#(it's kind of a web weave right?)

[tinderfishboy]

richard siken being active on twitter and the barrage of “i thought you were from the 1800s!” “i thought you were long dead!” “i thought you were a romantic poet!” hes gotten from people who claim to enjoy his work is making me think a lot about how many people consume poetry these days. poems are cut down to one or two snappy quotes to be reposted ad infinitum to pinterest and recontextualized in peoples web weavings all the time. do people never go back to the source? do people not look at the quote they enjoy, find the title, and read the full poem? because if you have read nearly anything by siken you will know he is a modern poet. its glaringly obvious in the language he uses, his imagery and metaphors, the tone. how are we still messing this up

[skitskatdacat63]

"The Boy With The Thorn in His Side"(x) - The Smiths × 2023 Strollonso moments + pundits' reactions

[eggbreadboi]

Second Drivers, Hunger

[3416]

thinkin abt this. and thinking about mitch realizing that he'd never get the full suburban nuclear family hockey best friend life with auston.... thinking about the little adjustments of expectations they've made about each other and their futures together....... thinking about where they are now and might be later on.

[gaslightgirlsummer]

personally huge fan of the fact that ferrari victory celebrations look like religious paintings meanwhile red bull celebrations are soft porn

[bonnie-toyour-clyde]

spn 12x01 - keep calm and carry on // t.s.eliot - preludes

[thethingything]

shoutout to the especially large cellar spider that was in the bathroom the other day that looked very dead but then turned out not to be, disappeared from the location it had been all day, was nowhere to be seen despite us checking the whole room, briefly showed up again in a place we'd literally just checked, then disappeared when we looked away and looked back again and hasn't been seen since. I hope it's out there living its best life wherever the fuck it is now

[tgcg]

tell your loved ones

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 12:01 --

TG: hey im on the john

JOHN: hey, dave is taking a dump.

TG: taking a shit just so were clear

JADE: jeez!!!!!!! even when im not online i have to hear about it

TG: i know you care so youre first to know

JOHN: i'm just giving you a heads up for the bajillion messages you will definitely have about this when you get home.

EB: god, thank you. that is awesome. dave fans everywhere are gonna go NUTS for this truth nugget.

EB: hey, i am at the store with jade!

TG: tell her the news

EB: i did as soon as you first pinged me, don't worry.

TG: hell yeah see you just fucking get it

JADE: well tell him i say congrats!

EB: she says congrats.

EB: also that you left your "yeah! woo!" machine at her place.

EB: and that you are gross and smell like a dog took a dump on a fart even when you aren't crapping during our conversations.

TG: goddamn

EB: jk that last bit was me heheh. but she nodded!

EB: so anyways, a yeah woo machine?

EB: what the hell even IS that?

JADE: its more or less a machine that yeahs and woos

TG: its basically a machine that yeahs and woos

EB: ok, yeah, that is pretty much exactly what jade said too. apparently this is supposed to be obvious.

JADE: its pretty self explanatory!

TG: pretty self explanatory stuff

TG: anyways im gonna tell karkat this time i think im ready for that

EB: oh shit (LOL), that's a pretty big deal, right? good luck dude.

--

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 12:03 --

TG: ok karkat can i be unbelievably candid with you is dj crabapple ready for this

TG: this is a really big deal for me but like no pressure

CG: SHIT, IS EVERYTHING OK?

CG: DO I NEED TO COME OVER THERE.

TG: no no its good i just really need to confess something

CG: WHATEVER IT IS, TELL ME. I'M HERE.

TG: alright

TG: deep breath strider

--

TG: im dropping mad logs like bars in the ablution block vantas

TG: shit is on fire

TG: downright heretical like a shat outta hell

TG: and since im feeling penitent i figure our pesterlogs are pretty much akin to a confessional booth right

CG:

--

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 12:04 --

TT: Hey Dave.

TT: Are you, by any chance, taking a shit right now?

TG: damn word spreads fast on the information superhighway

TT: Yes, I have had the news forwarded to me via this bountiful virtual dimension of knowledge and culture we call the World Wide Web by a fellow enthusiast, one ectoBiologist.

TT: Frankly I'm heartbroken you didn't come to me about it first.

TT: Please, divulge to your loving sister the nature of your bowel movements, in exhaustive detail. Highlights in a notarized list, an overall ranking grade of your experience, whether you would recommend it to your friends, et cetera. These would be among my most pertinent avenues of inquiry.

TG: you were next on the mailing list rose im already on it

TG: boutta weave a verbal tapestry no holds barred just for you about my rambunctious foray down in brown town

TG: stay tubed

TT: Thank god. I don't know what I would do if I couldn't peruse your commodal follies like the morning gazette.

TG: dont act like this has educational value rose

TG: we all know my daily bullshit has got a laugh track

TG: like damn what kind of gazettes are you getting

TT: The best kind, Dave. Only the best kind.

TG: thanks for the vote of confidence

TG: wait gimme a sec karkat pinged

TT: Of course. I understand it's quite a big deal for you.

--

CG: OK.

CG: SINCE THIS APPARENTLY SKIRTS THE FRESHEST BUDS OF OUR BRO-DOM'S BURGEONING FROND NUB, I *ALSO* HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SHARE.

CG: I HOPE YOUR REFLECTIVE ABLUTION VAULT IS STOCKED WITH FUCKING RUMBLESPHERE TRANQUILIZERS, BECAUSE THIS EXCHANGE IS ABOUT TO GET SHITHIVE MAGGOTS.

CG: LISTEN CAREFULLY.

TG: whats up

--

CG: I AM ALSO ON THE LOAD GAPER RIGHT NOW.

TG: oh shiiit

CG: DON'T UNCLENCH YOUR EXPLOSIVE FUCKING SEED FLAP JUST YET, BECAUSE THERE'S *MORE*!

CG: I AM *ALSO* TAKING A CRAP.

TG: oh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

CG: OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

[grendelsmilf]

madame web was SO fucking funny i love that every single decision they make is certifiably insane but in a somehow very safe and pandering corporately-mandated way. here are some of my favorite choices:

an extended action sequence set to toxic by britney spears which stops in the middle to remind you that the year is 2003 so this song was actually just released

the villain goes to the opera, seduces an elegant woman with a single look, wakes up from a recurring nightmare wherein three teenage girls beat him up and kill him, proceeds to rant at this woman whom he’s just met about how hard it is to know how you will die someday, reveals that he is aware that she an nsa agent, and poisons her while he forces her to tell him the roughly 8 digit code that grants you access to every single security camera and government database in the entire world

one of the girls from girls is his assistant who tracks down three teenage girls for him by making composite sketches of their faces just via his own memories of his dreams. also, they are all wearing masks in his dreams, so how he was able to define all their features is extremely unclear

the fact that spidey powers originated from an indigenous tribe in peru does retroactively imply that every spider person within the spiderverse canon is performing an egregious act of cultural appropriation

adam scott plays UNCLE BEN, but because sony doesn’t have the rights to say the name “peter parker,” they are constantly finding ways to imply that he is, in fact, ben parker without outright saying it. we do see peter parker being born (i guess this spiderman was born in 2003?), but i’m not sure why we’re supposed to care since all of the girls (apparently) seem to have way cooler powers than he does

that said, we only see the girls use their powers in dreamlike sequences of the future. at no point in the present timeline do any of them use their powers whatsoever. except anya does have the power to be a #WomanInSTEM, so good for her.

