's office, waiting for the metal door to slide open. It didn't. You tried again. Still nothing. Again. It wouldn't budge.

"Ugh, come on, Miguel!" You banged the door with a tiny fist as if that would make a difference, "open up!"

Lyla appeared suddenly, her sprite-like form circling your head once before she faced you.

"You probably shouldn't go in there," she warned, "he's in a…mood."

"He’s always in a mood," your hands were on your hips now, the manilla folder crinkling further in your hand, "I need to report a couple of grievances—"

"Mmmmmm, I'm sure that's the last thing he wants to hear right now, Miss HR." God you hated when they called you that. You rolled your eyes, swatting her away with the folder which did nothing, of course, and pressed your watch against the sensor.

"That's not gonna work, honey."

"So let me in."

"Promise to be nice?"

"To who?" You snorted, "You or Miguel?"

"Me," Lyla grinned, adjusting her heart-shaped glasses, "forget Miguel."

You sighed, cracking a smile, "Lyla, would you please let me into Miguel's office?" The Ai made a noise of approval, comically saluting you before granting you access.

"Don't say I didn't warn ya." She sang, disappearing from your sight.

You sighed. Miguel's shifting moods were nothing new to you—not anymore. Back when you both worked at Alchemax, he was passive and less quick to anger. But that seemed a lifetime ago.

Life progresses. People change.

“Mig?” You called out, peering up toward his solitary platform. You could hear the soft hisses of machinery, the yellow glow of Miguel’s holo screens illuminating the area above like a radiant star.

He didn’t answer.

“Miguel,” you tried again, “we have some things to discuss.” You slapped the manilla folder against your hand as if he’d recognize the sound of formal complaints filed within the last week.

The platform began to descend after a moment, and you breathed a sigh of relief as his figure came into view. His shoulders were stiff, his body rigid as he swiped through the yellow screens.

“I told Lyla not to let anyone in.” His voice was cold, frigid even. He didn’t bother to face you, his eyes pinned to his screens as he leaned forward, the muscles of his back flexing through his suit.

You couldn’t see what he was looking at but you could hear it: the soft giggles of a little girl, the cheers of a soccer game, the chuckles of a man now broken. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard the sounds of Miguel’s past. It probably wouldn’t be the last either.

“I-uh, got some reports to share with you.” You felt foolish. Lyla was right. HR complaints were the last thing on Miguel’s mind.

“Reports of the anomaly on Earth 9811?” Your brows pinched in irritation. He knew those weren’t the reports you had. You were fucking HR, not on active duty, let alone a spider person.

"No, you'd have to ask Jess or Gwen about that, but you need to listen—"

“I don’t want to hear it.” He grunted. You saw his hands form fists at his sides, the same hands that’d fisted your sheets in the throes of pleasure just days ago.

You shook your head. It was not the time for that kind of thought.

You carefully opened the crinkled folder, pulling out the paperwork you’d printed from your antique printer to read aloud from it.

“Peter Parker of Earth 5431-02 has formally filed a complaint,” you began, your eyes scanning the black text before releasing an exasperated sigh, “he’s saying you threw a chair at him?” Miguel grunted, the holo screens shutting off at his (Lyla’s) command.

“He’s an idiot.” Miguel snapped, finally turning to face you, his sharp features shadowed by the lack of light. He regarded you carefully, red eyes tracing your figure. You’ve grown used to the way his eyes lingered over you, especially when you were under him, his body pressed against yours, but sometimes you couldn’t help but squirm under his more severe gaze.

“Well, yeah,” you reluctantly agreed with a tilt of your head, “but a chair, Miguel?”

“It’s not like it hurt him...badly.”

“That's not the point."

“The point is that I got my point across.” Miguel snorted.

"It's the principle. You don't go around throwing fucking chairs at the people who work for you!"

"Mhm."

"You're their boss! What kind of behavior is that?"

"Uh-huh."

You were about ready to strangle him but knew your fingers couldn’t even go around his throat properly. You’ve tried before, under very different circumstances. You settled for pinching the bridge of your nose, as he often did, taking a breath to calm yourself before you completely lost your shit. "Listen to me."

"I'm listening, HR."

"Ugh, look," you pointed a finger up toward him, your brows knitted in obvious irritation, "annoying or not, he's still a member of the Spider Society, therefore, he has every right—”

“—to file a grievance under any circumstance as a result of an injustice, discrimination, or harmful behavior, and is to be given the respect to which every spider person is due as a valued member of the society. I know.” Miguel finished the legal jargon for you, hopping off the platform with an ease that’d always surprised you.

He stepped into your space, his large body casting a long shadow over you as he snatched the crinkled paperwork from your hands.

“I’ll speak with him.” He grunted. You pursed your lips, watching as his eyes scanned over the page.

"Make it right, Mig. Apologize. Formally. Or informally. It doesn’t matter— there’s nothing normal about this place anyway.” You placed your hands on your hips as you leaned forward, aware of how he was suddenly gazing down at you. “Just be nice, okay? Compensate him with, I dunno, a minor mission. He always wants to get involved, so let him.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, heaving a great sigh while running his hand through his hair. “Fine.”

“And no more throwing chairs to make a point.”

“Uh-huh, fine, anything else?” God, you wanted to smack him. You opted for snatching back the paperwork from his hand, smoothing out the wrinkles over your skirt-clad thighs before searching for the proper page.

“Yeah," you brought a finger down on the page, "the spiders are getting bored of the cafeteria food.” That was enough for Miguel's face to pinch in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with empanadas and churros?” He scoffed, waving his hand to dismiss the complaint, “And that stupid blue burger with my face on it?” He paused, eyes squinting for a moment, “You know what? That can go. Get rid of it.”

“Fine. Do I have permission to organize a survey?”

“For food?”

“Yes, for food. They want options.”

“Aye, por Dios,” Miguel grunted, waving his hand again, “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope.” You organized the documents back into the manila folder before handing it over to him.

“You know you could just send this electronically, right?” He looked down at the folder, his eyes tracing your neat cursive in black ink.

“I’m old-fashioned.” You shrugged, turning on your heels. You heard him snort out a laugh, a tiny thing that made you smile. He has a nice laugh.

“One more thing,” Miguel called out, demandingly. You looked over your shoulder at him as he regarded you with heavy eyes.

“What is it?”

He boarded the platform once again, the machinery coming to life and slowly elevating him back to his preferred height. He tossed the folder somewhere over the desk, to be forgotten. It was the least of his worries at that moment.

You watched Miguel ascend above you like some kind of heavenly being, the yellow light of the holo screens illuminating his tan skin till he glowed molten gold. You waited on him with bated breath, his response sinking straight to your core.

“Keep your window unlocked tonight.”

…

He loves it when you ride him.

His large hands were glued to your hips as you bounced on him expertly, your cunt soaking him in your sticky juices.

Most nights began this way—with Miguel's cock buried deep in your pussy after a long day of enduring his insufferable attitude. You'd fuck the stress out of him—fuck the astronomical weight of the multiverse off his shoulders if only for a few short hours.

"Been thinking about this all day." He groaned under you, throwing his head back over your pillow when he felt your walls grip his length viciously, fighting to keep him in.

"Yeah?" You gasped, your hands firmly planted on his bare chest as you made work of your hips, rotating them in delicious circles—the way he liked—your thighs spread wide to accommodate his massive size. "W-wasn't enough to curb that a-attitude though, huh?"

Even amid the utmost pleasure—of Miguel's length hitting a spot that had you trembling—you found the strength to taunt him, your hazy eyes catching a glimpse of the twitch in his brow. That meant trouble.

Within seconds Miguel had you on your back, his imposing body trapping you against your mattress. His cock slipped out for a moment but he had no problem finding his way back into your slippery channel, snapping his hips strategically to reach as deep as he could.

You cried out, your hands scrambling to find purchase over his shoulders, your pretty manicured nails digging into his perfectly golden skin.

"F-fuck! Miguel!"

"Wanna say that again?" He growled, his face hovering mere centimeters from yours, "Go ahead, say it again." You did nothing but whimper as he pounded into you mercilessly, his cock stretching you open.

"That's what I thought." Miguel chuckled smugly, delighting in your little chokes and stutters, egging him to keep pounding you relentlessly. You tried speaking—tried to articulate your words to him, but you couldn't, too cock drunk to focus on anything else but his gorgeous face twisted up in pleasure and his thick cock kissing the secret place within you.

He had you coming soon after, stars exploding behind your lids as you trembled in his arms. Your cunt squeezed him just right and he came, panting in your ear as he filled you to the brim.

His spend stained your sheets when he pulled out, and as always, he watched it dribble out from your swollen cunt with lidded eyes. He wasted no time in taking his fingers and stuffing the mess back in.

“Keep me in there.” He muttered, swiping through your puffy folds one final time before he ripped himself from you. You immediately soured, keeping your gaze on him as he quickly cleaned himself off with a cloth you left for him on your nightstand.

You admired his figure: the ripple of his muscles as he moved, the broadness of his shoulders, the glow of his skin in the dim lighting of your bedroom.

Miguel was gorgeous. You’ve always thought so.

His suit glitched before coming to life, covering his sculpted body in the usual blue and red you've come to know.

“Did…you want to eat before you go?” Dinner was on the stove, cold but still good. You sat up against your headboard, more of his spend leaking out as you fiddled with your fingers over the soiled sheets.

Miguel shook his head, sighing as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“I have to go.” He said, stepping forward, grabbing your hand, and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles. It was the only form of affection he’d allowed himself to give you. He’d never kissed you before. Probably never will. It wasn't part of the deal.

Your heart sunk, your skin searing where his lips had lingered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Most nights ended this way—with your aching cunt full of his seed and your eyes wet with unshed tears as you watched him leave through your window, disappearing into the night.

…

A few days later, Peter B. Parker landed in your office. Quite literally.

He plopped down on the seat in front of yours from seemingly nowhere, a messily packed diaper bag hanging loosely from his shoulder. He had his daughter snuggly pressed against his chest in her carrier, her chubby arms and legs flailing over his pink robe.

You yelped, dropping the pen in your hand, clutching your chest in freight.

“Jesus! Where the hell did you just come from?!”

“Up there.” Peter pointed up. You followed his line of vision, noting the door to the air vent busted open, barely hanging from its hinges. “Sorry about the vent.” He offered sheepishly, taking a large bite of a slice of pizza he'd pulled from a greased-up brown paper bag.

"You could've just taken the elevator!"

"Takes too long to get to the basement.” He said between a mouthful of pizza, “Why'd Miguel give you an office down here anyway?"

"I'm scared of heights." You reminded him, watching Mayday struggle to release herself from her carrier prison. Peter snorted out a laugh, dropping the diaper bag on the floor while simultaneously taking another bite of his pizza.

“Doesn’t make sense to work in a place like this.”

“It was the deal I made when Miguel asked me to work for him. Chew with your mouth closed.”

“Have you tried the cafeteria pizza?" He asked suddenly, ignoring your demand and speaking with another mouth full of the greasy treat, "It's the new thing. Everyone's going crazy."

You smiled smugly. "I know. You’re welcome."

“Ah, I should've known Miss HR was behind this!” You rolled your eyes at the nickname, rummaging through your drawer before tossing him a few napkins.

“What can I do for you, Peter?”

Mayday whined, crawling out of the carrier and over her father’s thighs. She hopped on your desk, scattering some of your paperwork. You quickly caught her before she tumbled off the edge, cooing at her before placing her in your lap. You squeezed her in your arms and she let out a scream of delight before squirming, reaching out in wonder at the different knick-knacks on your desk.

“Right, almost forgot." Peter took the last bite of his pizza, wiping his face and fingers with the napkins you provided before his face morphed into something serious. "Is this guy bothering you?” He pulled out a yellow holo pad, one presumably given to him by Miguel, revealing a video of you and Peter Parker two hundred from the other day.

You blinked, your eyes tracing the moving image carefully.

”Oh. Not really,” you finally said, ripping your gaze away from the screen, “Nothing I can't handle. Why?”

“Miguel asked me to investigate the situation discreetly.”

"Asked?"

"Well, demanded, you know Miguel," Peter shrugged, reaching down into the diaper bag and procuring a lollipop when Mayday began to whine, “he’s concerned. I figured it’d be easier to just ask you about it.”

You frowned, grasping the sweet when he handed it over to you, pulling off the wrapper and placing it in Mayday's chubby hand, “That’s hardly discreet.”

“I didn’t wanna follow the guy around!”

“He's making you do that?”

“‘Of course he is. Doesn't like the guy. He barely tolerates me!”

You snorted. “Why does Miguel even care?”

"You know him better than any of us do. If anyone would know, it’s you."

Well, that was true.

You knew Miguel before he created the Spider Society, before he was ever Spider-Man. You knew him before his addiction to Rapture, before he experienced fatherhood, before he lost Gabriella.

Back when, to the world, he was just some guy in a white lab coat.

But he was never just some guy to you.

You’ve loved Miguel for years. You’d loved him in your early days at Alchemax, when he was fresh out of college and eager to begin his shaky career, back when you were hanging on to the corporation by a measly thread of an unpaid internship. You were a pair, stuck to each other like glue.

A few years later, when you both decided to take it a step further and mess around, well, that only ignited your feelings further. Miguel was an attentive lover. He knew your needs and fulfilled them, taking you to the heights of pleasure before humbling you just as smoothly with his strict rules about your agreement.

He didn’t have time to cater to someone's feelings—didn’t have time for a romantic relationship when he had too much on his plate. But his sexual appetite demanded attention—and why not with someone he’s called a friend for years?

You were just a friend. And that’s all you’d ever be.

It was just sex. That's all it'd ever be.

“You okay?” Peter ripped you away from your thoughts, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered with a sigh, gently resting your chin over Mayday’s soft curls. “Is Miguel worried?”

“You’re the closest thing he has to a friend, of course he’s worried about you. Those were his words, not mine.” Peter shrugged, putting his holo pad away, “so is there a cause for concern?” The thought alone almost made you smile. Almost. Instead, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m usually the one that handles these situations, you know.”

“And who’s supposed to help you?”

“I don’t need help.”

“Right.” He didn’t seem convinced. “Miguel doesn't seem to think so. You sure?”

“Very.”

“Alright, I did my part!” He clapped his hands as if he’d successfully completed a mission, “Time to go, Mayday!” He stood, grabbing the babbling baby from you and placing her back in the carrier.

"She's precious." You said, gently pinching Mayday's drool-covered cheek as she teethed over her lollipop.

"Takes after her dad." Peter grinned, snatching up the diaper bag, "Listen, if you ever need any help—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here, Parker." You shooed him away, quickly organizing your wrinkled paperwork together. You could still feel his eyes on you as you kept your hands busy, and when you finally looked at him he had a silly smile on his face.

"What?"

“You guys are idiots." He was still grinning.

"What?"

"Nothin'," he said, pressing a kiss to Mayday's red curls, "Just do me a favor. Don't mention any of this to Miguel, alright?"

You crossed your arms, leaning back against your swivel chair. "Sure."

