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neil-gaiman · 4 months

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This isn’t a question, but I want to thank you for your books and how they’ve impacted my life.

Over thirteen years ago, I read Neverwhere for the first time and it changed what kind of writer I wanted to be. I went on to read more of your books—my other two favourites were The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane.

About 11 or so years ago, I asked you on Twitter if I could read Stardust on a Twitch livestream, and you responded, “Fine by me”. It was one of my best streams, and while life got in the way of me doing more, I still remember it incredibly fondly.

Ten years ago I had a baby, and while he was an infant, I read him, Fortunately, the Milk, in an attempt to read him a book. He didn’t seem interested. I decided I’d try again some other time perhaps. But I did resolve to get him to read The Graveyard Book someday.

Nine years ago, when I was a mother of a one-year-old, I posted a status on Facebook simply saying, “We do not forget.”

Two years ago, I went on holiday, and I downloaded the audio book version of The Graveyard Book from our local library. My eight-year-old son listened to it as he fell asleep, though he ended up missing some parts, and we shelved it.

Last year, he read Coraline and didn’t like it. That isn’t your fault. He read Charlotte’s Web and didn’t like that either. He just didn’t quite have the understanding for them.

This year, he read Coraline and liked it. I told him it was from the same author as The Graveyard Book. He lamented that he never finished The Graveyard Book, and I said he could always download it from the library again.

Then about a month ago, he and I went through a tough time. I was really stressed about life, he wasn’t doing so well either, and our relationship got strained. I was angry with him all the time. I needed a break from him, or I thought I did. But one day when he was at his dad’s I realised that I wouldn’t get this time back. That I needed to fix it. So I asked him if he wanted me to read to him at bedtime. Just like when he was little. And we settled on The Graveyard Book.

On nights when he got to bed on time, I’d read a chapter. It often meant stretching past bedtime, but I could never stop halfway. It had been years since I’d read it too, and I found myself remembering things I’d forgotten. I’d watch his dark eyes widen whenever things got exciting, and I loved when he would interrupt me with an important revelation. “It’s Scarlett! His friend!” he’d say. “The dog! The grey dog!” “I know what Silas is!” He would tell me that I did the voices so well, that it seemed to match each character so perfectly.

We didn’t read every night, but it was a treat when we did. One night we had an argument and he told me he hated me. That he wished I was dead. And that he wanted to be with his dad. I told him to go take a shower, and that I’d ask his dad to come get him. His dad said no, but agreed to talk to him on the phone. After the shower, my son apologised for what he said. I said okay, and told him to call his dad to chat. After their call, he asked if we would still have story time. I asked if he preferred that or to have some space. He said he wanted both, but wanted story time more than space. So I read to him. It was the chapter when Bod and Silas argued, and then apologised to each other. Halfway through that chapter, my son asked for snuggles. I said, what happened to space? And he said, “I want snuggles more than space.”

We were sad when it ended. We finished it last weekend. I cried as I read it. But it was a beautiful sadness. We’ve talked about it a bit since then, to process it. He says he would like to read more about Silas and Bod’s adventures and asked if there was fan fiction about it. I told him to look, and to write some if there wasn’t. Perhaps I’ll write some too, just for him.

Last night he was at his dad’s and I was browsing Facebook and sent him a couple of his old pictures. Then I found an old post. From exactly nine years ago. And so I sent it to him.

It brought tears to my eyes. I did not remember making that post, and I’ve forgotten a great deal over the years, but I hope I do not forget these little moments with my son. But even if I do, I have them written down here to remind me again.

And thank you. For the words you’ve written and the impact you’ve had on our lives and hearts. I hope that your life holds the same amount of joy and love that you’ve given to others with your words.

That made me so happy. Thank you. I hope you and your son keep growing together.

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deadsetobsessions · 8 months

Text

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.2

[Pt.1]

Peter’s no stranger to memories that comes as nightmares. There’s something different to them, the taste of terror that’s tinged with a feeling of “that’s happened.”

Flashes of Aunt May, dying as he stood next to her while choosing the city over her? Old hat. Inky darkness surrounding MJ falling as Peter reached for her, over and over again? Been there, seen that, didn’t even get a sick scar out of it. Racing against the clock to defeat some bad guy or an unknown threat? That’s his Thursday.

But this?

This isn’t his. It’s real, Peter could tell that much. Sure, it’s wrapped up in silk hisses and heart crushing terror, but Peter could always tell whether a nightmare was a nightmare or whether it was a memory.

This was a memory. Not his. His. It’s complicated.

“Your father, papito, he-,”

Then, it’d be the ruffle of his hair, brown eyes. It reminded him of his mom. But the crease of these eyes were different. Hardened, mean. Even towards him.

“Well, he said no, but I knew what he really wanted.”

The base of Peter’s neck always crawled when he remembered that line. His spider-sense warned him that whatever he’s remembering, he would not like.

“Ey, Peter.”

“Huh?” Peter blinked, looking up from where his arms were elbow deep in wires.

“Don’cha need gloves with that?” Frank asked, munching on some jerky. They were sitting in the living room, repairing a TV and a washer Frank had somehow managed to lug back to the apartment. It’s a toss up between Frank’s network of orphans (Peter included), street rats (these things are not mutually inclusive), or his own slightly higher than average strength. Not that they needed to thrift broken things, considering Peter’s funneling money from offshore bank accounts belonging to this America’s 1%. They just made it so easy! He and Ned had been hacking into government bases in middle school back on his world. This world? Not even a challenge. Regardless, this was kind of like… Frank’s version of those fancy sensory boxes for Peter.

“Oh, no. It’s not plugged in, see?”

“How’re ya gunna know it works then?”

“Plug it in after I’m done. Turn it off and on, you know?”

Frank stared at him, then rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“If you burn down that portion of the house, at least we’ll be warm for a bit.”

“Thanks. Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You talk like an old man.”

“I do not! Excuse you! If I’m old, you’re the expired knock off cup ramen in the back of a convenience store!”

“Yo, shrimpy, that’s rude, ya hear?” Frank snickered, impressed at the quip. The Alley kid turned brother stood up to plop next to Peter.

“So… you gonna go…?” Frank made a whooshing sound and held his hand in a web shooter position.

“Tonight? Prolly. Anything I should look out for?”

“You’re gunna get yourself killed, but yeah, heard the gang’s back up north.”

Peter flashed a smile, dimples coming out. “I’ll try not to. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime, Spidey.”

Frank, though little (to Peter), was a good friend. Then again, considering Peter saved his ass both in mask and out of it, it’s to be expected. One would think that after eight years of hiding his identity, Peter would be better at it. Then, he got punted into a different world and got made by a child.

To be fair, the circumstances all but screamed Parker Luck, so Peter’s not counting this instance.

See, the first few days of this sudden cohabitation, Peter had asked Frank to find them furniture. Both because he was getting real sick of eating on the floor and because Peter needed to fix his suit to match his much younger body. Then, once he readjusted the shrinking nanotech and the spider legs to fit him in a way that wouldn’t break him, Peter had promptly swung out of the building and went patrolling. He stuck with the wandering Frank, taking out muggers and robbers and everything in between and past that around the area where Frank is.

Looking back, Peter realized how lucky he was when he decided to go on the “helping joyride” at the beginning of the evening. His spider-sense activated way later in the night, the moment where he began seeing and sensing the cameras that kept pointing towards him. He ducked and dodged out of the way, and eventually, the feeling left. Somebody was watching. And he doesn’t know where they stood on the moral side of things.

Anyways, it happened after three weeks and a half of going out and just… settling into life in Gotham. He had already been struggling to find a way home, scouring the libraries around Gotham on any subject that would aid in his multiversal travel. Peter would like to know which emo kid named this city.

Eventually, Parker Luck decided to strike once more.

“Get back, freak!” The lady brandished a wicked knife.

Talk about deja vu.

“Oh no! Knives! My greatest weakness!” Spider-Man yelled, sticking to the shadowed windows as he let his voice echo in the alley. Gotham had a lot of nice hiding places. Spider-man dropped down on her head like a bat out of hell and webbed the knife out of her hands. He webbed the mugger up onto the alleyway above normal reach, and told the man to call the police.

Frank screamed, just as Spider-man wrapped it up, loud enough to reach his enhanced hearing.

“Wait-!” The man tried to stop him, but Peter, small, trained, and having readjusted his reach, slipped away.

“What’s your name?!” The guy he saved yelled at his back.

Spider-man, distracted, yelled back, “SPIDEY!”

He shot webs upwards and used them to slingshot his way towards where Frank was. And… car! Peter used his webs to swing up, up, and let himself fall to gain momentum. At the last moment, Peter shot a web to the top of the car and pulled himself to it.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s stupidly attached to the kid, and he was stupid enough to let Frank go out into Gotham looking both well-fed and well clothed.

The world slowed as he locked eyes with a terrified Frank, who was getting dragged into a car.

The world narrowed to speed and Spider-Man landed on top of the car roof, sweeping his leg out and thankfully remembering his much shorter reach. His foot collided with the kidnapper’s face with the equivalent force of a grown up, slightly annoyed Peter Parker who’s letting his strength go a bit unchecked. Basically, they went flying, blood spewing out of the undoubtedly broken nose Spider-Man had just given them.

Standing on business, the shorter webster promptly flipped down wards as he all but glued the would-be kidnapper to the curb.

“You alright?”

“You’re- You’re that new mask.” Frank whispered, scuttling away from the car where he’d been dropped.

“Yeah, man. You okay?” His voice modulator came in clutch.

“Fuck. Fuck, I gotta-” Frank stumbled. The kid looked like he was one bad break away from snapping. Peter hated it when kids got that terrified look on their faces, it reminded him of himself, helpless as Ben bled out because they should never have to fear something that much.

Something’s wrong, though. As much as Peter wished otherwise, Frank was a Gotham bred and true alley kid, through and through. These kids don’t spook easily. Peter already stopped a couple of kidnappings and at least two of the kids had yelled at him to stay out of the way before unloading a rain of nut kicks on their kidnappers that left Peter wincing for days in sympathy. Frank being this spooked? Something’s going on.

“Woah, easy there, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

Frank shot him a half hysterical, half condescending look. Yeah, that’s more like it.

“Ob-obviously. I have to go before more of them comes,” Frank muttered.

“More of them? You know what they want?”

Frank stared at him, looking up and down at his blue, red, and gold ensemble.

“I can help,” Peter promised.

“What’re your thoughts on metas?”

Suspicious.

“Uh, they’re fine? Depends on the person, why?”

Frank sighed. The skinny teenager, barely 14, tugged at his hair. “They’re traffickers. Meta kids, mostly, so the Bats don’t do nothing. I- uh, I got caught.” He held up a thin wrist, showing Peter his new accessorie, a think metal bracelet that was beeping red.

Peter cursed in his head. Fuck, of course he’d stumble into a-

“Caught? You’re a meta?”

Frank nodded. “Strength. This is an inhibitor, illegal kind, you know?”

Well, that explained how he got all of those furniture without struggle.