dakota johnson’s cassandra webb, or “cassie,” (very normal thing to name your daughter who has spider-fueled powers of prophecy btw) cares for a stray cat who represents her own role as a “stray” as an orphan who grew up in the foster system (this is not subtle by the way, she literally says to the cat “gotta look out for fellow strays”). to illustrate that she is secretly a warm, nurturing woman despite her aloof and awkward veneer, this cat’s name is literally “cat.”

the villain of this movie never actually explains his motivation for seeking power beyond the fact that he had a difficult childhood. no details of his childhood are ever revealed. he is not given a single redeeming quality or even a reason to care about him. he is played by césar-winning and bafta-nominated actor tahar rahim in what i can only describe as the worst performance i have ever seen outside of a middle school play. he dies after being crushed by a giant letter S from a pepsi sign. you know. like a bug.

it’s never really explained why being bitten by a spider gives one prophetic visions, beyond the tenuous notion that to see the future is to “weave a web” of sorts. however, despite the fact that we establish that the villain can also see the future, despite having been bitten by the same magical species of spider, he never once is able to predict the future when it counts, such as foreseeing that he should dodge a falling giant letter S.

there’s an extended sequence dedicated to establishing that cassie’s colleague (who later dies in an ambulance crash) cannot grill for shit. as she sips from a refreshing can of pepsi-cola®️, she lambasts him for fucking up their burgers. this is the only piece of characterization they establish for him before he dies.

at the beginning of the movie, cassie receives a very earnest drawing done by a small child in thanks for saving his mother (she’s a paramedic). cassie very awkwardly refuses to accept the drawing, kind of just makes one continuous whine with the corners of her mouth until the entire family is weirded out enough to leave, and then complains that she has no idea what to do with the drawing, and will probably throw it out. we are meant to like this woman, probably.

cassie is a professional paramedic, but a hobbyist car crasher. she drives not one, but two stolen vehicles through the walls of buildings throughout the film, and it seems to be her go-to strategy in any fight.

cassie is allowed to fly internationally despite concurrently being very publicly wanted for the alleged abduction of three teenage girls. we never see her move through the airport despite the film heavily focalizing the issue of mass surveillance and preemptive criminalization in 2003 new york city, so i guess it just isn’t an issue for her. yet another win for white privilege

after cassie experiences a near-death incident on the job that triggers her latent powers of prophecy, her doctor recommends that she take the week off to get some rest and “watch old movies.” cassie clearly considers this to be sound medical advice, as in the consecutive scene, she is shown to be watching an early version of a christmas carol (in the middle of summer) and clearly feels a strong enough bond with scrooge that she feels comfortable speaking to him through the screen as if he were an old friend.

cassie has a vision of her mother researching spiders in the amazon before she died, and almost immediately yells “WHY DID YOU HATE ME!!!!”

cassie’s quest to save three teenage girls she doesn’t know ultimately results in the deaths of many more people, including multiple cops, train passengers, diner patrons, chopper pilots and people she may or may not have hit with her stolen taxi and/or stolen ambulance. but at least julia, mattie, and anya are safe!

after cassie is blinded and paralyzed(?), her entire personality does a 180 and she becomes a very creepy, ominous woman who serenely predicts the near future of her three adopted teenage girls, illuminated by a giant, weblike window. this is all done in service of setting up the sequel that sony clearly assumes is a given.

cassie attends her colleague/best friend’s sister’s baby shower (who happens to be played by emma roberts, and who also happens to be peter parker’s mother) and is for some reason corralled into playing some baby shower games, including “describe your fondest memory of your mother on a small strip of blue paper” (which cassie deliberately leaves blank, leading to a very awkward explanation of her mother having died in childbirth, but don’t worry, you’ll be fine) and “guess the name of my baby” (which is never actually revealed, because sony apparently has the rights to the name ben, but not peter).

anyone else really craving a nice refreshing can and/or glass bottle of pepsi-cola®️ rn, or is that just me?

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[mistywaves98]

Okay.... but like, consider merman/siren (Not the bird kind of siren.) Scara sinking our ship and eating our crew. But we're a woman disguised as a man because they used to not let women on ships. He only eats men so when he notices we're different he takes an interest in our body, mainly our boobs? I don't know- just a random thought I had while trying to concentrate during biology. Can be read as a drabble/brainrot or a request. Whichever you'd prefer to read it as<3

This is a very interesting concept ngl 😮 also this was not as great as I'd hoped it would come out..

✧･ﾟ:* ->Siren! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: (sort of) NSFW, Just him being entranced by your chest, Nipple sucking, Making out!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Smut written by a minor!

You had just begun to feel like everything was going according to plan until your ship was attacked and your crew disappearing beneath the water, only to resurface as mangled corpses. The water around you was a horrible mix of blood and guts as you clung desperately to a floating piece of board that passed by.

You couldn't see anything beneath you, it was just water that went deeper for miles. Suddenly, a webbed hand shot up behind you and covered your mouth. A shape emerged alongside it and you felt a firm, wet chest against your back. Another arm wrapped around your upper torso as a raspy voice whispered into your ear,"Looks like I missed one.."

You thought this was the end, and didn't even bother to struggle since you knew it was futile. This creature was going to turn you into one of the dismembered bodies that were still somewhere nearby. However, you didn't feel yourself pulled underwater. The hand on your chest suddenly moved, slowly tracing the curve of your breasts through your clothes. You couldn't help but feel embarrassed as the creature you assumed to be male straight up groped you.

Suddenly, you felt sharp nails dig into your shoulders as the webbed hands spun you around, giving you a clear view of your 'attacker'. Slit pupils bore holes into your chest as he studied you with a furrowed expression. There were fins in place of his ears and his indigo hair seemed to flow around him despite being dripping wet. His eyes then darted up to your face, his glare piercing you.

"You...you're not a man." He said in a flat tone. You slowly nodded your head,"You're right, I'm a woman... Aren't you going to eat me?" "Eat you? Don't be an idiot, I don't eat female humans," he scoffed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world,"...especially not such lovely specimens such as yourself..." his voice suddenly dropped an octave and a dark expression came over his face. He leaned in a bit, his nose almost touching yours,"You know that you're trespassing by sailing here, right? That's why I killed your crew as a punishment for disturbing my peace. But I won't kill you, though. I already have an idea of what I'll do to you..." His eyes flickered downwards for a split moment and you blushed in embarrassment as you caught onto his meaning,"O-Oh... Well I suppose I am in the wrong... Punish me as you see fit."