...

"So you think I need help?"

Miguel's hands immediately stilled on your hips as you stirred the boiling pasta over your electric stove.

You didn't hear him come in, but you had a feeling he’d show up. It had been a couple of days since he’d fucked you, and there were many stressful days between then and now.

So you’d left your window unlocked just in case.

"What are you talking about?" He muttered, his fingers lightly dancing on your waist before pulling away completely.

"Nothing." You huffed to yourself, cutting off the heat and getting on your toes to reach for the pasta strainer on the shelf above. After a second of watching you struggle, Miguel put a hand on your shoulder to stop you, reaching forward to grab it for you.

"Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” He finally said, observing you strain the pasta over the sink, the steam from the hot water engulfing you both in what felt like a thick cloud of tension. You peered over your shoulder at him, your eyes raking over his solid form.

“You know, Peter Parker two hundred?” You asked, witnessing his face contort from passive to extreme annoyance.

He sucked his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leaned back against your counter, looking so out of place in your tiny kitchen, his broad shoulders almost the entire width of your cupboard. “I told Peter to be discreet.”

“He said you’re worried about your only friend.” You continued to tease him, emphasizing the word as you lifted the lid to a pot where a homemade Pomodoro sauce was bubbling.

“I said that?” Miguel muttered, feigning innocence, watching you take a spoon and scoop some of the red sauce for a quick taste. You could feel his gaze on you, his eyes tracing the way your tongue licked off the remnants of sauce.

You hummed in approval before scooping up some more and turning to offer Miguel a taste. You lifted the spoon toward him, and after a moment of contemplation, he hunched forward with arms crossed over his toned chest, mouth opening slightly to allow you to press the spoon past his lips.

His eyes fluttered as he savored the rich taste, humming his own tune of approval.

"Is it good?"

“Mhm.”

You beamed, eyeing how he licked his lips like a satisfied cat, his fangs protruding slightly when he ran his tongue over them. The same fangs you’ve felt over your delicate skin from time to time.

Miguel was a biter. You didn’t mind.

Miguel grunted, using his thumb to wipe off a bit of sauce that lingered near the corner of your lips. You inhaled a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering from the heat of his touch.

"What else did he say?" He murmured, looming over you, his hand now gently cradling the back of your neck, thumb caressing your skin.

"T-that you're worried about me?" You breathed. Miguel pulled you closer suddenly, the faintest noise of surprise escaping you. His suit always felt strange under your fingers, the digitized fabric almost slippery, like fine silk. It was ridiculous how perfect you felt wrapped up in his arms. You sometimes wished he'd show up in civilian clothes. You missed his lazy outfits when he'd throw on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him in anything other than his suit (and his naked form, of course). It meant he was always on the clock, devoting all his precious time to the multiverse.

It meant that whenever he was alone with you, he considered it work.

And yet, the suit made you feel secure and safe—like nothing in the world could harm you. And there was truth to that, though the only thing harming you these days was Miguel himself. But that was your fault too.

The deal was explicitly no strings attached. You were finding it harder to keep up your end of the bargain.

You gazed at his full lips. You desperately wanted to taste them, to know how soft and warm they would feel molded against yours. If you were brave enough you might have stolen a taste, might have felt those sharp canines for yourself on your tongue.

Miguel’s thick fingers trailed into your hair, gripping the roots with just a hint of pressure, his lidded eyes taking in every part of your face: your brows, your eyes, the bridge of your nose, and your supple lips—wet and swollen from biting them so damn much.

"Maybe just a little," he finally answered, his shoulders shifting in a slight shrug. You could feel his length press against your hip, hot and throbbing, demanding attention.

It filled you with pride knowing your proximity was enough to get him excited. It shouldn't though. It was only arousal. Basic primal instincts.

You shouldn’t be feeling pride for any of this. You had to remind yourself of that.

You closed your eyes, willing your heartbeat to slow down just a bit. Could you really be this love-sick? So hung up on a man who was emotionally unavailable? If you hadn’t fallen before, then you knew you were plummeting now, so far gone that you’d let Miguel do anything to you.

So when he whisked you away to your bedroom, dinner long forgotten, you didn’t put up a fight.

He fucked you from behind.

It was a tight stretch, your wet cunt fighting him as he tried pressing his swollen tip in with little luck.

"Gotta let me in," he grunted, spreading your cheeks wide to gaze down at your twitching holes, "you're too tight. Let me in."

"I'm trying," you panted, tears in your eyes as you buried your face into the sheets, "i-it's been a while."

"It's okay," his large hands caressed the globes of your ass in comfort, "it's my fault. Haven't been fucking you enough, hm? S'my fault." Miguel rubbed his cock through your soaked folds a few times, the obscene noises of your sopping cunt causing him to grunt.

"Goddamn, so fuckin' wet." He muttered before lining himself up and carefully pushing in again. You cried out, fisting the sheets when he successfully got the tip in. He groaned, the guttural sound masking your tiny mewls as he pushed on, your wet cunt coating him entirely in your sticky essence, easing his entry just a bit.

"Fuck, Miguel, it h-hurts." You whined, the stretch of him both painful and pleasurable as he bullied his way in, his girthy cock plunging through your fluttering walls.

"Shh, I know." He rarely cooed as he did now, reassuring you with gentle noises and tender touches as he eased into you, balls deep in your core, “Look how good you’re doing for me. S’good.” A fresh wave of arousal dripped from you at his praise, your fluttering cunt allowing him to push and pull as he pleased.

He began a steady rhythm, holding your hips tightly to work you over his length, muttering to himself all the while as he watched how your creamy juices clung to his cock and covered his skin.

The pain quickly subsided into blinding pleasure. Miguel had you mewling into your mattress, your eyes rolling and drool slipping past your lips, your back impossibly arched, and your swollen cunt wetter than it’s ever been. The slapslapslap of his hips against your ass was loud in the quiet of your bedroom, your moans even louder when he skillfully hit something inside you that made you see stars every single time.

You loved the feel of him, loved the stretch of his cock, loved how your cunt would ache for days after as if to remember him.

“Coño,” Miguel growled, keeping a large hand on your lower back to keep you steady in your arched position, “you sound so pretty when I fuck you.” He suddenly gripped your hair, pulling you up as he curved over you, continuing to spill filth into your ears.

It was too much.

“M-Miguel, I’m g-gonna—”

“Cum for me.”

That was it. The dam burst within you, your eyes rolling back as you cried out, cunt spasming and gushing all over him.

“That’s it,” he muttered, sloppily thrusting into your tightening core, “good girl.”

“Miguel,” you continued to whine, grinding against him, “Fuuuck, I love you.”

You didn’t even realize what you said until it was too late, so wrapped up in the bliss of it all that your mouth worked faster than your brain could think.

You froze when you felt him still above you. He released your hair, bringing his hand back to your hips before gripping them viciously, chasing his own release. He rammed into you faster, slamming his hips against your ass one final time before letting out a guttural groan deep from within the confines of his chest. You could only imagine how he looked: tan skin glistening, chocolate hair plastered against his brow and head tossed back in pleasure.

Miguel said nothing as he gently removed his cock from your aching sex, letting his seed dribble out from you and soak into the sheets.

As soon as you turned around he was already in his suit, pushing a few buttons on his watch before he brought his wine-colored eyes to you.

"I have to go."

“Mig?” You whispered his name softly, your naked body burning with embarrassment, “I-I’m sorry I—”

"I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was the same thing he always said, but it hurt twice as much. It was as if he were on autopilot, disconnected from what just happened.

You felt your heart plummet into your stomach as you watched Miguel leave through your window with a speed he usually reserved for missions.

His spend caked your thighs. There was so much of it coming out of you, more so than usual, his cum ruining your sheets enough that you’d need to change them before bed.

You sniffled, eyes watering, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t even kiss your hand goodbye.

You ripped yourself away from the soiled sheets, stomping over to your window as his cum leaked down your inner thighs before slamming it closed, locking it for good.

...

“You made this?” Miles exclaimed with a mouth full of spaghetti, clumsily twirling another forkful over his paper plate. You were handing out some of the spiders' leftover Pomodoro pasta from the previous night. You’d lost your appetite. It’d be a shame if you let it all go to waste.

“Yeah, eat up, there’s enough for everyone.” You scooped out more pasta from a Tupperware and onto a paper plate for Gwen. The younger girl’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed the plate, immediately slurping up a bite.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, lips covered in red sauce, “why are you working at the Spider Society when you could be a chef?”

“It’s because Miguel begged her to work here,” Miles quipped, a lone spaghetti hanging from his mouth.

“And who told you that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Uhh,” his eyes flew over to Peter B., who was waiting patiently for his own plate of pasta to be served. You turned and narrowed your eyes at Peter, who chuckled nervously.

“Listen,” he began, hands thrown up in surrender, “the kid got curious, okay? He was convincing, I mean, look at those eyes.” You huffed, snatching Peter’s plate and loading it up with pasta.

“You guys are annoying,” you muttered with no bite, shifting your gaze toward Hobie, who sat quietly with his legs thrown up on the table, “Hobie, fuck the government and all that, but you need to get your dirty boots off the table if you want some food.”

Hobie sighed dramatically, letting his boots drop to the ground.

“Fine, boss lady.”

Satisfied, you handed him a plate.

“So, let’s talk about you being a chef?” Gwen tried again, scrapping the remaining bits off her plate.

“It’s just pasta,” you shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, “anyone can make a Pomodoro.”

“My dad can’t.”

“…why?”

“He’s Irish.”

“And a bloody cop,” Hobie interjected, twirling his pasta with a plastic fork, “hate those.”

“Here we go,” Gwen huffed, the beginnings of an argument forming. You chose to ignore them, letting Gwen, Miles, and Hobie bicker between themselves.

You squirmed in your seat, crossing your legs to cure the throbbing within. You could still feel Miguel, the stretch of his cock, and the inevitable ache that lingered afterward. You were still full of him, your cunt wet even hours later, plaguing you with the thought of never feeling him again.

You drummed your fingers over the messy table littered with paper plates and napkins, your body hunched forward, lost in thought.

“So…” Peter began, adjusting the collar of his pink robe, “you gonna tell me what’s going on or am I gonna have to force it outta you?” You whipped your head to look at him, brows furrowed as you regarded him.

“What makes you think something’s going on?” You whispered, hoping the cafeteria was loud enough so the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

“Something’s going on or you wouldn’t be whispering,” Peter whispered back, his blue eyes pinned to yours as he searched for answers.

“It’s nothing.” You answered quickly, continuing to squirm in your seat, fighting to ignore your achy cunt.

“Did you guys finally smooch?” You froze, your hands gripping the edge of the table with a force that made your knuckles go white.

“Peter, what the fuck are you talking about?” You hissed, watching him happily eat his Pomodoro.

“You think I don’t know?” He challenged, “It might not be obvious to everyone else but I know what’s going on.” He winked at you, dabbing a napkin messily over his mouth.

Your heart was pounding, ready to beat out your chest, but you schooled your features as best you could. You swallowed thickly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to make yourself smaller.

“Okay, fine, you know. What of it?”

“Miguel’s being mopey.”

“Mopey?” You snorted, shaking your head, “He’s always mopey, isn’t he?”

“This is a different kind of mopey,” Peter raised a brow, “it’s actually kind of… frightening.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s got nothing to do with us, for once. Usually one of us pisses him off enough to throw things but he’s on a mission. Said he needed to clear his head. So what happened?” You sighed, shoulders sagging.

“I might have said something I wasn’t supposed to last night.”

“What?”

“We made a deal,” you explained in a whisper, “no feelings, just…you know,” you wiggled your fingers, hoping it would be enough of an explanation. Peter nodded, urging you to continue, “Well, I messed up.”

“How?”

“ItoldhimIlovehim.” You blurted out, your hands flying over your mouth. Peter blinked with a subtle tilt of his head, before a grin stretched over his lips. You groaned, now covering your eyes, “W-what is that, why are you smiling? Stop it.”

“I mean, one of you had to say it first.”

“Peter, you’re killing me here.” He rolled his eyes, inching close enough till your knees brushed against his.

“You don’t think the big guy feels the same way?”

“No!” You squeaked incredulously, “There’s no way. You should’ve seen him yesterday. He could barely look at me!”

“You caught him off guard.”

“I know that, but he still could’ve said something. Anything.”

“He’s a guy. Guys are stupid.” You groaned, pushing your hair out of your face. You turned to look at the other spiders. You knew they’d been listening given the way they all turned away immediately.

“Someone is stupid,” you muttered to Peter, feeling dejected, “and it’s definitely not him.”

...

You took a deep breath before placing your watch over the sensor.

The door to Miguel’s office didn’t budge, not to your surprise. Lyla must have blocked the systems again.

What were you even doing there?

You hadn’t seen Miguel in about a week. That was ample time to inform you he wanted nothing to do with you. You couldn't blame him but still, it was…unprofessional. He was your boss at the end of the day.

Maybe you shouldn’t have started fucking the head of the Spider Society. Your weak heart wouldn’t be in shambles if you didn’t.

It was a stupid move, you knew, telling someone you love them in the throes of passion when they clearly weren’t on the same page, unprovoked or not. He probably hates you. He must.

You’d given yourself enough time to think it through and given yourself so many pep talks before deciding a professional relationship with Miguel was for the best. No more friends with benefits.

No more keeping your window unlocked.

You took a breath and tried again. No luck.

Did he fire you? That couldn’t be right. You were still in the system and able to enter HQ with your keycard just fine.

“You’re always catching him at a bad time,” Lyla sighed beside you, whipping out her tiny little holographic phone, “he didn’t even want to take a photo! Unbelievable!” The small image on her screen revealed a snarling Miguel, clearly unamused by the bunny filter plastered over his face. It was cute, even if he looked a bit terrifying baring his fangs.

Lyla shifted to face you, hands on her little hips as she looked you up and down.

“You look niiice,” she quickly snapped a photo of you, “no cute filter needed.”

“Uhh, thanks?”

“Now it’s your turn to say something nice to me.” The Ai grinned when you rolled your eyes.

“You look…extra yellow today, Lyla.”

“Thank you! I’m in default mode.”

“Okay, so I’ll just come back later then?” You rushed to leave but Lyla stopped you, zapping in front of you suddenly.

“Nah, I’ll let you in.” You could hear the door to Miguel’s office opening, “Fix him.”

“What? How am I supposed to do that?”

Lyla shrugged, “I dunno, I just know you’re the only one that can.” She waved farewell, disappearing in a glimmer of gold.

You groaned, dropping your head in your hands for a moment to collect your thoughts. Your palms began to sweat—they always did when you were nervous—so you quickly wiped them over your black pencil skirt before facing the office entryway.

It was dark as usual, the only light illuminating the area was Miguel’s bright yellow screens. They hung above him as he sat slouched in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His head turned lazily to regard you.

“I heard you’ve been mopey.” You began, cracking a smile when he snorted. He shook his head, watching you slowly approach him like one would a wounded animal. He didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation.

