#two part post

[rotting--melody]

Crazy in Love . . .

Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x Gn!Human!Reader

Hello everyone! Just a heads up, this is part one of a two-part fic that I was requested to do! Well, technically, I was only asked to do part 2, but I just can't pass up an opportunity to write a cringe good yandere fic! Definitely not because I couldn't figure out how to write a good one-part Yandere fic.

wc-> 2.2k (holy shit)

cw-> yandere behavior, possessive behavior, stalker behavior, not smut yet, but trust me it will be MESSY in part 2

(fic directly below the cut)

Working for the Miguel O’Hara was not what you expected it to be.

It was worse.

Ungodly hours, strict rules, and no room for error. Working for him was what you imagined being the right hand for the devil was like. Not to mention that it seemed like he had a personal vendetta against you. Whatever you did, it was never good enough -working overtime, filing his mission reports, making sure his ‘spider cave’ was spotless- nothing was enough for the man monitoring the multiverse.

And yeah, sure, the pay was good, and you did get dental and health care (he might be a monster, but he's not a villain), but god, Miguel ran you fucking ragged. Since the day you were hired, he’d been nothing but a douchebag to you.

Of course, it wasn’t all bad. You’d made many great friends, the closest being Peter B, Gwen, and Hobie. You four were practically inseparable, and everyone knew it. You and Gwen were especially close, with you taking an older-sibling role in her life. Unfortunately, there was very little free time to just hang out with them while you were at the Spider-Society headquarters. For whatever reason, Miguel never let you spend longer than your (generous) ninety-minute lunch break outside of the dark little cave he called his office. And usually, that time was interrupted by none other than Mr.O’Hara himself. You knew that in being his personal secretary you’d be expected to run around and do things for him, but at this point, you felt like Andrea Sachs in The Devil Wears Prada, constantly running your ass off for an ungrateful and spectacularly moody boss. To be entirely honest, compared to Miguel O’Hara, Miranda Priestly looked like a fucking angel.

You quietly chuckled to yourself, conjuring up the image of Miguel strutting around in a pair of violently red Prada heels.

“What's so funny, Y/n?” Gwen asks, tilting her head slightly to the side.

“Nothing,” you dismissed, “Just thought of something funny.” You lightly cleared your throat and took a sip from the water bottle in front of you.

A sudden beeping erupted from your pocket, and you gave a loud groan.

“Lunch break over already?” Gwen says with a small sigh.

“Yeah, sorry kiddo,” you say, checking the message on your phone. Of course, it’s Miguel, probably wanting you to do something he could easily do himself. “You want to swing by my place after I get off? We could watch some cheesy flick and gossip like high-schoolers.”

Gwen excitedly nods her head, and you give her a soft smile. Giving her a parting hug, you quickly make your way back to your and Miguel's shared ‘office’. There, you’re met with the annoyingly attractive back of your boss.

“You’re late.” He grumbles.

You make a sound of exasperation. “I literally came here as soon as you called. Sorry that this place- that you designed, by the way- is built like a fucking labyrinth!” God, did he get on your nerves.

Miguel's only response is a grunt as you roll your eyes and sit down in your chair in the corner of his office. You quickly start pulling up mission logs on one monitor, and live footage of ongoing missions on the other. Your fingers fly fast across your keyboard, filling out what you’re able to on the logs, while your eyes quickly scan the many videos of Spider-people currently engaged in battle. You had always been fairly good at multitasking, so the work you did for Miguel had never been overly complicated. Truth be told. You really had no idea why he chose you for the position of his secretary. You’d think with Lyla, he’d have everything he’d ever need right at his fingertips.

After a few hours of mindless paperwork and watching battles, you decided to call it quits. Your eyes had started to burn, and your fingers were cramping. Finishing up the last few lines of what was (hopefully) your last log of the night, you stood up and stretched your sore muscles, and cracked a few bones.

"I'm leaving for the night, O'Hara. You have my number if anything happens."

Miguel didn't even so much as spare you a glance before you walked out of the room, already dialing Gwen's number.

《♡》

It was well into the early hours of the morning when you and Gwen finally said goodbye. After a long night of greasy food, bad films, and riveting workplace gossip (you would not believe how much drama happens in a place where everyone is fundamentally the same), you wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a comfortable rest on your newly cleaned sheets.

You stretched your muscles a bit, popping a few joints in your shoulders and back for a little extra relief.

You yawn slightly and absentmindedly scratched at your arm while you pick out what to wear to bed. Deciding on a simple pair of black booty shorts and an oversized t-shirt, you throw them into your bed, grab your towel, and quickly make your way into the bathroom.