Your top was tugged open, even torn in some places due to the enthusiasm of his claws. His scaly tail curled around your lower body beneath the water to hold you still as he lowered his head down till it was level with those soft mounds now covered in droplets of water. Moans keened from your throat as he hungrily began to suck on your left nipple, pointy teeth grazing the already erect bud, eliciting a soft yelp from you.

Your hands weaved their way into the damp hair on the back of his head, tugging him closer,"Mmm...you're so eager, aren't you my little captain?" He teased with a smirk as he released your nipple with a pop and pulled back a bit. Your hands came down to grasp his shoulders as his hands moved up to toy with your breasts, squeezing and kneading them between his webbed hands. The sensation was strange yet pleasurable at the same time and it left you breathless and flushed in the face.

The siren seemed to notice how you seemed to writhe even more when he occasionally gave your nipples a light pinch,"These are so sensitive... Yet they taste delicious. I want to taste more of you." With that, he dove in and captured your lips in an intense kiss. His hands brought you closer, one holding the back of your head to ensure you didn't pull away. You moaned as you felt his tongue snake its way into your warm mouth. It was so sleek and long, practically choking you with how deep it reached, yet it felt so amazing, you didn't want to pull back.

However, the kiss inevitably ended when you needed to breathe. He licked his lips as he watched you catch your breath, appreciating the sight of your exposed chest heaving with every inhale,"Your mouth tasted even better than I imagined. I bet there's other places that would feel absolutely divine on my tongue...but for now I'm satisfied. But don't think that means I won't be coming back for you." He suddenly scoops you up in his arms and makes his way to the beach nearest to the mainland.

As expected of a siren, you arrive there in a matter of minutes. Once you get close enough, you decide to part ways and swim the rest of the way, but before you go he says,"The name's Scaramouche by the way. Remember it for our future encounters." After that final goodbye, he disappears beneath the water and you vaguely make out a dark shape heading back out to deeper waters. As you sit on the beach, attempting to cover up your torso so it looks somewhat decent, you can't help but think that you'll be venturing to that part of the ocean a bit more often now, but on purpose this time.

[poppystain]

𝑆𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ) dir. emerald fennell  /  feel  free  to  change  pronouns  and  subjects  as  you  see  fit  !

❛ i wasn’t in love with him. ❜

❛ i loved him. of course! it was impossible not to. ❜

❛ everyone loved you. everyone wanted to be around you. ❜

❛ i protected him. i was honest with him. ❜

❛ it's just you and me, mate. and the girl with agoraphobia, but she's in her room. ❜

❛ are you telling me you spent your summer reading the bible? ❜

❛ oh no no. not, uh, friend. more an admirer. from afar. ❜

❛ so you're picking apart the style my essay instead of the substance? ❜

❛ it's not what you argue but how. ❜

❛ fuck, that's kind. are you serious? ❜

❛ i don't smoke. ❜

❛ he’s been expelled from almost every school in england for sucking off the teachers. ❜

❛ there aren’t any pictures of me as a kid. ❜

❛ you look different. ❜

❛ harsh! that is so harsh! you’re such a snob! ❜

❛ only rich people can afford to be this filthy. ❜

❛ do you think he'll be jealous? ❜

❛ no, i'm not like you. this is all i have. ❜

❛ this feels a bit fucking stupid now to be honest. ❜

❛ honestly? i don't think i'll ever go home again. ❜

❛ just be yourself! they'll love you! ❜

❛ everybody just goes to ruin, i suppose. ❜

❛ but darling you're kind about everyone, you can't be trusted. ❜

❛ i have a complete and utter horror of ugliness. ❜

❛ because you're a terrible person? ❜

❛ daddy always said that i'd end up at the bottom of the thames. ❜

❛ fucking hell you gave me a fright. ❜

❛ i wanted to have a look at the moon. it's nearly full. do you know what that means? ❜

❛ i'm cold blooded. we're all cold blooded, haven't you noticed? ❜

❛ because you’re so fucking beautiful. ❜

❛ you're in your see-through nightdress underneath my window. ❜

❛ i could just eat you. ❜

❛ lucky for you i'm a vampire. ❜

❛ bring on the slutty fairies. ❜

❛ it's just fucking cringe, mate. ❜

❛ what a little shit-stirrer. ❜

❛ it’s just so disappointing. you're just another one of his toys. ❜

❛ alright, fuck this. i'm getting a drink. ❜

❛ are you going to behave from now on? ❜

❛ i mean, you’re a fucking liar… why would you lie? ❜

❛ ...i just wanted to be your friend. ❜

❛ you can’t ignore me forever. ❜

❛ can you fuck off and bother somebody else? ❜

❛ you really do notice everything don't you? ❜

❛ you can’t just throw me away. ❜

❛ i just gave you what you wanted. like everyone else does! ❜

❛ everyone puts on a show for you. so i’m sorry if my performance wasn’t good enough. ❜

❛ i just need you to understand how much i fucking love you. ❜

❛ i'm still the same person. ❜

❛ i don't know what you are. but i do know you make my fucking blood run cold. ❜

❛ it was the end of everything. ❜

❛ none of us wants your bloody american feelings! ❜

❛ your politeness is so grating. do you know that? ❜

❛ you're always skulking around. weaving your spider web. ❜

❛ i think you're a moth. quiet. harmless. drawn to shiny things. batting up against the window… just desperate to get in. ❜

❛ you've made your holes in everything. you'll eat us from the inside out. ❜

❛ you ate him right up. and you licked the fucking plate.❜

❛ have you been happy? ❜

❛ i loved you. by god, i loved you. but sometimes i... hated you.❜

[wineauntie]

TWO GHOSTS — LUKE HUGHES X CHILDHOOD BESTFRIEND!READER

Ceilings Part Two, part one here

summary: Luke Hughes was your childhood best-friend and boyfriend until one mistake sent it all crumbling.

note: ellen hughes is my lord and saviour 🙏

warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, reader has not-so-great parents, panic attacks, swearing, nicknames such as: pretty girl and baby, questionable moments on both of your behalf, boys being jerks. Use of names Brock and Julia (if they’re your name change it!). The name Brock being slandered.

word count; 3k+

What people don't tell you about being cheated on is that the world around you seems to fracture into a reality in which everything appears false. What's usually right feels wrong, things that taste good now taste bad, songs that once breathed life now hung with the remnants of ghostly memories.

You had fallen into a state of loneliness. Your parents still refused to come home unless they had to. You hadn't seen them in days, you presumed they'd both decided to stay at separate hotels instead of risking having to sleep beside each other.

And Luke... you hadn't spoken to him in a week.

You hadn't called or texted him nor had he done the same. Why would he? It was all just a game for him. He'd used you and when he was done, he tossed you away like a broken toy he was bored by.

Yes, you had other friends, but the only person you wanted to help you stitch yourself together was the very person who'd been the one to rip you apart.