“What do you need?”

“To talk to you.” You said, finding the courage to step into his space, leaning back against his desk and blocking one of the yellow screens.

“About?”

“Us.” Miguel hummed, running a hand through his messy hair. He sat up in his chair but said nothing else, allowing you the space to speak freely.

“I-I wanted to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” you began to fumble with your fingers, unable to keep eye contact with him for very long, “I know that what I said was…crossing the line—”

“Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly, the question forcing your eyes away from your fingernails and toward his chiseled face. He looked exhausted, eyes heavy but swimming with curiosity.

“W-well, I mean, it was a moment of—”

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, his tone stern as he awaited a proper answer from you. You bit your lip, slowly nodding your head.

“Yeah. I did. Still do.”

The silence that stretched wasn’t very long but it felt like an eternity. Miguel only stared at you, his jaw tight as he sat forward, his elbows resting on his toned thighs.

You wished you could read his thoughts, take a peek at what ran through his mind. He was always so good at hiding his emotions, never showing an ounce of what he felt. That wasn’t always the case but after Gabriella, he didn’t show much of anything.

“I think it’s best we don’t see each other anymore,” you finally concluded, crossing your arms, “we should stop.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean stop?” He was towering over you in a matter of seconds, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. Your heart was pounding, your hands flying to grip the edge of his desk.

“Mig, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Yes, we can.” He caged you in his arms, bringing his face just a few inches away from yours. He never had much of a problem with eye contact, but you did. You chose to look at his collarbones and the large swoop of his shoulders. It was intimidating and arousing all at once and you weren’t getting anywhere with this speech, were you?

“We can’t. Not when we’re not on the same page.”

“Who says we’re not?” You felt his fingers graze the side of your face, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. You turned away, squeezing your eyes shut, feeling the familiar prick of tears behind your lids.

“Stop playing with me.” You said, pushing him away with little luck. Miguel shifted slightly at your touch, watching you rub at your eyes.

“I’m not.”

“Then why have you not said anything for a week?” You hissed, the frustration threatening to boil over, “You’ve left me agonizing over this for a week, Miguel!” You wiped furiously at your cheeks, catching a few stray tears. “I’m such an idiot.”

Miguel grabbed your wrists in his hands, yanking them away from your face. His concerned eyes met your wet ones, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Stop.” He demanded, taking your flushed face in his hands and wiping the wet streaks away with his thumbs. “Don’t say that about yourself.” You glared, cheeks puffed and swollen from the pressure of fighting away tears.

“Fine,” you snapped, ignoring the way he stroked your cheeks, “you’re the fucking idiot.”

“I am,” Miguel agreed with a sigh, refusing to release you, “I didn’t know what to say. Thought you might have been lying—don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“I know, beba.” The endearment startled you for a moment, your glossy eyes peering up at him as a rush of excitement settled in your stomach. He’d never used endearing words with you before. It had you stumped for a second before you remembered yourself, your brows furrowing in irritation

“Why would you think I was lying? Mig, I’ve loved you for years, you buffoon!” Miguel loomed closer with every word before he kissed you, silencing you effectively. Your eyes fluttered, your lips unresponsive at first until he coaxed you into a gentle rhythm.

Kissing Miguel was so much softer than you imagined.

You thought he’d be all tongue and teeth, desperate to devour his victim. His kisses were syrupy and deliberate, steady and reassuring. He was taking his time learning the shape of your lips, the plumpness, how perfect they felt molded against his.

“I’m sorry, beba,” he said between kisses, letting you snake your arms around his neck to pull him closer, “perdoname. I’m an idiot.” You hummed in agreement, continuing to assault his lips sweetly. You couldn’t stop kissing him if you wanted to, sneaking your tongue past the seam of his lips to taste more of him.

He growled, tightening his hold on you, allowing you to taste at your leisure. He tasted fresh, like the spearmint gum he always had on hand.

“Perdoname,” he repeated, wanting so desperately for you to forgive his transgressions, slotting himself between your legs.

“Yeah? You’re sorry?” you teased, feeling the familiar ache of arousal blooming in your core, “show me how sorry you are.” Another growl ripped from him, animalistic and provoked. He wasted no time, pushing you down so that your back was flat against his desk and your legs were wrapped around his hips.

He pressed a button beside you and suddenly, the platform began to elevate.

“Mig,” you sat up in a panic, but Miguel only pushed you back down, lifting your skirt up till it pooled over your waist, “w-why are we moving up?”

“Privacy,” he grunted, spreading your legs, running his thumb over the soaked patch of your panties. Your hands scrambled to find purchase on something over the desk, your heart hammering in your chest as the ceiling seemed to loom closer.

“Y-you know I’m scared of heights!” You squealed when the platform came to a jutting halt, squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t even want to think about how high up you were.

“It’s okay,” Miguel purred, gently rubbing your clit through the fabric, “you’re safe, you’re with me, beba, no tengas miedo.”

“M-Mig, please,” you didn’t even know what you were begging for at that point, you just needed something, and whatever that was, he gave to you. You felt him push aside your panties, and you finally spared him a glance, almost choking at the sight of him mesmerized by the sweetness between your legs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he muttered, slipping a finger through your folds, “you dripping all over my desk.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, easily ripping your panties apart before getting on his knees, “smell s’good.” He muttered, licking a stripe up with his fat tongue, scooping whatever mess you made. He moaned at the taste before completely diving in, eyes closed and large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread for him.

As always, you were a whimpering mess for him, mewling with every precise stroke of his tongue. It was the first time he’d done something like this, and god, it was nothing you could have ever dreamed of.

He moaned into your cunt, the gentle vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. You trembled and whined with every loud slurp of his mouth over your clit, his tongue swiping over your precious bud before working his way down to dip inside your hole.

“Fuck, Miguel,” your hands flew to his hair, your fingers weaving through the thick strands to keep his head in place. He skillfully nipped and licked the surface, lifting his face away slightly to spit into your cunt, watching it run through your puffy folds with lidded eyes before devouring you again.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he groaned, sucking your clit between his lips.

You threw your head back, letting out the prettiest moans for him. You forgot about everything, about where you were and how high up you were from the ground. You couldn’t care less as long as Miguel continued to eat from you like a madman.

You could feel the tension in your abdomen, the clear sign that you were close. Miguel continued to drink from you, slurping obscenely at the fresh arousal that dripped into his mouth.

“Close?” He asked, giving you kitten licks, his hands squeezing your thighs encouragingly.

“God y-yes, so close.” You could feel him smiling against your folds before starting up a vicious rhythm again with his eyes closed.

With a loud cry, you came into his waiting mouth, your back arching and body withering over the table from the overstimulation. Miguel licked and sucked every inch of you, determined to catch every drop of your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, releasing your grip from his hair and draping an arm over your eyes. Miguel stood, removing your arm and leaning over your fatigued body. He looked down at you with intense red eyes, his mouth and chin completely covered in your slick. You bit your lip when a smile curved at the edges of his lips before he swooped down to kiss you.

You moaned, completely aroused all over again from your own musky taste on his lips. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, allowing you a proper taste.

“Perdoname.” He begged again over your lips before gently brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You giggled, pushing him away slightly so that you could sit up on your elbows.

“Mm, I don’t know,” you teased, “you’re gonna have to try again.” Miguel shook his head, tapping a button on his watch, and allowing his suit to vanish. You gasped at his sudden nakedness, your eyes glued to his throbbing erection. Miguel grinned, fangs bared, tapping his cock over your sensitive cunt.

You closed your eyes as he immediately pushed in, moaning as he worked himself into your tight channel.

In your euphoric state, you barely registered him grabbing your hand and placing a chaste kiss over your knuckles, whispering over your skin. Your ears picked up a few words, some naughty and some sweet, but your heart fluttered and your chest tightened when you caught the last two words before he began pounding into you.

“Te amo.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse

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fluffylino · 16 days ago

Text

Slow Down Bugboy

you're watching the news when you hear someone outside your window. is it a burgler? is it a ghost? oh wait, its spiderman?!

-contains soft themes (some injuries)

heavily inspired by that one scene from the amazing spiderman.

jisung is so spider coded🕸❤️‍🩹

enjoy~

keyboard clacking while you glued your eyes to the laptop screen. trying to make sense of the words and phrases you needed to write for an english assignment.

for some reason, you just couldn't focus.

maybe it was because jisung hadn't texted you since afternoon. glancing up at the clock to see it was an hour past 10pm.

your eyes now plastered onto the tv screen. the news flashing vividly. headlines popping up one after the other.

the news anchor only raised more questions. dwelling into the details of this commotion.

you had mixed opinions on this so called 'man', who shoots webs out of his wrists. you'd rather call him

'weird insect man who crawls up buildings'.

was he a hero? i mean, he seemed like one. do you think you'd ever want to come face to face with him?

maybe? spiderman seemed chill.

anyways jisung!

right. where the hell was he?!

<ji, are you alive?>

<JISUNG. HAN JISUNG>

looking away from your phone. you gulped down the lump in your throat.

was he accidently caught in the whole 'lizard incident' at the school...?

you didn't want to lose your friend. your bestfriend.

"spiderman please...im really begging you to protect him if he's hurt" praying under your breath. heart pumping slower than usual while you took deep breaths.

the smell of your mom cooking a late night snack downstairs travelled up to your room. on any other occasion you wouldve eaten like a hog. but right now, you couldn't.

knock knock

soft thud

body taking a screenshot in fright. someone's outside your window. with how dark it is at this time of the night and only the moonlight, you think its a burgler.

That is until you see the silhoette of a masked man. the suit he wears is webbed, with colours of dark blue and red.

knock.

this time he presses his palm flat onto the glass, body slumping.

you throw your laptop on the bed, running to slam your door shut before making your way to the window.

"s-spiderman?" you mumble under your breath.

gasping as the man falls right into your arms. legs still dangling out. a catch a whiff of perfume that instantly makes your brain shortcircuit.

raising an arm to help him get the mask off. the mop of hair gives away his identity.

"sung..."

"han jisung! what the fuck happened to you?!" you exclaim, heart dropping when he rests his head on your shoulder. limply trying to hold onto you.

"i'm...uh s-shit" he mutters, grunting as you hold him up.

he plops onto the couch with a pained groan. you stand there dumbly. too much was happening.

A heavy scent of blood filling the air. quickly shutting the window before kneeling down by his side.

"are you okay? what happened ji...please tell me"

cupping his face. his eyes widening briefly. shakily bringing his hand up to hold your wrist.

"lizard man VS bugboy...i hurt him more than he h-hurt me..."

even in this state, he finds the time to joke. laughing weakly until he notices the pain in your eyes. not just from seeing him bleed but also from the fact that you weren't aware that he was THE spiderman.

"i'm sorry for coming uninvited...t-there was no where else i'd feel safe"

jisung whispers, nuzzling his cheek apologetically into the warmth of your palm. you can't control your body or your thoughts.

carefully pushing his damp hair away from his eyes. theres a small cut over the bridge of his nose. his bottom lip is busted harshly. he's sweating as you caress him.

clean up his wounds. yes.

right now, what mattered most was stopping the bleeding.

"where are you going..." his voice trails off. puppy like eyes locked onto every little movement.

"sit up....as much as you can"

a soaked towel and disinfectant in your hands. jisung does sit up quietly. its surprising.

"baby it r-really hurts...mh" the boy whispers, staring at you with slight fear.

'baby' was a nickname he often used. but right now, it made your heart do a summersalt. without asking, he begins to take the suit off.

revealing his battered torso. bruises and cuts from the 'battle' he was in.

silence fills the room, apart from the soft hisses leaving his mouth.

hands weakly grabbing at your wrists to pry your hands away from the slash across his abdomen. stomach muscles rhythmically tightening in discomfort everytime you applied a layer of medicine.

without much thought, you inch closer. feeling his heavy breath right next to your ear. along with a choked out grunt.

lifting your head up slowly, only to meet his gaze.

"i'm sorry for s-showing up like...this"

jisung whispers, scooching closer. your noses nearly touching. lips grazing against eachothers. you hum. far too out of it, to even get mad at him.

knowing he was spiderman put you at peace. knowing that he was safe was all that mattered.

injuries or not, you would take care of him regardless.

"say its okay" he whines softly, pressing his lips innocently onto yours. its too gentle to even be considered a kiss. you can't stop the grin that grows on your face.

realising how much your acceptance of him, mattered to him. sucking in a sharp breath when you peck him with more feeling. the subtle tangy taste of blood flooding your senses. his lip was still sensitive.

butterflies erupting in your stomach when he gently cradles the base of your neck. pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

"easy there bugboy..."

you tease, not letting him have his way. revelling in the toothy grin he lets out. laughing against you.

"i'm not going anywhere"

you reassure, threading your fingers through his hair. moving into his embrace.

"i want chocolate." he blurts out in a hushed tone.

"what-"

pecking you once more. and another time until he doesn't pull away. kissing you slow and passionately. pouring all his emotions out.

maybe spiderman wasn't so bad afterall...

teehee

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love7poetry · 29 days ago

Text

✮˚. ᵎᵎ I LOVE YOU I'M SORRY 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

⤷ spidey!ellie williams headcanons

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ sophia's letter ! i took a hiatus without meaning to😞 unfortunately this is all i had time for, but it was lowk fun. tbh i think i’ll stick to one shots bc this is basically a few blurbs in one, like this is all over the place idk i don’t like it but i needa post. also, LIAAAM NOOO all payne no liam :((

.ᐟ. . . content warnings. r's race is not specified, characters death, spiders, fighting, unrequited love, r is bi/pan, ellie mistaken for a guy, ellie mistakes r for a straight girl, mental instability, fall from a high building twice, alternative universe, assault attempt, unserious writing style, grammar mistakes probably

{ inspired by @hiiikiko ‘s spider-man!ellie. pls check out their work, it’s so good ! }

do not support naughty dog or zionist neil druckmann

HELP HERE🇵🇸

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie personally i think she's already a peter parker varient, trust me. these goofballs haunted down the killer of their father-figure for christ sake! of course peter had that whole not killing moto but like... oh well!

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie in my mind gets her powers basically the same as in tasm, except she was only in the Anderson Tower (hehe see what i did there) bc one of her professors assigned a thesis on one of their exhibitions. of course she goes the same day you do, the girl she lowkey has a crush on.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie is a major LOSER omg. she admires you from afar bc she doesn't have the balls to start a conversation. she doesn't even think you're into girls to begin with so whats the point. leave it to ellie williams to fall for a straight girl smh

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie needs glasses to see or else everything is just a blur. she never takes them off, not even to sleep, yet somehow she doesn't see you until it's too late. now, ellie only ever sees you in class, so in her defense, poor girl wasn't expecting you to just appear in front of her and bump into you. otherwise, she would've turned the other way.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie has an apology problem, at least when she's nervous and boy do you make her nervous with your hair down and pretty face and glossy lips and cute outfits and gosh, she needs to get a grip. you tell her it's fine with a little laugh and ellie feels her face grow warm.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie like canon ellie, is an overthinker, so of course she's thinking abt that awkward interaction. well, it was for her, you didn't even think twice abt it. you're a chill person and it wasn't like ellie shoved you hard. ellie didn't have that kind of strenght... not yet, anyway.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie was just too distracted to notice a colorful spider jump on her back, only feeling a sting after stepping foot out of the mutlibillion dollar company tower. you can imagine her disturbed look when she got to her dorm, feeling around her neck until she plucked off a web string with a dead spider still attached on its end. yuck. to make matters worse, ellie started feeling sick. she passed out and didn't wake up until noon of the next day.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie was an orphan after her mother passed away when she was nine. she was left under the care of her mother's best friend, marlene, since that was the closest thing to family she had left. to ellie, marlene was family, so she'd called her aunt marlene. i think you can guess where this is going...