After letting the water heat up for a couple seconds, you put on your favorite playlist and step in. Despite being thoroughly exhausted, your sheets are new, which means it's time to shave.

After shaving, shampooing, conditioning, and washing yourself, you step out of the shower. You towel dry your hair and then wrap the plush fabric around your body.

Making your way into your bed room, something is immediately wrong. Your instincts are telling you to run, get out, hide, but for some reason, you don't listen. You do, however, go into the top drawer of your nightstand and pull out an incredibly sharp knife (which you had stored for just this reason).

You swiftly make your way around your room, checking in the closet, under the bed, and behind the door. Nothing and no one is there.

"Maybe I'm finally going crazy for real. . ." you say to yourself, shaking your head slightly. You return the knife to it's drawer, and go to get into your pajamas.

You glace over to your bed, slightly confused.

"I could have sworn I grabbed my shorts out?"

《♡》

It's been several months since you lost your shorts, and things only seem to be getting weirder. You've been losing stuff more regularly. First your shorts, then one of your favorite jackets, then your favorite necklace, your perfume, nail polish, and most recent, your body wash (which you had just bought).

What's more, Miguel has also been acting different. Not nicer, but also not meaner. More. . . protective? But not in a good way. Your lunch break was cut from ninety minutes to fifty, and you were no longer allowed to eat in the cafeteria or common spaces.

"What the fuck do you mean I can eat lunch in the café anymore?" You angrily question Miguel.

"You're distracting the others. From now on, you'll have twenty minutes to get your food, and thirty minutes to eat. Which you will be doing in here, with me." Miguel states monotonously, not even bothering to glance at you.

You let out a scoff and roll your eyes. "At this point, why don't you just put me in a cage and chain me to the desk?"

Miguel lets out a breathy chuckle, turning around to look you dead in the eyes. "Don't tempt me, pequiña."

The pit that formed in your stomach after hearing those words was most certainly not one of fear.

You get angry just thinking about that interaction. It had been a couple weeks since it was implemented, and while you had adjusted rather fast, you still didn't like it in the slightest.

Miguel has also been giving you more work, forcing you to stay later and later. You swore that if he wasn't such good eye-candy, you would have throttled him.

Speaking of eye-candy. . . You glace over to Miguel's work station to snoop. If he's going to keep you cooped up in here, you should be allowed to spy on what he's doing.

He's standing hunched over his over-the-top computer set up, watching his many screens and muttering quietly to himself. He calls Lyla up and asks her something quietly. You swear you heard your name, but you were so far away it was hard to discern anything he was saying.

You shake your head and turn back to your work.

《♡》

It was nearly midnight now, and you were still in this wretched place. You let out a loud groan and run your eyes.

“Hey, O’Hara? I'm leaving. Don't call me in tomorrow either, I need the day off.”

Your statement seems to pique Miguel's interest, as he finally moved from the position he's been standing in for hours. He turns around, leaning onto his desk and placing his hands on his incredibly tiny waste (seriously, how is that even fair??).

“Oh really?” he askes, voice laced with something you can't quite pick up on “And why is that?”

You groan again, fed up with your man-child boss.

“Because I just need a day to myself, okay? You've been working me to the bone, and I just need a massage and probably a visit to the chiropractor.” You emphasize your statement by harshly cracking your back on your chair.

He chuckles softly to himself and lightly licks his lips. “You could always ask me for help with that pequiña.”

You flush red at his statement and cough a little. Damn him for being so sexy. . .

“I uh. . . I think I'm okay. Thanks for the offer though, boss.” You can feel yourself practically sweating and you jump up from your seat and begin packing your bag.

Miguel lets out a soft hum and turns back to his computer, smiling ever so slightly.

You glace back up at your boss before you head out of the room, grabbing the little trash bag sitting in the corner of the room to dispose of on your way out. You leave with one final glace back at his broad shoulders.

The walk through Headquarters is silent. Despite being a hub for all spider folk, the halls are quiet, leaving the small click of your shoes on the tile as the only noise.

Lugging the trash bag through the halls, you reach a large dumpster and begin to haul it inside. As you swing the bag above your head, the shitty plastic gives and the contents spill out over the ground.

“Fuck! Eww that's so nasty oh my god!” You yell in disgust at the trash flies everywhere, covering you in the mysterious liquid every bag of trash seems to have.

You quickly wipe your hands off on your pants as you being to (begrudgingly) pick up the garbage from the floor. Crumpled papers, some broken cables, a couple of water bottles, a bottle of your bodywash, some rotting-

Wait.