“Right. Hey, don’t stress, kid, I’m a meta too.”

Frank blinked.

“What?”

Peter walked up the side of the car and did jazz hands.

“You’re a meta?! But- but you’re a mask operating in Gotham!”

“Yeah…? Is that weird?”

Before Frank could reply, Peter’s sense screamed and Spider-Man shoved Frank away from the spray of bullets.

“Move, Frank!”

Peter flipped away, vaguely aware of Frank’s gaping realization. He took down the shooters in quick succession, stopping the speeding car with his bare hands and some webs.

“Shooters, no shooting!” He yelled, liberally applying force he tended to keep under wraps. Frank was like a brother to him, and there is no universe where Peter Parker would hold back when his family was in danger.

When he got back to Frank, who had oddly stayed instead of running, Peter found out why the kid stayed.

“Peter?!” Frank hissed lowly, looking more pissed off than terrified. “Are you fucking insane?! Why are you running ‘round as a mask?!”

“Shhh!” Shit, he got made. “Come on, get back to the apartment and we can talk there. I’ll get rid of this-”

Peter casually snapped the bracelet in half, tearing the tracker out, and tucked it away to study later.

“Fuckin’- shit, fine, but you’re explaining everything, motherfucker!”

They split, Peter guessing correctly that he was in another lecture of a lifetime.

——

“Your vigilante name is Spiderman?”

“Hey, I can hear you say it without the hyphen! There’s a hyphen in there!”

“You’re not a man! You’re a twerp!”

“I’ll show you twerp, you-”

Five minutes of tussling later, in which Peter did not try to bite Frank’s arm off, thank you very much, Frank leaned back on the couch.

“Besides. People in the streets are calling you Spidey, anyways.”

“Spidey?”

“Some dude you saved from a mugging said you told him.”

Peter slammed his head on the floor where he was laying face down.

“Ughhhh.”

——

“He could have been great. I saw his potential.”

Anger. But he shouldn’t be afraid. The woman loved him.

“Hey, Peter. You’re up here again.”

“Hi.” Peter stayed curled up. His mind had refused him sleep for the last three nights, causing dark circles to appear underneath his eyes. The memories of what he assumed to be this world’s Peter was merging with his. What he’d seen so far did not fill him with confidence of a happy childhood. Flashes of wielding weapons, the sterile smell of a metal dissection table, and hundreds and hundreds of spiders crawling over him, getting startled into biting down. Plus, the stress of tracking down the meta trafficking circles in Gotham was no joke. He doesn’t know Gotham nearly as well as he knew New York, and he had to be extra careful running around and trying to catch every bit of the circle before making any moves. Frank was helping with his network of homeless Meta kids, but the traffickers were everywhere except for Crime Alley.

He should be dead. They sold his body to an organ harvester who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version.

“Everything all right?” Red Robin clambered down to sit next to him, cowl hiding the concerned scrunch of his brow. He’s never seen Peter like this.

Peter grumbled, staring down at another alleyway. He knows his alternate died. His shit excuse for another sold his body to an organ harvester, when he seized on the operating table, who dumped his venom filled corpse on the side of Gotham. At least he didn’t have to worry about killing his alternate version. He does, however, have to worry about missing vital organs.

“I… remembered something.” Peter remembered a lot of things. And pretty much none of them were good. This Peter suffered a lot in his short life.

Red Robin nodded. The issue of Peter’s spotty memories had come up in their discussions over the past month.

“Ah. Something unpleasant?”

Peter thought back to the voice who, despite all of the other, highly traumatic memories, haunted his brain like nothing else.

“He didn’t live up to it. He refused to kill. So I made the decision for him.”

“Yeah. Not for me, but unpleasant that I know about it.”

“Yeah, I get that. You wanna talk about it?” Peter hid a small smile. Even though Red Robin kept his tone light, the concern still bled through. Warm. It made Peter feel warm. Even if it appeared that the Bats don’t really care about the trafficked meta kids… maybe Red Robin would come save normal kid Peter if he got kidnapped. A backup plan to consider. For now…

“Sure,” he said. Red Robin waited patiently.

“I think, I remember someone. Maybe, maybe my…” Peter grimaced. “My mom? She… told me something. And uh, I think I’maproductofrape.”

“Oh,” Red Robin said, so awkwardly that Peter had to crack a small smile despite the gravity of the topic. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too. Not myself, but for…” Peter waved a hand. “You know.”

“Yeah.”

“She wasn’t a good person,” Peter whispered and hated how he missed the browns of her eyes- her middle name was Marie, and god, Peter wished he hadn’t known that because he gets why her eyes reminded him so much of his own mother- and she besmirched everything Mary Parker stood for.

“You have our combined potential, Peter. Make sure not to be like him too much and live up to it, papito.”

“It’s okay, to love her even if she hurt other people,” Red Robin said, gently ruffling his greasy hair. Peter’s spidey-sense tingled and he ducked away. Red Robin withdrew his hand. “Because you can’t really help that. Trust me, I’ve tried. You just have to make sure they don’t get the chance to do what they did again.”

Cold, cold voices and his voice gave out from screaming. “You really are your father’s son. Never being able to do what’s necessary.”

And Peter wondered what happened to Red Robin and who hurt him. Peter would just like to talk. Red Robin reminded him of himself, way back when being Spider-Man meant finding out Harry became Green Goblin. Pained. Tired.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But that’s not really a problem, considering the last thing the organ harvester said before dumping him in an alley. “She’s dead in a ditch in Siberia or something. I’m not really worried she’ll do it again.”

“Uh.”

“It’s cool,”

“Right. Have you… remembered your dad?”

“Yeah. He’s in Gotham,” Peter unfurled a little.

“You want help tracking him down? I’m good at that kind of thing.”

Peter glanced at Red Robin. “I think you just admitted to being a stalker.”

“Vigilante,” Red Robin shrugged, like it explained everything. And yeah, it kind of did. Peter snorted.

“Nah, it’s okay. I don’t want to meet him anyways.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about me,” Peter ticked off his fingers. “I’m a literal walking, talking, breathing reminder of his trauma. And I don’t need a dad.”

Red Robin looked at him silently. Peter doesn’t think about it.

He never wanted to see his parents suffer. An alternate version of his dad, hurt so irrevocably by an alternate version of his mom?

Peter hated that this Catalina dirtied his mother’s name, and went against the most fundamental parts of what the spider symbol was meant for. And considering he’s been doing this longer than her, he had first dibs on defining it. He’ll look after his dad, as long as he’s stuck in Gotham. It’s only right.

“His name? Oh, my son, it’s Richard Grayson.”

——

Peter, who Trusts his instincts: no head rubs?? awwwww

Tim, who’s been trying to get a dna sample for the last month: how does he keep evading me?? He must be a genius or a spy or- *spirals down the conspiracy board*

——

Tim: I’ve connected the dots!

Peter: you’ve connected jack shit

——

Listen, the moment I learned Catalina Flores’ middle name, the pieces clicked, okay? Like legos. It’s like, former FBI agent in this one and former CIA agent in Peter’s home universe? Wow. Middle name Marie? Mary Parker? Incredible. Spider themes run in the blood apparently?? They both have brown eyes!! Trying to do good with no qualms about murder!! (I’m assuming since Mary Parker was SHIELD and I don’t think SHIELD cared much for the sanctity of human life if it threatened the country or something)

#tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon #Peter Parker #I think you know who his mom is #nightwing #batman #red robin #Frank the Crime Alley kid #Tim Drake #Tw: mentions of torture #Tw: human experimentation #bruce wayne #dick Grayson #gotham #Tw: mentions of human trafficking #Catalina Marie Flores #tarantula #Spider in Gotham AU

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reverieblondie · 8 months

Text

Be Sweet to Me

Chapter 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: None for this chapter, but there will be eventual smut, Pining, and teasing. Alternating POVs, wandering eyes.

Summary: He saved you, why did he save you? And why is he so familiar?

A/N: Okay I know I haven't updated this series in a while BUT! I swear I will never just leave a series unfinished! I hate when I get invested in something and the writer doesn't finish! So updates might be slow but that's because I am putting a lot of thought into this. (Plus just slow writer, sorry!)

Word count: 3,523

Part 1

It tingles still….

Miguel rubs his hand on his neck where you had fixed his tie, hours later and he can still feel the tingling warmth your fingertips left behind. Even the slightest touch stirs him still, he thought he would be over this by now considering how often you two bump into each other and all your friendly gestures. Every time it's an electric shock through his system. -Annoying…

Layla says it’s from being touched-starved but he rather eat a pile of rocks before he admits that to himself…though…the sensation only happens when you are touching him. -of course.

From the top of the building Miguel watches as you walk back to your apartment, you have been working late again… he told you to get home on time but of course, you don’t listen to him… it’s dangerous to be walking home alone at night, especially with the hopelessly addicted taking every opportunity to mug people for their fix. Hints why he’s here surveying the city, not you, why would he be watching you? He just happened to be in the area when he spotted you, nothing weird.

Miguel watches as you walk without a care bobbin your head to whatever you're listening to. You shouldn't be walking around at night with earbuds in, how irresponsible…though that thought quickly dissolves into another as his stare lingers in you.

Have you always looked this good? Your hair cascading perfectly down, shining bright eyes, and the way your hips are swaying so…tantalizingly. Miguel groans and turns away from you, shutting those thoughts down instantly. He can’t think that about you, he works with you, you're annoying and touchy, and if he had thoughts about you it could complicate things.

Plus, besides all that being Spider-Man was filled with a lot of responsibility and then there was the multiverse and…everything that went with that….

No, this was best…being alone meant he could be focused, he couldn’t afford to slip up…to let anything distract him…

Shaking off the feelings Miguel’s eyes go back towards you. As he continues to watch you he sees that it’s no longer just you walking down the dark sidewalk but a hood-clad figure steadily approaching with their head down. Okay, Miguel knows from experience what’s about to happen, it’s textbook at this point. The guy is going to pull out a weapon and take your stuff. Miguel or well Spider-Man will make sure he doesn’t get far with your things.

Right on cue, as the man is about to pass you he speeds up, grabbing your bag and pulling. Though this doesn’t go as expected…

Usually, the bag gets grabbed, the person screams for help and the burglar goes off running for him to web up and get the bag back. Instead, you hold onto your bag pulling back, the guy looks at you surprised and Miguel matches the expression.

Pulling the guy's face goes from surprised to irritated, “Let go of the bag!”

You pull back, “You let go of the bag asshole!”

“Don’t make me hurt you!” The man starts to go for something hidden in his waistband and Miguel knows that now he has to intervene.

As the tug-of-war match continues it is interrupted by Miguel or Spider-Man jumping down and scaring the absolute shit out of the two of you. The guy gives one more tug before he relents, pushing the bag back at you and running away. Typically Miguel is just running and webbing up the attacker not giving the attack any attention, but this was you and despite his logical thinking he decides to stay by your side. Very atypical for Spider-Man.

Turning to look at you he sees you on the ground looking up at him completely gobsmacked. Okay, you look surprised…maybe he should say something to ease the tension…

“Usually people just let go of the bag” -nice, meet her actions with judgment.