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie had promised marlene she would help with a charity event called the fireflies, but with ellie's new... condition, ellie just had too much on her mind. trying to balance college, having a lesbian crush on a straight girl, and finding out you can climb walls is a lot for a nineteen year old. and okay, maybe the first two are universial experiences, but definitely not the third. who is she supposed to talk to abt that?

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie was stressing and she never had the best temper when stressed. she had been focusing in creating organic web fluid bc in my au shes not gonna have anything shooting out of her, okay? i mean i still have some questions for tobey's spidey.... moving on! the charity simply slipped out of her mind and when ellie checked her phone after an entire day of testing her new abilities, swinging and even doing a handstand in just her index and middle fingers, she saw abt fifteen missed calls from aunt marlene. ellie decided to stop by to apologies and that’s when all hell broke lose.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie acts like her mother's death doesn't bother her after a decade, but when her name falls out of aunt marlene's lips during her lecture abt ellie's bad puntuality and lack of time managment, it was obvious it's still an open wound.

'you are a lot like your mother, ellie,' marlene spoke. so far ellie was just nodding along to whatever marlene was saying but that sentence really annoyed the hell out of her. 'you truly are, and that's a good thing.' ellie's jaw tightened, but she didn't say anything. 'but she lived believing that if you can do good things for people, you have an obligation to do those things,' marlene pointed a finger at ellie's direction. 'that's what's at stake here. not choice; responsibility.' ellie scoffed. 'that's nice. yea, that’s all well and good. so where's she?' 'what?' marlene stops. 'where is my mom? don't you think it was her responsibility to tell me this herself?' the words coming out of her mouth taste like venom. there's tears threatening to spill, but ellie refuses to let them fall. marlene exhales, shaking her head. 'how dare you?' ellie raises her voice for the first time that night. "how dare i? how dare you!'

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie never got the chance to apologize for snapping at marlene. she knew deep down that marlene was just looking out for her, yet she was too in her head to see it then. ellie had stormed out right after and marlene went out looking for her. and it was the same thief that ellie did nothing to stop as she witness him rob a deli and even handed her a drink which she took without a second thought who killed marlene that night.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie will never forgive herself for that, for not stopping the thief and letting him kill the one person she had left. since then, ellie uses her powers to help others.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie also has a joel in this universe and he's finally being introduced, yippe! im mixing andrew's and tom's peters so i couldn't make him the uncle ben ik y'all thought he was gonna be. he's more like mcu's aunt may and tony. now bare with me pls

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie made herself a suit out of old clothes and a handmade mask. she'd been going around the neighborhood for a few weeks doing small things: returning stolen bikes, bringing cats down from trees, helping senior citizens cross the street, etc. there were no headlines on her yet, but she was growing popular on reddit. it wasn't until one day ellie felt this weird chill down her spine. everything happened so fast, ellie just remembers the after math, the adrenaline rush of catching a 3000 pounds car going at 40 miles with her bare hands to stop it from crashing into a school bus. that was the first time ellie saved a live, multiple at that, and she knew this is what she wanted- no, needed to do.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie had kept a low profile as her alter ego until then. never would she imagine that the video of her stopping a moving vehicle would get in the hands of the joel miller, ceo of miller industries. he's known of the expirements jerry had been doing with all sorts of animals and he didn't like it. joel never thought jerry had it in him to actually modify the human dna, but here he stood with a wall-crawling college student.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie��didn't fangirl like mcu peter did when he met tony for the first time (i miss them). in fact she had the opposite reaction. she wasn't a fan of joel just like you and i aren't a fan of elon musk, but she respected him bc he has a flying suit. in this universe, joel was iron man and like tony, he told the entire world. when one of his enemies' killed sarah, he stopped wearing the suit. there's also no avengers bc that's too much writing for me 😇

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie agrees to work with joel only bc he promised to make her a super cool suit with lots of new tech. he said her homemade suit looked like an onesie and the only insult ellie could come up with was that his face looked like an onesie... oh how did joel wished the one to get bit would've been a grown adult smh

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie learns to be more in tune with her new abilities as time goes by. that chill down her spine, yea remember that? obviously we know they're spidey senses, but ellie doesn't know that, not until now. she kinda put two and two together, how she would get the feeling every time something bad was gonna happen. what pissed her off was that she had a you sense too. her stupid enhanced senses told her when you were near, but it only happened with you. like, what the fuck seriously

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie is still a loser even after the bite so of course she has yet to talk to you. you now acknowledge her after the incident at the anderson tower, but it's just smiles if you two make eye contact. god, ellie feels so pathetic abt this clearly unrequited crush. until one day she overhears - not that she did it on surpose, it just happens a lot with her enhanced hearing - you talking about her! well... her alter ego, but it's still her.... yea, abt that actually....you and everyone else seem to think she’s a he?????

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie is part of the tiny tittie committie as we know, so when she puts on joel's new and upgraded suit, she looks flat chested. she wasn't insecure of her size or anything, but ever since publicly teaming up with joel and gaining more publicity, people have mistaken her for a man, giving her the title of spider-man. it made her bust out laughing tbh

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie started seeing her masked self almost everywhere, especially in classes. that's when she heard you and your friend talk abt her, or well him.

'i need him,' ellie almost choked on air hearing you speak. you were watching a video compilation on tiktok of spider-man saving people with chloe, a friend you made during the beginning of the semester. 'ew, he could be like your dad's age.' chloe laughed. ellie frowned, sitting a few rows back. she is definitely not old enough to be a college student's dad. as a matter of fact, she can't even be a dad so. you smiled at chloe and shrugged. 'that wouldn't matter, because what matters is what's on the inside.' it was clear that you were joking, but as ellie looked up to where you were sitting she wondered how you would react if you found out it was a girl you were talking about. would it matter? would you still like her then? or would you be disappointed?

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie tries to get over this crush by focusing on spider-boy, or wtv his name is. ever since becoming the city's hero, it's like everything has been dial up to eleven. crime fighting is far more intense but ellie likes the challenges. she's gotten a little cocky too, always joking and teasing the criminals she fights. her suit has a voice changer and she has a blast using it.

'my grandma punches better than you,' she'd fake a yawn while grabbing the fist of one of the robbers when he tried to throw a punch. then she'd turn to the other who is already webbed up, 'actually, i never met my grandma.' then she'd punch the first guy just hard enough to kick him out cold. ‘but i bet her punches are still better.’

another instance is when she stopped a pretty big drug deal. about five men were going over what the plan was for the day, none noticed when ellie sneaked in until what seemed to be the leader grunted, 'you guys know what to do, now stay out of my ass.' ellie sighed loudly, 'it's hard to miss it.'

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie is just having the time of her life with this new identity that it becomes addicting, it's like her copying mechanism fr. joel starts noticing that ellie has become sloppy and tries to warn her, and although ellie promises she'll do better, she doesn't. she's saving lives, jesus christ. can’t a girl have fun?

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie learns the hard way that not everyone is a fan, especially not the police. and okay yea that humbled her alr. it also annoys her bc she's doing half their job so you'd think they'd be more appreciative but no they named her a criminal and put out a reward for whoever can discover the vigilante's identity. now she has to put in double the work bc everyone she fights tries to pin her down to take off her mask. ellie really dislikes your mother for that, the police captian of the boston police department - bc im messy hehehe. you're like in love with spider-man tho, and are quite vocal abt it too

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie loves to hear you fangirl over her. like okay you're unaware of a lot of minor details - like the fact that it's actually spider-woman - but that’s okay, it's fineeee! baby steps right? well ellie takes a huge big girl step one night when she saves you from a gross man trying to assault you.

her spidey senses were going off, and she let them take her to a dark alley. she heard the voice of a girl struggling to push someone off as she crawled on the wall. ellie froze when she realized it was you, her heart beat picking up. this is the first time someone she knows is in trouble, and it made her feel uneasy. 'buddy, is this anyway to treat a lady?' ellie jumped down, voice changer on, making both you and the sick drunk to look over at her. 'i don't think so,' she grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him to the ground, off of you. 'go.' she spoke, a little desperate to get you out of here. you stood in shock until you looked up at your savior and then booked it out of there. you run further into the alley until you made it to the other end, turning back behind you once you’re under a lamppost. you frowned when you couldn't see anyone. where did they go? ellie held onto a web while she came down upside down. feeling movement, you turned and came face to face with masked eyes looking back at you. 'you saved me.' it was her job, of course she would save you, but no words came out. all ellie did was nod. there was a moment of silence as you two stared at each other, both out of breath. you from prior events, and ellie because she's never been this close to you. you slowly brought your hands up to ellie's neck where the mask began. ellie quickly grabbed one of your wrists to stop you, but you reassured her. 'i won't take it off,' you whispered. ellie let go of your hand and felt you pull her mask up to her nose so only half of her face showed. you held onto the sides of her face as you lean in to kiss her lips. ellie knew it was wrong, that in a way she was abusing her power. but when your lips connected with hers, all she could think about was how soft you felt. there was no way she would get over you now.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie swang you home that night and ever since she visits you almost everyday, im talking five days out of the week. girl has it BAD after that kiss #freemygirl frfr😞 the visits start innocent and it wasn't like ellie was expecting anything, but somehow you two end up making out and who is ellie to stop it ok? she is just a girl. i mean she does feel bad at the beginning bc you STILL believe she's a male - in your defense, ellie still keeps her mask half way on even in a make out session as well the voice changer. you understand that "he" just wants to keep "his" identity a secret, especially after your mom's manhunt, so you don't question it. and that makes ellie feel even worse.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie was planning on telling you, i swear, but then joel found out ellie was seeing a girl and he warn her not to tell you anything. she was abt to cuss him out until he told her she was alr putting you in danger by being associated with a crime fighting hero, you knowing who is under the mask would just make you a bigger target. not to mention your own mother still hates her guts, and is putting you in multiple uncomfortable situations.

'can i at least tell her i'm a girl?' ellie questioned, already fed up by this conversation. she rubbed the bridge of her nose before looking up at joel, who she had grown to look up to as a mentor. although they still bicker. joel sighed, 'we talked about this, kiddo. if people keep thinking there's a spider-man, the changes of finding out your identity are low.' 'she won't tell anyone.' ellie trusts you. in the time that you've been together, you haven't told any of your friends that you're up in your room with none other than boston's masked vigilante. you kept this part of your life like an oath, and ellie appreciates you for it. however, joel doesn't know you like she does. 'have you forgotten who her mother is? this could be a set up, and you're falling for it.' ellie shakes her head. 'she's not like that.' 'look, if it had been any other girl, i would've said go for it. but she's the daughter of the woman who wants to turn you in, dead or alive.' ellie looks away from joel, but he continues. 'we gotta be smart about this.' ellie sighs, nodding. 'okay.'

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie wants to go up to you in person as herself whenever she sees you in class, but knows she can't. like what do you mean her tongue was exploring your mouth just the night before but now you two are back to strangers????? it's driving her crazyyy and she feels so stupid and so guilty. it doesn't matter how many people she saves, ellie feels like she's going to hell for doing this to you. yet she can’t stop, not now, she’s addicted to your taste and when she sees you as her masked self later that day, she smacks her lips against yours for all the times she felt the argue to kiss you as ellie but couldn't.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie is still bitter towards joel for not letting her confess her secret to you but they've grown close and he is helping her find out why jerry anderson would create radioactive spiders. they don't find much until the top of the anderson tower bursts into flames. boston for sure thought they were going to be the next 9/11 but thanfully ellie got everyone out safetly. it was afterwork hours so not a lot of people were there, but when ellie went back to make sure she didn't miss anyone, a sinister laugh echoed. ellie's body went cold and her spidey senses were going crazy. if you couldn't tell jerry is the green goblin in this au but i still picture willem dafoe bc he's just TEW good as the green goblin so im recasting him as jerry 😁

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie definitely has a whole panic attack after being thrown against multiple walls by this not so kind dr anderson. she was just so overstimulated and physically hurt that it was all too much at once. this is ellie's first big villian and the old man can punch alr

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie has friends - dina and jessy ofc, but they’re unaware of her double life. ik i said she's a loser and i haven't mention them, but in my au her and abby were childhood friends until abby was sent to boarding school. they're literally peter and harry, you get me? so like norman, jerry was also neglectful and wouldn't pay attention to abby's friends, especially ones from so long ago, but ellie remembers him - also bc who wouldn't know the jerry anderson - and she knows that whatever she fought that night wasn't jerry, not entirely. he had this crazy look in his eyes and creepy smile, flying around in a hoverboard, accusing her of stealing his powers. yikes, awkward...

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie continues to fight him for some time, trying to figure out what the hell happened to him and how to help him. along with discoverying about anderson's sickness, ellie also finds out her mom used to work with jerry and she's the one who created the formula to cross-species genetics. yup, that really sent her spiraling - also im so uncreative and unoriginal im stealing from tasm bc ellie's mom also sabotaged the formula and added her dna into the equation, which is why ellie got her powers while jerry went nuts. okay he also gained some abilities but at what cost?