“What the hell?”

There, sitting innocently on the ground, is a bottle of the bodywash you use. How the hell did this get here?

The bottle is mostly empty, but sloshes slightly when you pick it up, like someone has filled it with water or something in an attempt to prolong its use. You're a little creeped out.

Okay, you're a lot creeped out.

The only people who use the bin in Miguel's ‘office’ are you and him. And you certainly don't remember bringing a used bottle of soap into work to throw out.

Maybe me and Miguel just use the same soap? I mean, I'm pretty sure he lives here so. . .

A chill runs down your back as you hear a voice from the darkness.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

You quickly hide the bottle behind your back as you spin around to face him.

“Miguel! Hi! Yeah, everything is okay, I just spilled the trash, sorry to bother you.” You speak fast and nervously, inching closer to the trash bin to toss the hidden bottle inside.

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, clearly questioning your suspicious actions.

“Ah. Okay then. Do you need any help?” He asks. It feels like he's testing you.

You nervously chuckle. “Nope! I'm all good! Sorry again for bothering you, I'll be leaving now!” In one quick motion, you throw the bottle into the trash behind you and speed walk out of the building and away from your boss.

《♡》

You lay in your bed, unblinking at the ceiling. The soap had been keeping you up. You know it's probably nothing, but with all the weird shit that's been happening to you recently, everything has been putting you on edge.

You toss and turn, your mind both racing with thoughts and completely empty. You don't even realize you're falling asleep until your eyes shut, and you succumb to the darkness.

《♡》

You awake with a start, and a horrible sensation of dread courses through your entire body. You sit up in bed, blinking the sleep from your eyes and scanning your room.

You see nothing.

Until you don't.

A large, shadowy figure stands unmoving in the corner of your room. Two glowing red eyes stare at you from the darkness.

“Oh pequiña. . . I really wish you hadn't seen that earlier. . .”

TO BE CONTINUED‼️‼️

[asterism343]

Ah i sure am thirsty, but i have nothing to drink! Hopefully I will come across some water or another such beverage soon

[chaosandthe-deadblog]

i honestly think yall need to get more comfortable with cishet ships again without forcing half assed mildly interesting luke-warm superficial queerness on them thinking youre "improving them" or else we're not gonna make it

[newtlesbian]

newt geiszler f cups

[guiltyidealist]

hee hee hee

[eclectic-confusion]

accidentally reblogging a post only to realize that it's a two part post and you were supposed to reblog the one below it FIRST so you gotta go and delete the first reblog and reblog it the correct order,,,

[ilexdiapason]

has anybody seen my pet piece of paper. his name is walter he is very fragile but very adventurous. i should never have left the window open in my tenth story apartment

[mizgnomer]

Parallels - Good Omens Seasons One & Two - Part One

Links to [ Part Two ] [ Part Three ] [ Part Four ] [ Part Five ]

[buggachat]

Part 200 of my bakery “enemies” au!

First / Prev / Next / All

Kofi

[paintedcrows]

It is imperative to me that Bill and Stan do torrid Duchess Approves roleplay and argue about character motivations

[murphycooper]

“i want you to know, i will love you as long as i breathe.”

dune part ii / ojibwa / waiting for this story to end before i begin another, jan heller lev

[tokoyamisstuff]

[chaosandthe-deadblog]

have you guys ever though about the inherent horror of parallel dimensions

[yangsbandana]

i, for one, think we moved on from this too quickly like

where did she find this meme???? who did she take it from????! DID SHE MAKE IT HERSELF??????!? inquiring minds!!! want to know!!!

[newtlesbian]

bert isnt bad at drumming he just plays slowly and not as as free as ernie you drum your way and ill drum my wayyyyyyyyyy together we complete a full songggggggggg

[shouyuus]

sfw; modern neighbor!vi au

cool but enough about that. thinking about vi who lives in the same apartment building as you and is on the same floor just a few doors down, who sees you struggling with some boxes when moving in so she sweeps in to your rescue and well i mean you're not one to look a-gift-horse-muscular-butch in the mouth when she's so valiantly offering to carry these boxes for you.

who introduces herself and tells you that she lives here with her sister, who's studying mechanical engineering at the university. her? oh, she's a freelancer! you know how it is these days, teaches boxing at the local gym, helps her dad with the family bar on the weekends sometimes, "bit of this and a bit of that." and it sounds like she doesn't wanna talk about it all that much so you don't ask.

you ask her in for a cup of coffee, say it's the least you can do to thank her for helping you with the boxes.