Tilting your head at him you stand up, “Why would I have done that? I’m not going to let some creep try and take my stuff”

He sighs, sliding his hand down his face and he feels his patience thinning. “What you did was reckless and you could get yourself hurt or worse killed.”

Placing your hands on your hips you cock an eyebrow at him, funny you must have picked up the expression from him. “Aren't you the one who says we have to learn to protect ourselves?”

Miguel can’t help but step forward meeting your combative attitude, clearly, you saw a video of the bus incident, “Yeah but that doesn’t mean act reckless and get yourself killed.”

“And to think, everyone thinks you don’t care about the city or the people,” you say with a giggle. -only you can meet this whole thing with some kind of humor, being friendly to a masked man whom the city hates.

“People can believe what they want.” he turns away to end his conversation with you.

“Well, I believe in you, Spider-Man.”

This makes him stop in his tracks turning towards you once more

“What?”

“I bel-” he holds up his hand silencing you as he approaches you closer and closer. Why is this bothering him?

“I heard you, why?” you're backing away from him, and he reads your face, you should be scared…but you're not…

“Well, I believe that someone who looks after the city like you can’t be a bad guy…”

He's still approaching you, he’s intimidating you back into a wall successfully cornering you. “Maybe they are all right to hate and fear me…maybe you're wrong for seeing me as a hero…”

Why is he doing this…

He has too…

He has to push you away…he has to keep you distant, everyone distant…

Miguel becomes lost in his thoughts, he knows he needs to distance himself, He wants you to be scared, to make you hate him…though he does want your friendship, but he can’t risk it. Not after everything that has happened.

Then a rush of warmth spreads through him, and your soft hand is pressed to his shoulder…it's a comforting gesture like you're trying to console him. To reach out to him. Miguel's breath nearly stops; it feels like lightning rushing through him.

“You're not perfect, but you're not as bad as you want everyone to believe.”

He feels his eyes widen and he knows from the slight tilt of your head that his expression is being reflected through the mask. Miguel backs away no longer caging you between his arms. Shaking off the feeling he turns away from you, irritation blooming within his chest. Why do you always know how to rattle him…

“Just get home without getting yourself killed…”

Shooting his red web he swings off away from you, lighting still lingering through him from your touch.

----

Finally home…

With a groan you take off your shoes and put down your things, stripping away your work clothes as you make it through your apartment towards your bedroom. Today has been…interesting to say the least…

Getting dressed into your comfortable clothes you lay back in your bed staring blankly at the ceiling until you can’t suppress the urge any longer. Reaching aimlessly you grab your pad and search for the thing that has consumed your thoughts on your walk home.

Spider-Man,

Looking him up you see, what you expected, people complaining about him. News outlets saying that he is a menace and needs to be stopped. People talked about him sharing their experiences, the overwhelming consensus being: that people were not too fond of the grouchy spider. You however were more lenient in his behavior.

Having to save a city can’t be easy, sure he could use some consulting with a good PR agent but he's trying his best to protect everyone. He came to your rescue tonight, he just seems like he’s tired. Irritated for sure but not evil.

As you're scrolling through the articles about him you stop on a picture of the masked vigilantly. Unblurred pictures were a rarity and this was one of the very few, considering you just had an encounter with him the picture does little to actually depict the stature of him. How intimidating he is, it's funny you hardly ever get intimidated, the only person who has intimidated you lately…

Your face scrunches and you look back at your tablet looking at the picture again then you quickly open up another screen typing with haste till both pictures are side by side.

It's a picture of Miguel in his lab coat standing for a picture with the whole genetics department, a request made from the higher-ups for all the departments to do group photos. You remember how pissed Miguel was having to take the picture, a permanent frown on his face as the rest of the department smiles brightly, including you right next to Miguel. You had tried everything to get him to smile but nothing seemed to work.

Looking at the picture you see how big Miguel is compared to everyone else. Tall and muscular just like a hero you know, and they both seemed to be rather…grumpy…

Closing the screens you shake your head at the crazy thought. Miguel O’Hara is not Spider-Man there's just no way!

Laying in bed you stare upwards as your brain ticks with the possibilities. There could be crazier guesses but Miguel? Really? How could you even figure something like that out? Plus do you want to know? No, it’s too outlandish…

After a long night filled with dreams of Spider-man and Miguel you can’t help how you're starting to see even more similarities…

At work, you go through your usual duties, bring assignments to Miguel, and checking developments from projects you had sent off, the usual. Miguel of course was at work by the time you arrived, always so early stretching himself so thin for this place that you didn’t even think he truly liked it. Everyone had their views and thoughts on Alchemax but they typically didn’t challenge the higher-ups like Miguel did. Honestly, it's one of the first things that drew you to him, he wasn’t scared to call people on their bull no matter who it was. Though sometimes he is the throwing bullshit that you're quick to tease him about.

That’s kinda heroic, isn’t it? Standing up to big corporations then they are being jerks?

Turning your head you watch as Miguel reads through reports and wipes his hand over his face in irritation…huh, that’s another thing he did…

Instead of wondering what could be making him irritated like a good coworker you just rest your chin in hand and observe…looking for something.

Taking his lab coat off he seems to be getting even more frustrated, leaning it over his chair as he starts frantically swiping at screens. Watching his back you see how his muscles seem to fight the shirt's material like it wants to rip at any moment. Placing his hands on his waist, you can’t help how your eyes follow his strong arms, to his narrow waist, then wandering to his ass…

A part of you is screaming to look away. This is a HR complaint waiting to happen, but as you tilt your head you look at his ass more carefully a thought crosses your mind. The flashing thought of Spider-man walking away from you and then swinging away. Sure, it might be creepy to have checked out the hero's butt, and to now be doing it to your co-worker…just the similarity is uncanny…Can you even recognize someone from their butt?

Very discreetly you pull out your phone to look up pictures of Spider-man. You find one, from behind. As you look at the picture and then at Miguel you think that it is uncanny how similar they look from the back.

Miguel then turns to you suddenly catching your eyes being on him. You feel your cheeks warm and quickly put away your phone and start arranging your work.

“We are going to have to stay late tonight,” he says in a grumble.

Miguel seems tired…the bags under his eyes are more prevalent than normal. Honestly you don’t know if he could handle a late night of work, it looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Usually, you would give some kind of sassy response to the news, perhaps saying how he couldn’t even stay late because of how he looks, but today you decide to remain quiet; this might be a good opportunity for you to do some…investigating…

----

He’s got to get rest, he can feel his head bobbing as he stares at the different samples trying to urge his eyes to focus and his mind to wake up. Miguel is tired and he can feel his body becoming sluggish. It's been 72 hours without proper rest and it's starting to take its toll on him. He can't keep doing this but he has no other option.

Miguel stands up stretching, his muscles stretch and pop and as he extends his hands up above his head. As he gets lost in the sublet moment of relaxation he hears your steps approaching carefully, almost like you're not trying to disturb him. -that's different from how you typically act.

Opening his eyes he sees you waiting patiently with a smile, two hot cups of coffee in your hands.

“Tired?” you ask in a teasing-like manner as if the wrinkles and bags under his eyes were not a dead giveaway to his affliction.

“No” - lies…

Holding up one of the coffees towards him you smile gently. Of course, you thought to bring him coffee, you must have clocked how sluggish he's been moving today. With a careful lazy motion, Miguel takes the cup from your hand and gives you a nod, he can’t bring himself to do more considering how exhausted he is.

Turning away from him Miguel's lazy gaze goes to your figure as you start to pittle away organizing his desk. Miguel feels his eyes rake all over his body in a cloudy haze, you look so…soft…so malleable, he could easily move you around, feeling the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. Miguel quickly shakes away the delirious thoughts and instead starts drinking the piping hot coffee.

As the coffee enters his mouth he suddenly no longer feels the waves of tiredness but the sharp hit of disgust. What did you make this with dirty dishwater?

“I hope you like the coffee, they didn't have what I usually make, so I tried something different.” swinging back around you smile brightly towards him. Typically Miguel would have no problem spitting it out and giving his criticism, but he can't seem to bring himself to do it. All that he can think about when he sees you looking at him expectantly is how kind you are towards him. It brings him to give a tight-lipped smile along with a nod that has you beaming at your experimentation.

Right as you turn around Miguel is spitting the foul liquid back in the cup unnoticed by you, he knew you were not good at making coffee but that crap was ridiculous!

“So…I have a question for you Miguel…” you say casually.

Miguel places the foul drink down while he takes his seat back at his desk. Humming at your question, he’s half paying attention to you. He just needs to fix these reports and then he has to get back to society. As Miguel's mind races with thought he continues to feverishly type, until he hears the word ‘Spider-man’ slip from your lips and he pauses turning to face you.

“W-what?”

“I asked what you think of this Spider-man guy?” Miguel studies you, he feels his nerves on high alert…could you…no. You're smart but you couldn’t have figured that out. Maybe you're just wanting to talk about last night? He just needs to stay calm.

“I don’t,” he responds flatly as he goes back to work.

From the corner of his eye, he sees you plopping down to sit on his desk, looking up he sees that you're already looking down at him. It's kinda intimidating…your look is so intense…focused on him. Miguel can tell you want to say more, and a part of him wants you to. Then your classic sweet smile spreads to your lips.

“Did you hear he got punched by an old lady?” -uhhhgggg…biggest misunderstanding….

Miguel can no longer resist the temptation, “Why are you asking about him?”

“Just curious I guess…”

“Why?”

He watches as you shrug “Just he’s interesting, a guy who seems to hate the city but then he’s always saving it. Makes you wonder.”

Miguel can’t control the words that slip from him next “What do you wonder…”

You look at him surprised before you answer very simply, “How he’s doing”

Miguel and you watch each other for a beat. Right as your mouth opens to say something else his watch starts blaring. -shit…

Getting up quickly he excuses himself, making some excuse but an important call he's been waiting on. Going out of the lab into the empty hallway he ducks into the nearest bathroom to pick up the transmission. Popping up he sees Peter,

“Miguel, sorry to disturb you but there is a problem…we got a lizard anomaly in your area.”

Miguel looks at him confused, “Wait? In my dimension?”

That hasn’t happened in a while…damn, now he has to go handle that. Typically he would send people to deal with it, but he doesn't want to deal with the aftermath of people seeing more spiders in the city. If anyone found out about the multi-spiders or the HQ or what he’s been doing it could lead to catastrophic events.

Coming back to the lab you look at him confused, before you can ask what the call was about he’s cutting you off, “I have to go, go ahead and clean up and get out of here.”

Furrowing your brows you get closer to him as he gathers his things, “Wait what? I thought staying late was your idea. Now you're just leaving? Is everything alright?”

Why must you ask questions… “I am fine, I just have to get out of here, important date…”

Miguel starts heading to the door typing on his watch and finding the anomaly coordinates when your voice calls out to him.

“Where did you go yesterday?”

Miguel stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder back at you, he needs to go deal with the anomaly but your question is laced with seriousness. He sighs…

“Mind your own business, and clean up. Then get home.”