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie goes to your place after finding all of this shit out without telling you any of it, but just being near you helps her calm down. at this point, she knows so much abt you and you so little abt her, but you don't seem to mind. you tell her that you've been fighting a lot with your mom recently, and ellie listens. it's nice to talk abt other things to get her mind off of wtv is happening in her messed up life. you ask her if her parents know what she does, and for some reason, ellie opens up. she tells you the few memories she has of her mother, something she's never done with anyone apart from marlene but even then those moments were rare, more so now that's she gone too.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie is letting her guard down around you more and more, that she doesn't realize she's being followed. in her mind, your apartment is a safe place so why would she need to be on alert? well ima tell you why: her spidey senses woke her up in the middle of the night, but she dismisses them since she's been anxious for the past few days. it isn’t until later when she goes to class, the one with you in it, that her senses go off again, stonger this time after not seeing you enter through the doors at all. you've been late before, but never absent since attendance is mandatory in this class. she rushes to your apartment after class thinking maybe you're sick - which she knows isn't the case bc she saw you last night and you were perfectly fine. when she gets there, there's a green note sitting eerly on your bed waiting for her. 'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, SPIDER-GIRL'

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie feels like she's going to throw up. jerry knows and he has you. ellie spends all day trying to locate you with joel's help. they were able to track jerry's/green goblin's last location to be in an abandoned clock tower on the outskirts of boston. without wasting anymore time, ellie rushes there.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie gets to the clock tower as the last bits of sunlight set in the horizon. she climbs up and peaks through one of the broken windows. there, she sees you tied up to a pull with your arms above you kinda like mary jane in the spider-man 2. ellie couldn't see jerry anywhere but her focus was to get your out of here so very quietly she went in. you tried to warn her but by the time she removed the ropes on your wrists, a little pumpkin bomb landed next to her, exploding and making both you fall. i won't write the entire scene but i'll tease something - fyi when i say clock tower, think tasm2 gwen's death scene

jerry - or the green goblin - held you in his arms as his board hovered over ellie. he grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you to keep your teary eyes on ellie. her gaze remained low after taken off her mask. she was following the goblin's instructions, too terrified of something happening to you. yet, she couldn't bring herself to meet the look of betrayal in your eyes. 'no, that can't be,' goblin mocked, and ellie never wanted to punch someone as much as she does right now. 'where is spider-man? i could've sworn there was a man under the mask. i thought so, did you, pretty face?' his neck turned to look at you, question ringing with faux surprise. ellie clenched her fists, finally looking up at the goblin. 'you got what you wanted, now let her go!' goblin broke into a crazy smile. 'i want you dead, spidey! i need your blood!' 'you have me. just, let her go and we can talk about this.' ellie took a few careful steps forward. the goblin chuckled before nodding, 'okay.' then he pushed you off his board. 'no!' ellie tried to jump after you, but the goblin took a hold of her and threw her against a wall across the platform she was standing.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie starts seeing joel as a father figure that night after he shows up in the suit. nobody had seen joel as iron man in years, but he couldn't let the girl he had grown to care for as a daughter fight alone. he got you to the ground safely before going back to help ellie fight the goblin. unfortunately he managed to escape but they were able to get a sample of his blood to start working on a cure.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie puts her mask back on before going up to you. she's holding onto her side, for sure with a few broken ribs that will heal in a week thanks to her fast self healing, and a limp on her walk. you're still shaken up from everything, from being kidnap and finding spidey's identity. you look at her with this unreadable expression and ellie starts trying to explain herself. joel flies down, interrupting the conversation to tell you it was his idea not to tell you anything, but before you can speak, sirens are heard outside the tower.

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie watches as you run to your mom, hugging her as she asks you if you're hurt. ellie stands to the side doing that thing where her foot fidgets with the dirt and she starts playing with her hands, lowk feeling lonely. that’s when joel will come in with a hand on her shoulder, telling her she did good and that almost makes her break down. dw guys, i promise they won’t end up like mcu peter & tony or game ellie & joel🥹

✮⋆˙ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ˙⋆ ✮ spidey!ellie doesn't see you in class after that, not for a week. she also doesn't go to your place to respect the fact that you most definitely need space. you're kinda mad at ellie, but you're feelings are still there. if only she had been honest from the beginning. obviously you recognized her from class, so after a week you go up to her. annndddd this is where im ending this bc i have an exam to study for but yea yea you end up forgiving her and all that lovey-dovey stuff, hope y’all liked this chaotic headcanon

˚ ༘ 🦕𖦹⋆｡˚

#୧ ‧₊˚ 🎀 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝖂𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🩰 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 ��𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🌷 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝕾𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🍰 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝖂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝕽𝐄𝐐 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🎧 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝕬𝐒𝐊𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🏹 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #spidey!ellie williams #au ellie williams

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deadsetobsessions · 10 months ago

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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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inspired by @binibinileonara's idea :D

ok but imagine miguel with an airheaded personality but super smart gf like

miguel o'hara with a genius, airheaded girlfriend (headcanons + blurbs !!)

he could never fathom at first how you could be so amazingly smart, the real problem fixer for nearly everything, finding all the little things that need correction in the plans he comes up with–but also be so oblivious at times.

he appreciates how sweet you are, but he doesn't like it when you give other people the same attention you give him, with you not really seeing anything wrong with being friendly with miguel and everyone else all the same.

when he gets mad, you're the only one who can bare him (hell you even tease him that he'll look way older if he frowns again when he's irritated).

he loves how you can go from proposing solutions to multiversal threats that can undo everything that has ever come into existence in the blink of an eye to petting kitties the next moment and giving them names after kinds of fish.

he can never have a serious, adult conversation with you, you're too busy staring at his hair and thinking how nice it'd be to touch it, how fluffy it'd be.

"are you even listening to me?" miguel asks you with a scowl on his face as you absentmindedly gaze up at his hair's curls. "are you listening to me?" he asks you again as he gently grabs your cheeks and brings your eyes to look into his. "you have such puffy hair, miggy." you say with a smile as he grumbles. "is it that hard for you to focus on what i'm saying?" "when you've got tufty locks like that, yes, it is." you said as you instinctively reached out for his hair, with him reluctantly letting go of you and sitting down for you to run your hands across his hair.

you take advantage of the fact he isn't as good with technology as you are and intercept his calls all the time just to play 'barbie girl' or 'california girls' to piss him off.

he does appreciate how cute you are when you're being an airhead sometimes, especially if you had a childish side to you that liked things just as cute, sweet, and adorable as you.

(((you were the one who made the miggy doll)))

he does wonder sometimes how you can monitor the multiverse while playing games on the side. he has told you repeatedly to focus, but you tell him all the time that you can focus on everything, it's easy for you, he's just being a perfectionist.

if you're easily distracted by sweets, like just drop all your work to have a bite of something sweet, miguel would bait you to quit teasing him with some candy. or if you're being difficult and don't wanna help on a mission because you're too tired or stubborn that day, he baits you with sweets.

"please, i won't ask for anything more after this, i just need you to coopera–" "no, it's naptime." you said as you were about to head to your private quarters. miguel blocks your way with his massive figure, with your grumbling under your breath as he stares you down. he pulls out a bag of your favorite candies, which catches your attention. with widened eyes, you look up at him and back at the candies. "will you please cooperate now?" he asked you as you snagged the bag from his hands and snacked on one of the candies. "okay, maybe i will. it's child's play anyway, let me help." you said with a cheeky grin as miguel groaned. he loved you dearly, but it was like you were always getting your way with him. though he didn't hate it, you really were cute like this.

i just know you get stuck in some of the spider people's webs sometimes, especially when you're goofing off with their webshooters. and who's gonna save you?

"miggyyyyyyyy..." you called for him as you hung upside down by the ceiling, wrapped in synthetic webbing as miguel entered the room, seemingly unfazed by your current state. he sighed as he sliced you free of the web restraints and caught you in his arms. "miggyyyyy!" you cooed his name as you snuggled up close against his chest. "why do you keep doing this?" he asks you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and smiling as you were now in his arms. "maybe i just wanted to be in your arms for a change..." "or you just love being an irresponsible little brat." he murmured as you giggled and looked up into his eyes.

"but you'll save me anyway, right? then i guess my plan worked." you said with a sly smile as miguel threatened to drop you. "no, miggyyyyyy..." you whimpered as you clung on to his neck as he let go of you. he sighs reluctantly as he scoops you up and carries you around, not minding the onlookers who'll stare you being carried like a baby by this man.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @fiannee @jrrantss @fictarian @yuridopted0 @ophanimgold @luvstarrstruck @arachnoia

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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bettyfrommars · 3 days ago

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When the Night Comes

Steve Harrington x Reader

I received an ask from @madaboutjoe for option #2 from our Stranger Prompts which is: You mistake him for the man who is supposed to be your blind date, and he goes along with it, with Steve. I put my own spin on it and made it extra weird.

18+ONLY for horror, mention of gore and adult themes, fear of the unknown, hurt/comfort I suppose, she/her pronouns used for reader. WC: 11.8k

Summary: After being single for a while, a personal ad in the classifieds catches your eye, and the guy who posted it invites you to meet for coffee. There's a tree blocking the road, causing you to detour, and once you get to Hawkins you find it's not at all what you expected. Mention of Robin, and appearances from Hopper, Joyce, and Eddie Munson.

Author's Note: This was inspired by the horror show From (which I highly recommend), but you do not have to be familiar with it to understand/enjoy this. In fact, it might be even better if you don't know anything about it. Also, the Benny's described in this fic is a cross between the original burger joint and the diner in the show.

--------

It was mostly by accident that Steve and Robin took over Benny’s. One day, they were hunkering down there to hide, scared as hell, trying not to make a sound, and the next thing they knew, they were painting the walls and adding items to the menu.

When caught in a hellscape, it was important to have a place to go to bask in the illusion of safety, even if just for a meal.

Things generally slowed down in the afternoon on Wednesdays, as it was post lunch rush and right before the seniors dropped in for that early bird special. Robin was with Vickie tending to the farm animals across town, and the only customers at the time were Claudia Henderson chatting with a friend over coffee and pie. Steve would bus the table once he made a list of supplies he’d need to go searching for the next day. .

At a booth nearest the front door, in his trusty red and black flannel that was missing two buttons and a pair of jeans, Steve wore a white apron around his waist. He took the blue bandana off his head to let his glossy mane flop free, running a hand through it a few times, sweeping it to one side.

“Is this it?” You mumbled from behind the steering wheel of your car, peering ahead through the windshield at the first signs of a town after a long stretch of forest. The pavement was cracked and worn, giving you a passing thought about where their tax dollars were going if not to those improvements. The Welcome to Hawkins sign was just as weathered and also pockmarked with bullet holes.

A certain gloom settled around the town, like those places that exist in the lower valley between two mountains, nestled in a sea of fog. The afternoon had been fairly bright and sunny until you approached the Hawkins border and had to take your sunglasses off in order to see.

He said you’d be able to see it from the road, that burger place Steve said he’d meet you at. You took a right down the first street and craned your neck to read a sign scrawled in black marker on a sandwich board out in front of the post office:

62 Days Without Incident

You didn’t have long to ponder it before you were pulling into the parking spot at the far end of Benny’s. One of the windows had a menacing spider web crack in it that appeared to be mended with duct tape, and if not for the station wagon in the lot and the dim lighting inside, you’d think the building was abandoned.

Hawkins felt like someone's memory of a town, and the memory was fading.

“It’s just coffee,” you whispered, pacing on the other side of the building near your car. “It’s just coffee with a complete stranger.”

A complete stranger you contacted through a personal ad in the paper, to be exact.

You considered having a smoke first, but didn’t want the nicotine smell to cling to you. Maybe he was also an occasional smoker, you’d have to wait and see. You stepped into view of the front window, and then jerked yourself back to lean against the slate gray wall, cringing as if you’d just stubbed your toe.

You hadn’t been on a date in over a year, but there was something about the ad in the classifieds that made him sound so…normal. Unlike the others.

SWM 5’10, brown hair, hazel eyes, 30yr old business owner, hopeful romantic seeks SF for friendship and adventure with the potential for something more. I like to cook and want to make you laugh. UB kind, curious, homebody looking for LTR.

You’d left a message for him in the extension given by the paper, and then he’d messaged you back almost immediately, inviting you to an afternoon coffee date at a diner in Hawkins.

You were 98% certain that he did not have the voice of a serial killer, whatever that meant.

Fairly new to Indiana, you’d never ventured to Hawkins before, and there happened to be a downed tree blocking the exit you would usually take to the highway, forcing you to use the backroads instead.

A glance at your watch let you know you were fifteen minutes early, all things considered.

The interior of the diner was cozy dark wood with cream tile at your feet. Burnt orange nestled here and there as accents, including on the vinyl covers for the booth seats. A cigarette smoldered in a brown glass ashtray nearby, and to your right, two women spoke softly across the table to each other, but paused mid-conversation to nod suspiciously in your direction.

Maybe you’d have a chance to find a seat and order something to drink before he—-

Steve had to do a double take when he looked up at the sound of the bell ding. There was a stain on his white Hanes tee the shape of Australia and faint purple moons carved under overly caffeinated, bloodshot eyes.

At first, he assumed you were just another patron, but then you met his casual stare with enthusiasm, and offered a nervous yet generous smile, beelining in his direction as if the two of you were familiar.

You were new, and such a thing was a rare and unsettling thing to see in Hawkins.

He’d asked Robin to put fliers up at the post office and the library announcing that they were looking for waitstaff help, but that was only a few hours ago. Surely, someone wasn’t inquiring already.

It was hard for you not to run in the other direction when you saw how handsome he was. What the hell was a guy that good looking doing paying to post a personal ad? Better question—-what was a person like you doing answering one?

He’d been frowning down at the notepad in front of him before he glanced up, warm maple hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. Brown diner mug near his elbow, confusion tightened around his eyes when you jutted an arm out to shake his hand.

You introduced yourself. “And I thought I was the early one,” your cheeks felt hot, clutching your bag to your side.

“Uh, hi,” was all he could manage at the time, returning the generous hand squeeze. It took him a few seconds, but then he realized what the only possible explanation could be. “You must be here because of the ad?”

You slid into the booth seat across from him. Maybe he was trying to be funny, like it was some type of dry wit.

“Am I not what you were expecting?”

“No, no, that’s not—” he stammered, jerking his arm to the side so fast that he hit the coffee mug, causing liquid to splash out onto the table. He clawed some napkins out of the dispenser to wipe up the spill, a stray curl of hair bobbing over his forehead as he did so. “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you this early, that’s all.”

You weren’t what he’d been expecting to walk through his door that afternoon in many ways.

First of all, he was attracted to you, so taking you in as an employee might not be the brightest idea, but also, why had he never seen you around before? Even if he didn’t know everyone in Hawkins personally, they’d all for sure crossed his path at one point.

The town was funny like that.

A hard pit in his stomach told him that you weren’t from town at all, and he really hoped that was not the case, for your sake.

A few beats of silence hung in the air, and the bell dinged again to herald the exit of Claudia and her friend, chattering as they went.

“Is the food good here?” You settled back in your seat, eying the display case near the register while shrugging out of your coat. “The pies look yummy.”

Like a trout thrown to the ground, Steve’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, finding his words. “They’re pretty good, yeah, I think. The guy who makes them is a bit of a nut and takes his pastries pretty seriously.”

There were creased paper menus that looked hand-typed tucked in between the ketchup and the tiny, tableside jukebox. You grabbed one and put it in front of you, eyes roaming over the words without really reading a thing.

“I didn’t expect you to be so handsome,” your tongue was often faster than your brain, and you flicked a nervous glance up at him after realizing what you’d said. “Sorry.”

Totally inappropriate for a professional conversation, but why did it make Steve feel all tingly?

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered. To avoid eye contact, he picked up the nearby pencil and started drawing squiggles on the yellow notepad in front of him.

“Do you have any experience waiting tables?” He cut right to the chase, not that any experience would make a difference. He wasn’t going to be able to pay you, anyway, that wasn’t how it worked around there.

You were not at all thrown off by the question; you figured there’d be a good helping of small talk.