Since Julia had driven you home the night of the party, she'd been texting you daily to ensure you were okay and offering her shoulder to cry on. You appreciated the texts but you usually left blunt responses, too drained to give anything else.

You didn't even think you're heart was broken from Luke cheating, that was a small piece of rubble from the major wall. What hurt the most was how willing he was to tear down your years of friendship, to the point where thinking about going across the road, a simple feat, was now unthinkable.

And so the loneliness grew and you seemed to become one of the many ghosts haunting your house.

You felt pathetic as the situation warped your every way of life. You'd let him weave you in his web and he left you to rot there.

Your loneliness was eating away at you slowly but steadily. You found yourself less inclined to get out of bed each morning, less likely to eat breakfast or lunch, less likely to leave the house, go shopping, go to school– it all seemed impossible. Everything had built up in your life and one askew brick had sent the foundation crumbling.

It was exactly seven days into your stupor when a fierce knocking caused you to shift in your spot from the couch. You'd had a nightmare last night, and you'd woken up and vomited all over your bed, yet instead of cleaning it, you simply left your bedroom and moved yourself to the living room.

It's not like anyone but you would care about it.

Your head didn't even move to look as the knocks on the front door persisted. Nor did it swivel when a clunking of keys jingled before the door was unlocked and pushed open cautiously.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes welled with tears as the kind voice echoes through the empty halls. A sudden sinking feeling brewed in your stomach, as you curled further into yourself, your knees to your chest as a singular pair of footsteps traipsed across the house.

"Y/N? Are you here, sweetheart?"

You let out a small whimper, so small that it escaped you before you could even think to hold it back. The footsteps paused before they hurried in your direction. You bowed your head between your legs, tears streaming down your sunken cheeks. You felt the person crouch before you, their hand running over your hair comfortingly.

"Oh, darling,"

Ellen Hughes' soft voice caused you to crack completely as your body was wracked with silent sobs. She sat on the couch to your left, pulling you into her side as she tried to soothe your cries. You knew you probably smelled awful and that your clothes were days old but you couldn't find yourself caring as you leaned into the only comfort that had been offered to you since Luke had cheated on you.

Ellen didn't seem to mind, or if she did, she didn't mention it. She stroked a steady hand over your tangled hair and gently shushed as she allowed you to curl into her. You see, Ellen had always wanted a daughter...that's not to say she doesn't love her sons, hell, they were the greatest gift she had ever been given. But when she was younger she always imagined caring for a girl, teaching her hockey, taking her shopping for clothes, and being able to have someone else know what it's like to be a girl.

You were the closest thing she had to a daughter and right now, she was more than willing to mother you all you needed.

-

"Y/N, sweetheart...what's going on?"

Ellen sat down opposite you at the kitchen table, placing a glass of water and two slices of toast in front of you. Your downtrodden figure was wrapped in a blanket, still frazzled from crying. You felt your hands shake as they picked up the glass and raised it to your lips so you could sip.

"'m sorry," you croaked through a sniffle, "'m really sorry." Ellen's eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment she looked exactly like Luke. The sight made you lower your gaze as you focused on the food in front of you.

"You've got nothing to apologise for," Ellen stated softly. She leaned forward, her hands encasing one of yours as she tried to meet your gaze. "I need you to know that you can talk to me. You're not okay, sweetheart, and that's perfectly okay sometimes, but we can't let you continue like this."

Tears pricked your eyes once again as you sniffled, your hoodie sleeves wiping away stray drops. You took in an unsteady breath, your face crumbling as you met Ellen's warm eyes.

"Luke and I have been dating," you confessed, your timid eyes scanning hers for any resentment. "For roughly three weeks, we dated and we were exclusive– I thought we were exclusive, I mean usually that's what boyfriend-girlfriend means."

"And I really liked him, Ellen, really, really liked him...and he told me he really liked me too." You continued, a steady, continuous stream of salty tears running down your face. "Only for another week to pass and I found him kissing someone else and now everything is all messed up!"

"Not to mention the fact I don't know where my mom or dad are, and they haven't texted me and Ellen, I'm so lonely...so goddamn lonely. It's like I'm stuck in some never-ending labyrinth, where everything is some deceitful decoy out to get me and I can't breathe and I can't do anything I'm just stuck."

Your chest tightened significantly as you finished, the world around you narrowing. You could see Ellen's lips were moving but you could barely hear her, it was as if she was whispering in a hurricane– her voice lost to the wind.

"Breathe, y/n..." Ellen urged, standing up to round the table and rub your back. "You're having a panic attack, you need to breathe. Follow me...in...out...in...out."

You sucked in lungfuls of useless air, struggling to maintain it in your lungs. You gripped Ellen's hand as you tried to focus on her rising and falling chest.

"Breathe in, and through," she instructed, raising her free hand up and down slowly as your chest carefully slowed until the foggy haze around your head slightly lifted. "Good...very good."

She waited patiently until you'd fully returned to somewhat normality before she gave you the glass of water once again for you to drink from it. You took a few sips of water, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat. Ellen's calming presence helped anchor you in the moment.

“I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Ellen spoke with genuine concern, her hand still comforting your back. "It must be incredibly tough for you right now, but you're not alone. We'll figure this out together, okay? I'm here for you, sweetheart," Ellen reassured, her voice a comforting lull.

With those words, a glimmer of hope flickered in your eyes. And you could feel Ellen's genuine concern and support began to slowly mend the fractures within you, piece by piece. You nodded, grateful for the warmth and understanding Ellen offered.

As you sipped the water, Ellen continued, "First things first, I'll sort out your parents. It's not right for them to leave you like this, no matter how bad things are between them, they should never let that interfere with your well-being. And as for Luke, well, we'll deal with him too. I raised him better. No one should treat you that way."

As the morning unfolded, Ellen helped you navigate through the tangled mess of emotions and uncertainties. She'd gotten you to eat before she sent you off to shower and change whilst she stripped your bed and opened all the windows to air out the stagnant air.

Ellen became your anchor, guiding you through the storm. The loneliness slowly receded throughout the day as you continued to open up to her about everything that had happened from your parents to dating Brock and to the entirety of you and Luke's relationship, letting the walls around your heart crumble in the safety of her warmth.

You could feel strength returning as she stayed with you the entire day, not leaving your side for too long, not even when she left multiple scathing messages to both of your parents. She'd forced you outside the back onto the rickety bench to get some air, whilst the two of you continued to talk and every little thought you had, you'd tell her.

She may not have been your mother by blood, but you'd be damned if you denied that you hadn't wished she was.

- "Back porch in 5."

Your trembling hands could barely keep your phone straight as you reread the message for the thousandth time. Ellen had left your house half an hour ago after cooking you dinner, ensuring that you ate it all. She instructed you to text her when you were going to bed and when or if your parents came home. If by the morning they weren't, Ellen welcomed you into the Hughes home for however long you needed.