With that he leaves, this just isn’t his night.

----

What the hell? Of course, he runs off, it was his idea to stay here late then he runs off leaving you to have to wrap up everything, and what’s with his cold response? Sure you know it’s not your business, but what is he always doing? And a date? Does he mean a date date or something else? Why is he so infuriating!

Going to his lab table, you grab the coffee he didn’t finish and start cleaning up his desk. What could be so important that he had to leave in such a rush? Why is he so irritated, and tired? As you shuffle together his reports you pause for a moment, what if…

No-

You quickly shake the thought of putting down the papers and going to the sink to pour the coffee down the sink. You're trying to just clean up and not let your imagination get the best of you but the same thought keeps flashing in your brain…Spider-man….Miguel…

Tapping your foot you look around at the lab, and Miguel's desk. You're playing back your interactions in your mind, how frantically he had to leave, how tired he seemed…

Taking out your phone you quickly type the news and see that there is a breaking news update…and just like you suspected there is, pressing the video you watch the alert.

“Citizens in East Neava keep alert, the masked vigilante known as Spider-Man has been spotted in the area fighting an unidentifiable creature. The police report that Spider-man has been inquired and are now taking the opportunity to comb the area to find him, they suspect he can not get far due to his inquiries, and that they will finally bring this menace to justice.”

While the news plays you watch a video of the fight, Spider-man is fighting some kind of reptilian creature. The footage is shaky and grainy but the last thing you see is the creature getting thrown and Spider-Man getting his side ripped into as he lets out a strained cry. Then the video cuts off.

You stand there stiff, You're in the east city…Spider-man is hurt…and that cries…it…it can’t be true…

“Miguel…”

Taking one last look at his desk, you're sprinting for your things, rushing out of the empty building. You're unsure, your mind is clouded with suspicion and confusion. You don’t know if they are the same…but if they are…he needs help…

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @aisyakirmann @spdrwdw @huniedeux @rosegnome @straw-berry-ghoul @migueloharastruelove @skylertully @keiva1000

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changes · 11 months

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Tuesday, November 14th, 2023

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vilentia · 10 months

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Unshielded Affection

Steve Rogers x reader

In the heart of Stark Tower, amidst the hum of technology and the occasional clank of Iron Man suits, there you were, a new assistant to Tony Stark. Your presence was a breath of fresh air, a contrast to the rigid mechanics and cold steel that surrounded you. And there he was, Steve Rogers – Captain America himself – with eyes that lingered on you a moment too long, a heart ensnared by your grace.

Steve watched you from afar, his admiration a silent sentinel. In his mind, he had already built a world where you were his and his alone – his girlfriend, his wife, the mother of his children. But for now, he was just a man, albeit a superhuman one, hopelessly entangled in the web of his yearning.

"Good morning, Steve," you greeted him one day, your voice a melody that danced through the air. Polite, ever so kind, yet oblivious to the storm you stirred in him.

"Morning," he replied, his voice a rumble, like distant thunder. "You look... nice today."

You offered a smile, unaware of the depth of his obsession, how he craved to claim you as his own. In his eyes, you were perfection – someone who deserved the world, and he wanted to be the one to give it to you.

But Steve's longing was a shadow that followed him, a whisper in the dark corners of Stark Tower. He imagined conversations, moments where he could confess his feelings, but fear held him back. What if you didn't feel the same? What if he was just another face in the crowd to you?

One evening, as the city lights flickered like distant stars, Steve found you alone in the common area, lost in a book. He approached, heart pounding, a battle raging within him.

"Can I sit here?" he asked, indicating the seat beside you.

"Of course," you replied, your eyes meeting his, a galaxy of kindness within them.

They talked, about everything and nothing – about art, about the world, about dreams. And in those moments, Steve saw glimpses of a future he yearned for, a life where you were his.

But as the clock ticked, reality crept in. Steve knew he couldn't keep you in his world of fantasies. He had to act, to speak his truth.

"(Y/N), I need to tell you something," Steve began, his voice laced with a vulnerability rarely shown. "I... I've been thinking about you a lot. More than I should, perhaps."

You looked at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes, but you didn't speak.

"I want you in my life, more than just as a friend. I want you to be mine, in every way that matters," he confessed, his blue eyes burning with a fervor that matched the intensity of his words.

The air hung heavy between them, a moment stretched into eternity. And in that silence, Steve's heart raced, waiting for your response, for the verdict that would either make or break him.

In the stillness of the room, your eyes remained fixed on Steve, absorbing the raw honesty that lay bare before you. The confession echoed in your heart, a turbulent sea stirred by his words.

"Steve, I..." you began, your voice a hesitant whisper, caught between the realms of surprise and an unspoken desire. "I never thought someone like you could... could feel that way about me."

His gaze never wavered, a testament to the sincerity of his feelings. "You're not just someone, (Y/N). You're everything I never knew I was missing. I see a future with you, a hope for something more than just battles and missions. With you, I see a life."

Your heart fluttered, a bird trapped within a ribcage, yearning for the freedom his words promised. A part of you had always harbored feelings for the heroic Captain, feelings you dared not acknowledge until this moment.

Steve reached out, his hand hesitantly finding yours. The contact was electric, a connection that seemed to transcend the physical realm, bridging two hearts with a silent understanding.

"I want to be there for you, to protect you, to love you," Steve continued, his voice a fervent plea. "But I need to know... do you feel the same?"

The question hung in the air, a challenge to the walls you had built around your heart. The thought of being with Steve, of being the center of his world, was both exhilarating and terrifying. To be loved by him meant stepping into a life far removed from the ordinary – a life filled with dangers, uncertainties, but also unparalleled passion.

In his eyes, you saw the reflection of your own fears and hopes, a mirror to your soul. "Steve, I... I do have feelings for you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it's all so overwhelming. You're not just a man; you're a symbol, a hero."

Steve's grip on your hand tightened, a silent reassurance. "I'm just a man when I'm with you, (Y/N). A man who wants nothing more than to make you happy, to be the reason you smile. I don't want to rush you into anything. I just want you to know how I feel."

The room faded around you, the world outside ceasing to exist. It was just you and Steve, two souls laid bare in the vulnerability of the moment. The decision loomed ahead, a crossroads that would define the path of your heart.

In Steve's eyes, you saw a future filled with love, challenges, and the promise of a life less ordinary. And in that moment, you realized that perhaps the greatest adventure was not in the battles fought outside, but in the journey of the heart.

"Steve, I want to be with you," you said, the words a leap of faith into the unknown. "Let's take this one step at a time, together."

And with those words, a new chapter began – a story of love between a hero and the one who had captured his heart, a tale of two souls navigating the unpredictable waters of life, together.

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marinawolf · 1 year

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[hi! work has been crazy but I finally found some time to post this. An angsty first kiss fic for all my supercorp girlies- hope you like it!]

A Revelation (Supercorp)

Lena may or may not have killed Lex, but she did it to save Kara. In the days that follow, she grapples with her confusing grief, her feelings for Kara and the knowledge that she would kill Lex over and over again to save Kara. (OR: Several times Lena wants to kiss Kara, and the one time Kara kisses her.)

(Almost 4K words of angst and fluff tbh)

It was one a.m., and the darkness of the night was only matched by the heavy weight in Lena's heart. She sat on her couch, her eyes fixed on her laptop screen, but her mind lost in the haunting memories of the events that had unfolded just two days ago.

The shadows had crept into her dreams, replaying the chilling scene that had changed everything, making sleep an unwelcome torture, which is why she was trying to distract herself with work.

Lex had made a sinister last move to ensnare her in his web of darkness. With the L Corp building held hostage, he had cruelly used Kara, her closest friend, as a pawn, rendering her powerless with dreaded kryptonite. Yet, even in the face of danger, Kara had displayed unyielding courage and loyalty to Lena, standing firmly between Lena and the loaded gun Lex aimed at her even as her strength drained away.

The situation had been impossible – Lex held a detonator in his other hand, forcing Lena to make an unimaginable choice. Save Kara, the woman who meant everything to her, or save the countless innocent lives in the building.

Every fiber of Lena's being rebelled against causing harm to Kara, but the weight of responsibility for those innocent lives crushed her soul. It was as if Lex had crafted this hellish scenario solely to break her, just as he had been broken by the darkness that consumed him.

In that desperate moment, Lena's mind became a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

But the woman standing before her, the one she was secretly in love with, was worth fighting for, worth sacrificing everything to keep safe. It was her fear for Kara's life that made Lena reach for the gun she had concealed, clutching onto the last shreds of hope to rescue both Kara and the innocent souls caught in the crossfire.

Time seemed to stand still as she pulled the trigger, the sound echoing through the air like a chilling proclamation of her resolve. The bullet found its mark, and Lex's body crashed through the window, disappearing into the night, but not before Lena saw the shock and betrayal in his eyes.

But no body was found, leaving Lena with the torment of uncertainty – had she truly taken her brother's life?

The days that followed were a blur of guilt and sleepless nights. The image of Lex's haunting face, juxtaposed with the memories of happier times, tormented her relentlessly. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the Lex she once knew – the kind, sweet big brother who had once been her protector, before corruption twisted him beyond recognition. It felt like she was being pulled apart by conflicting loyalties, torn between the darkness of her actions and the knowledge that she had ultimately done the right thing.

And now, as she sat on her couch at one a.m., her emotions reached their breaking point. Tears welled up in her eyes, ready to spill over. She felt adrift in a storm of self-doubt and remorse.

But just as she was about to be swallowed whole by her emotions, to be consumed entirely by the darkness, a familiar thud outside on her balcony drew her attention. Her heart, heavy as it was, skipped a beat as the door creaked open, and Kara stepped into the room.

Her radiant presence illuminated the darkness around Lena, a lighthouse guiding her through the storm. With her blond hair gently tousled by the night breeze and her brilliant blue eyes sparkling in the soft light of Lena's living room, Kara was a vision.

A heart-stopping smile graced Kara's lips, and Lena's brain short circuited for a second. Despite the turmoil inside her, she couldn't help but smile back, a small flicker of light in the shadows. Kara's presence always had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

"Kara, hi," Lena whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Lena. How are you holding up?" Kara's voice was gentle, filled with genuine concern.

Lena's gaze, clouded with unspoken anguish, met Kara's tender eyes. The kindness and care reflected in Kara's gaze threatened to shatter the fragile facade Lena had constructed to hold herself together. She clenched her trembling hands, determined to suppress the overwhelming surge of emotions, and instead fixated on Kara's consuming presence.

"I'm okay, all things considered," Lena managed to respond, her voice laced with a hint of weariness. But she knew that Kara, with her unparalleled understanding, saw through the veil of strength Lena presented to the world. She could sense the tumult raging beneath the surface, the cracks in Lena's composure.

Without a word, Kara sat down beside Lena, her graceful form slipping effortlessly under the blanket Lena had draped over herself before she took the laptop from Lena's hands and gently placed it on the floor. The contours of her Supergirl suit accentuated her physique, offering a fleeting and welcome distraction from the weight of Lena's thoughts.