“For a year in high school, yeah,” you were flicking the corner of the menu with your thumb. “It was a 24 hour waffle house. Met a lot of interesting people.”

“I bet.” He tried to sound casual, but the nervous eruption of a laugh bubbled out.

So, there it was: you were definitely not from there.

The idea that you would soon go through the stages of shock and denial and depression that was common for everyone who resided in what they’d once known as Hawkins, made his stomach drop.

He didn’t want to be the one to watch the light drain from your eyes.

You straightened up from staring at the menu to search for whoever might be behind the kitchen hatch. “Do we walk up there to give our order? Or will someone come to the table?”

“That’s, um, I can—let me,” Steve stuttered before taking a breath. “Uh, do you know what you want?”

“Just iced tea for now I think,” you were concentrating on the offerings, bottom lip sucked in between your teeth. “I’m not very hungry. Some of those steak fries maybe? Would you eat some with me?”

There were plenty of mysteries about the town that no one had been able to solve yet, including the way vegetable crops and farm animals showed up in various spots out of the blue. People found garbage bags full of packaged, grocery store quality bread in their backyards as if dropped from the sky. A few months ago while scavenging, Jonathan Byers stumbled upon a concrete door in the ground that led to a bunker stocked with endless dry goods. Steve didn’t ask questions much anymore, he was just grateful they had resources.

He figured whatever trapped them all there wanted to toy with them and fattened them up for the kill.

There was something very casual and familiar about your disposition that made him even more curious about what universal tide washed you up onto his shore.

To most people, ending up in their corner of the world felt like a punishment, but one that they’d somewhat adapted to over time. One day, hopefully, you would find your peace with it too. Maybe even share a piece of pie with him and tell him stories about what he’d missed out in the real world.

For now, you’d have iced tea and fries and pretend none of the horrors were real.

Steve got up from the booth, tucking his chin as he spoke. “I’m serious, I’ll make you anything you want. I mean, within reason.”

Your head snapped up. “Wait, you work here?”

He couldn’t help but frown at your genuine display of confusion.

“I kinda run the place, yeah. It’s not much but,” he shrugged. “My best friend and I, we—”

You blinked a few times. “I feel so stupid, I didn’t realize—”

“You’re not stupid,” he interrupted, planting his hands square on his hips. “Gimme…ten minutes, okay? Just need to throw them in the fryer.”

Your head snapped a few quick nods in a row, unable to settle the feelings of embarrassment.

“Oh, wait,” he spun around, snapping his fingers once in the air. “You like lemon in your tea?”

“Sure.” The more you looked around, the more you sensed something was really…off about the place. Not just the diner, but the entire town.

Outside, the grass was either dead or overgrown and there’d been a wrecked car--possibly and old Chrysler LeBaron---sticking out of an empty public pool on the corner when you first drove in. You remembered the way those two women at the other table glared at you, like maybe you were not at all welcome there at all, no matter what the tattered doormat out front said.

Steve returned to set your iced tea in front of you. There were a couple cubes of ice in the glass, a pretty lemon wedge perched on the lip, and a straw sticking out of it with the paper end still on to protect the sanitation of it. The only odd thing was the pint glass that it came in: it said Shiloh Inn Lounge on it.

“Sugar?” At first you thought he was calling you by a pet name and it gave you a heart palpitation, but instead he set a few packets of actual sugar down that were all different brands. “If you like.”

His eyes were kind and weary and you sensed a weight hanging in the air like maybe he wanted to tell you something but didn’t know how.

He hovered there, refusing to sit back down, and you took that as a hint that he just wasn’t feeling a connection. If that was the case, you didn’t want to waste any more of your time.

“If you’re not interested, I understand,” you took the paper off of your red and white striped straw. “That’s what things like this are for, right? To see if you want to get to know someone better.”

He frowned, cocking his head to one side, curling his lip. “Not interested?”

“You know…in me.” You squeezed a bit of the lemon in. A seed shot out and almost got you in the eye.

Steve softened, crossing one arm over his chest to hold onto the other, absently guarding himself. “Okay, but why wouldn’t I be interested in you?”

You snorted a laugh. “You can just say I’m not your type, it’s fine. You don’t have to be weird about it.”

Outside, an avocado green Ford Pinto pulled up to the curb and parked.

“Why did you come here?” He asked, massaging the elbow area where he clutched his arm.

You considered the weight of that question and all of the answers you could give. Practically everyone you loved was either dead or no longer a part of your life. You hated your job with the intensity of a thousand suns, but you’d acquired too much debt to up and quit. There was no family money or support to act as a safety net; no savings account to pull from. The last time you were in a committed relationship, you had your heart tramped, and to be honest, your wounds from that were still open and weeping.

All things on the table, you had no business floundering around in the dating world. You were the walking wounded just looking for a distraction from the emptiness.

Why did you come here?

“To meet you, obviously,” you scowled into your drink, trying to mask a hot wave of insecurity. It felt like a hornet was stuck in your throat. “But I can just go back the way I came, it’s no biggie.”

“See, that’s just it,” he wet his lips a few times. “You can’t go back the way you came. No one can.”

His heart stuttered at the idea of having to break the news to you right then, or ever, but it would be dark soon, and he’d need to make sure you were safe. Leaving you out without protection, out there for The Others to find you was not an option.

That made you bark a laugh. “Oh yeah? What is this? Hotel California?”

The accuracy made him feel like someone just dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. “Something like that, yeah.”

The front bell dinged again and in walked a dark haired woman with one of the most likable faces you’d ever seen. The shins of her jeans were dirty like she’d been working in the garden, and there was a tear in the shoulder seam of the hunter green button-down shirt that she’d left untucked. It was about 2 sizes too big for her, sleeves rolled up so that her hands wouldn’t drown in the material.

She looked right at you and a vacant smile quivered at the corners of her mouth, as if she was forcing it in place with all her mite. It felt like she had absolutely nothing to be smiling about, but wanted to put you at ease.

“Hi I’m Joyce,” she held one open palm up in greeting, approaching with the caution of someone trying not to scare off a feral cat.

“Word travels fast,” Steve muttered under his breath, introducing you.

“Hopper saw the car on his way by,” she progressed to wringing her hands in front of her. “And I came over to see if it was true. To see if…see if you needed any help…

…it will be dark in an hour or so.”

They were having a private conversation with their eyes right in front of you and a heady mix of disorientating fear prickled the back of your neck.

“I think I missed something,” you fisted a handful of the material on your jacket, ready to head for the door. “I think this was a bad idea.”

But the two of them were blocking your path at that point, and you sensed they had no intention of moving.

“Hey, listen,” Joyce made a steeple out of her hands as if she were about to pray. “I know this is absolutely not what you want to hear, and believe me, I know it’s bonkers, but we can’t let you get back on that road tonight.”

Your mouth went dry and you turned to Steve thinking he might offer comfort, but his jaw was set, muscles ticking on one side as he ground his back teeth.

“You can’t be serious.” You let out a chuckle that was void of humor.

Joyce vibrated loving mother energy and as much as you wanted to get out of that diner, you also wanted to hear whatever it was she had to say. Maybe even get a hug from her.

“I know this sucks,” she continued. “It sucks and there’s a lot we need to explain to you, but pretty soon…the roads won’t be safe.”

Your breath caught in your chest, tightening there.

“There’s a spare bedroom at my place,” her expression made it seem like she was offering you a trip to Disneyland. “Clean sheets, I’ve got some soup on the stove. I can take you there now and we can have some coffee, you can meet my sons, and I’ll tell you everything, but you can’t drive back into the woods.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass,” despite the tough exterior, your voice wavered. “Not to sound ungrateful for the hospitality, but this is crazy.”

You waited for them to burst into laughter and tell you they were kidding. Ha. Ha.

“It is fucking crazy, tell me about it,” Steve mumbled. “We just want to make sure you…” he trailed off, staring up as if trying to remember his lines.

The entire thing was turning out to be some twilight zone shit, and it was no longer amusing. Sure, Steve was hot and you already liked him plenty, but clearly there was lead paint in the water or black mold in the walls because the two people in front of you were off their rockers.

Your steady gaze landed on your blind date. “Is that why you put the ad in the paper? So that you could get me here and abduct me?”

“Paper?” Confused, he frowned at Joyce and then at you. “What paper? What ad?”

Ice and thorns shot through your blood.

“The personal ad, Steve. The one you put in the gazette, the one I answered. You left a message saying to meet you here.”

When they talk about a “pregnant” pause, well that pause gripped the air like it was having quadruplets.

“Personal ad?” Joyce peered at Steve, but he only shrugged and shook his head like he had no idea what was going on. Because he didn’t.

You raised your voice then, practically shouting. “And why do you two keep looking at each other like that? What am I missing? You invited me here for coffee and now you’re telling me I can’t leave? This is bullshit, I’m sorry, I’m going.”

You prepared yourself to fight to get beyond them, but they parted easily and gave no resistance when you bolted from the booth, strapping your bag across your body with a grumbled curse.

“I didn’t put a personal ad in any paper,” Steve said softly, but his words had enough impact to make you freeze in your tracks halfway to the door.

Hawkins, as they knew it, didn’t even have a circulating newspaper anymore. Nancy and a few others kept The Post going for as long as possible to keep morale afloat with a sense of normalcy, but after a while started to run out of supplies and purpose for such an endeavor, especially since they had no line to the outside world. She did publish a pamphlet every so often that announced local events, and whenever one of The Others got a hold of a member of the community, she would be the one to break the news to those who weren’t privy to the information.

…62 Days Without Incident….

“Who did I come here to meet then?” You kept your back to them, asking the question more to yourself.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’ll explain everything to you once we—” Joyce hugged herself as she spoke, watching you storm the rest of the way to the door and then jerk it open to the tune of a violent rattling of the bell.

“Please, wait!” Steve jogged to your side.

“I want you to have this,” he tugged down the front of his shirt to pull out a quarter size, oblong chunk of rock attached to some type of cream colored string. He lifted it up over his head, fluffing the back of his hair in the process, and held it out to you.

There was some sort of design on the smoke gray stone, a symbol that itched a part of your brain as being familiar.

He had it dangling in front of your face and your stare narrowed beyond the swinging cord to find the colors in his hazel eyes swirling like some uncharted universe. They made you want to go swimming in the stars.

“If you want to go, I can’t stop you,” he shifted close enough for you to smell the fruity scent of his hair product and coffee on his breath. “But please wear this.”

You winced at the necklace without touching it. “What is that?”

You might as well have been asking him to teach you conversational German in the span of ten minutes, even though he only knew a few letters from their alphabet.

“As long as you have this with you inside wherever you are, They can’t get to you. I’m telling you, I don’t even know how it works. But, if you won’t stay here with me or go with Joyce, I need you to put this on and keep all of the windows up on your car. All of the doors stay locked, got it?”

“Who is They?” You did not receive a verbal answer to your questions, only more clandestine looks.

It hit you like a flying brick just then that they were indeed not being malicious, nor were they trying to drug you to put you in a well and skin you alive. Steve and Joyce truly believed everything they were telling you:

Some unspecified Things come out at nightfall and kill people, but wearing a stone around your neck magically keeps them at bay. Got it.

You didn’t know why they came across as so sheltered and endangered when anyone could hop on the highway and be back in civilization in ten minutes. There were probably wild animals out there in the woods; coyotes and wolves and maybe even bears, and those were the things that showed up to terrorize the locals at nightfall, not some nocturnal horde of zombies.

Your survival instinct won out over curiosity, and you mumbled “bye Steve” over your shoulder, dashing out into the parking lot.

Behind you, Joyce took hold of Steve’s arm to keep him from following in your wake.

“She’ll have to learn this one the hard way, unfortunately,” she whispered to him. “Like most of us did.”

They watched you throw yourself in behind the steering wheel, and then heard your door lock after it slammed shut.

“I’ll fix up the cot in the supply room just in case she—-” he didn’t finish, but Joyce knew what he meant.

You’d be back once you realized there was nowhere else to go, and hopefully your pride wouldn’t keep you out too long after dark. He’d wait up and keep the light on.

Without one of the stones of protection, it wouldn’t matter if you were in a concrete bunker, The Others would still be able to get to you if they wanted to.

Maybe if you got stranded in your car, you’d be smart enough to hide under a blanket and stay quiet until morning.

What if you tried to run from them on foot or, worse yet, tried to physically defend yourself?

As far as Steve knew, those things they called The Others couldn’t be stopped.

You literally squealed out of town, tires leaving fishtail skid marks on the pavement.

“What the fuck was that?” You mumbled, breathless, eyeballing the two in your rearview mirror as you got back on the highway and were swallowed up by fog.

The misty forest continued for about a mile, and then it wasn’t long before you were approaching another town. Had you somehow passed through a similar place without realizing on your way in? Seemed impossible, but you rationalized it as first date nerves getting the best of you.

And what a fucking bonkers “first date” that had been. One for the books.

Shame because Steve had one of those faces you’d never get tired of looking at.

All the same, you were grateful to be out of Hawkins, but you needed gas. You’d be able to get home with what you had in the tank, but didn’t want to have to take time to fill up on your way to work in the morning.

On your right, you passed another weathered Welcome to Hawkins sign.

No, that was a mistake. The natural light was fading rapidly but surely you’d misread it without your headlights on.

You slowed to honor the speed limit through to the center of whatever town it was. There was an establishment called Melvald’s, a Radio Shack, and further down was a Family Video, but the streets were deserted. It was barely dusk and not a single soul strolled the sidewalks or drove by in a vehicle.

A church bell rang in the distance, and you spotted a woman hustling three young children up a flight of stairs. The youngest didn’t seem to be taking the steps fast enough, so she picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to a door that slammed shut as once they were all inside.

They were acting as if the moonlight was poison and they couldn’t get any on their skin.

Pink and orange blossomed over the horizon while the sun sank behind the mountains, and the church bell persisted with its haunting tune. A little further and there were cars parked outside of fenced houses, but not a single human or animal to be found. A pair of seats on a swing set swayed back and forth as if occupied by ghosts.

Coming to a halt at a stop sign, there was a very familiar sight:

62 Days Without Incident

The same sandwich board, the same cursive handwriting in black marker in front of the same red brick post office building.

“Nononono..no. This is not right…” you started mumbling to yourself, inching along the pavement.

It wasn't long before you spotted the empty swimming pool with the back end of a wrecked car sticking out of it. If you turned down that first street, you knew you’d find Benny’s Burgers and Steve probably at the front window, waiting with flex cuffs to tie you up in his basement.

You’d missed a turn, that was all. That was the only explanation.

You went extra slow the next time through the forest, making sure to spot whatever exit or turn you’d missed before.

But then the trees opened up to a town and there was the Welcome to Hawkins sign. Melvald’s and Radio Shack. Family Video. 62 Days Without Incident. Wrecked car in an empty pool.

White knuckle grip on the wheel, frustrated tears welled hot at your lash line.

“This can’t be right.”

You tried it again, going no more than 10 mph through the woods, and it didn’t help that the smog was billowing thick as cream.