"pleasure's mine, helping a pretty girl like you."

woof.

you swallow, busying yourself with your beat up little moka pot, asking her if she wants sugar or creamer. both, she says, and you pause, looking over your shoulder. she's leant up against your half-unpacked sofa, her arms knitted loosely over her chest.

"what? i've always like my stuff with a little bit of sugar."

it's a simple enough statement but the way she says it makes all your fingers and toes tingle. you swallow, fiddling with the fraying edges of your sweater sleeve.

"yeah, no -- that's --"

you jump as the moka starts to bubble and you pull it off the stove, feeling the same heat working it's way into your skin.

it's easy, so easy, after that. she offers to help you unpack (only if you need it of course) and well, you could use another pair of hands. you tell her that you'll pay her in pizza, and she smiles so wide you can see the hint of a dimple etching itself into her cheek.

you end up spending the whole day together, and when all the boxes are broken down and tamped into a pile by the door, your fingers grease-stained, sitting curled up on your now fully built-out couch, with plastic cups of prosecco, she sighs, staring into the bubbling liquid with a smile just a hitch away from sadness.

"cool! well -- thanks for the pizza," she sets down the cup and pushes up off the couch. you clear your throat and scramble up as well, pressing your palms into your thighs.

"no! thank you for helping me --" you motion around your apartment, "and uh --" you chew on your lips, teetering on the balls of your feet.

"if you ever wanna hang out," vi says, grinning as she rounds the sofa, glancing over her shoulder, "i'm just two doors down."

you slump down onto the sofa, pressing a hand to your chest, feeling it's wild, fluttering beat beneath your palm as you try to steady your breathing.

a few days later, you knock on her door, only to find a girl with shocking blue space buns and a pair of magnifying goggles on her head that make her look truly unhinged.

"who're you?"

you blink, fingers clutched around a large mug.

"uh -- uhm -- i just -- i moved in to the unit two doors down a few days ago and i was -- i was wondering if i could -- borrow some... sugar?" you hold out the mug, wondering if you've just royally fucked up.

"powder? who's at the door?" vi's voice calls out just as the girl with blue hair opens her mouth.

powder pauses, a sly smirk twisting the edge of her lips as she pushes up her goggles to reveal bright blue eyes just a few shades darker than vi's.

"oh no one, juuuuust... the super cute neighbor you couldn't shut up about from a few days ag --"

something clanks from further in the apartment and the girl named powder gets yanked back as vi appears, wide-eyed and a bit disheveled, clearing her throat as she almost crashes into her doorframe.

"h-hi! what -- what're you doing here?"

"i uhm --" you swallow, warmth prickling beneath your skin.

"sugar," powder says, rolling her eyes, waving a hand as she prances back into the apartment.

"sugar...?" vi asks, almost uncomprehending.

you lick your lips, holding out the cup, "yeah... i -- uh -- ran out..."

vi blinks down at the empty mug for a second too long before her eyes flash up to meet yours.

"yeah? what've you been up to, using so much sugar?"

you lick your lips, biting down on our bottom lip as she steps back to motion you into the apartment. it's not big, but it is cozy, sticky-notes and doodles littering almost every available surface, cups with day-old coffee/water/tea cluttered on the countertops. but vi reaches up into the cupboards and tugs down the sugar bag.

"i --" you cut off as she fills up your cup.

you don't want to tell her that you were trying to bake cupcakes of all things. and for her no less.

"ahh... don't wanna tell me? s'okay -- fine then, keep your secrets," she teases, shooting you a tiny wink as she leans up to put the sugar back.

"it's --" you nearly trip over your words as they tumble out of you, "i was -- wanted to make some cupcakes -- f-for... you..." you force out, turning away as her eyes widen slightly, "but i keep fucking up the measurements so --" you chance her another glance.

vi watches you with a soft smile, leaning against her kitchen counter.

"for me, sugar?"

you nod, now feeling impossibly hot as she vi slates you a knowing smile.

"well, lemme know when you're done," she says, "and uh..." she glances down at your sugar cup, "don't be afraid to put in a little extra for me, okay?"

you walk back to your own apartment in a daze, staring down at the cup of white sugar grains as you finally get back to your kitchen and set the mug down. you look at the two batches of failed cupcakes sitting on the counter and sigh, a helpless little smile ticking up the corner of your lips as you remember the twinkle in vi's eyes as she'd told you to add a little more sugar for her.

you drop your face into your hands with a loud groan, slumping back onto the couch, letting your feet dangle off the side as you stare at the light-stricken ceiling.

and you say, to no one in particular --

"i am so, so fucked."