Kara snuggled up to Lena, a strong arm encircling Lena's shoulders, drawing her into a protective embrace. The proximity, their bodies pressed together, sent Lena's heart into a tumultuous frenzy. But amid the whirlwind of conflicting feelings, Lena found safety in Kara's comforting presence.

"I'm sorry about Lex," Kara whispered, her voice barely audible, "I know you loved him. I'm sorry you had to do what you did," she continued, her words a gentle caress against Lena's fractured soul.

The floodgates within Lena, already straining under the weight of grief and guilt, gave way. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and raw, as she began to sob uncontrollably into Kara's steady shoulder.

Kara responded with unwavering tenderness, enfolding Lena in her arms, holding her close as if to shield her from the pain that threatened to consume her. In that moment, Lena realized the true depth of Kara's understanding. Throughout the aftermath of the ordeal with Lex, others had commended Lena for her actions, expressing admiration for her courage and bravery. They had offered hollow reassurances, asking if she was okay after being subjected to such a harrowing threat. But none of them truly comprehended the complex tapestry of emotions woven within Lena's heart. No one had truly understood the agony Lena had endured—the impossible choices she had faced and the torment that plagued her every thought. None of them understood the profound grief that gripped her.

But Kara saw her. Kara felt her pain with a depth that no one else could fathom. And Lena loved her all the more for it, for the genuine empathy and compassion she showed without reservation. In that moment, as Kara placed a gentle kiss on her head, Lena realized just how much she depended on this extraordinary woman by her side.

Kara held her tightly and her hand soothingly caressed Lena's hair, offering a tender reassurance that she was not alone in her grief.

Her sobs eventually subsided, but Kara continued to hold her, their hearts beating in unison.

As Lena's tears finally subsided, she felt utterly drained, her body and soul exhausted from the emotional release. She found herself nestled against Kara's chest, their closeness causing her to short circuit again. As she lifted her head slightly, she couldn't help but notice how close their faces were, their lips almost brushing against each other. Lena's heart pounded in her chest, and for a fleeting moment, she entertained the intoxicating idea of closing that distance, of kissing Kara.

The intimate proximity sent a surge of anticipation through Lena's veins, her gaze fixated on Kara's enticing lips. They were so close, just a breath away from tasting the sweetness she had longed for. So close that she could feel Kara's breath on her own lips.

Time seemed to stand still as they sat in that charged moment. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, teetering on the edge of an exhilarating precipice, as she summoned the courage to bridge the distance and claim the kiss she desired.

Kara, still and unmoving, met Lena's gaze.

The seconds stretched into eternity as Lena's heart fluttered, desperately seeking the courage to take that daring step. But the weight of their friendship, the fear of crossing a line and losing Kara's precious companionship, held her back. Kara was there to offer comfort as a friend, and Lena wasn't willing to risk their precious bond. With a sudden, almost desperate movement, Lena sat back, wiping away her tears, and offered a shaky laugh.

"Ugh, I think I ruined your suit," she quipped, trying to diffuse the charged atmosphere that enveloped them.

Kara's smile was both tender and reassuring. "It's pretty impervious to most things, don't worry," she joked.

"Feeling better?" Kara asked gently, her concern still evident.

Lena nodded, her voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you."

"You should get some sleep, Lena. You look like you haven't slept in days."

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Lena's lips as she replied, "I know. I'll try and get some sleep tonight."

Kara stood up then, extending her hand to Lena, her intentions unclear to Lena in her emotional haze. "Come on, then," she said softly.

Lena was momentarily confused, her thoughts still tangled in the emotional web that had enveloped her. "Where?" she asked, her confusion evident.

"To sleep. I'm gonna stay with you to make sure you sleep."

Lena's heart skipped a beat, and a rush of emotions flooded her as she took Kara's outstretched hand. She followed Kara into the room, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude for this gesture of kindness.

Once in the bedroom, Lena handed Kara some sweats and a t-shirt, their fingers grazing ever so slightly in the exchange, igniting a spark of electricity. They settled into bed side by side, and Lena tried to control her somersaulting heart.

The comfort she found in Kara's presence was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a blend of safety and tenderness that wrapped around her like a blanket.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions that engulfed her, Lena finally found herself relaxing, her thoughts consumed by Kara. Kara's steady presence offered her a sense of peace and security that had eluded her in the restless nights prior. Listening to the sound of Kara's steady breathing, Lena finally drifted off to sleep.

Lena woke up to a soft light bathing the room, immediately noting the warmth enveloping her. As consciousness swept over her, she realized that Kara had cuddled up to her in their sleep, closing the physical gap between them. Now, Kara's body pressed intimately against Lena's back, her arm encircling Lena's waist. Lena felt the gentle rhythm of Kara's breath cascading over the nape of her neck, sending a surge of electricity through her veins.

In an instant, her heart pounded in her chest, the presence of Kara so near amplifying the intensity of her emotions.

The soft sounds of Kara stirring reached Lena's ears as Kara slowly woke from her slumber.

"Hey," Kara whispered in a sleepy voice, her words laced with concern. "You okay?"

"Yes," Lena managed to choke out, her voice catching in her throat. "Did I wake you?"

Kara untangled herself from Lena's embrace, allowing her to turn and face her. The sight of Kara, her eyes drowsy but still sparkling with affection, made Lena's heart skip a beat.

"Your heartbeat woke me," Kara explained with a soft laugh, her superhearing attuned to every nuance of Lena's being. "Were you scared or something?"

Lena's cheeks flushed, and she could only imagine how obvious her racing heart had been to Kara. Of course, Kara would hear her racing heartbeat every time. Before she could find a suitable reply, Kara stood up, and stretched. The hem of Kara's t-shirt lifted slightly, revealing a glimpse of her well-defined abs, and Lena's heart rate skyrocketed once again. She cursed her body's inability to calm down in Kara's presence. Lena could have sworn she detected a mischievous smirk on Kara's lips, but the moment passed without further remark.

"Coffee?" Kara offered, and Lena nodded, grateful for the distraction. She followed Kara to the kitchen, where she busied herself with the coffee machine. Lena watched her, captivated by the grace in Kara's movements and the effortless way she made a mundane morning ritual look like an art. She loved that Kara had made herself at home so easily, as if she had always belonged in Lena's apartment. The domestic familiarity made Lena smile.

With the coffee ready, Kara handed Lena a cup. As she took a sip, Lena couldn't help but marvel at how Kara's coffee always tasted perfect. She made it perfectly to Lena's taste, something that even Lena's trained assistants failed to do.

Placing her empty cup in the sink, Lena pivoted to find Kara standing closely behind her. Kara reached around Lena, placing her own cup in the sink. Their bodies pressed together, the charged atmosphere crackling with anticipation. Lena looked up, her gaze landing on Kara's tousled hair and sleepy eyes and she longed to lean in and capture Kara's lips in a searing kiss, to express the intensity of her emotions . The desire to taste Kara's lips, to bridge the gap between them, surged within Lena, a hunger she struggled to contain. And in Kara's intense gaze, Lena could have sworn that for a second she glimpsed a mirrored yearning.

Their moment was shattered by the shrill ring of Kara's phone, piercing through the charged atmosphere. Kara moved away, swiftly grabbing her phone with a groan of frustration. "Duty calls," she lamented before dashing into Lena's room and emerging once again in her Supergirl suit.

Before she could leave, Kara turned to Lena, the concern evident in her eyes.

"Will you be okay?" she asked, softly.

Lena nodded, her heart aching, "I'll be fine. Just be safe."

"I'll be back later," she promised, and Lena knew she would anxiously await Kara's return.

As Kara disappeared into the sky, Lena found herself wishing she had seized the moment, wishing she had kissed Kara before the day took them in different directions, but she was too afraid. Time and circumstance, and her own fears, always conspired against her.

As soon as Kara's presence dissipated, Lena's sanctuary crumbled, leaving her adrift in a sea of restlessness and longing. The haunting image of Lex's face returned to torment her once again. Lena sat down on her living room floor and closed her eyes, seeking solace within the darkness, grappling with the demons that relentlessly haunted her soul.

Lena's world felt shattered as she remained huddled on the living room floor, her thoughts consumed by the overwhelming weight of guilt and uncertainty. Her mind was a whirlwind of torment, constantly questioning whether she had truly killed her brother, or if he was still out there, a looming threat, plotting his next move. Each possibility carried its own brand of torment, but she didn't know which outcome would be worse.

Lena could sense Kara's presence behind her before she even heard her voice, and she realised then that she had spent hours sitting there, on the floor. Kara's arms encircled Lena, almost immediately calming the storm raging within her.

"Lena?" Kara's voice was soft, cutting through the haze of Lena's torment.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Lena managed to lift her gaze and meet Kara's eyes. "Hey," she whispered, her voice laden with weariness and vulnerability, "You're back." Kara's mere presence offered a glimmer of comfort amidst the chaos.

With gentle care, Kara lifted Lena from the floor and settled her onto the couch. Kneeling before her, Kara's eyes bore into Lena's, their intensity captivating her. Lena yearned to lose herself in the depths of Kara's gaze.

"Lena, I know you're hurting. What you had to do—I can't even imagine having to do something like that. But I need you to know that it's not your fault, okay? Lex made his choices, and he chose darkness every time. And he tried to force you to choose darkness too, but you resisted. You chose to save lives, to save me." Kara's words penetrated Lena's shattered spirit, cutting through the darkness, offering some absolution.

Tears streamed down Lena's cheeks as she finally spoke.

"I killed my brother, Kara. My own brother. I should have tried harder to save him, to bring him back."

Kara sat down next to Lena and pulled her closer.

"You loved him, but he wasn't the Lex you knew anymore, okay? He lost himself a long time ago and he didn't want to be saved. Believe me, my cousin tried. And you saved so many people, Lena. I wish I could take this all away, all this pain, but all I can do is tell you that you didn't do anything wrong. And we don't know that he's dead. If he's still alive, I'll find him and bring him back to you, okay?"

Lena nodded, acknowledging Kara's words, and they sat in shared silence. Amidst the weight of her grief, Lena's mind wandered, considering the alternate path that could have unfolded. What if Lex had succeeded in killing Kara? The thought alone devastated Lena. She realized then, with unwavering conviction, that she would willingly traverse the same harrowing path if it meant protecting Kara. For her, Kara's safety was worth any sacrifice, even if it meant sacrificing her own life.

Finally, Lena mustered the courage to look into Kara's eyes, her heart laid bare.

"You know, if it meant saving you, I would do it all over again."

The words hung in the air. Kara's breath hitched.

Lena reached out, her fingertips gently caressing Kara's cheek. The moment crackled with an electric energy. However, the abrupt interruption of the elevator's ding shattered the intimacy of the moment. They instinctively pulled apart, Lena's desires restrained by the intrusion of their friends from the DEO, who entered Lena's apartment, their voices jarring against the backdrop of the emotional maelstrom that had enveloped Lena and Kara.

Lena couldn't look at Kara, afraid of what she would see in those eyes. So she stood up, plastered a fake smile on her face and turned to face their friends.