Why hadn’t you passed any other cars on the road?

On your fourth time back around, after a good cry, you reasoned that maybe you’d taken the wrong way out of town somehow, but you’d have to ask someone in the morning and try again due to the staggering lack of visibility you were currently faced with.

Plus, according to your gas gauge, you’d be coasting on nothing but fumes soon.

Wiping wet cheeks with the back of your hand, you flicked the blinker and coasted in under a metal awning alongside two gas pumps that were connected to a single mechanics garage and a mini mart.

“Please be open,” you said to the glass front door of the service station which, once again, looked like it had been abandoned for the evening, or possibly for the entire year.

When you turned the engine off you realized that the church bell was no longer thumping to the beat of your headache, and the dead calm silence settled around like a veil, much like the ambiance of a horror film.

The type of horror film your character didn’t make it out of.

You shook your head and thought about slapping yourself in the face. This was all just some wild mixup. You’d get gas, get a room at the motel you’d spotted a few blocks back, and find your bearings first thing in the morning.

Deep breaths in and out of your nose a few times while you sat trying to psych yourself up to get out and find someone to pay for the gas, pending the pumps weren’t dry.

Relief blossomed when you spotted a person approaching from the street. With each steady step, they took their time to cross the distance, as if calculating if they should .

“Oh thank god, a person,” you said on an exhale.

He was balding, but his dishwater blonde hair was combed over to try and hide it, he wore an oddly formal brown suit jacket and slacks. Polka dot orange and chocolate necktie, his hands relaxed at his sides, he reminded you of a used car salesman thinking he spotted an easy mark.

The smile was wide and plastered to his face, unwavering, as if his teeth were clamped shut and he was gritting through some private pain

“Hey,” you said, stepping out of the car, but keeping the open door in front of you as a barrier. “I was hoping to get some gas. Do you happen to know if anyone works here?”

His pace did not falter, nor did his deranged grin.

You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you clearly at first, so you waited for him to get a few feet closer. Nearly three car lengths away at that point and you made the decision to stay put, ignoring the sharp gut instinct telling you to start the engine and go.

“Sorry, do you work here?” You weren’t sure why that came out of your mouth considering his attire. “I only need a couple gallons. I have cash if—-”

“You shouldn’t be here,” the smiling man said, maintaining a show of teeth.

He also said your name. Somehow, he knew your name.

An alarm went off in your gut. “Do I know you?”

You hadn’t yet had time to process the idea that you’d gone to the wrong place entirely for your date, and Steve wasn’t even the one you were supposed to meet.

The smiling man got closer, only a car length away by then.

With a start, you noticed that a woman in an old fashioned Nurse uniform—like the type one might wear for Halloween—was not far behind the man in the suit, headed toward you at the same pace with her hair done in two platinum blonde braids..

Her smile was not as wide but just as unsettling.

“Hello?” You yelled in the direction of the service station, knowing you should go over and try to knock, but your feet felt like they had concrete shoes on.

“Hello?” A high-pitched voice came from somewhere behind you, and it was clearly mocking, complete with a maniacal giggle at the end.

You spun around to find that the smog was a curtain, and you were unable to see beyond it. It was gathering around you legs too, as if preparing to drag you into the void.

Disoriented and panting, you watched a car come flying up over the curb, gunning the engine so hard that one of the hubcaps flew off.

The avocado green Ford Pinto caught air for a second before the bumper crashed into the smiling man, bending him in half like a rag doll. It pinned him into the stone of the building with a loud, sickening crunch.

You would’ve screamed but your breath caught on a sharp inhale, making you choke.

Clearly broken by the impact, the smiling man’s expression never faultered, and he was still staring pointedly at you while bits from the wall crumbled around him.

Black blood dripped from his lips and eyes like tar.

“Fuckfuckfuckwhatthefuck,” you babbled while Joyce flapped her arms to try and get your attention from the window of the passenger seat.

“Hurry, get in!” She shouted, her voice cracking at the end.

Steve was driving, and he backed up enough so that the body of the smiling man slumped to the ground.

Throwing the vehicle into park, Steve bolted from his seat with what looked like a baseball bat covered in jumbo nails like a medieval mace.

He swung to strike the woman in the nurse uniform with it, but missed, and she hissed at him. Her mouth grew 5 times its original size, crowded full with rows of sharp teeth. Her eyes stretched into empty, cavernous holes with nothing behind them, her fingers were long claws and her…her….

It was then that you realized you were screaming.

“Steve watch out!” Joyce had a hold of your hand, dragging you along with all of her mite.

The thing that was once the woman in the nurse uniform let out a shrill cry just before the nail bat made contact with its skull. Its head whacked into the side of the Pinto and bounced off, causing a spray of black blood.

It barely made a difference.

It lunged jerkily and swiped at him; mouth gaping, eyes two spirling tunnels to hell, but before it could make contact, Joyce pulled a tiny firearm out of her sleeve and took aim, cracking the thing in the cheek with a bullet.

“I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath while the tip smoked, and you weren’t sure if she meant guns or the Other thing that tried to take a bite out of Steve; possibly both.

The nurse stumbled back behind the pumps and fell out of view.

“GET. IN.” Joyce was stronger than she looked as she stuffed you into the back seat of the Pinto. In haste, you scraped your knee on a piece of metal behind the passenger seat, but had no idea until you saw the blood running down your leg some time later.

The smiling man shuffled to his feet like he was being tugged up by strings.

His guts were spilling out of him but yet, he was able to stand. Stand and smile. With inky ooze dripping from everywhere like melting wax.

Joyce was in the process of shutting her door as Steve backed up. You felt the jarring bump when the wheels went over the nurse.

You caught Steve’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Are you okay?” He demanded. “Did any of them touch you?”

On the seat next to you was the nail bat; some of the nurses’ blonde hair was sticking to it.

“No, uh, no, I don’t think so. What are they? Did you just kill that woman? Take me back to my car. Tell me what is going on!”

He was lightning fast on the gears once he’d backed up into the street, just in time for you to see the nurse sit upright; black tar leaking from the hole in the back of her head.

“That’s not a woman,” he grunted, flooring the pedal. “It's not even human.”

“What does that mean?” Shaking, you listened to your own horrified voice as if from a distance.

Joyce swiveled in her seat to give you the best comforting twist of her lips that she could muster. “I’ll do my best to explain, back at the diner.”

“Why aren’t they dead?” You whined, staring back at the nurse one last time before the gas station disappeared in the smog.

Through the window you saw that there were more of those Things that resembled people lining the sidewalk, standing shoulder to shoulder. They swarmed in from the shadows one by one to watch the vehicle pass with vested interest.

Their eyes followed you like the pinto was a one-man parade. Or perhaps a meals-on-wheels.

“Where did they all come from?” You asked, almost certain you wouldn’t get an answer.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Steve sighed.

He was awfully calm considering what you’d just witnessed.

From the rearview mirror dangled a similar stone to the one Steve wore around his neck, suspended by cream string or twine.

There was a crackling noise and then a new voice sounded like it was coming from a radio.

“Joyce, are you there?” A pause and more crackling. “Need you to talk to me Joyce. Harrington? Anyone?”

There was a CB radio attached to the dash. Joyce unhooked the mouthpiece from its metal hinge and put it to her mouth, depressing the side button.

“I’m here, Hop,” Joyce was doing her best not to sound rattled, adjusting her collar. Her glance flicked to the back seat. “We’re safe. We got her.”

The following silence hissed static before Hopper cleared his throat. “Good, that’s good. And Steve?”

“He’s here,” she assured. “Not a scratch.”

Jim was all the way on the other side of town about to take his shoes off and have some of the potato vodka his buddy Scott distilled in his basement when he got word that Joyce and Steve were going after you. He’d begged Joyce to wait for him, but knew she wouldn’t. He’d sped to the scene as fast as he could.

“I’ll be at Benny’s in two,” he said. “Be careful. Over and out.”

Gravel crunched under the tires as Steve pulled into the diner. Three of the things with the same posture as the smiling man were slinking out of the woods. Two from the left, and one from around the corner on the right.

They had the same lock-jawed grins, but this time, one was a high school boy in a green letterman’s jacket, one was an elderly woman in a robe with a shower cap on her head, and the third was a boy no older than twelve.

Disarming at first, but then you recognized the dead eyes, assessing you like a shark.

“There’s more,” Joyce gestured behind at the handful that were meandering up from the street. They all had a certain gait to them; like those serial killers in movies to go at a snail pace, but somehow always catch up to the victim.

Steve looked over his shoulder to get a look through the back window, and then his gaze landed on you again.

His scowl was more stern than he meant for it to be. “If you run, I can’t promise I’ll be able to save you again,” he swallowed, softening. “Joyce is going to head into the diner first, you follow her, and I’ll take up the rear, got it?”

You thought you gave a response, but maybe not.

“Nod if you understand,” he rumbled.

“I understand,” you said weakly, noticing that your cheeks were wet.

The things had the gait of zombies, but they were far from brain dead, and their skin suits weren’t composed of rotting flesh. Aliens, maybe? Vampires? How the fuck was this even happening?

“Ready?” Joyce had her fist around the door handle, ready to jump out and push her seat forward for your exit.

The old woman and the little boy with a mop of raven hair were only a few yards away, and you remembered how the nurse’s face had changed into a horrific maw of terror.

“Don’t look at them,” Joyce urged. “You just grab onto the back of my shirt and keep your eyes forward. They’re scary fuckers, but they are also really slow.”

You broke through the wall of fear that had you frozen in place, and tried not to think about how close the old woman was when you bolted from the back seat and tripped.

Of course you would trip.

Your knee caught all of your weight making you gasp in pain, but a surge of adrenaline pushed you through it, snatching Joyce’s hand as you went.

“Good to see you again, Joyce,” the old woman purred. “Who is your friend?”

“Fuck you!” Joyce said from the front door of the diner, yanking a janitor cluster of keys from the crossbody bag she wore.

You kept your gaze glued to the back of her head, but peripheral vision showed that the duo were almost within arms reach. Ice cold breath prickled down your spine.

Steve was behind you then, warm body crushed against yours, shielding you from the Others while Joyce undid the lock. All of you practically landed in a dogpile on the floor inside the diner.

Joyce sank down on the ground right where she was on the tile, panting while the strange Others begin to huddle at the entrance, peering in at you with salacious intent.

“She’s pretty,” the little boy said. “We just want to introduce ourselves.”

“You can’t keep her from us forever,” said the guy in the letterman’s jacket. Now that you had a closer look, you could see that the gums around his pearly white teeth were the color of rot.

Steve rolled his shoulders back, nostrils flaring while he maintained the stand-off with nothing but a single pane of glass between them. .

You took hold of his arm, unnerved by how close he was and how easily the glass could be shattered.

“Steve, get away from—-”

“They can’t do shit,” he snapped, more to them than to you. He pointed to a stone that was ten times the size of the one around his neck and mounted on the wall. “They can’t touch us now.”

How those rough cut rocks with some type of symbol carved into the surface kept anything out was another mystery. Was it like the symbol of the cross for demons and vampires?

Were those things some breed of demon?

Blinded by a sudden white flash, you had to shield your face when a pair of headlights bounced into the lot.

“It’s Hopper,” Joyce sounded relieved, getting to her feet.

The three that had been crowding at the door to leer in at you shuffled off to go and check it out.

The next thing you heard was the discharge of a gun. The jolt of it made you throw your arms around Steve, but then you quickly pushed off, clutching a hand over your heart.

Another gunshot, and then another.

One more for good luck.

A large man in a tan uniform and a substantial mustache squeezed his thick shoulders through the diner door, holstering his gun. He took his hat off once he was inside and swept a large hand through the new haircut Joyce had given him.

Outside, you could see the high school kid face down on the ground, sprawled like a starfish.

“It won’t kill them,” Hopper said, as if he could read your thoughts. “But it does slow them down a bit.”

He fished a toothpick from his front pocket and bit down on it. “We try to keep bullet use to a minimum, but that sure felt good.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Joyce tucked herself under his open arm and hugged him. “I told you Steve and I had it covered.”

“Yeah, well,” he closed his eyes and perched his chin on the top of her head. “It’s not every day we get someone new in town.”

You must’ve looked like you were about to throw up or pass out because Steve started making comforting circles on your back with the flat of his hand.

“You guys are only a few miles off the freeway,” the synapses in your brain were still fighting for a chance to make sense of it all. “How do the authorities not know about this?”

You couldn’t peel your attention away from the sprawled body out on the pavement. In the distance, groups of Others lumbered toward the building.

“I am the authorities,” the man introduced as Jim Hopper said with a glint of humor in his eye.

“She’s with me,” Steve blurted. The comment came so far out of left field that everyone turned to stare at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.

“I mean,” he stammered, nibbling his bottom lip. “She can stay here with me if she wants, on the pullout in the store room. I’ll be fine in one of the booths.”

There were 7-8 of those things waiting outside the door at that point, including the ones that had been shot by Hopper, but those were all rising like marionettes by then. A busty woman with long red hair joined the stalkers, as well as a balding middle-aged man, and what appeared to be an elderly Priest.

Hopper put his hat down on a nearby table and sank into a chair as if it was just another day. “Coffee if you’ve got it.”

“Um, yeah, sure, I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve moved around the partition toward the kitchen, grazing your hand with the tips of his fingers to urge you to move with him.

He leaned over to whisper. “We need to wait 15-20 minutes before they can go back out. Those things will get bored and wander off somewhere else. Back to hell or wherever they are from.”

“Sit here,” he tapped the end of the counter and a padded stool so that he could talk to you while he made the brew.

He put several scoops of grounds into a filter at the top of the machine and made sure it was filled with water. He’d removed his flannel at some point, and you caught yourself watching his back muscles twitch under the thin material of his white tee. The water he used was not from the sink, but in a plastic gallon jug with a duct taped handle.

You were still standing when he turned and wiped his hands down his denim-clad hips.

“That guy at the gas station,” you started. “The one you…the one in the suit, he…”

Tasting bile, you tried to find your words and Steve did not try to rush you.

“That thing…he knew my name. How could he know that?”

On an exhale, Steve leaned forward to rest his forearms on the counter. He wanted nothing more than to be able to put you at ease and say you had nothing to worry about, but alas.

“Yeah so it’s one of those mysteries I’ve been trying to figure out since I got here,” he opened his hand and ran his thumb over the calluses on the opposite palm. “They know things they shouldn’t know and they survive things no living organism should survive. The only way we know how to kill them is—-”

“Since you got here?” You blurted. “Did you just show up like I did? How long have you been here?”

“Well, I guess you could say I showed up like you did, but not really,” he rolled his head, stretching the sides of his neck so that something popped. “One day I was in a place I refer to as Normal Hawkins, and then I was in this very different version of the same town. We all were.”

“Wait, so,” you frowned, simultaneously comforted by the familiar warm scent of brewing coffee. The machine spit and sputtered. “You mean this isn’t Hawkins?”