You found your legs shaking as you grabbed a cardigan from the stair's bannister and shrugged it on, letting the comfort engulf you as you made your way towards the back door.

The chilly night air greeted you as you stepped onto the back porch. The weak glow of a single porch light illuminated the worn wooden planks beneath your feet. You wrapped the cardigan tighter around yourself, seeking solace in its familiar warmth.

As you approached, you saw Luke standing to the side of the porch, his hands shoved into his pockets. His face was painted with nerves, uncertainty etched across his face. The moonlight cast shadows on his features, almost emphasising the gravity of the situation. You shuddered at the sight, it was almost as if he was a ghost standing still as time continued. His head snapped towards you as you settled on the wooden steps of the porch, your knees drawn up to your chest.

"Hey," He spoke tentatively, his eyes searching yours for any sign of emotion as he stepped closer.

You remained silent, your eyes watching him as he moved to sit beside you. You were waiting for him to explain himself and the world felt suspended, time frozen as you said nothing, facing the person who had shattered your trust.

"I guess we should talk..." Luke finally spoke, scratching his head awkwardly. At his words, you found yourself tearfully scoffing.

"You guess?" you asked in disbelief, your voice steady but laced with pain. Your eyes remained ahead of you as you tried to keep a straight face. "Why did you do it, Luke? We were supposed to be more than this."

"Why did I do what?" Luke huffed, anger weaving into his tone. "I came over for you to explain why you did what you did at the party."

"What I did?!" You exclaimed, your hands fidgeting. "You mean having to watch you shove your tongue down a girl's throat in front of everyone while they laugh at me?"

"Why should that matter?" Luke rolled his eyes, "it's not like you did anything different."

"I don't know what you're talking about," your voice cracked, taken aback by his cruelty.

"Don't act clueless,"

"I don't know what you're talking about,"

Luke's sharp gaze scanned yours for any sign of a lie. His face slowly dropped, his eyebrows scrunching as your teary eyes remained locked on his.

"I saw you and Brock in the kitchen," Luke breathed out, "you kissed him!"

"Kissed him?" You choked on a tearful laugh, "I did not!"

"Then how do you explain what I saw, huh?" Luke spat at your laughter, his hurt plastering across his face. "I saw you..."

"You saw him grab me, and pull me towards him?" You asked rhetorically, "You saw me close to him? Wake up, Luke...Brock grabbed me, he pulled me, he yanked me closer, see the common denominator here?"

"That doesn't explain the kiss," Luke mumbled, his hands running over his eyes in frustration and exhaustion.

"There was no kiss!" You burst as stray tears flooded through the dams. "He was taunting me, Luke! He was being a dick insinuating that I was a whore filled with diseases!" Luke was ashen when he raised his head. You felt yourself deflating, growing smaller in yourself by the second.

"I didn't kiss him...I didn't," your voice broke off as you looked away from the boy you still loved despite everything. "I would never do that to you."

"But you... And they said..." Luke's nose scrunched up a confusion, which seemed to be interwoven with despair."...and I saw you!"

Your body shook, and this time it wasn't from nerves, but from the sound Luke made when he turned to face you again. It was almost an animalistic send one so inhuman, you thought there may have been some little creature out beyond your back garden, whimpering.

"...but I swear, they told me...they told me they saw you and him... And then I went, I went and I checked and then I saw..." Luke paused his rambling, barely taking a breath. "You didn't kiss him?"

Luke's voice trembled as if his world was collapsing around him, every lie he had convinced himself of, every brick in the foundation had come tumbling down on him leaving him in the ruined rubble.

"I thought you knew," Your voice came out as a breath, "I thought you knew I would never do something like that to you."

"...I thought you had. I saw you and him in the kitchen and you were so close. I thought you were kissing and all I could see was red. All I could see was a hazy fog and I... I didn't know what to do."

"So your best idea—your best idea was to go and kiss someone else?!" Your voice now betrayed your brain as it stammered, letting the hot tears streak down your face. "Instead of coming to talk to me, and instead of asking me, instead of coming over...you kissed someone else? You jumped to conclusions, and that is not on me..."

Luke's eyes, the eyes which you loved, were welled with unshed tears. You see, he knew what he did was wrong, but Luke?

Luke had a tendency to lash out, a tendency to jump before he even knew it was safe. He was known to leap from one place to another without any guarantee of a landing space.

And you knew that about Luke. You knew that a part of him was hurting so much and that the reason he kissed someone else was a twisted way to get back at you for hurting him all while protecting himself.

"Why didn't you just come over?" You whispered your heart dropped to your stomach. And the churning feeling of anxiety has long settled in your gut. "I thought we had the trust in one another to communicate, to be open to each other."

Luke sighed, a mix of guilt and shame crossing his features. "I don't have a good reason, Y/N. I got caught up in the moment, and I let everything unravel. I was stupid, and I hurt you, and I hate myself for it."

The raw honesty in his words pierced through the silence. You remained still, absorbing the weight of his confession. Ellen's guidance echoed in your mind, encouraging you to express your feelings.

"It's not just about the cheating, Luke," you spoke, your voice revealing the depth of your hurt. "It's about the trust you shattered, the friendship you trampled on. I never thought you'd be the one to hurt me like this."

Luke took a step closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know I messed up, and I don't expect you to forgive me overnight. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I miss you, Y/N. I miss us."

Tears welled up in your eyes as conflicting emotions swirled within you. The loneliness, the betrayal, and the desire for connection warred in your heart. You glanced at the cardigan's sleeves, trying to muster the strength to say what needed to be said because looking at him in that moment it felt like you didn’t know him at all.

"Luke, I need time," you said, your voice firm but tinged with vulnerability. "This can't be fixed overnight, and I can't pretend everything is okay."

Luke nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I get it. Just... don't shut me out completely. I'm here, whenever you're ready."

With those words, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone on the porch. The night air felt colder, but a sense of clarity embraced you. You allowed your head to lull backwards, the tears slipping from the corner of your eyes as you gazed at the stars overhead. You knew the journey ahead would be challenging, but with Ellen's support and your own resilience, you were determined to rebuild from the broken pieces.

Anywayssss, don’t hate me but this is getting a part three!

[callsign-relic]

Hello! Can I get a romantic scenario of First Contact AU with Yandere TFP Optimus and female human? Maybe she's a bystander who caught his optics, and he decided she'd have a better life with him.

Like, look at this human nest he set up for you, right beside his own berth. There's even functioning water system, electricity, and all. Much better than your apartment, right?

Thank you!

Hi!! Thank you for being my first TFP Optimus request! And yandere on top of that?? AND FIRST CONTACT??? You have excellent taste >:)

It was fun exploring this kind of character for Optimus, I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader, Yandere, First Contact AU, kidnapping

The moment Optimus laid his optics on you, he knew a helpless little creature such as yourself needed to be kept safe.