Hours had passed since her friends departed, leaving Lena alone in her apartment. She stood on the balcony, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the illuminated National City skyline. A mixture of emotions swirled within her, longing for Kara's comforting presence, even though she understood the demands on her friend's time. Lost in her thoughts, the sudden thud behind her drew Lena's attention, and she was shocked to see an exhilarated Kara standing behind her.

"He's alive," Kara's words tumbled out, rushed and filled with urgency, causing Lena's heart to seize in her chest. "He's alive. I found a camera pointing at where he fell, and the footage shows him getting up. He's hurt, but he's alive, Lena and I'm going to find him for you. He couldn't have gotten far. I'll bring him to the DEO, and we can figure out what to do from there. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you didn't kill him."

Lena's breath caught in her throat as relief mingled with disbelief. Lex was alive. Despite the pain he had caused her, a part of her couldn't fathom being responsible for his demise. But she didn't care about saving his soul any longer- She understood now that he had willingly given himself over to the darkness. She didn't kill him and that's all that mattered. And she couldn't bear the thought of Kara placing herself in danger for her sake. All she could think about now was Kara- how much she loved her. Kara was willing to face her own enemy, to save him, just for Lena's sake, to place herself in danger at Lex's hands just to offer Lena some relief. What had Lena done to deserve such unwavering devotion?

"Kara, I--" Lena's voice faltered, her words lost in the torrent of emotions coursing through her. Before she could find the right words, Kara cut her off, her voice laced with determination.

"And also, there's something I've wanted to do."

In an instant, Kara closed the distance between them, placing her hands on Lena's waist and capturing Lena's lips in a searing kiss. Shock and surprise coursed through Lena's veins. Kara's lips were soft yet demanding, a revelation- a thrilling revelation that Kara reciprocated her feelings, that their connection ran deeper than mere friendship.

As they kissed, tears welled up in Lena's eyes, spilling down her cheeks and onto their lips. The tears were not of sadness, but of unadulterated happiness, a release of the pent-up longing, years of yearning and the countless nights she had spent grappling with her feelings. She had longed for this moment, and now it was here, making everything else fade away. Time seemed to bend to their will, allowing this moment to stretch into eternity.

In that kiss, Lena poured all her hidden feelings, her love that she had guarded so fiercely, into a single moment of pure vulnerability. She felt her doubts and fears dissipate as Kara kissed her back with the same intensity, affirming that this was real, that her love was reciprocated.

Lena's hands desperately tangled in Kara's hair, pulling her closer. As the kiss deepened, the world around them faded into insignificance. There was only Kara and only Lena, and every hidden feeling now laid bare.

As they reluctantly broke apart for air, breathing heavily, Lena's voice trembled as she finally confessed,

"I love you."

And in response, Kara kissed her once again, with an intensity that spoke volumes.

And as they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against each other, Kara whispered,

"I love you, too."

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #kara x lena #supercorp fanfic #kara zor el #kara danvers x lena luthor #lena x supergirl #lena luthor x kara danvers #protective kara danvers #supercorp first kiss #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fandom #kara zor el x lena luthor #lex luthor is the drama

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defaulttwig · 1 year

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Spider Throwdown

Miguel O’Hara x gn!reader

Summary: Spider-Man 2099 entered a universe where the heroes punch a little harder and rarely ask questions. They’re a bit aggressive, but get their jobs done. As a variant Spider-person, he thinks you’ll make a fine addition to the team, but he first has to get you to hear him out.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: hopefully a cool fight scene with an appropriate amount of violence, no romance sadly

A/N: Practicing action sequences. I'm so rusty at writing omg, I'll probably edit this later. (He makes me go rah rah rah. I have so many ideas similar to this where it's just you and Miguel beating each other up. Idk. That train scene did smthg to me, I want Miguel to just- yeah)

No movement.

You pressed yourself against the wall, high out of the average person’s line of sight and tucked away into the dark corners of the building. New York’s City Bank was all too familiar to you. Far too many criminals ranging from low-lives to the most heinous have tried to either steal from the bank or run it to the ground. Tonight was no different. You got a lead that another hit would happen before the clock struck twelve. Ready to make the first strike, you came early. Now, you just had to wait.

The bank itself was bland, minimalist with high ceilings that reached three stories. At the front were the large double doors that led to the streets. The back doors led to the private offices. In the middle of the ceiling, a large, rectangular skylight cast a glow to the center of the room, faintly highlighting the benches and potted plants. From your position, you had eyes on all access points to the vault. Nothing would get past you.

Under the skylight, the leaves of potted ferns swayed. You scanned for any sign of an open window or movement. None. The ferns tilted, gravitating toward one point like they were pulled by a magnet.

Particles ignited in the middle of the room, bright and colorful in contrast to the somber glow of the skylight. They grew in size, expanding into geometric shapes. Each shape flashed in a hum your ears couldn’t quite catch. All at once, they disappeared. Gone, vanished, as if you imagined the whole thing, and the plants returned to their original position.

Left behind stood a man in a tight-fitting blue suit with his back turned to you. He had to have come out the other end of the thing. A portal, then. You scrutinized his muscular build, not yet deciding he was a threat. Muscle didn’t mean everything. He sure dressed like a villain, though. Red coated the upper half of his suit and his forearms sported two spike-like appendages.

A hologram appeared beside his head. He turned to address the small figure, too small for you to decipher from your spot. The emptiness of the room gave him the confidence to speak to the hologram. Despite being the only one talking, you failed to catch every word, hearing only bits and pieces.

“Find Spider-…Careful…Put up a fight.”

So, he came for you. What little you could understand helped paint a picture. This wasn’t just a hit, it was a trap to lure you into an ambush. He didn’t match the description from your informant, but that didn’t matter. It wouldn’t be the first time your sources tried to pull a fast one on you.

“Scan the room.”

A device pulled away from him. It hovered, swiveled and moved around, shining a golden light on everything in sight, from down on the floor to up the walls. Occasionally, it beeped to signify nothing of importance. You fixed yourself onto the balls of your feet. When it turned in your direction and the yellow fixed itself onto you, you kicked off the wall.

An alert sounded and the man pivoted. You shot a ball of web onto the floating device, soaring past as it crashed to the ground, and aimed your web shooters at him. Two ropes shot out. He jumped to the side, dodging the webs. You tapped your web shooters and cut the ropes of web, landing on your feet. Up close, you got a better look at the man.

A spider symbol rested in the middle of his chest.

“That wasn’t cheap, you know?”

You looked into the sharply angled lenses of his mask. “This will be easier if you don’t call in for back-up.”

He straightened. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” You balled your hands into fists, ready to pounce. Any bite to his voice turned to hesitation. “Wait.”

“Can’t go back, now,” you grunted out, throwing your fist in his direction.

He caught your fist and held you still, even as you tried to pull away. “I have something to say.”

You used the grip he had on you to your advantage. Kicking off the ground, you raised your leg over yourself and hooked it around his neck. In one spin, you sent him to the ground and released his hold on your fist. Given an opening, you placed your hands on the floor and threw your leg out for another kick.

He raised his forearms, angling the suit’s appendages away from your body, and blocked the kick. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

You twisted your body and flipped upright, pushing yourself several feet away. “I find that hard to believe.”

He got to his feet and lowered his hands. “You’re going to have to trust me. I know that’s hard for you, but think with your brain for once and not your fists.”

You narrowed your eyes, the lenses on your mask copying the action. Your stance relaxed. He wasn’t swinging punches right out the gate like the others you’ve fought in the past. “You plan to make me listen to you through insults?”

“No. Let me explain-”

“Are you going to talk the entire time or fight me?” You crossed your arms, waiting for his next move. “My patience is wearing thin.”

“If you’d just let me speak.” He paused. You remained quiet, glaring at him with scrutiny. “My name is Miguel O’hara. I’m not from here. I’m from a different earth.”

You huffed through your nose. “Is that all you have? Be serious.”

He touched his temple. “It’s you who-” He groaned. “I am from a different universe and the multiverse is in danger. I’ve formed a group of people like us-”

“Us?” You upturned your nose. “What do they call you?”

He inhaled. “Spider-Man-”

“Ha,” you barked out a laugh. “I’ve heard enough.” You turned on your heel and walked in the direction of the back doors. “If you’re not here to fight, then leave. I’m expecting someone.”

“I’m trying to talk to you.” He groaned deeply. You could feel his agitation raise in waves. Goosebumps lined your arms and you slowed your steps. “Turn around and listen,” he grunted deeply. At the same time your spidey senses went on high alert, he cursed under his breath. “Shit.”

You leapt to the side, catching only a glimpse of a potted fern flying past you. With quick reflexes, you shot a web at it. You dug your foot into the ground, pivoting with the momentum of the pot as you swung it. Gritting your teeth, you let go and sent it flying back at him.

Miguel widened his stance. You used the pot as a cover, darting for the walls. He punched through the pot, causing a pile of dirt and ceramic to fall at his feet. He whipped his head to and fro, finding you climbing up where rows of windows could be an escape.

You looked past your feet at a digging sound. He quickly clawed his way up to you. While he drew nearer, close enough to swipe at you if he wanted, you leaned back and shot two webs at a higher spot on the wall. Pulling back, you stretched the webs as far as they could go before you relaxed your body.

Slingshotting higher up, you opted to run on all fours. Miguel followed dutifully. Together, you both climbed past the second story, nearing the ceiling. You stooped just below the third story window, waiting for the right moment.

“Stop running!”

You took one glance at him closing in on you once again. Digging your fingers into the wall, you shifted on your feet before springing backwards in an arch. Miguel’s head followed the twist of your body as your legs swung out below you. He flipped around and curled his fingers into the wall, looking all but ready to leap at you.

Your wrists extended past you, the lenses of your mask locked onto him. Two rope webs landed on either side of him and you wrapped the rope around your wrists. Your body propelled toward him with one knee curled up, slamming into his stomach and causing his body to dent the wall. Bits of plaster fell from behind him. Miguel grabbed your knee, shuffling his feet on the wall in an attempt to buck you off. He managed to push himself off the wall. You loosened your grip on the webs, letting them fall away before shooting two more and slamming him back into the wall. Another dent just below the other.

Your knee in his stomach and the sizable dent kept him rooted. You laid one hand on the wall by his head to steady yourself and reeled your other arm back. Miguel’s hands flew to your back, fruitlessly pulling at your suit. There was no way to get you off of him.

He snarled. “Stop!”

When your fist flew straight for his masked face, alarm bells went off in your head. Your whole body tensed, alerting you of impending danger. Miguel’s hands laid flat on your back, fingers digging into you and no longer trying to pry you off. Sharp pain sprang forth from his fingers. Claws cut through your suit and into your skin. You cried out, punch falling short of anything and fist hanging in the air.

Your grip on the wall grew slack. Miguel’s body peeled off the wall, falling over you. His masked face drew near yours before his wrist extended out. A web shot forth and pulled him toward the opposite wall. You regained your senses and shot out your webs at the ceiling. You swung around to the wall farthest from him.