“No, it is,” he swiped a tongue over his top teeth. “It’s hard to explain. Robin and I have been reading up on, you know, alternate universes and such. Parallel worlds. We think this might be one of those.”

“Robin?” Your eyebrow shot up.

“My best friend. I mentioned her before.”

“Oh yes, right. Where is she tonight?”

“Safe at home, I hope,” he went over to get a couple mismatched mugs from a light blue drying rack. “We used to live together but she moved in with her girlfriend and—” he stealed himself, realizing he was about to ramble on about his personal life.

“We’re out of cream today, but I have a lot of sugar,” he plucked a few packets from his magic apron pocket: one pink, one white, and one brown.

He loved offering you sugar.

He took the other two steaming mugs over to Joyce and Hopper while you stirred in the white crystals with a tiny spoon. It crossed your mind that maybe never left your apartment, and were actually asleep on the couch, dreaming all of this.

Easing down to take a reluctant seat, you perched on the edge of the stool. The deep orange of the upholstery was worn and split down the middle, exposing the white stuffing.

You took a peek over your shoulder to find that half of those Things were gone; only the redhead, the priest, and the high school kid remained. Where the bullet hole tore through his cheek was almost completely healed, but the weeping black blood remained like tear-soaked mascara.

His evil smile widened when he caught your eye, making you swiftly spin away. You scooted down to the opposite end of the counter so that you wouldn’t be within view.

Steve observed your seat change and did what he should’ve done when they first got there, which was to walk over and pull the shades down to cover the glass on the door. He was so used to ignoring them, he’d forgotten what it was like to comprehend their existence for the first time.

“I promise, you’re safe in here with us,” Steve leaned in to whisper. “I don’t know how the stones work, but they do.”

In a few days, it would be exactly two years since he’d been forced to cohabitate with those…ghouls.

A ghoul was the closest he’d come to describing them. But they weren’t a typical braindead zombie on the ravenous hunt for fresh organs like he’d seen in the old George Romero movies; they were unfortunately intelligent and possessed some type of psychic ability or hive mind.

The only thing that could kill them was decapitation, which also synced up with common zombie lore. If bitten or attacked, the person afflicted did not turn into one of them, which was a small mercy. Steve’s good friend Tommy had been one of the first to meet such a fate; they’d buried all of his mauled body parts out near Skull Rock.

Twenty months later, there were several rows of marked graves to accompany him.

“Steve?” He liked the way you said his name.

“Uh huh,” popping a hip out to rest it on the counter, he took a sip of his coffee from a Star Wars Ewok mug, addressing you over the rim.

“So, you never put a personal ad in the newspaper?” One hand was trembling, so you slotted it between your knees.

He inhaled to speak, but you continued. “The voice message I got sounded just like you, and it told me to meet you here.”

Your mug was beige with brown lettering that said: Accountant’s Never Die, They Just Lose Their Balance.

“It wasn’t me,” he said softly. “Believe me, I would never want to drag anyone into this.”

He continued, frowning. “I wonder if it was Other Steve that put the ad in the paper?

“Other Steve?”

He shrugged. “I mean, if this is a case of parallel worlds, there is a chance that there is another version of me back in that other version of Hawkins. The version that didn’t keep us trapped like rats in a cage.”

Even though it sounded ludacris, you considered it, because even that was quite a bit more comforting than the alternative.

He said your name, making you look up.

“So, you were supposed to go on a date with some other Steve guy?” It had been a while since he felt that particular brand of jealousy. “What a small world.”

“You could say that,” you swallowed, feeling judged. “I should’ve known that the only promising personal ad would lead to more horrors.”

He gave a low chuckle, feeling bad for the other parallel version of him who probably waited at Benny’s for a solid hour, thinking he got ditched.

If only Other Him knew you were absolutely worth waiting for.

“Steve?”

“Mhmhm,” he scratched the stubble on his jaw.

“Are we dead?” It bubbled out of your chest as you stared into your coffee. “Did I die out there on the highway or something?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, tucking his chin. “I’ve wondered that too, like, a lot, but I don’t think this is the end. I think we’ll make it out of here one day. I know we will.”

Something vibrated in the shared silence and you found yourself staring at his parted lips.

“I’m not ready to die.”

Your whisper was interrupted by a sudden, obnoxious noise coming from the back room.

It sounded like the rattling of a doorknob, like someone trying to get in.

“Stay here,” Steve instinctively grabbed the closest and biggest knife, held it aloft like Michael Myers, and went to investigate.

He put a hand over the stone under his shirt too, reminding himself that this building was protected. Those things could try to open the door, but even then they’d be powerless to step over the threshold, much like a vampire without a proper invitation.

The ghouls that had been huddling like cattle at the front door were all gone as far as you could see, and you wondered if maybe they’d wandered around to try another way in.

“What’s going on?” Jim scooted his chair out and stood to see why Steve was holding the knife like that.

Without answering, Steve made his way around a metal supply rack, eyes narrowing on the brass knob of the back door.

It was wiggling violently, causing Steve’s heart to explode in his throat.

The jostling stopped only long enough for there to be a loud thud and quake of the door frame while whatever was on the other side rammed itself against the wood.

By then, Hopper had unholstered his gun and was on his way over.

You and Joyce had the same idea at the same time and both started looking for a weapon. Joyce found a pair of scissors, but all you could find was a fork.

“Let me in, motherfuckers!” A voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Another thud, more frantic twisting of the knob.

“Wait,” Steve put his hand up to slow Hopper from going ahead of him.

The possible intruder went still.

“Munson?” Steve asked. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me man. You need a secret code or something? I’ve got one of those freaks on my ass, please open the fuck up!”

Hopper’s shoulders sagged and he lowered his weapon. Out of habit, Steve checked above the door to make sure the protection stone was still mounted there before he searched to see where you were. The ghouls were capable of mimicking voices to trick people into dropping defenses for them, but if there was even a tiny chance it really was Eddie, he had to check it out.

He planned to drill a peephole in that door the first chance he got.

Steve twisted open the lock and stepped way back. “It’s open.”

The guy who blew into the kitchen before slamming the door behind him to lean against it shivering was definitely not one of those things from earlier.

Panting, Eddie clicked the lock. “Fuck me Harrington, that thing almost got me. There were two of them, fuck, maybe ten. I stopped counting once I started running.”

“Eddie, what happened?” Joyce pushed by Hopper. “Where are your shoes?”

It was just then that you realized Eddie’s feet were bare. He wore a pair of tattered jeans and a worn shirt with the faded phrase Hellfire Club on the front. His long hair was wet and if he’d already taken a shower, the looks of his feet said he needed another one.

“Leave it to me to lock myself out of the trailer again,” his teeth were chattering, and without asking for one, Joyce handed him a multicolored, crocheted blanket from the broom closet to put around his shoulders. “I was headed over to find Wayne at Claudia’s, but then I got cornered and well, the rest is history.”

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” Steve crossed his arms with the point of the knife sticking up.

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie pulled the blanket tight around himself like a cocoon and shut his eyes tight. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Sorry if I scared you or whatever.”

Joyce introduced you as Eddie shuffled out to the dining area, and all he said was, “hey,” in greeting before he slumped into one of the booths, adjusting so that his back was to the wall and his legs straight along the bench seat.

“You got any shoes I can borrow?” The visitor with the long, wet hair asked Steve.

Steve put the knife back in the slot with the others. “Borrow as in I get them back tomorrow or borrow as in they become yours and I’ll never see them again?”

“Just forget it,” Eddie grunted. It wasn’t long before Steve threw a pair of flip flops at him and brought him a cup of coffee.

“Looks like it’s safe for us to split,” Jim announced a few minutes later, putting his hat back on. The parking lot was quiet, and even if there were any creepy ghouls nearby, they’d be able to get behind the wheel of their cars without making contact.

“You need a ride back to your place, Eddie?” Joyce asked while she walked their coffee mugs over to the back sink. “I still have a spare key from that time you let me and Will stay there.”

“Yeah that’s cool,” Eddie said absently. His attention had shifted and you realized he was staring at you.

“So, wait, you’re new here?” Eddie asked.

“Just came into town a few hours ago,” Steve answered somberly.

You’d been sitting with your back to Eddie, but then turned on your stool to make eye contact across the room.

“Shit, that sucks,” Eddie blurted. “I mean, you don’t suck, but just like, I’m not sure what type of bad luck makes people end up here.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you simply nodded a few times in agreement; it did, indeed, feel like bad luck, or something worse.

After a beat, Eddie cleared his throat. “You, um, don’t happen to have any smokes on you by chance?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” you could almost hear a soft whine of relief come out of him. “Well, not on me. There’s an untouched pack in the glovebox of my car but it’s…”

You trailed off realizing that your bag with all of your ID and personal shit were back in the car, too. You’d left in such a hurry, the keys were probably still in the ignition. Fuck, the last thing you needed was for someone to steal your car and your bag. Could those zombie things drive? You’d almost forgotten about that secret pack of Camel Lights that you’d stuffed in there for emergencies, but you never expected it to be for an actual emergency.

“Yeah? Where’s your car?” He sat up, alert.

“Back at the gas station,” Joyce rolled up one of her oversized cuffs. “There was a run in with a few of those Things earlier and we had to leave in a hurry.”

“I should probably go back there and get my things,” you mused.

“Not a good idea, not tonight,” Steve interrupted, swinging his arm out as if to block you from the rest of the group. “In the morning I’ll take you. Those things usually don’t bother with inanimate objects, unless they are attached to a living-breathing human.”

Eddie mumbled. “Better not catch one of them enjoying a fresh cigarette, or I’m gonna be pissed.”

You stood up, addressing Eddie. “If you want to go by there and take the pack, you are welcome to them. I quit a while ago, so—”

“Yeah, so did I,” Eddie blew a raspberry of a laugh. “But not willingly. They don’t exactly grow on trees here.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest again, rolling his shoulders back. “I don’t think anyone should be making any unnecessary stops tonight.”

“I agree,” Hopper voiced.

“I’d say it’s necessary,” Eddie countered, knowing that Steve was right. The safety of morning light would come soon enough.

Steve shut off the overhead lights and released the blinds that covered the door to peer out. Eddie shuffled over in Steve’s flip flops and the blanket around him like a little kid leaving for a sleepover.

The three made the decision to take Hopper’s Bronco, and Joyce told Steve to take care. She kissed his cheek while Eddie gave him a fist bump that Steve seemed unsure how to respond to at first.

“See ya later, alligator,” Steve told them before turning the lock to seal the building again.

You stood side by side and watched until they were safely on the road. In their wake, something bolted out of the woods and threw its head back to wail like a beast. It had a bald head and pointed ears and crouched to all fours like an animal.

“Why is that one different than the others?” You asked, clutching onto Steve’s arm.

“We think those are the older ones,” he cleared his throat. “But there are only a few of them that I know of.”

“Why do you think they’re older?” Your gaze was locked on the Thing as it lumbered back out of sight.

Steve shifted on his feet before pulling the blinds back down. “It’s just a hunch really, but they seem to be faster and smarter than the others. Those are the ones that can mimic voices.”

You shrugged away and put your face in your hands. “This can’t be real. This has to be a fucking nightmare.”

“It is a nightmare alright,” Steve agreed with you. “But the thing is, we’re not asleep.”

“How do you know that though? This is probably one of those deep REM dreams that we won’t even remember once we wake up.”

“If this is a dream,” he had his hands on his hips and the sides of his mouth wiggled with a repressed grin. “How can I find you when we wake up? Do you have a phone number I can call or?”

You shifted your gaze to the floor so that you wouldn’t get lost in his eyes. “When you wake up, put another personal ad in the paper for me to find.”

“Deal,” he offered a genuine smile that time. The guy had perfect teeth; it almost made you self-conscious.

You had the impression that Steve lived somewhere on the premises, but that was not the case. The “spare room” he’d mentioned was a cot in the pantry. Apparently he lived in the family home he’d grown up in, but crashed at the diner more often than not. He changed the sheets and threw a Sesame Street comforter on that had probably once been on a twin bed for a child while you were in the bathroom. He handed you a spare toothbrush and before you went in, you asked if the toilet worked.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Steve was honestly confused.

“Well,” you gestured around vaguely. “If this is some type of post-apocalyptic wasteland where nothing new comes or goes, where is the electricity and water coming from?”

There was a main generator that powered the town, but he didn’t have a chance to get the words out.

Your throat constricted. “We are dead, we have to be.”

“Because the toilets flush?” He chuckled.

You bristled with annoyance and turned away. Not annoyance with Steve in particular but with your shit show of a life that refused to let you know peace.

“Hey listen, I know—-” Steve reached out for you only to freeze his hand in mid-air.

There was music coming from the dining area.

The sound was shrill static at first but then the chorus bloomed, and it took you a second to recognize that the song was When the Night Comes by Joe Cocker.

“I just wanna be the one you run to

I just wanna be the one you come to

I just wanna be there for someone

When the night comes”

“Steve…what is happening?” With each word you were moving toward the sound, disregarding the protests of your gut.

“Let's put all the cares behind us

And go where they'll never find us”

With the only other light being the moon shining through the slats in the blinds, the neon red and yellow caught your attention.

At a table near the window was a replica of an old jukebox, no taller than a bowling ball. There was a coin slot at the top and white buttons at the bottom to choose from the flipcards with song titles on them. As you approached, you checked out the window above it to see the shadows made by rows of trees and wondered what could possibly be lurking there, observing you.

“It does that sometimes,” Steve was a few steps behind, combing fingers through his hair.

“Two spirits in the night

That can leave before the morning light

When there's nothing left to lose

And nothing left to fear”

You stood at the end of the booth and stared at the machine. “Is it the same song every time?”

“Different ones,” his chest was inches from your back, his warm breath on your neck. “But this one is a favorite.”

“I know there'll be a time for you and I

Just take my hand and run away”

“Do you want to wear this?” He’d picked up the flannel and put it over your shoulders. “I saw you shivering.”

“Think of all the pieces of the shattered dream

We're gonna make it out some day”

Without taking your eyes off of the jukebox, you let him wrap the wool shirt with a quilted lining over you and then, without hesitation, your hand slipped into his and he held it there, interlacing his fingers to step to your side.

A strange weight lifted off of you at the idea of not being able to go home.

“Do you really think we’ll get out of here one day?” You asked in a whisper.

“I just wanna be there beside you

When the night comes”

Steve admired your profile. “I hope so,” his voice was a murmur. “But it doesn’t seem so bad here all of a sudden.”

The jukebox did not run on batteries and it was not plugged into a socket on the wall.

You tipped your chin up slowly to meet his gaze and, just then, out in the street, something inhuman scampered through the parking lot and into the woods.

His thumb gently rubbed along yours and you could smell a touch of cologne on the flannel.

“Steve, I think we should have some pie.”

He was staring at your mouth while he nodded in agreement.

The music cut off before the song was finished, and the jukebox went dark.

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My friends, thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed.

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#strangerprompts #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington x reader #From au #horror au #Steve Harrington fic #Stranger Things fanfic #Spotify #marmite fic

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