By sheer coincidence, you were caught in the crossfire of a battle between Optimus and a handful of Decepticons. You dodged and weaved between the heavy footfalls of the gigantic metal titans above you, trying to at least find a decent place to hide. Pieces of metallic armor clashed to the floor beside you as Vehicons fell left and right— the booming sound of the Prime’s blaster fire nearly rupturing your ears.

Black and purple obscures your vision as another ‘Con grunt crumbles to the floor in front of you, and you just barely manage to dodge out of the way. The moment you think you’re home free, however, a shadow casts itself over you, and you swallow as you dare to look up.

A grey pede, readying itself to land upon you.

The towering blue and red mech had cleared the area and was merely shifting his stance. He hadn’t the slightest awareness that you were there.

By reflex, you let out a shrill scream, cowering into yourself on the ground and hoping your demise is quick and painless—

But a deep tremor within the earth and the sound of clanging metal mere inches away from you allows you to let go of the breath you were holding.

Apprehensively, you lower your arms from your face and pry your eyes open, and you lock eyes with a steely blue stare. You’re practically directly under the metal titan, as he takes a step or so backwards to properly examine you.

Optimus was not aware that earth was populated with these… tiny, Cybertronian-like beings.

He suddenly drops to a crouch before you, and the breeze from his movement rushes past you, leaving you flinching and raising your arms to protect yourself once more. He removes his faceplate with a tinny click, and you can see his lips purse in curiosity as he tilts his helm. A massive black servo reaches down to your curled up body, and a finger longer than your entire form pushes its way up against you.

Slowly, your arms are forced away from your face, and you have no choice but to stare up at the alien mech with your stinging red eyes. Your chest trembles with your sobbing breaths as the giant above you studies you like you were a bug struggling to free itself from a web.

That massive digit pulls away from you with ease, but no relief comes to you as you watch it instead wrap around behind you. More of his fingers follow suit, and slowly, you’re lifted up higher and higher into the air until you can’t deal with it anymore and shut your eyes, hoping this was all some terrible nightmare that you needed to wake up from already.

Raising himself to his full height, with his free hand, Optimus presses his index finger into your stomach— prompting a little squeak to come from, what he assumed to be, your intake. You were so small in his hold. You rested nearly flat against his palm, yet that was still not enough to cover the expanse of it. And the way his finger only pushed further and further into you the longer he held it there, you were so… soft. Fleshy. Squishy. A texture unlike anything he had seen upon Cybertron.

A new sensation just barely registers itself into the nervecircuits on his finger, and he shifts his attention just a little to see your face. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were stained with an odd liquid trailing down them— that being the thing Optimus must have felt land on him just moments before. You open your mouth and out emerges a series of noises the Prime couldn’t understand. He wasn’t sure how to describe it— squeaks? Chirps? Trills, maybe? Whatever they were, they enraptured him, and the mech paid the utmost attention to how your mouth so perfectly formed around your noises.

You appeared to be so distraught, poor little thing. It made sense, you had nearly been crushed underpede, after all. The terrified look on your face tugged at Optimus spark in the worst way. “I am sorry, little one,” the Prime offers gently, dragging his finger up from your stomach onto your chest. Then, the mech’s optics widen as he sees your tiny hands reach up to grab the tip of his digit.

You struggle with all of your might to push his massive weight off from on top of you. You could barely breathe with such a pressure atop your lungs, and you shouted up at him to let go, or loosen up, anything.

Meanwhile, Optimus only finds himself further enamored.

Poor creature in his palm, finding no other comfort but in the unconventional hold you kept on his finger. He was right, you must have been utterly terrified at this moment. Optimus couldn’t live with himself if he just left you there.

A little organic, scared and alone, suddenly thrusted into a new world and surrounded by things you couldn’t begin to understand…

You would be much better off if you stayed with him. You would be kept perfectly safe under Optimus’ constant watch, never having to fear finding yourself caught between fights you had no place in. He didn’t know much about organics just yet, especially not of earth’s, but he would do the utmost to assure your comfort. You would never have to feel scared again.

And so, Optimus came to his decision.

He pulls his digit away from you once more, and for a moment, you think your pleads have come through to him. Though, you don’t even have a moment to attempt to communicate once more as you can hear the hydraulics of the mech’s fingers behind you suddenly start to shift. Slowly, you’re tilted within his hold as the digits wrap themselves around your body into a fist. Then, before you can even attempt to struggle against it, you’re brought down from his face and near his chassis. The only sight you’re met with is Optimus’ scratched windshield, and past that, the reflection of your own disheveled appearance. A surge of adrenaline rushes through you as you shout in his grip, doing anything you can to pull yourself free.

But as Optimus hears this, his spark only stings more. You were scared to death, and he knew that, the mech only wished he knew how to assure you that you were safe. He was taking you back to the base, the place where you would be safest of all. Actions spoke louder than words, he supposed— once he saw how well he would treat you, he knew you would eventually see a smile on your face.

With his free servo, Optimus raises it to his audial. “Ratchet, I am requesting a groundbridge at my coordinates. Additionally, I ask that you pull up any information we may have regarding organics and their natural habitats. I have one with me that you may wish to see.”

[weirdfishy]

gotta urgent need for some not-quite-yet punkflower where hobie is chillin in some rubble post-(successful) battle all knackered out n miles is visiting (idk bc he just told his parents abt spiderman n it went well so he's bursting at the seems with love at being accepted n all yea? he's gotta tell someone, and why not him? why not hobie? it's no one else but hobie he's gotta tell, if he's being honest with himself [denile is not a river in his egypt, ok pav?] so yeah, he finds himself on 138) n catches the tail end of the battle, tracks down where hobie decided to make a couch outta concrete and lands in front of him, buzzing with cheezy lovey dovey feelins of elation, top o' the fucken world, and asks on abt hobie, rambling until hobie just lifts a hand, a silent ask for help up, (always asking for connection always makin sure they're actually there) n miles, have i mentioned he's happy? he's straight up a sap, so he takes that hand.

he takes that hand gently, bending at the waist a bit, dramatically sweeping back his other arm, bowing, for hell's sake, n plants a kiss on the back of hobie's hand, nice n proper, with a cheeky wink to boot (he'd finally fixed the eye mechanisms last week, thanks to penny), before pulling up new london's own spiderman chest to chest with a bright laugh that puts a different kind of stars in hobie's eyes, half dancing half belting out a song in spanish he doesn't quite understand but knows all the words to (it's some continental dialect, nothing his mami speaks, but would filter out the headphones of that kid in his building he walked w in middle school everyday)

before the sirens start getting closer n hobie can feel the warmth of miles-- the warmth of his smile, his hair that's still sparking from transdimensional travel, his arms, chest, laughter, everything, n all at once it pulls every affectionate n pining bit of hobie to the surface, if he weren't wearing his mask his blush would be so impossibly visible it's straight mad how much hobie loves n adores miles, how much seeing miles be happy lights hobie's whole fucking world

and oh, hobie's never seen a god he didn't punch, never believed in any one he couldn't, but right now, with his fingers entwined with miles', aches leaving his bones like he's never felt his left shoulder twinge the second it drops below 21 just because miles just yelled fuck off to the approaching pigs, he could fall to his knees n swear pious fealty to milesmilesmiles.