Your back stung. You felt the small spurts of blood flowing from it, soaking the fabric of your suit. It was warm. Gross.

Miguel yelled out, “Can’t you see that I’m on your side?”

The blood trickling out of your back begged to differ. Your spidey sense simmered with the hint of a threat. You had no reason to believe him. “Forgive me for not seeing the obvious.”

“I came here to talk to you.”

He was the threat. “I’m done talking.”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” He watched you shoot a web at the ceiling before you kicked off the wall.

Your body fell towards the floor, only to swing back up. You released the web and shot one straight at his chest. In one, strong tug, you pulled him off the wall and swung him around towards the floor. He swiped his claws through the rope and aimed his wrist at you.

A rope of web shot out past you, sticking to the wall. You had no time to dodge his body launching straight at you before he grabbed you by the neck, taking you with him. Your back slammed against the wall, taking your breath from you.

With his one wrist wrapped around the rope to keep you both suspended, he shifted his hold on your neck, exposing your jugular. You fixed your feet to the wall and threw your fist up from under, hitting him square in the jaw. He drew back and you took the opportunity to yank the rope, ripping it. Before gravity could do its thing, you placed your hands on his chest and kicked off the wall.

Miguel thrashed and grabbed at your wrists, just as he crashed to the floor. He grunted, grip loosening. You wrenched yourself from his grasp and slammed his wrists to the floor. With quick taps to your web shooters, his hands were bound to the sleek surface. His head jerked and he grunted.

You huffed. “Don’t try anything. You’re finished.”

The two of you were back under the skylight. From his wrist, a watch glinted, stealing your attention. It was bulky, complicated tech you didn’t recognize. If he’s been using this to contact the others and summon devices and portals, then it was just as dangerous as he was. You reached for it, ignoring his excuses and the way he hardly tried to fight you off anymore.

The way he spat out your name gave you pause. Your full name, your life story, the day you got bit by the spider. The night your uncle died. You whipped your head to lock eyes. He listed off things about you that nobody should have known about.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and, despite your rationality, you peeled off your mask to fully glare at him. Your eyes bounced around his mask, scrutinizing him in a panic. “How do you know who I am?”

The hesitation lasted long enough for him to break through his bonds. He pounced, flipping you over until your back smacked onto the ground. The cuts in your back stung, chilled by the cold floor. Your thoughts raced a mile a minute. You had absolutely no connection to this man. In your panic, his mask receded and revealed a handsome, unfamiliar face. A stranger knew too much about you.

He opened his mouth, revealing sharp canines. Fangs like a vampire. His eyes glowed red, the contours of his face shadowed by the sharp angles. Your hand pathetically pushed at his face, smushing his cheek. He took a fistful of the hair on your scalp, tilting your head to the side. In a blink, you shouted at the pain of his teeth sinking into your neck.

You fisted at his hair, tugging hard to pry him off of you. It was fruitless. A sickly warm feeling invaded your senses, sapping your energy by the millisecond. Your breaths quicked, all while your body went rigid, shutting down. Your hand fell away from his hair, landing on the floor.

“What-what did you do?” You struggled to use your mouth, only able to utter that one phrase before you lost your ability to speak.

He pulled away to look you in the eyes. The scowl on his face dropped to one of relief and his shoulders slumped. He let out a deep sigh, rolling his shoulders back. “You’re going to stay still and listen to what I have to say.” He glanced around the setting. Unceremoniously, he took you by your arms and hoisted you over his shoulder. “Here’s a little too open.”

Your spidey sense kicked into full gear. Goosebumps dotted your arms, hanging limply by your head.

Danger.

Get away.

Danger.

Move.

The wall behind Miguel exploded, sending you both flying. Your body slid across the floor and your eyes flicked over to the hole in the wall. The last thing you saw was a brick flying at your head and Shocker climbing over the debris into the bank.

+:+:+:+:+

Pain. Your head pounded and you winced. It felt like someone was squeezing your brain. Your head rolled and you groaned, not quite yet ready to open your eyes.

“Good. You’re awake.” You half-listened to the cold voice off in the distance. “It wasn’t my intention to get interrupted, or for you to get knocked out.”

You blinked several times, picking your head up. Everything was fuzzy, a blur. As you slowly came to, your eyes locked onto a family photo from some summer day nestled by a desk lamp. You looked around more, finding yourself in an office. You recognized this place. You were still in the bank, just in the back of it.

You tried to reach for your head to soothe the source of your headache. No doubt a large, ugly bump formed from Shocker’s grand entrance. Your wrists wouldn’t move. You looked down, finding red webs restraining your arms to the armrests of the chair you sat on. More red webbing wrapped around your torso. Your eyes jerked open, now fully awake.

“Where’s Shocker?”

“I took care of it.” From the shadows on the other side of the office, Miguel emerged. He approached with his mask receded, and only then did you realize yours was still off. A quick scan and you found the crumpled fabric on your lap. “He won’t be an issue, for now.”

“Gives us plenty of time to talk,” you said. Your spidey sense didn’t go off, so that was good. Your limbs still felt sluggish and your back pulsed from the cuts. You didn’t exactly have the upper hand here, if this was a fight.

He crossed his arms. “My name is Miguel O’hara. I come from another universe.”

“So, why are you here?”

“I’ve created a network of Spider-people, people like us, that work together to prevent anomalies from disrupting the multiverse.” He walked up to the desk, standing tall over you. “I came here to invite you to join us.”

You frowned. A part of you believed him. It wasn’t like you were a stranger to the multiverse theory, but you held off on any excitement. “Cut me out of these webs and I might consider.”

He huffed. “Cute, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“Afraid I’ll kick your ass again?”

“I was holding back.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, man.”

“If I wanted to-” His voice raised slightly before he curled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. He relaxed his hand. “You’re not making this easy.”

“It’s hard to see your argument when I’m the one tied up.”

“I had to. You weren’t being-” He waved his hand. “Stay on topic. Will you join?”

You gave him a once over. Cocking your head back, you huffed through your nose. “So, there’s people like me? Same powers? Same story?”

“Similar powers. Similar stories.”

You leaned toward believing him, not just because he was easy on the eyes. He didn’t take the chance to kill you while you were out cold. That sort of gave you the impression he was something of a hero. Not quite. Vigilante, maybe.

“What’s your story?”

“Off topic.”

“You already know mine, apparently.” Your expression soured. “Was that important to your little club?”

He bit back a response. Turning his head, he set his hands on his hips. “Join or don’t join. I don’t care.”

“So, you traveled across the multiverse to just get your ass kicked?”

“I didn’t-”

“Ha.” You cracked a smile. Watching him bristle was amusing. “You know, Michael-”

“Miguel-”

Your smile widened. Just this once, you’d entertain a guy like him. “You’re a funny guy. I’ll join, but on one condition.”

His brows raised expectantly. “That is…”

“I want a rematch.”

He set his hands on his hips. “That’s all you want?”

“Just to prove I can kick your ass.”

His expression blanched. “That won’t happen, but I can agree to those terms.”

“Alright, then I accept your invitation.”

Your eyes followed his movement around the desk. Miguel brought his hand up where claws emerged from his fingertips. You watched, mildly intrigued, as he cut the webbing around you. He stepped away, giving you room to stand, as he headed toward the office door and touched the thick watch on his wrist.

You picked up your mask and maneuvered around the desk, standing an arm’s length away. “That’s what lets you jump dimensions,” you guessed. “Do I get one?”

A loud shout called out to you from the other side of the wall. “Spider! I know you’re still here!”

Miguel looked over his shoulder as a portal appeared in front of him. “I’ll let you take care of that.” He turned to step through it, pausing long enough to toss something back to you. You caught it and looked down to find a watch like his own. “Come to Headquarters when you’re finished. I’ll explain everything there.”

He walked into the portal, disappearing as it closed behind him. It was almost like he was never here. But the sting in your back said otherwise.

You attached the watch to your wrist, turning your wrist this way and that to admire it. Not bad. A bit ugly, but you could get used to it, if this was really happening. You read off the screen.

Earth-928.

“Come out and face me!”

You pushed the excitement to the back of your mind. More people like you, a multiverse, other worlds to explore, and a rematch with that guy. You’d deal with that afterwards.

You slid the mask over your head and rolled your shoulders. Confidently striding to the door, you couldn’t help but smile.

This wouldn’t be long.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #reader-insert #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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anonymous1x2tipster · 2 years

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fixedmatches100 · 1 month

Video

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nintickleswitch · 4 months

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Strung in Her Web

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Annabelle Cane, Statement Giver OC

Word Count: 1965

Content Warnings: CNC tickling, bondage, arachnophobia (no spiders directly involved, but they are mentioned and Annabelle has spider-like features), implied NSFW

Summary: Statement of Marjorie Winters, regarding a... A really weird first date. F/F, monster bondage + tickling. enjoy :)

Statement of Marjorie Winters, regarding a... A really weird first date. Let's just call it that. Statement given July 21st, 2014. Audio recording by Marjorie Winters, per my request. Statement begins.

Look, I'm sorry. I know this isn't how you usually do things. But... When I got an ad for your Institute last night, I knew I had to tell my story. I'm not really articulate in writing, though, and I don't think I could tell this to another person with a straight face. So I'll just do the tape myself. Hopefully I've done all the formatting correctly. Anyways, I suppose I should begin.

I'm a database administrator. It's not exactly a glamorous career, but it lets me live in London without going bankrupt so I suppose I'm happy with it. You've got to understand though, it's an incredibly demanding job. You have to stay on top of everything to make sure it's running smoothly 24/7, which means weird schedules and constantly scrambling to fix outages. At least I get the choice of working from home most days, which gives me room to at least half enjoy my hobbies.

On the flip side, it means I don't really get out much to meet new people. I've always been introverted, so making the effort to trek to a bar or club has never been worth it for me. IT also happens to be a boys' club for the most part, and the couple of fellow trans girls that I do know live overseas, which is a problem when you prefer women. So you can understand with the pressures of having to keep everything under control and my lonely lifestyle, I needed something to cut loose for once.

I never really trusted dating apps, but it wasn't like I had much choice. It was that or go out and try to mingle in person. I ended up creating a pretty decent profile, with a few cute pictures of myself, my job and a list of my hobbies. I actually managed to get quite a few hits - some from male chasers, which I mean, that does happen, but most from women who seemed to be genuinely interested in me.

I didn't swipe right on most of them even then, as I was somewhat picky about people in general, but there was one woman who caught my eye. Her stark white hair complemented her beautiful dark eyes and eccentric outfit so perfectly, along with that elegant spiderweb dyed into her undercut. I was almost magnetized to her from the start. So I swiped right, and it turns out she'd already matched me. I was giddy from excitement, my hands almost shaking when I dropped her a line. My flirting was... Beyond awkward, let's say, but she took it in stride and seemed to find it rather charming. In the end, she dropped the location of a cafe and invited me to meet her there around mid-afternoon. Of course, I accepted.