but hobie is cool (never has a label stuck to him like the one miles has given him), and his real, livin n breathing god is starting to ramble, so hobie webs them upupup, heat along his back as god wraps arms around him, breath on his neck as home weaves tales into the leather wrapping it.

then miles hears hobie's stomach growl, so he starts pulling them away from the path of what he knows is towards hobie's flat, and towards what he swears is the only good puerto rican food in the whole of hobie's haunt, his excitement steamrolling over his usual stuttering spanish, exchanging shouts n jeers with everyone behind the counter

bc everyone knows him, like miles has lived here, earth-138, new london, his whole life, like hobie brown being dragged into the shop every other week by miles morales to get the same two plates (n an extra something for miles to gush over n hobie to taste) is how the rest of this life will go, like hobie n miles are together, in a way that the unsubtle looks the owner's kid at the register is aiming at miles' left hand are correct, but don't involve stuffy socially religious systems like marriage

but they're not, as much as hobie would love to kiss miles, gaze into his eyes for ages, hear his laughter, his off-key singing, his scritch-scritch of something on paper everyday-- bc he can't go abt this like he does everyone else, can't do it with half a foot out the door n a shrug as agreed; it's gotta be both feet on the floor, n it's gotta be for the rest of this life, so he'll take what he can get, and he'll take the distance n devotion, take the faith n the heartache. take what he can get from his god, glad to be touched by his god, glad to be loved by his god, across universes n the fall from his bed to the futon on the floor where miles decides to lay his head for choice holy nights

(hobie doesn't know miles is putting himself at the base of his god's shrine, hoping for his deity to fall into his arms, spikes n all, (ready, so ready to tear apart dimensions again for hobie, to bleed and cry n go to war for hobie) fingers splaying on the side of the mattress warmwarmwarm after hobie starts snoring, before they slip down softly, a prayer imparting from the pads, memorizing the patterns of his god's breath, the smell of the room, the borrowed shirt he wears, the sounds of a second city he calls home, thrumming full with a bass note plucked from an electric guitar, usually shaky hands sure n still picking out a different shape to hobie's eyebrow piercing, deftly screwing a star onto the bar. miles brings offerings to his god in pins n patches on clothing, stickers n torn out sketches decorating a shrine)

so they'll song n dance in new york, in new london; learning each other's cities, earths, haunts, people, arts, each other, like new scars for the collection- permanent and signs of living, odes to loving and protecting.

chest to chest, fingers entwined, warmth in the skies above cities, right on the edge of it all until they fall together, eyes wide open, gods broken down into blood and teeth and lovelovelove

not-quite-yet 2 - 3

. my ko-fi 💛

ao3 link

[spdrvyn]

mr. spider and his journalist

you and miguel are rivals on the surface, but there's an irrevocable bond that exists between the two of you when you read between the lines.

injuries. implied wound patching. fluff. hurt/comfort. suggestive. happy valentines, folks!

The fast-paced and riveting action, joint with the simple adrenaline of describing an intense scene was what drew you to this job in the first place. Journaling wasn't easy, while you were no superhero, you were still somewhat putting your safety on the line to witness two adults in skin tight suits and superpowers throw hands at each other.

In spite of everything, you loved your job.

Your name had reached every single article that average Nueva York citizen could even think to get their hands on, your name befell the mouth of every employee in your building whether it was in praise or malice. You didn't care, all that mattered to you was that you were truly out there.

Although, your workplace wasn't the only area of your life where you were severely disliked. Even as you went out and about to record and detail on the spectacles and heroic gestures in this city, its top vigilante still glared at you with ire through his mask.

He was a spider, you were a pest.

Spider-Man had fought many impeccable foes over the years, battled by a villainous organization that was out for his blood in an almost literal sense. Not to mention that he was hurtling fate's delegated task of protecting a multiverse which each had a different version of this maddening, web-weaving hero.

It wasn't like he could bring himself to actually express his distaste towards you, but it was hard to mask his annoyance when you immediately came flocking to him with borderline intrusive questions about his life outside of his work.

After the precipice of disaster subsided once each fight had concluded, the snippiness of your tone as you wrung out questions brought the crowd of clamoring reporters to a halt.

Miguel had to swallow his intrigue time and time again, he'd tried to acknowledge a long time ago that surely you were just another journalist seeking out to actually making something of yourself. But your passion was the flint that sparked his curiosity about you, it was a weakness. He couldn't allow his poise to be wavered by someone like you.

Someone so eloquent and composed, someone so witty and humorous, letting himself get bested by you would be the biggest blow to his massive ego. It would be nightmarish to even approximate the possibility of Miguel having some sort of interest towards you.

You'd already come to your senses a long time ago.

It was silly, really. Obviously you'd discover these underlying feelings for him, why else would you practically be clinging to his side post-mission? Why else would you publish so many stories and reports about his daily miscreancy? A 5th grader could figure it out.

There was so much you knew, that you really shouldn't have. There were details about his life that have retained in your mind, but you didn't even know his full name.

"No further anomalies, Miguel. I'd suggest checking diagnostics though, anomaly activity in this dimension has been active as of late."

Miguel groans, running a hand across his face despite his mask. "Uh huh, right." He doesn't need anymore on his plate right now, for all he could care, you were probably hiding around in a little corner somewhere.

"So it's Miguel?"

Fuck, he really hated being right. And not having a spider sense, that too. "Ay, mierda!" He jolted, you bit on your lip to conceal your giggles. Seeing someone as big as Miguel get startled out of his mind was a little funny. "Do not keep that detail in your little article."

"What kind of person do you think I am, Miguel?" Ugh, he hated the way you say his name even more. "Tu secreto es mi secreto, no need to worry about it. But if I could get a last name too, that would be-"

"Alright, get away from me."

He still remembered the way you chased after him as he approached the edge of the battered rooftop, clutching at his forearm. You'd pester him for details, the most intricate ones, even when he knew that he could just zip right out of there, you always found a way to make him stay. Every single time.

The stirring way that you were always able to show up after nearly every mission he's had, your very presence emanating even when deep into the crowds of people surrounding the scene.

But you didn't show up this time.

Don't call for backup, he'd insisted. A stupid, moronic decision that was because now he was crawling his way, bloody and bruised, throughout a sopping wet alleyway that definitely wasn't only soaking with just the rainwater.

There was no crowd this time, there was no you to be found. He would have noticed a hundred miles away otherwise, his watch had damaged in the aftermath. Narrowly escaping by a hair, he growled frustratedly as the furious taps of his fingers against the small screen didn't register. His talons took the rear, scratching against the tiny panes of glass and only breaking it further.

At that point, there was no more reason to be angry. What's done is done, he fought his battle, he didn't lose, but he wouldn't consider this a win either.

The nano-fabric, originally designed to be as comfortable as can be for your regular vigilante activities, now felt like it clung uncomfortable to Miguel's skin. Sticky, grimy, and bloody. His chest heaved with the effort to just keep breathing, his large frame now so small as he slumped against the rough wall of the alley.

He wondered what you'd say right now, if he hadn't been caught in this blunder. You'd be asking him, what the anomaly looked like, if they were from a different era, their powers, how did he defeat them? So on and so forth, but your absence was more than enough of a bad omen for his failure.

The sound of your voice wasn't something he thought he'd miss, your annoying comments, your inquisitive glances, that sparkle in your eyes whenever he started talking. All those lovely details he'd lost to snide replies and swift conversation enders, he closed his eyes, it was childish to hold onto hope, but maybe thinking about what you'd say, what you'd do, would motivate him to get up. Get away.

Miguel, I honestly just don't know you do it, you would say with a sarcastic rise in your tone.

Say, how does your suit even work? I mean, I know it's nano-tech, but I'm no scientist of any sort. You'd ask, all while poking and prodding at the technology. A privilege he only allows you to have.

I don't know what to do with you, how am I supposed to help when this thing doesn't even have a damn zipper! The frustrated grind in your voice says it all.

Don't die on me, please. I'm sorry if I'm a thorn in your side, okay? I'll stop, just wake up! Wake up, please. You begged, a desperation sewn deeply with the way you grasped at his bandaged hand.

When did he get here?

His body still hurt like hell, trying to get his neck up straight was like having needles straight into the muscles. His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he sees is your eyes. Puffy, swollen, and red from crying, your mouth stuck in a pout, quivering from the amount of sobs that you've let out. Your grip on his hand loosens upon his awakening, you can't hug him without risk of hurting him, so you simply lean in closer.

"You're alive," it's said a lot calmer than the hysterics you were spewing a while ago, a relieved smile gracing your features. "I- I didn't kill you, you're alive!"

The joy rushes into your voice, you're practically vibrating with happiness while trying to fight back the urge to swoop him in your arms. Miguel would, but for obvious reasons, he won't.

"Why would you have killed me?"

"I'm not a science person, how many times do I have to tell you?"

He doesn't bother quipping back, he hums, looking down over at the exposed parts of suits, pushing the blanket you set on him aside to discover that everything was cleaned and patched and stitchedto near perfection. "So you're not a nurse or a science person, but you can fix wounds like no other."

"This is a common book trope, considering how I'm closely tied to a superhero, I feel like being a fixer-upper is a requirement."

"Closely tied?" He says, unamused.

"We'll have to be now! I can't have you scare me like that, I won't ask you any questions for a month as long as I don't see you in any dark alleys all hurt looking." You harumph, you see him press a spot below his ear and all of a sudden-

His mask disengages, fabric disappearing seamlessly as his face is miraculously bestowed onto your gaze. Warm skin from the ambient lighting set to accomodate his hypersensitive senses. Curly and deep brown hair, all mussed from his scuffle. A set of dark crimson eyes that look a beautiful chestnut if you really look from a different angle, you forget to breathe.

"Thank you, but don't get too excited. Consider this a treat for taking care of me," he returns to that sense of stoicism, but your jaw is unfortunately still agape from how awe inspiring he truly is. Now, you'd have to imagine this face every time you even so much as wrote the word spider down.

"I, uh, yeah. Sure,"

This is the first instance he's ever had you so silent. You trekked around your flat for different foods you could feed him, brewing him too many cups of tea to count. You barely even made small talk, it was astounding to him.

He left soon after, the super healing abilities work bound to have started working more efficiently anyway. You bid your goodbyes to him, it was as if you still had the moment of shock written all over your face when he revealed his face to you.

The days that followed were odd, he didn't find himself in any sort of kerfuffle that involved him to be severely injured anymore, but when he noticed you in the crowd, you tended to shy away. You didn't even try to follow him afterward to pester him for details on the battle, there was something so off about it.

So Miguel decides to talk to you about it.

You were idly typing away, contained in a small office from the rest of the room. The chatter from your coworkers were your white noise along with the near silent clicks of your keyboard, the process has you so out of it that you don't pick up on the reflection of navy blue and bright red on your computer screen.

"You," grumbles Miguel and this time, you're started.

"Oh, shock. What are you doing here?" That boisterous confidence you always carried with you had gone mute, all Miguel saw was a drained creative and it made his blood boil.

"Why haven't you been," he doesn't want to say it. Don't make him say it. "Talking to me?"

You tilt your head to the side in confusion, quirking your brow up. Miguel disengages his mask again, you'll never get used to that. "I- what do you mean by that exactly?"

"You know, don't you normally- ask more questions? After I take care of business?" Miguel despises how needy he sounds right now. Please talk to me and keep annoying me, for I miss it so dearly.

"I thought you hated that," your voice drops in volume. "I just thought since the thing that happened that you'd want me to leave you alone for a while."

The absurdity of your statement had him reeling, the reason why he didn't die that night was because of your allergy to negligence, how the thought of even leaving him alone would make you sick to your stomach as you so described. Now, you were giving him distance?

"No," he walked even closer to you, cornering you against your desk and causing you to shrink in your small swivel chair. "You don't get it, do you?"

You shake your head hesitantly, it's too hard to focus. You've touched him before, but never has he actually initiated it. He was mere inches away from you, whether you should focus on not looking like a freshly plucked tomato or his handsome face was between you and God.

He lets out an irritated chuckle, the gleam of his canines prominent from the light of the monitor behind you. "Has it ever struck you in that head of yours that I like talking to you?" He places a hand on one of your arm rests. "That I enjoy your sass, your passion?"

There's that funny feeling again, that feeling from when he revealed himself to you. Discovering such a big revelation from Miguel, something you've dreamed of nearly every night, but now that it's in the palm of your hand, you can't bring yourself to think properly.

"But I– I thought that–"

"It's a yes or no question, hermosa. Answer it."

"No."

The back of your chair hits the wood of your desk as Miguel pushes you, he dwarfs your suroundings, his presence much larger now that both of you are in a place so confined. Now that he wasn't "couchridden". At this proximity, you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear your heartbeat.

"Think again," his other hand moves to tug on your bottom lip as he clashes his own against yours, your whole body tenses and for a split second, he thinks he's seriously messed up this time, until you groan into his mouth and that thought is straight out the window.

Your hands map out his body, from the broad shoulders, tracing the muscle connecting them to his neck, then to the soft hair that you've been dying to touch ever since you've laid your eyes upon it. Your fingers ultimately find home in the curls at the ends.

It's almost filthy. His other hand now trailing down to your neck, wrapping deft fingers around your throat and it causes you to arch your back into him.

He uses his grip on you as leverage to separate, left panting and with a memory to use for later.

"We should get dinner sometime,"

"When are you free?"

"Friday. 7PM."

"Okay," and you lean in to kiss him again.