You know, it's odd. I don't seem to remember learning that much about her. I know her name was Annabelle Cane. She was just as gorgeous in person as she was online, wearing a beautiful vintage tweed suit with a maroon shirt underneath. It turned out we both liked black and white movies and thrift shopping. She said she was a huge fashion enthusiast, being really fond of needlecraft and weaving in particular. She liked a bunch of cool bands I never heard of, and eagerly listened to me ramble on about my job and my life, never once taking those piercing dark eyes off me, like she was studying my every move to see what she should do next.

When she brought up that she played piano, I decided to be a little bolder than I was. I took her hand, and said I figured - she had the most elegant hands. At this, she broke into a wide smile. For a moment, I saw something strange behind the corners of her mouth - like something *retracted*. But I blinked, and it was gone. She stood up, and said her flat was just a 10 minute walk away from here if I wanted to see just how skilled they were. I couldn't believe my luck. So obviously I followed her, up to a modest little flat decorated in dark wine, purple and green hues, styled effortlessly just like the rest of her was.

She poured me a glass of red, and told me not to be so nervous. That she was going to take care of me. Now, she was 5 years younger than me, and a couple of inches shorter, but the way she spoke made me feel like I was down on my knees for her already. I hastily downed the glass, and before I knew it, I was in her bedroom. She pushed me down onto the bed, kissing me with a hunger I hadn't experienced in years. Her deft hands made quick work of my outer layers, leaving me just in my camisole and skirt, stroking and pinching me in ways that had me sighing desperately for her before anything had even happened.

Eventually, she pulled away with a wicked grin, and asked me if I wanted to do something a little more special. Before I could ask what she meant, she grabbed several lengths of silk rope from a nearby drawer. I'd written that I had a fair amount of experience with kink in my profile from my college days, and I was always down to experiment, so I hastily nodded. I lay down on the bed prone, with my arms raised above my head, waiting for her patiently and eagerly.

She started with my body, her hands working quickly to create an intricate pattern that I only recognized as a web when she was finished. It was as mesmerizing as it was complex, and the tightness of it underneath my chest, around my hips and my thighs made me ache for her touch even more. Her work continued with my arms and legs, securing them to each of the four corners of the bed. I could hardly move by the time she was done. My heart pounded in my throat like a caged bird battering itself against the gilded wire as she told me to close my eyes, whispering the safeword in my ear before leaving imprints of her teeth in the cartilage.

The stroking started off slow, sensual. By that time I gathered she liked being in control, and I relished in it. I could tell she was having fun by her pleased little hums whenever I squirmed too much, digging her nails in slightly more wherever I was particularly sensitive. She pulled light giggles and soft, delighted moans out of me, mapping out every inch of my body with her hands. Even when she intensified the pace, making me buck and squirm and laugh properly with her clever touches, I couldn't help but melt into her touch. Her nails caressed my chest, up along my inner arms, circling my stomach and the grooves of my hips, dancing along my inner thighs... I was in heaven.

In fact, I was so caught up in how good it felt to let go that I didn't even notice that something was definitely amiss. I mean, I did notice, but not consciously. Trying to cut through all of those mixed nerve signals was almost impossible in my state. It didn't click for me until I felt a fourth hand tracing the curves of my neck until I realized what the problem was. My eyes snapped open, expecting to see a second person she'd brought along without warning me. But that wasn't what I saw.

Kneeling on the bed in front of me was Annabelle Cane. It wasn't the woman I saw before, though. Her eyes... Oh god, you don't understand. She had so many eyes. Protruding from her lips were a set of vicious looking mouthparts, clicking and chittering with excitement. And where I once saw two perfectly normal arms, she had four more, their languid movements unnatural. Inhuman.

Believe me, I tried to scream, with all my might I tried. But the moment I did, it turned into cacophonous laughter when every one of those six, swaying arms descended on my prone body. And I realized I never knew what true helplessness felt like until that moment.

One set plunged its thumbs into the pockets of my hips, kneading there mercilessly. Another raked its neatly manicured fingers from my ribs to my underarms, scraping those hollows with what felt more like stiff bristles than nails. I was almost reminded of the bristles on a tarantula's leg. One of my exes was a real exotics nut, and he'd often try to convince me how cute and fuzzy they were, holding his prized pets up to me with a wide grin. But all I could see were those beady little eyes, watching me like they were plotting my every move - the same eyes that were now staring down at me with utter glee.

The last set wrapped around my knees, squeezing the caps and skittering its fingers along the underside. Occasionally, they roamed to my tight calves, the tender underside of my thighs. And all I could do was laugh. Do you understand? I couldn't - I couldn't move an inch. If this was normal bondage, I would have at least been able to squirm - she certainly gave me plenty of room to, but I couldn't. It was like I was hypnotized under some horrible spell, like a fly caught in her web, forced to endure the barrage of unbearable tickling torture.

So I laughed. And I wept. Once I got over the shock of it, I even remembered that she'd given me a safe word. But I didn't say it. Because I think the worst part of it was, I didn't really hate it. I mean, yes, I was begging for mercy, begging to do anything for it to stop, and I was petrified with fear like I'd never been in my life. But I just... I couldn't help myself, I guess. The rush that came with losing all that control, terrifying as it may have been. And she was gorgeous, and such a skilled domme...

When it finally, mercifully ended after what felt like forever, I was a wreck. My hair was plastered against my forehead, I was sweating like crazy. My body couldn't stop... Trembling. That was all the movement she allowed. All she did, leaning in close with those clicking mandibles and those dark, beady eyes sprouting from her forehead and her cheeks, was whisper a single word to me in a low, husky voice:

And I answered.

"Safeword?"

"Chelicerae."

"Good girl."

She leaned in for a kiss, and it was... God. Intoxicating would be the best word for it. At some point, she bit my lip, and I started to feel... Fuzzy. Sensitive, helpless. When she finally drew back, that was when I saw what she really was. Each of her arms a chitinous, segmented leg with those bristly little hairs all over that scratched and tickled like cruel little brushes. But it didn't matter at that point. I was all hers.

Statement ends.

I'll spare you the rest of the details. For my sake, and for yours. I think you know what happens next, and this statement is... Hardly appropriate for your archives at this point, I think. But I had to get it out there. Had to save whatever poor soul runs into her next. She's scheduled a second date with me at some contemporary art exhibit. I think I'm going to go. After all... I just can't help myself.

#tma tickles #tickle fic #tickling #tickle community #once again this is a kink fic do not look if you are not interested #minors dni

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flurrys-creativity · 1 year

Text

How to train your siren

Pairing: Kang Yeosang (Ateez) x GN!Reader; Genre: Mermaid AU, Siren AU, hurt/comfort, fantasy, fluff, angst; Rating: sfw, PG-15; Warnings: siren!yeosang who is hurt and gets fixed up again, also missing part of his fluke and slightly on edge; Wordcount: 874

Summary: After Yeosang got hurt due to one of your inventions, you took him in. But looking after his injuries wasn’t enough for you, you also created a prosthetic for him. Which he wasn’t too keen on trying out.

A/N: I saw some sort of fanart with a boy creating an artificial fluke for a hurt merman and it gave me How to train your dragon hiccup and toothless vibes so here we are. Also out of spite I literally only wrote one scene, proving @sanjoongie and @mingsolo that I'm actually able to write something without much backstory

You grabbed onto his tail a little stronger, trying to keep him still. That wasn’t your smartest move though and you had to jump back, avoiding being hit by his webbed hand and the sharp nails.

Yeosang hissed and bared his sharp teeth, pulling his heavy tail closer to his upper body and away from you.

A loud puff left your lungs as you stemmed your hands into your hips and stared pointedly at the merman, who currently occupied your bed. You kept your eyes on him for a moment longer, before you sighed and moved away from him and over to your desk.

You sat down and grabbed your sketchbook, drawing yet another outline of his fluke. You felt his eyes on your form and sooner than later you couldn’t stand it any longer. With yet another sigh you placed the sketchbook back on your desk and turned in your chair towards him, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Yeosang’s dark eyes held your gaze but he nervously started picking at his bandages.

“You shouldn’t do that”, you told him, still staying in your place. “Those are supposed to help your wounds heal.”

“Then why can’t you wrap those around my fluke too?” His deep voice sounded strained and it reminded you to get him some more water.

You stood up and walked over to your little fridge, having everything - except for your bath - in one small room. You got two bottles of water and got back to him, placing one of the bottles next to your bed and the other directly in his hand after showing him how to open it.

Once you sat back on your chair and watched him drink some, you finally answered him. “Bandages can’t replace parts of a body that are missing. They can only protect hurt parts and help them heal faster.”

Yeosang scowled. He glanced down to his tail and gnawed on his lips. You have proven yourself to be trustworthy. That was the only reason he even let you get him into your home and wrap him up in that white cloth. But he couldn’t understand what you were trying to do with his tail and it irritated him.

“Look” - you raised your hand and showed him your empty palms, hoping it would reassure him somehow - “I made an artificial fluke to, well at least half of it, to match your other side. If you’d let me adjust it to your tail, you should be able to use it like nothing ever happened.”

Yeosang looked from his fluke and back to you again. He still wasn’t too sure about it but nodded nonetheless. He watched you closely as you grabbed some sort of leather thing and walked over to him again, kneeling in front of his tail.

You gently placed your hand on his tail, letting your fingers brush down to his fluke ever so slowly. You tried to be even more careful when you heard him hiss.

Even then Yeosang flicked around with his tail quite a lot, making you grumble: “Hold still.” He only hissed again, growing more and more agitated.

“It’s not my fault you swam into my fishtrap and hurt yourself that way!” You glared at him, finally having Yeosang freeze under your gaze. “I’m trying to help you, okay?” You waited for him to nod again before you returned to your task at hand.

You wrapped a small belt around the end of his tail and adjusted the artificial part of the fluke, tinkering and moving it around until you deemed it to be right.

With a contemplating look on your face, you leaned back on your feet. You crossed your arms in front of your chest and tilted your head. Of course your little invention wasn’t as colourful as the real fluke but you still thought it should be functional.

“What are you thinking?” Yeosang observed you, having one arm prepped underneath his head. He picked at the sheets underneath him, trying to hide the pout on his lips and the concern in his voice.

“Nothing in particular.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll be thinking more about it once you’re healed and we were able to test this. As of now I can’t be entirely sure it works but it should be functional.” You explained to him, moving to the top end of your bed. You placed your arms on the mattress and placed your chin on them, looking at Yeosang with a soft smile. “And what are you thinking?”

He glanced down at his tail, raising it slightly to have a better view. “It’s ugly.”

You snorted and shook your head before you rested your cheek on your arm and looked at his fluke as well. “Maybe I can use some of your scales and make a waterproof paste to cover the leather. But we’ll deal with that after we checked whether this works or not.”

Yeosang sighed and dropped his tail back down, turning his head to look at you again. “If we have to”, he mumbled and raised one hand to your face, brushing strands of your hair out of your face.

You smiled and tilted your head to look at him as well. “We have to.”

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland @songsoomin

#pirateeznet #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #wkcnet #kvanity #kang yeosang #ateez #ateez yeosang #how to train your siren #drabble

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